ALIAS: Miranda Davenport, sex historian from New York City
MISSION: Find and retrieve a stolen sex journal belonging to Catherine The Great and catch the thieves.
For this mission, I traveled to St. Petersburg. When I arrived there, it was really cold. I came out of the plane, wearing a long black wool coat, a red peasant blouse, and a black knee-length stretch cotton skirt with a three-inch slit on the side and red knee-length faux suede boots. Under my dark brown hair was a black wig with hair down to my neck. According the case file, someone has stolen a sex journal that once belonged to Catherine The Great two nights before. The journal was to be part of an exhibit on Russia’s royalty at the city’s art and history museum. The last time I heard of a robbery in Russia was when someone stole a massive collection of Faberge eggs that once belonged to the Romanovs.
I got to my hotel room after leaving the airport. I even had a dress to wear to the museum gala later tonight, a white, halter-style backless dress with a jeweled brooch in the back with white Aldo sandals. I also got a beautiful multi-colored, butterfly-shaped rhinestone barrette that doubles as digital video and photo camera. But first I had to find out more about the stolen item in question. I went to the museum and talked with the five-foot-four, blonde curator Gina Herzekova.
“So tell me about what is special about this stolen sex journal.” I said.
“The sex journal you’re talking about had once belonged to Catherine The Great. In it, she would write down about all her sexual encounters. Her lovers were the best fighters in the Russian-Prussian war and during her reign. She even wrote about the night she seduced Peter The Great before he was murdered.” Gina said.
From what I’ve heard of Catherine The Great, I found her fascinating, being that she was an empress and a seductress. Who knew that powerful women could be such great leaders and lovers. Gina showed me to the where the journal when it was stolen two nights ago. The journal was said to be on display under a bulletproof glass case and protected by Russian police.
After talking with Gina, I went back to my hotel room to get ready for the museum gala. I put my hair up in a fancy, high up do, keeping the hair away from my face. I put on my dress and heels, but kept the barrette on. At the museum gala, there were plenty of rich people, history enthusiasts, culture seekers, and art admirers. I gazed at the amazing art while eating fresh, expensive caviar on a cracker and sipping champagne.
Then, a tall gentleman stood behind me and said in his Russian accent fluent English, “Excuse me miss, I couldn’t help but notice the lovely brooch on the back of your beautiful dress.”
I turned around and there was tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed Russian man in a black-and-white tuxedo. He introduced himself as Sergei Demsakov. He works as a Russian diplomat working at the U.S. Embassy in Moscow. Sergei and I shared a conversation. He even talked about his family, career, and interests.
Sergei smiled as he said to me, “So you’re a sex historian and you live in New York City?”
I said, “Yes, I am. I work at the History of Sex Museum in New York.”
Then, Sergei had introduced me to his brother Eric and his wife Irena who had just walked in. Eric looked a lot Sergei but shorter than him by two inches and he works as a chemical engineer at a power plant. His wife Irena was tall and slender with deep brown eyes and chocolate brown hair down to her shoulders. She was also a model-in-training who planned on going to New York so she could start her modeling career. She wore a black, strapless gown with a floor-length skirt.
I gave Sergei an invitation to a nightcap at my hotel room after the gala. Later that night, I was still in my dress when I sent information about the journal and Eric and Irena to headquarters. I heard a knock on the door. Sergei arrived with flowers in hand and he wore button-down shirt and jeans because he had changed clothes before coming over. I loved the flowers he gave me.
“When I saw you in that white dress, I couldn’t help but bask in your aurora. You’re even hotter than Anna Kournikova. You’re very sexy, Miranda.” Sergei said.
Slowly, I kissed his lips before changing into my nightclothes. Minutes later, I came back, wearing a blue satin under bust corset exposing my breasts with a matching thong. I even wore a blue feather boa around my shoulders. Sergei got up and unbuttoned his shirt. He revealed his sculptured body to me. He told me he would work out and was once an Olympic gymnast. Sergei was a diplomat and a former gymnast with a male model body. He had washboard abs and strong shoulders and arms. He stood behind me and touched my body with his large, gentle hands while kissing my neck. I turned around to face him and with my hands I touched his body. He cradled my head and stroked my hair with one hand while he felt one of my breasts with the other.
“Miranda, you have a body that is so tempting.” Sergei said as he started kissing my breasts.
I was so aroused I let my boa fall to the floor. His tongue licked my nipples while he laid me down on the bed. My fingers were running through his dark hair. His fingers were unhooking my under bust corset. His lips moved lower to my belly button, circling it with his tongue. He took off his jeans and underwear. Once he saw my thong, Sergei pushed it aside. My clit and pussy were glistening with juices. With his mouth, he was kissing them the same way he was kissing my lips while licking them.
My moans were at a screaming level. Then, he replaced his mouth with his fingers. My juices were coaxing them, as I was nearly cumming. He laid me on my back as removed my thong. I held on to him while his 9-inch cock went in and out of me. My legs were wrapped around his waist. His thrusts were deep and fast until he spilled his seed inside me. After the orgasm, Sergei laid on top of me as we collected our breaths.
“Miranda, I just remembered something about the journal.” Sergei said.
“What about the journal?” I asked.
“Before I was talking to you at the gala, I overheard Eric talking about it. He was there at the museum the night it was stolen. He heard if it were to be sold, it would be worth millions.” He said.
I thought and then said, “He was there? Where was Irena?”
“Getting headshots for her portfolio.” He said.
Sergei and I put our clothes back on and stepped out of the hotel. As we went for a walk, we saw Eric with the journal in his hand and we ran after him. When we got caught up to him, I gave Eric a very hard kick and punch in the back and he fell to the ground in pain. Sergei held Eric down while I found the journal in his jacket pocket. Sergei called Irena and Gina while the police were called.
At the police station, Eric was explaining to them why he stole and tried to steal the journal. He told him he wanted to sell the journal for as much as 40 grand and wanted to use to money to support Irena’s career and medical bills. Eric was a chemical engineer at a power plant in Moscow, but had gotten sick because of chemical exposure from a small explosion that was nothing like Chernobyl back in the 1980s. Many of the employees including Eric were sick but none had died. He was also once a member of the KGB before he was a chemical engineer, but left under “suspicious circumstances” which no one knew. The Russian police and Gina thanked us for returning the journal.
So Catherine The Great’s sex journal was back in the museum and remained intact. Irena divorced Eric, who’s now serving 10 years in jail, and has since moved to New York to pursue a modeling career. After leaving my hotel and saying goodbye to Sergei, I had a martini before going on a flight to my next destination.
Until next mission, Denise