Marco Jardines was Antonio Geist’s right hand. A loyal henchman, Jardines was Geist’s closest friend and most trusted advisor.
It was widely believed that he was second in command of Geist’s operation, and that nothing happened without Geist or Jardines’s approval. In other words, anything that happened; Jardines knew of it.
He was an elusive figure in his own right; a tall and handsome Latin lover appearance concealed a calculating and devious mind. Although not much information was available on Jardines, it was widely believed that he had originated in the Caribbean region; presumably Cuba. His bronzed figure was sculpted and powerful. He had the features of a film star and the physique of a male model. He was never seen without being well dressed.
Everywhere that Antonio Geist made an appearance, it was safe to assume that Marco Jardines was somewhere nearby.
As the shots rang out and Antonio Geist lay bleeding outside the theater, it was Marco Jardines who rushed to his aid. The assailant rushed off into the night in full sprint ducking and darting through panicking onlookers and pedestrians. In pursuit behind him were a pair of Geist’s associates guns drawn and on the hunt.
Marco grasped a hold of the wounded Geist’s hand.
“Hold on boss.” He exclaimed.
Marco scanned the extent of the injury and his dark eyes examined the shredded jacket shoulder and the gunshot wound that lay underneath.
Thinking quickly, he removed the silk pocket square from his jacket pocket and packed it into the open wound. His hands covered in Geist’s blood fumbled about with his knowledge of first aid as he quickly began to apply pressure to the wound to try and stop the bleeding. As he scanned the immediate surroundings, his eyes sprinted from broken shards of glass and blood covered pavement to discarded shell casings that lay upon the ground. His bloody hand picked up a shell casing and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
As Geist began to slip in and out of consciousness, Marco began to lift him to his feet and ushered onlookers out of the way as he rushed him to a waiting car amidst the approaching sounds of police sirens.
As he placed Geist in the backseat, he jumped into the drivers seat of the car and sped off into the night.
Jardines’s fist tightened on the steering wheel as he sped through the streets. His face stone cold and grimacing as his mind raced.
They tried to kill the boss.
They tried to kill my friend.
The news of the shooting was all over the evening news. As associates rushed to care for the injured Geist, Marco paced back and forth in a rage.
His suit jacket lay slumped over a chair, his white shirt collar unbuttoned and stained with blood.
He paced slower as the news report came across the television screen. The news anchor broke the story announcing the Antonio Geist, aliased Tony the Ghost had been the target of an assassination attempt. His eyes fixated on the screen as surprisingly someone caught on camera the shooter. A man in a dark coat had been lying in wait amongst parked cars lining the street. As Geist and his entourage emerged, he kept forth drawing a .30 caliber carbine and firing off three shots at Geist before sprinting off into panicking bystanders.
Marco scanned the images thoroughly, his calculating mind examining everything. His eyes fixated on the rifle. The long slender barrel, the wooden body and the short magazine.
“Duran.” He said.
“Charlie Fucking Duran.”
He stormed over to the chair and drew the spent shell casing from his jacket pocket. Government issue ammunition.
That’s all Jardines needed to know.
A familiar voice interrupted his planning.
“I know what you’re thinking but we must wait. If we strike back now, we risk jeopardizing everything.”
Marco turned to see Geist standing in the doorway, his shoulder wrapped in bloody bandages.
“We’ll get the bastard, but now we must plan. Later we will strike.”
Marco nodded in agreement.
After several months and the heat began to die down, it was Marco Jardines disguised as a security guard who drove the armored car packed with explosives into the parking lot of the Attorney General’s office building. He parked the vehicle as close as he could to the building on the north side where he knew Charlie Duran’s office was located. He turned and headed away from the building whistling a tune as he headed for a corner shop.
As he walked inside, he purchased a coffee and a crossiant before heading further down the street.
The carbomb detonated with a devastating roar. Glass windows were blown out for blocks and the sounds of sirens filled the air as the fireball rose skyward behind him.
A dark car pulled up quickly.
He jumped inside and off they went.
Marco was the one who arranged the meeting between Elena Duran and his boss Antonio Geist, and he was also the hitman who took care of loose ends.
It was questionable as to which was more calculating and cold, Marco or Antonio but one thing was certain; they both were two wings of the same bird.
Now that Elena had come to them, Marco began the process of surveiling his quarry. He was the eyes and ears of the operation, conducting reconnaissance.
As night fell, he emerged from the dark alley with a large case in hand. A light Panama hat obscured his eyes, matching his cream colored suit. He proceeded down the street to a parking garage adjacent to a ritzy hotel. He entered the staircase, headed up multiple floors. First. Second. Third. Fourth. Onward he continued. Fifth. Sixth. Seventh. Eighth. Finally, he reached his destination. The Rooftop of the parking garage.
As he swung the door open and stepped out into the night air, he ensured that the rooftop was completely empty as he walked around behind the exit and peered across the street at the windows of the hotel.
He set down the dark case and opened it. He pulled forth a scoped rifle and perched it atop the ledge of the garage.
“Come out Come out wherever you are.” He whispered as he shouldered the rifle and peered through the scope.
The scope’s magnification darted from window to window as he scanned for his target.
Finally the crosshairs came to rest on a large panoramic window before an exquisite balcony.
The lights were on inside the room and he could see Charlie Duran pacing around inside.
He adjusted the focus on the rifle scope.
A woman in a white blouse and black pencil skirt walked into the view.
“I’m glad you could join me tonight.” Charlie said taking a seat before the desk.
The Executive Suite was elegantly furnished with very large panoramic windows overlooking a magnificent view of the city’s Garden District. There was a large cream colored couch in the center of the room and an entertainment center was a large television. Artwork and plants added touches to the room.
The young woman sat on the couch, her legs crossed at the knee.
“Thank you for offering to review the Geist files with me and offering to help me advance my career.” The young woman replied.
It was the young blonde intern he had fantasized about earlier.
“What is it with this guy and these college girls.” Marco retorted watching them through the rifle scope.
He turned his aim back to Duran, the crosshairs coming to rest just behind his right ear.
Charlie stood up and walked over to the bar and began pouring drinks.
“Please make yourself more comfortable.” Charlie gestures handing her a glass of wine.
She raised it to her lips.
“It’s not every day that you get to work under someone as prestigious as yourself Mr. Duran.” She began.
He laughed, brushing his hand through his salt and pepper hair.
“Call me Charlie.” He replied sipping his whiskey.
“I don’t think I can. It would be inappropriate, I. I must insist on calling you Mr. Duran ” she answered.
Charlie rose to his feet and took another sip of his drink.
“About these files.” She started.
Charlie raised his hand to silence her.
“In time.” He responded walking over behind her. He leaned over behind her, bringing his nose to within inches of her neck inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume.
“What if I told you that I can help you advance your career in ways you’d never imagined.” He whispered into her ear.
She craned her neck in arousal as he kissed beneath her ear.
She moaned softly, closing her eyes.
His cock began to swell in his pants as he gazed down her blouse at her figure.
His hands roamed across her shoulders and cupped her breasts.
She jerked away from him, rising to her feet.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I mean. I want to. I’d love to but. I can’t.” She murmured looking to the floor.
He reluctantly smiled with a chuckle.
“Fine. You are free to go. But do not come to the office tomorrow. In fact, do not come back to the office at all. Because you’re fired.” he replied nonchalantly.
Her eyes widened and her heart sank.
“You’ll never work in the Justice Department again.” He added raising his glass to his lips, sipping the sharp brown liquid.
She looked to the floor in confusion and silence.
She swallowed sharply and walked over to him. She pressed her lips firmly against his and began undoing his jacket.
He began undoing his tie and pushed her away momentarily.
He walked around her admiring her before stopping behind her. He rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned in towards her, his lips coming to rest by her ear.
“I’m glad you came to your senses…” He began.
“Because one way or another…”
“I always get what I want.”
He grasped her blouse tightly and tugged at it forcefully. The stitching easily gave way with a rip and the popping of fabric and buttons and there she stood in a lacy black bra.
He began unzipping her skirt and pulled it down revealing the matching panties to her bra set. She turned to face him, greeted by the look of lust in his eyes. The almost primal intensity burning within the depths of his blue eyes. She began undoing his shirt, exposing his bare chest. She ran her trembling hands over his chest before beginning to undo his belt. She unzipped his trousers and was greeted by his powerful erection.
She paused.
“Put it in your mouth.” He commanded.
She hesitated momentarily, taking it into her trembling hands.
“I said. Put it in your mouth.” He commanded once again.
Marco watched it all through the rifle’s scope from across the street.
“What the fuck is wrong with this guy?” he growled as he watched Duran forcefully shove his erection into the girl’s mouth and begin forcefully pumping her face.
Marco exhale sharply as he drew back the rifle and set it down on the case. He reached over and picked up a camera and screwed on a high performance lense. He raised the camera, returning to the scene unfolding in the hotel room.
With a click, the shuttered captured the images of Charlie Duran’s extramarital affairs with an innocent intern.
She gagged and choked on his swollen member as he forcefully pumped her face with his powerful hips. She braced herself pushing against his thighs.
As he forcefully thrusted, he angrily growled.
“I. Told. You. What. To. Fucking. Do!”
“You. Do. What. I. Say!”
Saliva ran down his penis and down the inside of his leg as he began to smear her makeup.
Marco’s phone began to vibrate.
He turned his attention from the scene and answered the phone.
“Marco.”
“Yeah. I got him. He’s having a late night meeting with his intern.”
“I’ve got a perfect shot on him.”
“Alright. I’ll get the pictures and we’ll go from there. Out.”
He said hanging the phone up and returning to Mr. Duran.
To the world Charlie Duran was some kind of legendary folk hero, but there was another side to Charlie Duran. The short tempered violent womanizer. A misogynist sadist who often used his power and influence to have his way with women he wanted.
Marco Jardines was now a witness to this.
Charlie grabbed the girl by the arm and yanked her to her feet. He pressed her up against the large glass window and arched her back. He yanked her panties down and rested his engorged cock on her round buttocks.
“I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time.” He said as he spit on his hand and reached between her thighs probing away at her vaginal entrance. Her fluids began to run down the insides of her legs as she closed her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip. She winced as he pushed into her, her feminine cavity accepting the girthy rod.
She reached up and began to unfasten her bra allowing it to drop to the floor.
Charlie took a firm grasp of her hips and began pumping away. She braces herself as best as she could against the glass as he pumped away.
Marco continued snapping pictures.
She moaned with his increasingly powerful thrusts, her legs beginning to wobble under the strain and force of his pumps. Charlie’s teeth clinched tightly, his penis squeezed with the vice grip like grip of her vaginal muscles. Always the narcissist, he enjoyed his own work. He admired his cock as it pumped in and out, admiring the veins which throbbed along the lengths of his powerful erection.
With a series of final more powerful thrusts, he expended his contents within the depths of her vagina. He embraced the feeling of his semen dripping out down his penis as his groin muscles pumped forth the slimy fluid.
He turned her around and kissed her.
Marco lowered the camera.
“I should have blown your head off when I had the chance, but don’t worry; your time is coming.”
Marco smirked placing the camera back into the case alongside the rifle.
He disappeared into the night.
Geist was waiting.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/o47v20/sleeping_with_the_enemy_part_iii