The Instructor

Part 3

The plane trip to DC was largely uneventful, for which you were grateful. You didn't exactly have a fear of flying, you were only scared of crashing. You handled your fear well, except during turbulence.

The flight was smooth, barring one pocket of turbulence. You gasped as the plane dropped in the air and your heart leapt in your chest and you gripped the armrests. Agent Walker was in deep concentration, reading from his laptop. Without taking his eyes off the screen he, uncurled your death grip with warm, gentle fingers, and placed your hand on his thigh before covering it with his. The plane dropped again and your nails dug into his hard muscles. You felt him tense under your touch, sucking in a breath between his teeth, and gave your hand a light squeeze.

You released your pressure on his leg after a few moments of calm air, and removed it altogether after a few minutes. Walker gave a small, dissatisfied grunt when you pulled your hand away. You put your hand back, slipping it under his and were rewarded with a content hum. You left your hand there until you landed.

Now, after disembarking the plane, not a word passes between you and Walker as you follow him out of the airport and into a waiting car. He doesn't introduce you to the driver, so you follow his lead and stay quiet. You pull up to a standard apartment building in the city, surrounded by other nondescript apartments. You both get out and enter the building as the driver leaves. You shadow Walker into the elevator where he pressed the 9thfloor. The elevator pings as it arrives at the desired level and again you wordlessly follow Walker to an apartment door where he produces a key and lets you in.

He drops his bag on the dining table and you do the same. You stand awkwardly, waiting for him to speak. Is this the room where surveillance would be set up? Is this his room? Your room? Would you be sharing the space?

A door opens and a woman in her late thirties came out. Attractive, well dressed in stylish navy pants and jacket with a knitted sweater, she had the air of confidence you have come to associate with field agents. She looks you up and down, getting your measure, probing for weakness in the same way Walker had on that first day of training. Learning from your mistake, when she meets your eyes you hold her dominant gaze.

She must have approved because she smirks and asks Walker, "Is this Agent New Girl?"

Walker raises an eyebrow and tells her your name.

She scrunches her nose up and says, "I like New Girl better." She sticks her hand out and says, "I'm Thomas."

You force a smile and say, "Nice to meet you, Agent Thomas."

She laughed as we shake hands and says, "Come on, New Girl. We have months of boring listening and watching to do, just call me Thomas."

Walker picks up his bag, and looking at you he says, "I'm in 907." He looks at his watch. He continues, completely deadpan, "You're on duty from six am. Be at my room by four am for a thorough briefing before you start. I suggest you sleep, it'll be a rough start if you don't."

Your façade crumbles at his words and you bite your lip to supress the moan coming from your throat. The first words directed at you in hours were orders laced in seduction, a suggestive reminder of the power he had over you, both professionally and personally. The subtle undertones of his speech, the words he wanted to say were: "Sleep, my pet. You will need it."

Alone with Thomas, you school your features as you face her. She has a knowing smirk, and although you're embarrassed, she is light hearted. "Don't worry New Girl, he has that effect on everyone."

You allow a giggle to pass your lips, you had to laugh, to ease the tension in your body. Then you stop, curious. With burning cheeks, you play up the New Girl persona and ask, "Should I be worried?" You emphasise your innocence, but hide your desire by asking, "Will he, you know, take advantage?"