Illya's Jazz Baby

by Glenna Meredith

He hadn't realized how tired he was until just now. The flight had taken twelve hours longer than he had wanted to sit in an airplane, and he hadn't really been able to sleep, in spite of closing his eyes and making a concentrated effort at it. There was something wrong when sleep didn't come to him easily, and his body felt tense as well as exhausted. Getting home was the only cure, he figured. His own bed, and a night without anyone to interrupt him.

So, here he was. In his own bed, all alone and still wide awake. He couldn't blame this on anyone else, and another shot of vodka wasn't going to put him to sleep.

With that thought and a frustratingly clear head, he got up and dressed, sliding the Special beneath his jacket and into the shoulder holster. The black turtleneck hid the bruises he'd acquired from being nearly hanged by the neck, but nothing was going to hide the dark circles that had arrived as surely as he'd said goodbye to his ability to sleep.

The Jazzmin Bar was an all night affair here in this part of the city. He managed to sit in on the late sessions whenever possible, sometimes playing a few tunes when the piano player took a break. They knew him only as the blond guy with the funny accent. No one asked where it was from, nor did they care about a last name. Illya was all they got, and it was enough. "That's some crazy name you got there, man", had been the only comment. After that, it was all about the music.

Tonight he recognized only two of the players. Sometimes they drifted out for a few nights, or weeks. A better paying gig might show up to lure them out of town for a while, but there was always someone waiting in the wings to fill the gap. Illya was too keyed up to play; too many sleepless nights in hotel rooms and countries that smelled of blood and misery. He was tired, so weary that getting here had made him wonder why he hadn't stayed in bed.

"Hey Illya. We haven't seen you for awhile".

The waitress was a girl named Kelly, with long red hair and brown eyes that smiled at him now, genuinely glad to see him again. They had gotten to know each other over drinks one night; had gotten to know each other a lot better over some very energetic sex after the drinks were finished. Right now, the memory was almost more taxing on his waning energy than he cared to admit. Fine thing, when just the thought of a pretty girl made him tired.

"Good evening, Kelly. It's quite a nice crowd for so late in the evening".

She nodded, delivering a vodka he hadn't had to order. She knew what he liked to drink. She knew of some other things he liked as well. He looked tired tonight, and she wondered what kind of life he led; he never talked about himself and the mystery of the man was almost as intriguing as his looks. Just a glimpse of those blue eyes and she had been hopelessly smitten.

"So, are you doing anything later? I thought, if you're not busy, we might have a drink, or... something".

As tired as he was, something in his groin lurched at the memory of her straddling him, encompassing him with those pink lips, her tongue...

He felt suddenly energized, and wondered how soon she would be getting off work. It took him seconds to form the words...

"I'd like that...very much. How soon can you get off...of work?"

She knew he was blushing, and that made him even more attractive. The man was intoxicating and she felt herself blushing as she considered how easy it was to lap him up like a cat slurping cream.

"As it happens, I have only five minutes left on my shift, so...wait for me?"

He nodded, feeling uncertain about getting up just yet. Some parts of his body had enough energy to stand up and shout.

Kelly motioned for him to meet her at the door, and they walked out together and down the street to her apartment. He had been there previously, and was glad she didn't have overly fussy tastes. The small space was a studio, with a brick wall against which a large iron headboard reclined; its cool sheets and down pillows called to him, seduced him into their depth as he lay there, naked and aroused by the promise of what he now realized his body had been calling for.

There was no tensions quite equal to sexual tension, and after a mission nothing else seemed to take off the edge of danger and uncertainty like a good romp with a desirable woman like Kelly. Her hair hung like a curtain over them as he pulled her down to him, two mouths hungry for the taste of the other.

She hadn't balked at the gun, nor the bruises that circled his neck. She had already decided he was a spy...or something just as dangerous. She thought he was British, although there was a little something extra in his accent. Still, perhaps he was MI5 or something like that. Perhaps he knew James Bond. She had smiled at that when it first occurred to her. Now she just accepted that his life was very different from her own.

At this moment, it was all about helping him relax. The man was coiled up and ready to strike, but so weary that she didn't think she'd make him put out the effort. She held him down, urging him to let her take the lead, determined to be the one to exert the greater effort this time. Kisses showered his mouth, his face and jaw; she let her mouth guide her as it found the hard nipples. Her tongue swirled around them, feeling the tickle of chest hair and the catch in his breath as his body responded to first licking, then sucking on that sensitive site.

His hands busied themselves at her breasts, letting his fingers do what his mouth longed for, tugging and flicking with an urgency that belied any tiredness he had felt before. No longer able to stand it, he drew each breast successively to his mouth, letting his teeth braise them as his lips clinched them, teased them...his deft tongue speaking a language her body understood without a need for interpretation.

She could have climaxed right there, the intensity of that encounter racing through her, causing her back to arch involuntarily as he let her thrust backwards. When she came back down it was to continue on her mission; she put her mouth back on his body, his stomach lurching at the feel of her at his naval, then lower and finally, an escaping moan as her mouth was filled with his hard penis.

She had learned the first time with Illya that the lack of circumcision was a key to his heightened sensitivity. With her tongue she pushed back the hood and licked at the now exposed head, tasting the escaping fluid as it peeked from within, waiting to explode into her mouth in spite of the man's efforts to hold it back. He was moaning now, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to maintain some control.

Kelly's fingers were fondling and caressing the sensitive balls, their velvety texture nearly as compelling as the throbbing scepter she was consuming. It was indeed a king's rod, the size of it worthy of this mysterious man for whom she was doing this act. Her eyes were intermittently closed and then feasting on the sight of him enthrall with her ministrations. The blond pubic hair was nearly as pale as that on his head and chest; the effect of it on her dizzying.

Illya could take no more of it. His willpower reached its end and he climaxed in a brilliant and exuberant explosion that filled her, satisfying him and congratulating her for a job very well done. She swallowed, always demure and never letting on that one did not really get used to it. It was an act of love for a man who was nearly a stranger. What had seduced her into this remained a mystery. She wasn't usually this...easy. There was something about this one, though, even if she did know he would never stay around long enough to make it a habit.

She lay down next to him, her hand on his chest; she felt his heartbeat easing into something like normal, and noted with satisfaction that he was already asleep. It didn't offend her, she had known that this was what he needed. The tension was gone, he was sleeping peacefully, and she had him next to her for just a little while longer.

She could live with that.

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