Stone turned to Felicity. “We’re on for tomorrow evening. Drinks at seven.” Stone cleared away their trays and sent them down to the kitchen on the dumbwaiter.
“You have a very efficient secretary,” Felicity said. “What is her name again?”
“Oh, no you don’t. You’ll hire her for some secret mission.”
“I might just do that,” she replied, sipping her orange juice.
“I’m not telling you her name.”
“It’s Joan.”
“I’m not telling you her last name.”
“Oh, come on, Stone.”
“I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me why you and/or the Foreign Office want to find Stanley Whitestone.”
“That’s just eating you up inside, isn’t it?”
“It is. And I think I deserve to know.”
“Hah!”
“Tell me,” he said, kissing her on the ear.
“Let’s not bring sex into this,” she said.
“Why not? Sex goes with everything.” He kissed her on the neck and ran a hand under the covers.
She turned toward him. “Maybe,” she said, “when we’re finished.”
THREE-QUARTERS OF AN hour later, Stone lay panting and sweating. “All right,” he said. “Tell me why you and/or the Foreign Office want to find Stanley Whitestone.”
“I didn’t say I’d tell you that.”
“Oh, yes, you did.”
“I said maybe.”
“The implication was that, if I performed well, you’d tell me.”
“You may have inferred that; I certainly didn’t imply it.”
“All right, my participation in this project ends now.”
“What are you going to do about your dinner party?”
“I’m going to use it to cement the relationship between Hackett and Eggers, so I’ll get a nice bonus. I’m not going to bother to get Hackett’s fingerprints.”
Felicity leaned over and kissed his penis, then slipped it between her lips.
“That’s not fair,” Stone breathed.
“I can stop at any time,” Felicity said, pausing.
“Don’t stop.”
“You’ll get Hackett’s prints?”