Parveen Aziza escapes with Jack Grierson - Sex Stories

Parveen Aziza escapes with Jack Grierson

... forever, Jack,” I whispered.

“I wish that was possible,” he whispered back. “I’m just grateful for today.”

It was probably more stress than exhaustion, but when I next opened my eyes, Jack was softly shaking me by the shoulder. He was dressed and the in-room coffee maker exuded a wonderful smell. I jumped out of bed, quickly did my ablutions, and joined Jack just as he took his first sip of coffee. With Sergei, I had learned to get ready in a flash.

“You’re looking lovely, Parveen Aziza. I can’t believe you had sleep in your eyes just a few minutes ago.”

“I had a good teacher. If I wasn’t ready and prettified in ten minutes, Sergei beat me.”

“I should have taken a few minutes to smash his face in,” said Jack.

After coffee, I packed my roller bag just as quickly and was ready for Jack. We checked out and I zipped up my jacket against the wind and cold.

“I’m sorry for making you walk to the truck terminal,” said Jack. “But I don’t want to risk using anything that will generate an online receipt, like a rideshare or a rental car. The Russians have very sophisticated internet monitoring tools.”

“I saw you paid for the room with cash,” I said with a smile. “I rather liked my few hours as Mrs. Smith.”

He laughed.

As we walked down the road, Jack took my roller bag and pulled it.

“I want you to know everything about our situation, Parveen Aziza,” he said, as we walked. “Jo Ellen told us that Merkulov’s hitmen tracked us to Zurich. With their ...

... resources, it wouldn’t take much to get the flight manifests of every flight that left Zurich for the States in the days after we got there. We’re logged as passengers in the freighter that brought us here to Columbus – not our names, but it’s possible they know we’re here.”

“What will we do?” I asked, worried.

“That’s why I asked Amber to pick us up at the truck terminal. It has an enormous concrete apron surrounding it. We will wait on one side and watch for her truck – blue with painted orange flames. We’ll be able to see anyone approached from a long way off.”

We got to the truck terminal just after six in the evening. I hugged myself against the cold wind and Jack put an arm around me. We waited about half an hour, following each arriving tractor-trailer with our eyes. Darkness fell and the floodlights illuminating the truck terminal powered up.

“There she is,” said Jack, pointing. “Can you see her?”

I saw the blue tractor with the orange flames and waved energetically. Jack laughed at my enthusiasm. The semi came to a halt with a hiss of air brakes a few feet away, and the driver’s door opened. Amber Callahan swung down the steps, landed lightly on her feet, and approached us.

She was a vision in leather – a black leather jacket, leather knee-length skirt, leather choker necklace, leather wristlets, leather backpack, and ankle boots – five-foot-three of coiled strength hidden beneath a Peterbilt hat. Her dark eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint that belied ...