Sentinel 1

There were myriad reasons for why she employed him, not least her need for protection. Having a career that involved making friends and enemies with some of the worst people in the world necessitated the services of someone who could anticipate and deal with threats. That he somehow managed to combine that primal requirement of controlled aggression with one of the kindest, most gentle attitudes she'd ever come across made it all the easier to pay his not insubstantial salary.

Skip (his name was perhaps her least favourite thing about him) was currently staring out the window of her hotel suite. They had landed in Berlin less than an hour ago, efficiency and knowledge of the city getting them checked in not long after, giving her bodyguard plenty of time to make a thorough assessment of internal and external threats.

'Clear,' he finally concluded.

'Thank you, why don't you go to your room and get some rest before we meet the ambassador?'

West Berlin in 1965 was paranoid, frightened, determined and dangerous. It was also the source of some of the most important developing news stories in this Cold War, which is why Yolanda was often sent here by her demanding boss. Being so good at her job she had revealed exactly the sort of information that resulted in the unwanted attention of those aforementioned friends and enemies. It was only after she narrowly avoided assassination and refused to continue feeding attention-grabbing exclusives to her editor that he agreed to her having a bodyguard. The one she selected just happened to have a most spectacular butt.

---

There was something that the ambassador said that evening which had caused Yolanda and Skip to hurry back to the hotel shortly after the lavish dinner party concluded. It was a comment so potentially powerful that one of the ambassador's serving staff had immediately departed the grand residence having heard the whispered conversation through a discreet amplifier and earpiece. The spying server found a nearby telephone and relayed the conversation to his handler, he then almost made it back to the ambassador's home, but not before he was quietly murdered and his body quickly disappeared.

A hornets nest had been kicked and Yolanda was aware that what she'd been told by the ambassador put her well and truly in the sights of the Soviets. She needed to safely return to her hotel, write the story and file it. Once the story had been printed the danger would return to normal levels.

'My room has been compromised,' Skip announced while Yolanda was tapping away on her typewriter.

'Then you will stay in here with me tonight.'

'I was going to suggest exactly that. It's best that I remain by your side for the next 48 hours.'

'Very well.'

'Do you need to leave the hotel again in that time?'

'No, I can file from here.'

Without another word Skip hurried to his room, grabbed his belongings plus some bedding then returned to Yolanda's suite. He re-checked the doors and windows then did yet another audit of his weapons. Yolanda had finished her story but pretended to continue working so that she could surreptitiously watch Skip go about his work, not because she didn't trust him but because she couldn't get enough of seeing his strong hands touching his tools of the trade. After today's drama she wanted nothing more than to be in those hands.

What Skip lacked in height and brute force he made up for in intelligence. Already he had formulated a plan A, B, C and D if the situation worsened. He turned and noticed that he was being watched.

'Done,' Yolanda hurriedly said. 'Could you pass me the telephone?'

Dialling a number known only to her she noted the click of a third party listening in on the conversation before she began dictating the story to her London assistant. Skip stared out the windows while she spoke, Yolanda stared at his butt.

'Three cars pulled up while you were on your call,' Skip said as soon as Yolanda hung up. 'The occupants all entered the hotel. A van also just arrived, the occupants of that seem to be from a separate group. They've also entered.'

Just then the phone loudly trilled. Yolanda answered and listened to the brief message.

'We've been asked to go to reception,' she said, replacing the phone on its cradle.

'We won't be doing that,' Skip replied.

'What if they come up here?'

'The hotel shouldn't let them. But if they do, then I picked this hotel for the strength of its doors. We're basically in an impenetrable room right now. You say that the heat will die down once the story is published?'

'It should do.'

'And it'll be published at...?'

'Seven AM tomorrow, eight o'clock local time.'

'Then we've no more than nine hours to wait.'

There was a bang from the corridor as someone noisily returned to their room. Having immediately become nervous as soon as she'd ended her call with London Yolanda jumped and began to think irrationally.

'We should leave,' she suggested.

'Very bad idea. We're safe here.'

As if it back up his point gunfire suddenly erupted outside. Skip briefly glanced out the window.

'Well that's a few less people coming after us,' he quipped.

'Wha...what?' Yolanda's voice shook.

'The men from the van were followed back out of the hotel, the driver and passengers from one of the cars just shot them dead, then sped away. Now we've just two car loads of people to worry about.'

'Oh god.'

At last Skip realised that Yolanda was on the verge of a breakdown. He walked away from the window and sat next to her on the bed.

'It's going to be OK. They can't get in.'

'Of course they can, it's just a bloody door.'

'I'm here, you're safe.'

'You don't know what I've just revealed to the world.'

'You're right, I don't.'

'And now I'm going to fucking die because of it.'

'Yolanda...you need to calm down. How can I help you calm down?'

'I don't know. Take your clothes off.'

'What?'

'If I'm going to die then I want to die with a smile on my face.'

'OK,' Skip said, noticing that this conversation was beginning to relax his client.

'OK?' Yolanda clarified.

Skip didn't answer. He checked the window once more, pulled the curtains across then turned to face Yolanda. Hoping that this was the right thing to do, he began to strip. Before removing his underwear he noticed how his client was no longer nervously rubbing her necklace between her fingers. Instead both hands were beside her on the bed, her eyes were fixated on his chest and thighs and groin. Good. This night would go much smoother if she remained distracted.

'Oh...wow,' Yolanda breathed when Skip turned and pulled off his underwear, revealing a backside buffed by years of military training.

More gunfire punctuated the night, Skip turned and hoped the full reveal would continue to keep Yolanda's mind off the violence. It did.

'I want to touch,' she said.

Skip complied. He padded over to the bed and felt Yolanda's clammy hands on his thighs. She took a minute to admire his penis, thick, smooth, perfectly curved and begging to be fondled and licked. The proximity to her mouth caused his dick to swell to semi-rigidity, Yolanda obliged by taking him into her hand. His skin stretched to accommodate the erection which grew to an impressive girth, Yolanda rubbed her thumb beneath the warm, soft head.

'Lovely,' was all she could say, the wordsmith suddenly at a loss for words.

Skip ran his fingers through Yolanda's thick black hair and down to her neck. He eased her jacket from her shoulders, causing her to look up at him. She stood and, raising herself slightly on her toes, met his mouth with hers. Sirens wailed outside.

The touch of his tongue against hers sent a wave of excitement all the way to her moistening cunt, which was exactly where she now wanted that tongue. She reached beneath her skirt, pulled off her underwear then lay back on the bed. Unaware of the blue lights strobing the outside of the room's curtains, she pointed to between her legs and gave Skip no doubt about what was expected of him.

'No, there,' Yolanda nudged Skip so that he moved to his right, perfectly positioned so that she could see him in a mirror. 'Oh yeah, just there,' she continued as he began kissing around her vulva.

Her bodyguard had absolutely done this before, someone had clearly shown him exactly how to lick clit. He sealed his lips around it and gently sucked. Yolanda spread and bent her legs, lifting herself slightly off the bed and presenting her opening. Skip took the hint and introduced a finger into her slick hole. She didn't notice the shouting in the street. Instead, she patted the bed and Skip complied, climbing on next to her.

'Keep your tongue down there,' she instructed.

Now she could take hold of his cock while he licked and slurped and sucked. It was, as she had said, a lovely cock. Silky smooth with slight veiny ridges, her finger and thumb barely touched as they encircled it. Before she could continue her admiration he flicked his tongue against her hardened button in just such a way that an orgasm ambushed her out of nowhere. Her groans almost drowned out an explosion in the far distance. And so it continued for a few hours.

Between the hours of three and four in the morning the violence outside abated. Skip took this as an excuse to rest, but then something or someone crashed against the door at 04:03. He leapt naked from the bed while Yolanda shrunk beneath the covers. Another crash. He peered through the spyhole and, timing it to perfection, opened the door just before the assailant kicked against it. Off-balance, the intruder fell through the doorway and lost their balance. Skip swept the man's legs from beneath him then kicked him in the head, immediately knocking him out. Unconcerned about his nudity, Skip dragged the attacker back out the room, checked the corridor, then re-entered, closing and locking the door behind him.

'What if he wakes up?' Yolanda shakily asked.

'He won't for a few hours.'

Back to square one, but this time his client wouldn't be distracted by his oral skills. He needed another way to take her mind off of the violence which had just burst through the door. Still entirely unclothed, Skip straddled Yolanda's tummy and began slowly masturbating. His rhythmic movements soon mesmerised her and she couldn't resist sitting up and taking him in her mouth for a few minutes. With arousal once again replacing alarm, Yolanda was ready for her next orgasm.

The bodyguard used his strong hands to massage her thighs, before he effortlessly flipped her over and worked on the knots in her back. Still dressed, she gladly accepted this new attention, especially when his hands began kneading her buttocks.

'Tongue,' she ordered.

Skip turned her back over and pushed her legs up so that he could once again have full access to her cunt. He had turned fully around so that Yolanda could ogle his derrière and delectably dangling testicles. As if reaching for a juicy piece of fruit, she stretched an arm so that her hand could cup those delicate orbs. How soft they were, how warm.

Resisting the urge to poke a finger into his exposed asshole, she instead deftly caressed his cock, fascinated at how it stretched his balls as it grew. The temptation remained, though, to make such a powerful man melt at the touch of her fingertip.

6am and battles were escalating outside as Yolanda's enemies made a final attempt at punishing her for hearing something that she absolutely should not have done. She pushed Skip off of her and reached into the handbag beside her bed.

'Condom, put it on and fuck me,' she said, tossing the little packet to the naked man.

Skip complied, expertly unrolling the rubber over his cock. Pushing her legs back up, he slowly eased into her well-lubricated cunt, an action that was accompanied by a delighted 'fuuuuuuuuuuck' from Yolanda.

A low boom sounded outside and Skip used this as his cue to thrust harder and faster. When things briefly quietened he slowed, pushed Yolanda's top and bra up and leaned down to take her nipples in his mouth. His hands pushed her breasts together so that they were more easily in reach of his lips.

Yolanda lay back and felt him reach her core. She wasn't stupid, she knew her life was in danger and no amount of mind-blowing sex was going to distract her from that. But, again, if this was going to be her end then she could think of no better way of going. Judging by the rigidity of his erection, Skip clearly felt the same.

It got to the point where she looked forward to the bursts of noise from outside, which seemed to spur her bodyguard into fucking her harder and deeper, his dick delving deep and that glorious curve pressing exactly the right spot.

At precisely 7am the phone rang and Yolanda leaned across to the bedside table to answer it. Peace reigned, both on the street and in the hotel corridors. She replaced the receiver and put her hands on Skip's waist, holding him place so that she could writhe under him and fuck him from beneath. He pushed down to fully impale her, his dick jumping when she reached around and firmly grasped his butt.

By now she'd lost count of how many times she'd orgasmed. The danger was over, though: it had been her editor that telephoned to say her story was on the front page of newspapers that were, at that moment, being distributed across the country. There was no longer any reason to attack her, not today anyway.

'Cum inside me,' she ordered, curious to see if this might spark one final ecstatic explosion.

Ever obedient, after fucking him for less than a minute more Skip reached his orgasm. Sure enough, the jerking, throbbing dick took Yolanda over the edge one last time. When Skip eventually stood she was embarrassed to see marks from her fingernails on both of his firm butt cheeks.

'Thank you, for distracting me,' she said while rearranging her clothes.

'My pleasure. Should I get dressed?'

'Yes, we can go to the airport now.'

'Back to London?'

'Yes, although I do hope I get another dangerous assignment soon.'