Honeypot

Three months into Oren's time as a candidate, he had me on my ass in the showers sucking two cocks and desperate for him to let me come. Fortunately, he had a lifetime of knowledge -- knowing exactly what buttons to press to make me seethe or make me simper.

I've got a dossier on my target, and that's about it. But, it's not like I need to get inside her. I just have to get her inside 'my apartment'.

Kana is nineteen. The photo shows her with ash blond hair and gentle eyes and a heart shaped face. She's a second-year student at Urkanov Capitol University and the daughter of Kravosk's finance minister -- a position that would normally offer her a great deal of protection.

I learned a long time ago, I don't need to know what he did. I just need to know that she comes to this coffee shop after classes every day.

The table by the windows against the far wall affords me a view of all possible entrances and exits. Outside people shuffle through grey slush on the sidewalk. A speckling of white flakes falls, but not enough to disrupt the relentless entropy of the city. Certainly not enough to cover the persistent filth, either.

Man. Mid-40s. On phone. Lipstick on collar. Affair?

Child under 10. Ill fitting clothes. Alone. Ignored.

Learning new sexual techniques is muscle memory. Reading people? That skill requires practice. Jotting my observations in the notebook keeps me sharp. Onlookers assume I'm just another university student.

Young woman. Fleece-lined leggings, pleated skirt. Hair in a ponytail, white fur-lined earmuffs. Matches the trim on her boots. Pink and grey messenger bag on one shoulder.

Target acquired.

Kana stomps her feet on the entrance mat so she doesn't track the slush inside. Cheeks flushed pink from the cold. The barista at the counter recognizes her and starts her drink even before she orders.

In my periphery, I watch her settle at a table and take a textbook from her bag. She doesn't know it but she's placed herself on a convenient route between my table and the counter. I take out the burner I've been given for this mission, place a mobile order for a beverage, and wait.

Wait.

She takes notes in the margins of her book.

Wait.

"Order for Marek."

Showtime.

I get my drink at the counter and a couple of napkins. Going to need these in a moment.

The strap of Kana's bag peeks out just enough that I can catch my foot. My ankle rolls; I stumble hard into her table. Her textbook slides into her coffee; the coffee cup slides over the edge and drops to the floor. A few drops of my coffee spatter out of the lid onto her outfit.

"Shit, oh shit. I'm so sorry."

Kana scoots back in her seat, wiping furiously at her clothes. "Dammit," she hisses.

Immediately, I fumble with my napkins and hold them out to her. "Here. Here, let me see if I can grab some more."

Coffee pools on the floor by her boot. She's still cursing as she gets to her feet and inspects her textbook. "What? Oh--" The napkins. Kana uses them to wipe up the spatter on the pages with a grimace.

I set my drink down on her table, and rush back to the counter. The wad of napkins in my hand is far less than necessary, but I start cleaning up the spill on the tile floor.

"You really don't need to do that," she says, but I sop up as much of the coffee as I can.

Shoving the wet wad of paper into her empty cup, I get back to my feet. A fresh damp stain on my knee feels cool. "Can't believe I did that," I mutter. Nodding toward her textbook. "I didn't get your book, did I?"

"No. I mean, yeah, a little. But it's fine." There's a blunted knife's edge in her tone. Following the rules of social niceties isn't the only thing holding her back.

My shoulders slump a bit, duck my head. "Good. I know those things aren't cheap." Not a likely worry for the daughter of a government official. Holding up the cup full of coffee-soaked paper, I say, "At least let me get you another drink."

Does she realize the corner of her lip quirks upward? "Really, it's okay, you don't have to--"

My brow furrows. "Please?"

She does it again. Pauses. "I had a cardamom rose latte."

"I can do that." Three minutes later, I have the drink in hand. Kana's sitting again, elbow on the table as she turns a damp corner of a page. "One cardamom rose latte."

"Thanks."

Reaching for my cup -- still on her table -- gives me an opportunity to glance at her reading. She's starting a new chapter - Cultural Construction of Monogamous Norms. "Are you taking Soc 260?"

Intel shows most students refer to the class by its catalogue number. Perhaps decorum keeps them from saying Social Psychology of Human Sexuality out loud. Or perhaps it's a mouthful.

Her eyes skip to the page, then back to me. "Yeah. You go to UCU?"

I rub the back of my neck as I nod. "Yeah. I was kind of curious about it but I haven't taken stats yet." One of two prerequisite courses, according to the curriculum.

Behind those steel grey eyes, she's running through a brief assessment of her own. A fraction of a second, parsing past experiences and future worries. All to inform her present decision. "Take Professor Godnik's class," she says, and nods for me to sit down across from her. "I was never that good at math, but he made the material really accessible" A pause, she realizes an assumption she made. "Unless you're actually good at math, I guess?"

"Math's not really my strong suit either," I lie. I settle in at the table, cup my hands around my coffee.

Kana lifts hers. Breathes. Is she appreciating the sweet, peppery scent of the cardamom? Ensuring I've gotten her order right?

Or is she cautious the way any woman ought to be cautious when handed a drink by an unfamiliar man?

She takes a sip. "What's your major?"

"Undeclared," I say. "I've got until the end of the semester to decide between sociology and psychology. What about you?"

"Neuropsych." Exactly what her dossier states. "I'm Kana, by the way."

"Marek."

I'm in. I ask a few follow-up questions. Let her talk about herself; people like that. Don't seem too eager. Maintain eye contact, but glance away occasionally. Do not come off as too intense.

Kana is thoughtful, curious. Genuinely engaged in her studies.

She might have even earned her spot at this university without her father's connections.

When she turns the questions back on me, I answer with just enough detail. Why am I torn between the two majors? I want to understand what makes people tick. It's not a lie.

The coffee between my hands approaches room temperature. Outside, the streetlights flick on.

"So, if you're a neuro major, is the Soc 260 just for... fun?" I raise an eyebrow, and the corner of my lip.

Dark eyelashes flutter. A pink flush creeps into her cheeks. "Not exactly, I think sociology, psychology, and neuroscience go together more than you might think. See, our minds absorb. We are born with a constellation of neural pathways that tune themselves to the world we live in, the norms we are told to desire, the taboos we're told to fear."

"So, you're saying we're programmed?" I rest my forearms on the table, leaning in. "What about those who don't want what everyone else wants?"

Her textbook is still open to the chapter on monogamy. I gesture towards it.

"What about people who don't? Practice monogamy, I mean. They get the same messages we all do, what makes them any different?"

Kana's gaze flicks to the page then back to me. "That's the thing, resistance to a norm is a reaction to a norm existing in the first place." Her elbows are on the table. But for the chin resting in her hand, she mirrors my posture. "And for some people, being told something is taboo, it just makes them want it more."

I spot my opening. "What about you? Are you part of some people?"

"Are you?"

Nervous laughter. "I don't know. I was kind of a goody-two-shoes growing up."

Her laughter is unguarded, light. "Was?"

I can imagine the word in Oren's voice. The exact same tone. My cheeks flush. "Yeah, well... I told myself that when I got to university I would..." I shrug. "Let loose. Go out and party. Do something crazy. Turns out... I spend most of my time studying."

For a moment, she just sits watching me with a look in her eyes I cannot read. "Do you want to do something crazy now?"

She shows me a silver flask tucked into her jacket and suggests Stoyan Bridge. The river freezes a quarter of a meter deep this time of year. Students are known to linger on the ice and let their hormones get the better of them. I let her assure me it might be fun.

"Alright," I breathe. The anticipation churning in my gut is real. "I just want to drop my bag off first."

The extraction point is on the way. I invite her inside to warm up for a moment, and that is the extent of my mission.

It's supposed to be the extent of my mission. The extraction team is supposed to be here, ready to take her in.

I hear nothing but the sound of her closing the door. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. Or maybe something else.

Stall.

"We don't have to wait for the bridge, you know." Kana sets her bag down on the floor. "Unless you've got a roommate we need to worry about."

That'll work.

I let out a nervous laugh and rub the back of my neck. "I... are you sure? I mean, we just met."

"You were the one who said you wanted to do something crazy." Her slender fingers undo the fastenings on her jacket. For a moment, the image of those fingers wrapped around my dick flashes through my mind. "I think you're like me, Marek. I think the idea that something is against the rules makes it even more enticing."

Her coat slides from her shoulders and pools at her feet. My grin mirrors hers as she crosses the last few steps and rises up on her toes to kiss me.

Soft. Everything about her is soft. The plush heat of her lips. The skin of her cheeks as I raise my hand to cup hers. The press of her hips against mine and the way she giggles when she feels me growing hard against her.

Then. Sharp.

Pain blooms beneath my ribs, and my body moves before my mind can truly grasp what has happened. I pivot, hooking my arm around hers and locking out her elbow. The light catches something silver in her hand.

Trapping her arm doesn't slow her down. She simply releases her grip, drops the knife into her other hand, ready to make a second strike. It's what I would do. I drive my boot into her knee, breaking her stance and driving her off-balance.

Kana goes down, but she takes me with her, rolling until we hit the wall. Where the hell is the extraction team? I can't focus on that now, I need to get the knife out of her hand. My hand wraps around her wrist and slams it into the floor.

The first time does nothing but make her growl. The second time does the trick.

The blade clatters and skids just out of reach, but for the first time I see the handle.

Gleaming and polished and unmistakably Ludus crimson.

It's a split second, but it's the opening she needed. She drives her forehead into my nose with a crack. The pain and the ringing in my head almost drowns out the sound of boots approaching and before I know what is happening, something sharp stings my neck.

Kana is dragged away.

Everything goes black.

Smell returns first. Whiskey and cigars. Wood polish. My cock warms. I don't have to open my eyes to know where I am.

"Welcome back, Candidate Mikel."

The need to stand at attention wars with the sluggish weight in my limbs. I fumble for a moment to stand, but the Magister presses a firm hand into my shoulder and I sink.

I'm sitting, I realize. I'm sitting in a chair in his office. My civilian clothes have been removed, the fabric against my skin is my uniform.

My eyes flutter open, but all I see are shapes and shadows.

"You started to come around on the transport back," he says. "The guards gave you a second dose of sedative. It will wear off in the next few minutes."

Guards.

Sedative.

Kana.

Fingers fumble with the hem of my shirt. The wound in my side sutured, already showing signs of healing.

"I see you've met Katenya." He sounds almost amused. "She's in surgery right now. Torn ligament in her knee. She should have been lighter on her feet."

I blink hard. Everything in the room remains blobs of color.

But another picture comes into focus.

"Katenya. Kana... She's Ludus." My tongue is heavy and stumbles on the words.

A chair creaks. I can just make out the movement of him taking the seat at his desk, opening a folder in front of him. "Did you know from her technique? Or did you need to see the blade first?"

Papers rustle. He doesn't wait for an answer.

"Your approach was solid, though you had the napkins in your hand before the spill," he says. "A civilian might reason that away, but it was a risk. You verified information from your dossier, and the conversation was engaging. The redirection to the extraction point was plausible enough. Allowing such close proximity without checking for weapons..." he tuts. "Well, your reaction time was acceptable."

His face has features now, the darkened shades of eyes and lips. I suspect his expression is stern.

We were being watched.

I dig through the fog in my mind for the people I jotted down in my notebook. Who? "The barista..." I say. "She knew her order."

"One of many. Do you really think that apartment is the only thing in Urkanov we own?"

No. I suppose I don't.

"You are dismissed, Candidate," he says. "I'll need a written report from you by

tomorrow evening."

I stand, steadier this time. My vision is clearing rapidly now and I can make out the bookcases looming against the far wall.

Have they opened to anyone else since then?

"Mikel," the Magister says. My gaze snaps to him. "You both passed."

The halls are quiet as I make my way back to the dormitory.

A test. For two Candidates.

My mission was to lure her to that building... What was hers? What was the dossier she received on Marek? Had she meant for me to trip on that bag? What would she have done if I hadn't?

I learned a long time ago, I don't need to know more than I've been told.

That makes me want it more.