LILA'S PRIZE - PT 1 Mark left the reception and moved down the mansion's stately corridor. He found the door he sought and listened intently for a moment. He frowned and quietly tried the knob. Locked. No time for diplomacy. He drew his revolver and put his shoulder to the door. It burst open and he quickly entered the study. About twenty feet away from him was the mysterious figure he had been seeking. She was intent on a task at the massive, polished oak desk. In one of the study's overstuffed chairs was the unmoving form of one of the Governor's regular security team. Mark levelled his revolver at the intruder. "I don't believe you're supposed to be in here," he murmured. The woman turned from transferring files from the Governor's computer to a CDRW whirring in the drive. Her eyes narrowed for a moment at the interruption, then a slow smile spread across her full, inviting lips. "Company," she practically purred with a hint of bemusement. "What an unexpected pleasure." She turned to face him, straightening to her full height--three inches of which were provided by her stylish stiletto heels. Her red hair framed her smiling, drop-dead gorgeous face. Mark couldn't keep his eyes from wandering down the length of her. His gaze lingered longer than decency normally permitted on the sensuous curve of her full bust straining against the confines of her black, form-fitting turtleneck. The short-short black leather miniskirt barely served modesty, and was a point of departure for the long visual trip down the woman's fabulous legs. She rested her right elbow gingerly against the back of her left hand, which she had crossed just below her amazing bustline. Held delicately between the fingers of her upraised right hand was a cigarette in a short, black holder. Mark hesitated. His training dictated that he should detain her immediately, but...hesitation. What was *that* about? The lovely woman seemed to relax just a bit, sensing the indecision. "I suppose you're one of the freelance security agents," she remarked casually, taking a leisurely puff of her holder. The fragrance of the smoke, from what he could tell, was exotic...almost like a sweet incense. He blinked and focused on his job, though his face felt a bit flushed and warm. The woman smiled a secret smile, seeming to read Mark's innermost thoughts. Feeling uncharacteristically flustered, Mark nodded toward the man in the overstuffed chair. "Wh..what have you done to him?" "Hmmm..?" she responded innocently, glancing back at her victim. "Oh, him?" She held up her cigarette holder and canted it just a bit. "I'm afraid that in this case, smoking was not as hazardous to my health as it was to his." The enigmatic woman drew deeply on her holder and blew a thick plume of smoke into the air with a smile. "You killed him?" Mark asked with a hint of dread. The woman laughed lightly, smoke still drifting from her lips. "Not my style, dear." She walked unhurriedly over to the guard sprawled in the chair. She seemed wholly unconcerned that Mark had a weapon trained upon her. "The treated tobacco in the cigarettes produces a potent sleeping gas when burned. I simply ingest an antidote prior to using them." She brushed a lock of hair out of the unconscious guard's face and smiled at him fondly. "He's merely spending a few hours in the land of dreams." She took another puff of her holder and slowly exhaled the smoke as she turned her gaze to Mark. Her smile softened just a bit. "You'll join him if you stay in here, darling." She was telling the truth. Even after such a limited time within the confines of the study, Mark was beginning to get cobwebs from the sweet smoke. He knew he should disarm her and take her in, but something was staying his hand. A...fascination...with this mysterious, gorgeous intruder. She smiled again and held out her arms to Mark. "Come here, my dear." Mark took a reflexive step back. The woman shook her head ruefully, continuing to smile. "You know you're not going to leave, don't you?" she said with maddening simplicity. "And we both know what you really want, don't we?" She knew. Somehow she knew...and she had him. He felt an urgency from within him that couldn't be denied. He felt reason deserting him. "Now why don't you come over here and let me blow you a big, lovely faceful of my lullaby smoke, hmm?" she suggested. "The fragrance is simply delicious, and you'll only sleep for a few hours or so." She took another leisurely pull on her cigarette holder as she watched her prey wrestle futilely with himself. "You won't have a choice in another minute or so, darling," she purred, smoke slipping easily from between her parted lips. "And wouldn't you prefer to be kissing me while I put you to sleep? Hmmm?" Mark helplessly felt the swelling in his groin as surely as he felt the smoke relentlessly lulling his senses. Unable to resist, his revolver began to lower. He took a step forward. "Thaaaaat's right, dear," she cooed in an encouraging, nursemaid voice. "Come to Lila." He moved toward the woman, and she blew a thick stream of the cloying smoke to meet him as he drew near. He almost swooned at the smoke's drugged sweetness as the fragrant cloud engulfed his head. Through the veil of smoke, he could see a small smile of triumph on her lips. Now he stood before the alluring female. The narcotic smoke had filled the room with a drifting haze, and Mark felt his consciousness beginning to fade. "Tell me what you want," she teased slyly, gently stroking his cheek with the fingers that held her cigarette holder. He heard himself respond distantly...weakly. "A...a kiss..." The woman steadied him with a hand, then drew deeply and slowly on her holder. She smiled warmly at Mark, losing a bit of the smoke. She leaned forward, holding his rapt gaze. "Have a nap, instead," she whispered. She rounded her smiling lips and the sweet sleeping smoke flowed from between them on a gentle but inescapable exhalation...engulfing Mark's face. The fragrance of too many flowers set the world spinning out of control. "N...no..." he managed, feeling betrayed. He tried to move away, but it was like wading through molasses. "Too late for regrets, dearheart," she said happily. "Oh, I may let you be my plaything later, but right now you can make auntie Lila happiest if you take nice deep breaths..." She drew on the cigarette holder. "...close your pretty eyes..." The smoke began to waft from her nostrils and her smiling mouth, punctuating her words. "...and...go...to...sleep." Mark began to crumple forward into that narcotic cloud, trying vainly to grasp his beautiful assailant. His cheek ended up on the soft material of her turtleneck, resting on the swell of her breasts. She patted his head fondly as he began to slide down her body. As he slipped to the floor and consciousness left him, Mark could hear the woman's light laughter. "Gracious," he heard her muse breathlessly. "Two prizes in one job. Such a day..." Then...nothing. LILA'S PRIZE - PT 2 Lila smiled contendedly down at the man at her feet, and produced a small cell phone. She speed-dialed a number and spoke a few quiet words into the phone. She hung up and completed the data transfer at the computer, which took her several minutes. After pocketing the CDRW, she moved to a doorway leading to a less-travelled hallway and opened the door. Cecile--Lila's tall, muscular assistant--stood there attentively, looking very smart in her chauffeur's uniform. Beside her was a wheelchair and a bag of items that would effectively disguise Mark while he was wheeled from the Governor's reception. Lila moved aside and watched her Amazonian employee approach the helpless man. "Gently, Cecile. I'd hate to have him sore...prematurely." "Yes, ma'am," the chauffeur replied, bending and easily lifting the sleeping Mark into the wheelchair. Their captive was soon outfitted with a hat, glasses, a false moustache, and a comforter was draped across his lap and legs. The attractive, muscular woman wheeled him outside, followed by her employer. Nobody paid them any mind. Outside, the limo was parked in a handicapped space--a blue and white parking tag hung from the rearview mirror. "A nice touch, Cecile," Lila chuckled, easing inside the limousine after the chauffeur opened the door for her. Cecile simply nodded curtly and lifted Mark from the chair. She carefully transferred him into the limo, setting him down on the leather seat beside the smiling Lila. His head lolled back on the seat, and his companion ran her hand slowly over his chest. "Mmmmmm...home, Cecile. I'm most anxious to break our guest in." "Yes, ma'am," answered the chauffeur, closing the door. ********************** Mark was vaguely aware of motion. His head was still spinning from the gassing he had received at the hands of the mysterious woman, but he was slowly coming around. Keeping his eyes closed, he gathered his returning wits and deduced that he was in a car--being transported somewhere. Very slight movements of his arms and legs revealed that he had not been tied or otherwise secured for the trip. He ventured the tiniest of peeks through slitted eyes. It was her. The woman who had so easily brought him down. She was sitting next to him in a limousine, her long, lovely legs crossed, as she intently read a fashion magazine. She was oblivious to the fact that he had regained consciousness before she expected. He couldn't turn his head to see who might be driving, or if, indeed, there were others seated in the limo. He would simply have to risk that. He could still turn a bad situation around. He gave himself another moment or two, wishing the potent sleeping gas had not robbed him of so much equilibrium...then decided to play his the cards he had been dealt. He slowly moved his hand off his lap and onto the seat next to him, carefully studying the woman. She continued reading. He inched his hand closer to her. Closer. He verrrry slowly, verrrrry quietly started sliding his body to follow his hand...almost imperceptibly. The woman languidly turned a page in the magazine. He hesitated. She continued to read. He gathered himself. Now. Mark's eyes snapped open and he lunged sideways toward his beautiful captor. His hand came up, meaning to grasp her. Without so much as glancing up from her magazine, the woman raised her hand to meet the oncoming man--her fingers curled in. Before Mark could even register that her hand was in front of his face, her ornate ring hissed out a small jet of pink gas. The sweet fragrance of the sleeping gas hit him like a velvet-wrapped blackjack. He toppled forward, his face coming to rest in her warm lap...the cobwebs of unconsciousness once again enshrouding him inescapably. He could feel the woman's hand caressing his neck and cheek as she continued to read. "Cecile?" He heard her honey-smooth voice as if from very far away. "Yes, ma'am?" came another distant voice. "They're adorable when they try to be willful." "Yes, ma'am." Mark couldn't keep his eyes open. He felt surrounded by the wonderful warmth and...carnal scent...of the woman's lap. The scent was very strong. She had been pleasuring herself. He moaned softly. "Hush, love," she said simply, lowering her hand to release another brief spray of the sweet gas into his face. "Sleep now." He did.