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"Agent Pete?" a handsome, Brad Pitt look-alike inquired as Megan stepped off the elevator. She was on the eighth floor of a brownstone apartment building facing the south side of Gramercy Park. He extended his hand with a disarming smile. "I'm Mac Phillips. The others are inside the command post. Welcome to the Aerie."
Megan took his outstretched hand, smiling at the play on the eagle's nest. "Megan Pete," she introduced herself. "What's on for this morning?"
Looking around the room, she accompanied him into a large loft space sectioned into work cubicles and equipment stations by shoulder-high particle-board partitions. Their surveillance center occupied the entire floor directly below Normani Hamilton's penthouse suite. A small conference room enclosed by glass also filled the far corner. As they approached the group of people seated within, Phillips consulted a printout in his hand.
"Intro and weekly briefing now. You are scheduled to meet with Dawn at 11:00 AM in her penthouse." He caught Megan's faint expression of surprise, then shrugged. "She won't talk to any of us. She says if she has to discuss her plans, it'll only be once. And it has to be with the team commander."
"It's her prerogative," Megan remarked. As she walked, she made careful note of the video monitors, multi-cassette recorders, and computer simulators.
She eyed the large grid of New York City, digitally indexed and showing up-to-the-minute placement of police vehicles. It was the same array of equipment used to monitor the White House and its surroundings, and for the same reason. The President was vulnerable through his family. To avoid the appearance of that vulnerability, the First Family needed to be shown living as normal a life as possible, not shuttled about by armed guards. Hence, their protection needed to be provided at a distance, with as little visibility as possible. The semblance of freedom was a ruse they all conspired to perpetuate— everyone, apparently, except Normani Hamilton.
"Good morning, people," Megan said briskly as she strode to the head of the oblong table. She glanced at each face, making brief eye contact with everyone. "You have one hour to tell me everything I need to know about this operation, and everything you don't think I need to know as well. Let's get started."
At the end of an hour during which Megan listened, questioned, and issued a few directives, the agents who constituted her team sensed there was a new game in town. Everyone present took their responsibility seriously, for the sake of their future employment if for no other reason, and each had felt the frustration voiced earlier by the departing team commander.
That dissatisfaction was heightened by the fact that they disliked Normani Hamilton, although none of them would ever say so, even to each other. Over the last six months since Desmond Hamilton had become President, the obstructive, uncooperative attitude of his daughter had subtly undermined the confidence of the operatives. An hour with Megan Pete provided them with the first jolt of optimism they'd felt in weeks.
...
"Allow me to summarize," Megan said as she stood, walking to the window and looking down at the postage-sized private park that formed the heart of Gramercy Park. As she watched an elderly woman unlock a gate surrounding the park, she spoke, her back to the room, but her voice clearly audible. "Ms. Hamilton resents our intrusion into her life. She resents our presence in every public and private moment of her day. She undoubtedly resents our observation of her personal liaisons and romantic encounters. I, for one, do not blame her."
Megan turned to the group with a small shrug. "The fact that Ms. Hamilton does not welcome our presence is immaterial. Our job is to see that she is able to carry on her life with the maximum degree of security possible. No matter where she is, or what she's doing. She has decided to make this a game. We have to play, and we have to win. We don't get to throw up our hands and call foul if she changes the rules. There are no rain outs. We can't expect her to help us win; we have to do that for ourselves."
Megan smiled faintly as she took her seat again. Now she understood at least one of the reasons why she'd been given this assignment.
"Remember that she is an uncooperative subject. Don't expect her to smile and say good morning. Don't expect her to make your job easy. She has made it clear she does not want us around. She is not going to invite us along. We will switch from protective surveillance methods to investigative tactics. If she can't see you, it'll be harder for her to lose you. If you need to follow her to protect her, then you've got to fit in where she travels. You have to function essentially undercover."
Megan looked pointedly at each of her operatives, seeing them as Normani Hamilton must see them. Ivy League starched, polished and presentable. About as obvious as the proverbial bulls in the china shop.
"Except at scheduled public functions where Ms. Hamilton is acting in some official capacity, no suits, no ties, no skirts. Stick to street clothes, preferably something appropriate for the type of locales she is known to frequent."
Megan saw the slight stiffening of a few shoulders, and continued unperturbed. It was time to stop circling the primary problem. "For you men, I think a slightly longer hair length would be helpful for starters. It's time for you to stop looking like tourists, or cops." She sipped the last of her coffee, gathering her papers with one hand. "A little research might also be in order. I want a summary of every gay bar and restaurant in New York City. Hours of operation, type of clientele, traffic patterns in the area, etcetera. Start with the ones you know she's been to. Have it on my desk before the day is out. Know your subject, ladies and gentlemen, and you have won the first point."
Everyone in the room relaxed slightly as Megan pulled open the door to the conference room. She paused at the sill, turning back casually.
"By the way Mac, does she know about the video equipment inside her apartment?"
The man looked at her in surprise. How had she noticed that on a quick walk through the monitoring section?
"I doubt it," he said quietly. If she were aware of the micro-cameras mounted in the ceiling of her loft, she would hardly be walking around nude the way she did.
"Turn them off," Megan said flatly. "Video the elevator, the building exits, fire escapes, and garage only. On my responsibility."
With that, she was gone, leaving the rest of her team to wonder just where she'd gotten the balls to countermand a direct order from the White House Chief of Staff.
...
At precisely 11:00 AM, Megan keyed the elevator to the penthouse, exiting into a small foyer opposite a carved oak door set into the rich wood panels. The wallpaper on the other two walls adjoining the lift was a cream fabric, intricately patterned, and luxuriously textured, creating a warm and sensual effect. Megan rang the bell beside the door.
A moment later, Normani Hamilton was opening the door. Her hair was wet from the shower she'd just taken and falling freely around her face. She wore a loosely belted blue silk robe that came to just above her knees, with her legs bare. Megan knew she was completely nude beneath the thin material, as the front gaped enough to reveal the soft inner curves of both her breasts. A trace of jasmine floated in the air, assaulting Megan with the seething sensuality she had sensed in the photograph earlier. She kept her gaze carefully at eye level.
"Hello. I'm Agent Pete, Ms. Hamilton. I can come back when you're ready," she said, making sure to remain neutral. "If you would just call the command room—"
"I won't be available later," Normani interrupted, appraising the current commander assigned to her care.
This one was somewhat of a surprise. She wore the requisite suit a little better than most, without a hint of a bulge be beneath the shoulder holster. Her hair was medium length and fashionably styled into a ponytail, her curls sleeked down. The double-breasted jacket was open to expose a fine white linen shirt that hugged a well-developed chest and a trim waist. The belted trousers were streamlined to her tightly muscled thighs. Normani found her startlingly attractive in an understated fashion. Looking at her closely, the First Daughter picked up a vibe. The Commander was either unimpeachably heterosexual or exactly what she appeared to be—a flaming homosexual who didn't care who knew it. Normani was intrigued.
"It's now or next week," she continued, enjoying her control. There was no way the new commander could wait even a few hours to discuss her schedule.
"Now would be fine," Megan acquiesced graciously. She didn't want a power struggle over trivial issues. She had no need to prove herself that way.
Normani stepped slightly aside, motioning Megan into the high-ceilinged open loft space. She smiled as Megan carefully avoided brushing against her. All business no pleasure, Normani noted to herself.
"Do you have a first name, Agent Pete?" Normani asked as she crossed to the kitchen area. A breakfast bar flanked by tall stools separated the cooking space from the large living room. She leaned down to pull two cups from the shelves under the island, quite aware that the movement afforded a clear view into her night gown.
"Megan," Agent Pete replied, keeping her face and voice expressionless. Her mind registered the striking perfection of the young woman's body, an image of her soft, brown-nippled breasts indelibly implanted in her memory. She was being taunted, that much was clear. What she didn't know was why.
Normani straightened up slowly, searching for a reaction in the beautiful agent's face. She was curious to find none.
"Megan," she breathed huskily, "That's nice. You can call me Normani. No need for formalities."
Megan nodded, but continued unperturbed. "I'll try not to take up too much of your time, Ms. Hamilton. If we could just review your plans for the week, I can leave you to your day."
Normani stared at her, anger seething in her radiant brown eyes. "Don't patronize me, Agent Pete. We both know you won't be leaving me to anything at all."
Megan nodded assent. "Forgive me, I didn't mean it that way. Of course, I can't. But I can make my presence and that of my people as unintrusive as possible."
Normani was surprised by her conciliatory approach. That was a new tactic. Usually, her security would just try to bully her with threats of unfavorable reports to her father, as if she were an unruly child in school. Either that, or they promised her privacy while tightening the net around her. She had absolutely no reason to believe this one, despite the sincerity within the brown eyes similar to her own. Normani walked around the island carrying the coffee she'd poured until she was next to Megan. She reached to put the two cups on the counter, brushing close to Megan as she did.
Megan didn't flinch at the contact, although her body registered the pressure of Normani's breasts against her arm and the heat of a naked thigh against her leg. She was annoyed by the twitch of arousal that occurred entirely involuntarily and she consciously kept her breathing light and steady.
It was then that Megan realized something: Normani knows about video cameras. She had to. There was just something about her current behavior; almost like she was tempting Megan to mess up in front of everyone somehow. Putting the team commander in an embarrassing position on tape might conceivably benefit her at some point, or, it might just be her idea of a game.
Either way, Megan pitied Agent Daniel Ryan. Normani Hamilton was a powerfully desirable woman, and if such attractions still interested Megan, it might become a problem. Luckily for her, Normani had no way of knowing that despite the reflex arousal she provoked, her head of security was completely immune to her sexual allure, especially while in a professional environment.
Normani deliberately pressed closer, and Megan allowed the moment of contact to linger long enough to make it clear she was aware of it and undisturbed by it. She'd gotten quite a lot of practice in the last six months saying no to attractive women. Soon after, she stepped away from Normani, reaching into her inside jacket pocket to pull out the computer log Mac Phillips had provided her.
"The schedule?" Megan said softly. "Shall we start going over it?"
Normani stared at the agent with heat rising in her face. She had just been rebuked, subtly but very definitely. Rejection from women was a new and unwelcome experience. She'd never been as blatantly provocative with Daniel Ryan, but she had sensed his discomfort whenever they were alone, and she knew she had an effect on him. Something about Megan Pete's cool, aloof attitude made her want to crack that perfect self-control. If she has to have a jailer, she wanted it to be one she commanded.
"Yes, let's get that over with," Normani responded with irritation, taking her coffee and moving into the sitting area.
Megan followed, noting the large work area in the far corner of the loft. Easels stood open with canvases mounted on them, and other works leaned against every surface. Sunlight streamed through the skylight, illuminating the uncovered surfaces. From the brief glimpse she got, it appeared that Normani Hamilton deserved her reputation as a genuine artist.
Megan took a seat across from Normani on one of two facing leather sofas. Normani tucked her legs under her as she curled gracefully into the cushions. Megan noted abstractly that she was much more beautiful in her unconscious moments than when she used her considerable sexual power as a weapon. In the next instant, her mind had returned to the work at hand.
"I have you at a gallery opening tomorrow, dinner at the White House on New Year's Eve, and attending the Macy's parade here in New York City with the mayor the next day," Megan read from the schedule. She looked to Normani for confirmation.
"Busy week," Normani muttered. "That seems to be it," she said tersely.
Megan regarded her thoughtfully. She would have hated such intrusion, but there was nothing to be done about it. The fact that Normani Hamilton did not choose this life– it wasn't her after all who had run for public office– was beside the point. And the hard part was yet to come.
"What about your personal plans," Megan asked, her eyes on Normani's face. She would not apologize for what she needed to do. Megan wanted it clear that she would not compromise her own responsibility or Normani's safety because of Normani's dislike for the situation.
"I don't have any," Normani responded lightly.
Megan leaned back, tossing the schedule aside. She smiled faintly. "I need to know anything you have scheduled- dinner plans, a date for drinks, that sort of thing. If you don't know, I'll need you to tell me as things come up. All you have to do is check in with the command post–"
"I know all this, Agent Pete," Normani said testily.
"Yes, but apparently you're not fond of the routine."
"Would you be?"
"That's not the point. You are the daughter of the President of the United States. You don't need me to tell you what that means. Please let us do our jobs, and I promise you we will be as discreet as we can be."
"Do you expect me to tell you when I plan on having sex too? You need me to call you in the middle of it, Agent Pete?" Normani asked bluntly, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I don't need to know what you're doing so much as where you're doing it," Megan responded smoothly. She knew Normani was trying to rile her up, maybe get her to quit, but she could not relent now. "It would be preferable if you would inform us when you planned to spend the night somewhere other than here, for example."
"And what if I don't know where I'll be spending the night?"
"Then I'll improvise."
"You're a lot more direct than your predecessors. Aren't you afraid I'll complain about you and you'll end up guarding some minor foreign diplomat on their tour of the capital?" Her tone was caustic, but she studied Megan with guarded respect. The new commander was in a class of her own. Impossible to shock and clearly not intimidated by her. A refreshing change, but much more of a challenge than the others.
Megan laughed. "Ms. Hamilton, some people would consider that a plum assignment."
"Compared to this, you mean?"
Megan stood, refusing to be provoked. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Hamilton. Please call me at any time if there is anything you wish to discuss. I would like to review your itinerary each day. Let the command room know when it will be convenient for you to meet with me."
"Oh, absolutely," Normani responded with a smile, her tone implying just how little that request meant to her. She remained seated as Megan left the room, thinking how attractive her tight, graceful body might be under other circumstances.
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Hey readers ☺️,
Here's a new chapter for y'all just because 🤍 So... we got our first Megmani interaction! I'd love to hear all your opinions 👀
Thoughts on Megan and how she handles her job? How are y'all feeling about Agent Meg?
Thoughts on Normani and her difficult attitude towards her commanders? How do y'all see it affecting her later on in the story?
Thoughts on Megmani's dynamic? Normani's constant flirting? How long before Megan cracks? Or will she at all? 👀
Any other thoughts? Predictions? Leave them here 🙏🏾
Thank you all so much for reading as always. These updates should be coming pretty quickly, so hold onto your hats! Enjoy the story, and share it with your friends 😇 See y'all again soon 🤍