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.