The driving club rhythm throbbed in Sam’s chest and she moved her hips to the beat as she pretended to sip her drink. Nubile girls and chiseled young men half Sam’s age danced in cages suspended from the ceiling. Deep blue lights bathed partiers in a surreal gleam, and modern sofas supported couples in the early stages of the human mating ritual.
Getting too old for all of this, Sam thought. But she knew she could pull it off. She had the confidence and self-assurance of a mature woman, but her strenuous workout routine and Spartan diet had given her the body of someone much younger. She stood five-ten in flats and her build featured ample acreage where it was desirable and none where it wasn’t. Despite the stress and sleep deprivation of her work at Homeland, her face was remarkably wrinkle-free. She looked a decade younger than her forty-something years. She was still eminently doable, in other words, a characteristic that formed the backbone of her plan to exploit Kocaoglu for access to his Doberman information. Maybe she would also learn something about who was targeting her.
She wore a jet-black wig with long bangs that draped over her eyes, and she wore much more eye makeup than normal. If Mehmet Kocaoglu was more than peripherally involved in the surveillance operation against her, there was a risk he would recognize her. Sam wanted to bias the odds in her favor.
Izmir’s international bright young things gyrated to the beat and Sam marveled at the sight. Turkey wasn’t known for its cosmopolitanism, but then Izmir wasn’t exactly representative of the rest of the country. It was by far the most Westernized of Turkey’s cities. It was the seat of the opposition political party and tended to be less influenced by Islam’s strictures than the rest of the country. Izmir was also far away from the Kurdish trouble in the east, which gave the place a far more relaxed atmosphere than the one that gripped cities closer to the insurgency.
It didn’t take long for Sam to spot Kocaoglu. He was slightly older than the average clubber, immaculately groomed, extremely fit, urbane, and in the company of two coquettish vacationers of nondescript European descent. His face held a mixture of sexual interest and boredom as he talked to the girls in his orbit. He was willing to settle for meaningless conquest, but searching for something more challenging, Sam assessed.
Sam could do challenging. Her eyes lingered on him as she put the straw between her lips. An obvious veteran of the game, he felt the energy of her gaze, and Sam read interest in his eyes as they met hers.
She turned away, her disinterest not entirely feigned. In another life, maybe Kocaoglu’s charms would have had more of an effect, but Sam had long ago embraced unadulterated monogamy with a man she loved deeply and madly. Tonight would be strictly business.
As if on cue, Kocaoglu appeared at her side. “You’re on holiday,” he said.
“You’re a player,” Sam replied, turning away. “Pretty, but not terribly interesting.”
He put his hand on her shoulder and spoke into her ear. “Pretty, terrible, and interesting,” Kocaoglu said with a self-assured wink.
Sam feigned a yawn. “You and every other teenager here tonight.”
“But still you’re interested,” Kocaoglu said. He was clearly used to having whomever he wanted.
“You’re right,” Sam said. “I’m interested to hear why you’re still talking to me.”
He smiled. “Who else should I be talking to?”
“Aren’t you here with a couple of German schoolgirls?”
His eyebrows arched and a victorious smile crossed his lips. “So you noticed?”
Sam feigned a coy smile. “Maybe,” she said. She pulled her hair back behind her ear, revealing a long, sensuous neck and strong shoulders. She watched Kocaoglu admire her lines. “Are you going to stand there all night or buy me a drink?” she said.
As it turned out, Mehmet Kocaoglu was witty, handsome, and intelligent. Confident approach notwithstanding, he wasn’t arrogant or egotistical. He was educated and sophisticated yet remarkably down-to-earth. And he smelled good. Sam was surprised to discover she enjoyed his company.
They talked about sports, politics, jobs, and in due course, aided by his casual but increasingly intimate touches, the conversation turned to sex. They covered likes and dislikes, an obvious but unacknowledged prelude to a pleasurable liaison.
She wasn’t sure how long they’d talked before he kissed her. He pulled her body closer and she felt heat and hardness. Against her will, she felt excitement in her body, then admonished herself. Only business. But staying on task was going to take more willpower than she anticipated.
Kocaoglu teased her thighs with his fingers during the short taxi ride to his flat. He nibbled playfully at her neck and ears. His touch was light and sensuous, then playfully demanding and extremely practiced. His fingers tried to find their way inside her skirt, but she pulled them to her mouth and caressed them seductively with her tongue. “Not in the cab,” she whispered. “But don’t worry. It will be more than worth the wait.”
In the elevator his hands found her backside, his touch gentle but masculine and insistent, and she heard his breath in her ear as he kissed her neck. She pressed against him, feeling his growing need, and pulled away as the elevator dinged to a stop at his floor.
His expert hands liberated her body from the cocktail dress in the entryway to his flat, leaving her wearing only her new lingerie, and he flitted his tongue between her breasts. She heaved with pleasure that wasn’t entirely contrived, thinking how much she needed a man, but more than that, how much she needed her man.
Kocaoglu led her to his bedroom. She pushed him onto the bed, climbed on top of him, and moved her hips into him, hearing the air escape his lungs in a low moan.
I’ve already crossed the line, she thought, but it had to be a believable encounter. In the morning, Kocaoglu couldn’t suspect that he’d been duped. There had to be something for him to recollect fondly.
“I have something for you,” she said, her voice low and sultry. She slipped her fingers into her bra, pulled out a small red capsule, and placed it into her mouth. She kissed him long and hard, passing the pill into his mouth as she moved her hips. Her body caressed his as she felt him swallow the pill. She felt her own arousal build, hating herself for wanting to abandon restraint and take her fill.
Too late now, she thought with a relieved smile as his body slackened and the urgency left his loins. A snore confirmed the drug’s lightning-quick effect, and Sam took a minute to catch her breath and gather herself as Kocaoglu fell into a stupor. She removed his clothes and left them in a heap at the foot of the bed, then tossed the blanket over his naked body.
The business took less than a minute. She retrieved a thumb drive from her purse, snapped it into the receptacle on his laptop, waited for the light to turn green, and tossed it back into her purse.
She removed her panties and tossed them onto his bed. Then she retrieved her dress from the entryway and slipped it over her still-glistening body. On her way out the door, she penned a note to her would-be paramour: “You were wonderful. I can’t wait to see you again.”