Escapades of an Erotic Spy - Part 1 A Spy is Born Read Online Free Page B

Year's Eve bash in
Richmond. Staying overnight. Won't be home till the next
afternoon."
    "Your sisters?"
    "I'm supposed to watch them. I'll have them
in bed by ten. Eleven at the latest. Then I'm free." Beau's
expression changed to one of great importance. "Meet me there just
before midnight."
    "Is it safe?"
    "It's safe. I'd bet my life on it."
    His life wasn't what I was worried about. If his family caught
him, he'd probably get a stern talking to and maybe a cut in his
allowance. Then he'd be off to school again to resume exactly where
he left off. Me, on the other hand—I'd be out of a job. Possibly
out of several jobs. It was a huge risk.
    But, hell! —this was Beau! My Beau! He
wanted to be with me on New Year's Eve, to be there when the clock
struck midnight and I became a woman. What's more, he wanted to be
the one to usher me into womanhood. How could I possibly turn that
down?
    "All right," I agreed.
    Beau beamed. A chill went through me.
     
     
    New Year's Eve:
    The late-night trolley ride across the
Potomac felt very odd. I had never before traveled to Arlington at
that hour. But here it was, New Year's Eve, and the trolley was
surprisingly busy. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised. It
was obvious a number of my fellow passengers were on their way to
parties that wouldn't reach their climax until midnight. So it
wasn't unthinkable that, at 11:00 p.m., there'd be people who were
on their way to their late-night destinations. Come to think of it,
I was one of those people.
    There was no problem about my going out at
such an otherwise ungodly hour. My mother asked few questions after
I told her I'd be meeting a friend to ring in the New Year. She had
plans of her own, the details of which I didn't bother to delve
into with her. However, I assumed her plans involved a man and an
overnight stay. They usually did. No matter. The only thing that
truly mattered to me that evening was my rendezvous with Beau. He'd
meet me at the McMahon's empty house where I'd enter as a mere
blossoming girl and exit as a fully flourishing woman.
    The bitter winter wind cut right through my
coat as I walked the dark, deserted side roads from the trolley
stop to the Eldridge's street. It was uncomfortable, but I didn't
care. I only cared about my meeting with Beau. In a little while,
I'd be with him, in private, where no one would disturb us. This
was what I'd wanted for months. I'd have braved the cold for twice
as long, even without a coat, just for the moment that was about to
happen.
    It was about 11:30 when I arrived at the
McMahon house. The large, Georgian style brick home was dark
inside. Only the flicker of a sidewalk street lamp illuminated its
exterior, and even that was faint. Scouting up and down the street
with my eyes, I determined there was no one around, and I
cautiously walked up the steps and onto the home's front porch. I
tried the door. It was locked. A porch swing was just to my left,
in a shadowed area. I sat myself on it and huddled into my coat as
best I could for whatever warmth the measly, cheap garment would
allow.
    Next door, the diffused light of a small
table lamp shone through the red curtains of the Eldridge parlor
windows. Things seemed pretty quiet over there.
    Where's Beau? Is he in the parlor? Should I
go over and knock on the window, just to let him know I'm waiting?
No! Absolutely not! If I were seen, it would ruin everything. I
just need to sit and be patient. He'll be along shortly.
    11:45. At least, that was my estimate since
I wasn't carrying a timepiece. Shivering, I thought to myself how
long it had been since I'd seen anyone on the streets. Wherever the
late-night travelers were headed, they must be there by now. No one
was still roaming about at this hour. Everyone was now where they
were supposed to be—except Beau.
    Just wait. He'll be here soon.
    11:50.
    Where is he? He is coming, isn't he? He
wouldn't just leave me sitting here, would he? On New Year's Eve?
On my birthday? Oh, not