Picfic Tuesday Sept. 25, 2012: The Go - Go Girl

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

The two agents stood at the bar watching the blonde on the stage run through her dancing paces.  She moved quickly and enthusiastically from the Jerk to the Frug to the Pony and the Boogaloo and back again seamlessly and in time with the music.  Her fringed dress accentuated her curves and the movement of her body.  She had kicked off her white go – go boots after thirty minutes and was dancing barefoot with total abandon. 

“She is our contact?” the Russian asked incredulously.  “How are we supposed to approach her to get the information?”

Napoleon waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.  “I don’t know,” he replied, “but I’m going to enjoy trying.”

Illya rolled his eyes and retorted, “You may do well dancing with gorillas, but for now, I think I have the solution.  Watch and learn.”   

Illya stepped away from his partner and began to move to the music.  His hair flipped around his face and he pursed his lips in a sensuous pout as he shimmied his way through the writhing bodies between him and the stage.  Thrusting his pelvis to the beat, his dance and gymnastic background were evident in the way he moved his body; sex appeal was roiling off him in waves, pulling women to him.  Women kept gyrating in front of him, hoping to catch his eye and become his, if only for the night, and would look crestfallen as he  gave them a smile and continued past them toward the stairs that led to the stage.    

The go – go dancer had noticed him coming closer and began to play the game with him, facing him now and if possible, dancing even more suggestively.  The crowd slowly became aware of the two blondes apparently attempting to seduce each other and cleared a path so that Illya’s last few steps to the stairs were unencumbered.  He gracefully ascended until he was dancing on the stage.  The woman approached him to the cheers, hoots and hollers of the people below and they put their arms around each other’s waists and began to sway together in a hypnotic, vertical mating dance. 

The Russian turned her around and pulled her body into his as the crowd continued to spur them on.  He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, causing her to smile and nod her head.  He leaned in a little closer and kissed the corner of her mouth before she separated from him, took his hand and led him off the stage behind the curtain.

The bartender slid Napoleon the scotch he had ordered and said, “Wow, man!  Your buddy must be something else!  Linda doesn’t go for just any cat.  She knows all the guys in here dig her and would drop their ol’ ladies in a heartbeat to be with her, but I’ve never seen her give anybody the time of day!  When he comes back, I’m going to buy him a drink!”

“You are certainly within your rights to buy my friend a drink, but I warn you: He is a very private person who takes offense easily.  If he thinks you are trying to get him to become ungentlemanly by ah…describing his encounter with the lovely Linda, he would more than likely break your jaw.”  Napoleon picked up his glass to hide his smirk as the bartender paled and moved away.

An hour later, Napoleon could just see the top of his partner’s head working its way through the crowd back to him.  Illya stepped into view, gave the American a “cat that ate the canary” grin and ordered a club soda.  “That was quite a show you put on, Tovarisch, every guy in here wishes he were you.”

Glancing up at the taller man, Illya asked, “Including you?”

Napoleon laughed as he led the way down the bar and out the door to the street where his car was parked.  “Not I, Partner Mine.”  He unlocked the driver’s side, got in and leaned over to unlock the door for Illya.  As he turned the car on and drove away he explained, “They all think the two of you made mad passionate love, but I know she gave you the information we came for and then you two…what?  Played cards or something?”

Illya smiled enigmatically.  “Or something,” he said coyly, “Linda is a very pleasant young woman.”  He held up his right hand when he saw Napoleon open his mouth.  “That is all I am saying; to say more would be unseemly and you would not want me to kiss and tell, would you, ‘Polya?”  He chuckled as he watched Napoleon struggle with his curiosity and win, finally.  “Take 38^th Street across town; it should be less traffic.”

As Napoleon headed back to HQ, all he could think was: Sneaky, secret – keeping Russian!