Collateral Desire [ENG/Complete]

𝟖. 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒔

####TW: Sexual Torture###

It was the first Saturday of a new month. Again. This day kept recurring, and while for most, Saturdays are the best day of the week, once a month it was my nightmare. I had to come in and see Zabka at the Russian consulate, my actual supervisor. Not Klaus Pichelsberg, the German sixty-year-old musky NATO official. Zabka was just his codename, derived from his actual last name: Ivan Petrovitsch Zabkov. His last name means "frog" in Russian. Fate couldn't have blessed him with a more fitting name because he looked and acted like a big, fat, slimy toad. It was him that Scott and I had seen in the upscale sushi restaurant last Sunday, which is exactly why I knew this day would become hell. My heart was fluttering as I walked into his office, already having a hunch of what would await me today. He stood in his office, facing the window behind his desk. He turned around as soon as I passed the threshold. He stomped right towards me, dramatically locking the door with a key.

"Phone!" he demanded, putting out his right sweaty palm in front of me. I picked it out of my blazer's pocket and dropped it into his hand.
"Personal phone," he continued. I repeated.
"Car keys," I watched his wide, thin lips move and shuddered. My eyes widened.
"No!" I retaliated. His sticky, fat fingers made a demanding motion, and I couldn't escape the cold look of his icy-blue eyes. I gave in. This was serious. He never wanted me to hand over my car keys. He either wanted to extract data from my car's black box or manipulate me into believing I was trapped, more than I already was. His gray, shiny dress shoes made a harsh sound on the wooden floor as he stepped back to his desk, opened a drawer, and locked my belongings in there.

"What do you have for me this month, Vera, my dear?" he asked sarcastically.
"I have collaborated with a Chinese spy to obtain German manufacturing plans for ammunition, which are planned to be shipped to Ukraine this October," I explained as I stood there.
"Pichelsberg had two interesting objectives coming into his office last month. A representative of a small German start-up. They develop a long-distance, undetectable lasers with very far reach. Its precision is new to the market. The Chinese don't even have this technology, nor do the Americans."

"Like the American you were with last Saturday at the Sushi restaurant?"

Shit. Why did I bring it up? Why did I say that? This is how I screw up and give him a chance to interrogate me further.

"He is a dead lead," I said convincingly.

"I told you to stay away from the Americans. What did you talk to him about? What did you do with him?"

"He works for the German-American Association for Commerce.", I responded while trying to keep a calm and collected demeanor.

"I told you, he is a dead lead. I won't see him again.", forcing my voice to sound as casual as possible.

"Then give me his name; I will look him up.", he fiddled with the signature silver ring on his pinky finger as if he were bored.

"He is not listed. He is not important enough. I hoped he was my key to the Association, but he is just an office clerk, a foot soldier, like me with NATO-OTAN."

"Now that you say it..." he stroked his bare, shiny chin. "He does look like military. Like actual military," he stated as a matter of fact.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! WHY!

"You're so wrong," I laughed, shaking my head no and trying to divert him from the leads my subconscious was radiating to him without my consent. He is so good. This fat, slimy toad.
"What are you trying to accuse me? I thought you trusted me!" my tone adopted a serious demeanor.
"I thought you trusted me aswell," his voice deepend alarmingly. It seemed like the temperature in the room was dropping rapidly with every word that came out of his unpleasant mouth.
"Since you started disobeying me, I believe I may accuse you of everything, even sabotage," his glaring stare made my blood freeze in my veins. I wasn't particularly scared of my supervisor. At least not all these past years I worked for him, but today, today something changed. His fat finger repeated that damned, demanding motion and I stepped closer slowly, trying to bend the space-time-continuum. Unhappy with me, he orbited around me like a predator awaiting the perfect moment for killing his prey. With every little move of his, I felt like an ant circled in. Suddently, Zabka pushed me onto the floor, and I fell to my knees. Without realizing it at first, he lifted me up onto a dark blue office chair. I screamed and wanted him to get off of me, but seconds later, he tied my hands to one armrest of the chair followed by the other one. My knees, which were resting on the seat, were bound with a black cord to the armrests as well. As I was crouching on this chair, he lifted my dress over my butt, pulling down my skin-toned tights to my ankles. Without hesitation, he tore my army green panties apart so that my bare butt and flesh were exposed. My heart was gripped by anxiety, beating like a captured buttlerfly in a jar.