Chris' Corner Videos
"The Grace X Files"     
Page 11
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Grace X Rides With The Valkyries
by Moon Shiner

A very nervous man paced the floor in his hotel room. Anxiously looking at his watch, chain smoking
cigarettes and slugging down shots of bourbon. The phone rang in the room, he suddenly stopped,
looking at the phone, a surprised look in his eyes.  He rushed to the telephone grabbing up the
receiver, gasping “Yes?”, his voice filled with excitement and fear.

A female voice on the other end calmly said, “I'm from Heavenly Harbor, is there a problem with your

“Uh, yeah, I want to make sure you got my payment,” he recites the code exchange dialog.

“What is your policy number?” the voice asks, the tone a bit more business like.

He fumbles in a pocket, pulling a card from it, looking at the number.

“It’s B10I18N33G47O63,” he answers, waiting for the response.

“Yes, a burial policy, for plot 666,” the voice gives the correct response.

“Where are you?  I need to get out of here, they will find me soon,” he blurts into the phone, a sweat
breaking out on his brow.

“Calm down, your code name is Wolf Spider?” she asks another question to verify his identity.

“Yes, yes, Wolf Spider, and you are Moon Beam, right?” he responds, trying to keep calm.

“I am”, she responds simply.

“Listen, Moon Beam, get your ass over here, with the money, I'll give you the disk and I can be on
the next flight to Rio,” he falls back into excited mode.

“I'll be there, in 45 minutes, standard knock,” she says, her voice cool as ice.

“Yeah, standard knock, I'm tired of this spy crap, just bring the money,”he says, excitedly, slamming
down the phone receiver.

He touches the disk in his coat pocket, easing his worry, going back to pacing and smoking. Robert
Blake, known as Wolf Spider in his organization, had double crossed his partner to get the disk. He
knew she was deadly, he had to get out of the country and quickly.  He had hired a pilot and plane, to
fly him to  Rio. As soon as he had his five million dollars in hand.

His partner, Grace Xanadu, known as Black Widow, would be zeroing in on his location.  She had
passed him the disk, while she finished off the Ambassador from Korea, in her special way.  He left
the hotel, leaving her behind, telling their people she had been killed in the exchange. The only way
out of the remote location was by the plane he left in or by donkey cart.  He made sure the plane
would not return. He knew it would take even the resourceful Miss Xanadu, several weeks to get
back to civilization. By that time he could sell the information and drop out of sight.

He could see the anger in her eyes, when she found out she was left behind with nothing but her
naked ass and her dead lover. Her image with her killer  eyes glaring at him, always stayed in his
mind. He could see them now, those dark pupils narrowed to slits, the brown freckled with red,
promising deadly revenge.  The Black Widow, her name suited her well…make love to an adversary,
then kill him…yes the unusual mark of the Black Widow Spider.

There was a knock at his door, not the standard knock, but a quiet knock of a woman.
He hurried to the door, pulling it open, then stood with a look of horror on his bloodless face. There
in the hallway of the cheap motel, stood Grace Xanadu, a cocked silenced Beretta in her hand,
pointed right at his head.

“Hello Robert, you look surprised to see me,” she says coldly, her eyes showing him icy death.

Robert is speechless, he doesn't move, he is frozen with fear, the only sound, the pounding of his
heart in his ears.

“Well Robert, you seemed to have forgotten your manners, aren't you going to invite a lady in?” she
coos with her disarming voice, stepping toward him, putting the silencer right against his nose.
“Back up asshole, sit in that chair, behind you,” she snaps, pushing him with her hand, keeping him
off balance.

Robert still stunned by her presence, stumbles backward, falling into the wooden chair at the little
table in his room.

“Where's the disk?” she demands, pushing the barrel of the pistol hard against his already red nose.

“I, I don't have it,” he replies weakly.

“Bull Shit, Robert, if you did not have it, you would be in Rio,” she says angrily, poking him again with
the pistol barrel. “One more time, and if you can't remember, I'll put a hole in your empty head and
find it myself,” she promises, enhancing her words with nudges of the pistol, this time against his

Grace knows this man, he is weak and unsure, one slash of his cheek with a knife, and he will be
singing like a canary. She puts his arms behind the chair and handcuffs him .

“Now, lets talk again,”, she says coolly, running the barrel of her pistol through his thinning hair. “I
was going to kill you anyway after that last job, but at least you would have had me,” she laughs,
thinking about his surprised look when she would put a bullet in his forehead. “Have you set up a
pay off?” She moves the roaming barrel of her pistol to his cheek, lightly touching the cold steel to it.

“No, no, Grace, I'm sorry, I'll give you the disk, just don't kill me,” Blake begs, sniffling like a baby.

“OK, Blake, who have you contacted?” Grace recognizes his fear oozing from his skin.

“Dark Moon!” Blake admits, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“That scum bag bunch of losers,” Grace scoffs at his answer. “What's your contact’s name?” she
asks, smiling and speaking softly.

“Wooden beam, steel beam!  I don't know, all I wanted was the five million.” Blake shudders.

Grace laughs, as she keeps him guessing, moving her pistol around his face and body.

“Would it be Moon Beam?” she asks with a cold whisper.

“Yeah, yeah, Moon Beam, that was it.” Blake quickly agrees, his body jerking every time she touched
him with her pistol.

“Yes, I know her, Victoria, a very capable woman,” Grace says with a sigh of respect. “How much you
getting?” Grace makes sure to poke him in the area between his legs. Blake jumps with a sudden
start, a little short scream of fright, escaping him. Grace giggles at him. “How did a incompetent a-
hole like you get into Spider Web?” she wonders out loud. “OK, lover, where's the disk?  In your
suitcase?” She bends over to kiss the man on his lips, her breasts pressing against his chest.

“If I give you the disk, will you let me go?” Blake gasps when she releases his lips, his frightened
eyes looking into what he knew were killer eyes.

“Oh, of course I will, where is it?” Grace nuzzles her breasts against his sweat covered face again.

Grace's interrogation is interrupted—a knock at Robert’s door, three quick knocks, followed by two
slow knocks. Robert and Grace both look at the door.

Grace whispers to Robert, “Tell them to come in.” Grace steps behind Robert, keeping her pistol
against the back of his head.

“Come in!”, Robert says, trying to remain calm.

The door slowly opens, A shapely redhead, with long auburn hair, steps into the hotel room.  Her
hazel green eyes immediately focus on Grace and Robert to her right.  

“Come in, my dear, join the party,” Grace says, in her southern accent, motioning with her pistol.

The girl’s wide unusual green eyes widen even more. Grace is stunned by her beauty, the unusual
hue of her hair, just the right color to enhance her deep green eyes.  Her skin lightly freckled and

“Is this your contact?” Grace asks politely.

The young woman, over her surprise, looks at Robert. “I'm Moon Beam. Are you Wolf?”.

“Yes, he is, and I'm Black Widow”, Grace takes control from Robert.

“I'm Victoria , I've come to make the exchange for the disk.” She replies to Grace this time.

“Good, I'm here to make sure everything goes smoothly,”Grace replies, both women evaluating
each other, searching for some weakness to exploit, or some information to give them an
advantage. “Why don't you put the case on the bed there and open it?” Grace suggests, keeping
her pistol in Robert's head.

The redheaded woman coolly walks to the end of the bed, and flips the locks on the case, raising the
lid, turning the case toward Grace and Robert. The case is stacked with rows of hundred dollar bills.

“You did very well, Robert, now give her the disk,” Grace says in her  most pleasant voice.

Robert, unthinking, reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a computer disk, extending it toward
the woman. Victoria looks at Grace, who nods her head, smiling at the woman.

“Go ahead, Moon Beam,” Grace reassures the hesitant woman.

As she starts to extend her own hand to the disk, Grace pulls the trigger on her pistol, putting a hole
in the back of Robert’s head.  He slumps forward.  The woman pulls her hand back, going for her
own weapon in a shoulder holster under her business jacket.  She is fast, but not fast enough,
Grace moves her aim to the full breasts of the woman, pumping three bullets into her chest.  The
woman grunts and exhales a little short scream, as each bullet rips through her body.  She staggers
backward, into another sitting chair behind her, falling into the padded cushions.  Victoria struggles
to reach her weapon, the splotches of red widening on her creamy blouse. Grace smiles, raising her
aim and squeezing off one more round, into the redhead’s forehead.  Her head slams back against
the chair back and her body relaxes in death. The shapely Moon Beam shudders with a spasm of
death, her legs spreading in a very unladylike fashion, her short skirt rising to reveal her emerald

“Too bad, Blake, you could have tried that, if you weren't so stupid.” Grace, unaffected by the killing,
smirks at her unworthy partner.

Grace kneels down to pick up the disk, putting it in her own pocket.  Checking Robert's neck for a
pulse.  She rises and goes to the Dark Moon agent’s body, checking her for life.  She again admires
the dark green of her eyes, somehow they seem to impress her. Around the woman's neck was a
emerald charm, it was an odd shape, with an inscription carved into the green stone.  The top was
two round dips and three points, with the letters below that.  They were not whole letters, but half,
the top half, the inscription unreadable with out the matching half.

Grace was intrigued by the charm and unhooked it from the Dark Moon agent’s neck, putting it in
her pocket.

“You're a pretty one, let’s see what you got.” Grace smiles evilly, reaching down to rip open the
blouse, now stained with blood.

Two of the most perfect freckled breasts met her eyes.  The left one, with three leaking holes, the
right still without damage.  She lifted the cup of the creamy colored bra, to reveal a full, firm breast,
with a lovely pink nipple. She lowered her head, holding her own long raven hair, and kissed the
erect nipple.

“I just wanted to try that, its quite nice.” Grace cooed. “Maybe I'll give it a try someday.”

She stands to walk to the bed, closing the case and rearranging her clothes, straightening her hair,
then picks up the case, walking out the door.

                                                                # # #

Six long years later, a sleek helicopter streaked across the endless ocean, at over 300 mph, in
complete darkness.  The high tech blades and jet engines, especially designed to be whisper quiet.  
The computer controlled aircraft skimmed just above the waves, the path controlled by computers
and remote security people at the Spider Web. The pilot on board was there only in case of an
emergency, to land the machine if computer control failed. Neither he nor his passenger knew the
destination of the flight, no navigation instruments were available to the pilot.  The random course
of the craft was to evade radar or possible tracking of the copter.  All this was to ensure the safety
of Grace Xanadu, The Black Widow, the best of the Spider Web's spies.  Grace was on her way to the
R&R outpost of the confederation, a loosely connected group of independent spies, for hire to the
highest bidder.  Grace was scheduled for the required lay low period of two months on the remote
safe house, for Spider Web members. Her last assignment had generated a great amount of
embarrassment for some high ranking officials in China.

Everyone and every thing was operated by the Spider Web at the tropical post, code named Ice
Station 6, its name like everything else on the island, a contradiction of terms.

Dragoon picked her up at the heliport, himself a contradiction, a tall, muscular dark skinned man,
long dread locks, never wore clothes, just a loin cloth, held in place with a rough thick piece of
rope, but spoke in an highly educated British accent.  Dragoon's outward appearance hid his
intelligence and deadly training.  Dragoon was the Ice Station 6's control officer, a veteran of the
Royal Lancers of India.  His real name, Reginald Cooper. He had been a highly decorated graduate of
the British special forces, before he joined The Spider Web.

He dropped Grace off at her quarters, a simple grass hut on the outside, but inside, underground, a
plush, modern suite of rooms, with every convenience available.  The theme of this outpost seemed
to be contradiction.  Nothing was what it appeared.

Grace would explore the island the next day, Tonight Grace, nearly exhausted from the six hour ride
in the helicopter, stripped off her clothes and fell into the spacious king sized bed. In nothing but a
black pair of panties, she drifted off to sleep, experiencing her reoccurring dream of seduction, and
murder, whenever she was close to the ocean and sandy beaches.

Grace awoke with a startled jerk, her erotic dream jolting her into awareness.  The slow pleasurable
burn of an orgasm still moist in her sex. Her reoccurring dream, of a well built man, all in red.  Red
hair, a full red beard, coarse red body hair, his body covered in red freckles.  Every part of him a hue
of red, except his eyes, green, the sparkle of a green eyed monster.  One other distinguishing
feature, he had horns, two large bull horns, curling out of the side of his head.  The image of him
burned in her mind from the many dreams., ravishing her in the hot sand of the beach, his cock
driving into her with violent thrusts.  Her fully erect nipples stiff and moist with his kisses, pushing
her past the limits of erotic endurance.

“Oooo, now I really need that shower.” She rises from the bed and slips into the bathroom. She
washes and showers, the sweat and grime of the previous days travel go down the drain, along with
her worries of the dangerous spy life.

Grace searches for her red bikini swim suit, at first thinking of going topless, then remembering
Dragoon's words, not to attract attention to the island, decides to encase her breasts in the skimpy
top. She grabs a towel and her sunning supplies, going through a sliding glass door into sort of a
rocky grotto, with a bubbling stream she had to wade through.  She steps out into the bright sunlight
of the day, on a vast beach, the 200 yards of sand, void of humans.  Sitting at the cave entrance was
a lounge chair and umbrella.

“Hmm, how convenient,” she remarks, picking up the chair and umbrella and carrying them toward
the surf.

A nice wind carries away the stiffening humidity of the jungle, the warm sand almost a pleasure, with
the cool breeze of the ocean. Grace sets up her lounge, and umbrella, arranging the towel and
sitting down.  She reaches into her bag of beach supplies, getting out the oil and sunglasses.  
Rubbing the oil into her soft skin, and putting the glasses over her soft brown eyes. She pulls a
book from her bag and settles down for a relaxing morning.

“Let’s see if anyone notices,” she thinks to her self, opening her book to start the novel, The Order
Of The Golden Rose.

After a few pages, still experiencing the jet lag, she falls asleep.  The soothing sound of the waves
and the breeze, lulling her into deep slumber.

She is awakened again, another rush of erotic pleasure streaking through her supple body, the
dream of sex on the beach with her green eyed monster.

She opens her eyes, and is startled by the silhouette of a large man, standing between her and the
sun. She sits up quickly, trying to get her eyes adjusted to the bright sun, the stranger not moving
and silent. The blurred shadow of a man with horns, in the sand, beside her.

“Hello, who are you?” She shudders, the fog of sleep still clouding her mind.

“Hello, Grace, I'm Victor.” The man's deep voice comes to her ears.

His image quickly coming into focus, a broad shouldered man, six pack stomach, thin waist, muscular
toned legs, with nothing except a pair of red Speedos and deck shoes.  He was covered with
freckles, and coarse curly red body hair, a full red beard, red hair sticking out from a silver Viking
helmet with horns.  She could not see his eyes, a pair of dark wire rimmed sunglasses covered them.

It was the man in her dream, she knew she could probably guess the color of his eyes.  He had a
silver tray balanced on one hand, holding it at shoulder height.  Grace was impressed with this
man's rugged handsome face, and physique.

Grace smiled. Of course this had to be a reward-tryst arranged for her by The Spider Web. They
knew about her reocurring dream-fantasy, she had revealed it to them for her psych profile. So now
they were giving her the pleasure of her fantasy come true. Ah there were such exquisite
compensations in being a star assassin for the deadliest spy confederation in the world.

“Hello Victor,” she says. “So, am I your assignment today?”

“No, my assignment is here, on the island, I handle uh, pest problems.” Victor tells the beautiful dark
eyed Grace.

“OK, Victor.” If he wanted to play with his role, that was fine with her. “What's on the tray?”

“Well I hope to offer the most beautiful woman on the beach her favorite drink,” he replies, a
mischievous grin on his face.

Grace looks around, then back at Victor, “But Victor, I'm the only person on the beach, besides you,”
she says, with a pout on her lips.

“That's true, it just made my choice much easier, I would have told you the same thing, if we were on
Daytona Beach at spring break,” he answers, her, his charm and debonair style, very exciting.

“Oh, you silver tongued devil, Victor, please sit with me.” Grace encourages him to join her.

“Thank you, kind maiden, would you accept a drink from a wayward stranger?” he asks, sitting on the
sand, under the shade of her umbrella.

“Mmmmm, sounds pretty risky to me, you might be one of those unscrupulous men that would take
advantage of a woman,” she looks at him, with a slight smile and a cocked head.
“I'm shocked, I did not know, it showed!” he says, his face in mock surprise.

They both laugh at his joke.

“Please call me Vic,” he says, sitting on the sand next to Grace, scraping up a pile of loose sand to
set the tray on.

Grace watches as he unfolds a cloth napkin, with two tumblers in it, he sits the glasses on the
unfolded napkin and twists the top off an insulated decanter.  A bright orange liquid, with crushed
ice clinks into the glasses.

“A Viking special, Tequila Moon Rise,” he says proudly, picking up a glass and offering it to Grace.

“Don't you mean, Tequila Sunrise?” she says, accepting the drink, sloshing the liquid in the glass,
letting the aroma of fresh orange juice and tequila whet her taste buds.

“Oh no, it’s my own recipe, it contains a splash of amaretto, to give it a tinge of red and the subtle
taste of almonds,” he answers, offering his glass for a toast.

Grace smiles, leaning forward to let her full breasts dangle in front of him, her dark nipples already
stiff, with anticipation. Victor's eyes flash to her obvious display of her feminine charms, a little smile
curling his lips.

“Here's to the most beautiful woman on the island,” Vic says, clinking his glass against hers.

“May we both live long and prosper.” Grace says her toast, both take a sip of the spicy drink. “Why
do you wear a Viking's helmet?” she asks, looking at the highly decorated silver helmet on his head.

“I studied Norse mythology, in college, even wrote a couple of books on the subject,” he answers,
turning to her, his eyes, dropping again to her breasts. Grace noticed his stare, a seductive glint in
her soft bedroom eyes, the liquid pools, showing large full pupils, indicating interest, sexual interest.

Vic seemed to understand, he leaned forward and kissed her on her lips, his hand coming up to her
hair, gently running his hand through the black curls. Grace moans with delight, their tongues
exploring the erotic zones of their mouths. They kiss passionately for a few minutes, Grace's hand,
lightly tracing the rippling muscles in his shoulder and arms. They both break the kiss, with a gasp of

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” Vic exhales a long sigh, his hand moving from the
back of her head, to caress her cheek and neck.

“Mmmm, very exciting, Vic!” Grace whispers, desire building in her body, a ripple of ecstasy causing
a contraction in her sex.. Grace looks at Vic's face again, somehow he seems very familiar to her.
“Almost like a long forgotten love,” she thinks.

Vic moves the tray out of his way, sitting his glass on it, scooting closer to Grace, lying on the
lounge. He embraces her again, pulling her roughly against him, his mouth covering hers with an
even more lustful kiss. His hand this time, fondling the almost exposed breast in her bikini. Grace
does not protest, the pleasurable caress, raising her desire, the itch she hoped he would satisfy.
Victor’s hand becomes more insistent, pulling her top from her breast, palming her stiffened
nipples, squeezing the swelled bud between his strong fingers.

“No, we can't, not here,” she breaks the kiss, pulling back from him, her  libido in full throttle.

“Sure we can, no one comes here, its out of bounds,” Vic growls, reaching for her again.

“Are you sure?” Grace asks, her desire crowding out her logic.

“Of course, I'm sure, there's 20 miles of beach on this island, and only 30 people, most of them in the
village, why would they come here?” he says, getting up on his knees, to give himself better access
to Grace.

“Well, it is my fantasy,” she giggles, reaching behind her and unhooking the bikini top.  Victor
catches it in his hands, putting the skimpy garment to his nose, inhaling her scent on the material.

“Oh Grace, your fragrance makes my blood boil, when I saw you here, I knew I had to have you,” Vic
whispers, brushing her hair from an ear, then kissing it with his lips.

“You are my dream man, my fantasy, I've lusted for you, all my life, don't disappoint me,” Grace coos
back to him, falling into his strong arms, rubbing her rock hard nipples into the heavy blanket of red
on his massive chest.  Her hand follows the contours of his body, his abs, the rippling stomach, to
his Speedos, feeling the stiffening member cradled in the sexy bathing suit.

She hears him groan, with her touch, her fingers, fondling his manhood into stiff erection.  Her
magic fingers trace the thick organ, measuring its length and width, the swelled crown, purple with
blood.  It was the most perfect cock she had ever touched, it was just as she had imagined in her
fantasy. She knew Vic would know how to satisfy her.  She shuddered with a tingle of climax, feeling
the wetness oozing from her. She ended the kiss, whispering to an ear, “I knew you would be
endowed, just let me whet your desires.” Her hands go to the tight garment, working his cock from
the binding trunks.  The fully erect member sprang to attention, like a striking cobra, the shaft
waving back and forth, with its release.

Grace's hand strokes the aroused object of desire, Vic's eyes closed with his excitement.
Grace starts to kiss her way down his body, the muscles tightening as her lips moved closer to his
manhood.   She tongued his nipple, then kissed her  way over the washboard stomach, tonguing the
deep navel, then slipping the purple crown into her lips.  Her tongue exploring the head, bottom
and top, special attention to the ridge at the back of his crown. Vic groaned again, the heat of her
tongue sending him into panting lust. Grace knew he was feeling her heightening desire, she knew
just how to bring a man to the edge, then push him back.

She let the rock hard shaft slip deeper into her mouth, her lips encircling him with unimaginable
pleasure. She heard Vic draw in a long breath, holding it in his lungs, the throbbing cock giving her
another wave of climax.  She pulled back on the organ, then let her hand lead her lips back down
the cock, her tongue massaging the underside of the erection with short quick caresses.

Grace was starting to feel the beginning of a climax—in her sex, she was quickly moving to a
screaming orgasm.  She shuddered with a muffled moan, when Vic massaged her dangling breasts,
squeezing the firm mounds and exciting the stiff nipples with his thumbs.  His head was rolled back
on his shoulders, his breathing coming in quick gasps. Grace was bobbing her head up and down on
the cock, her free hand slipping into her bikini bottom, fingering her own clit.  Caught in the
excitement of the moment, her own pleasure foremost in her mind, she misjudges his excitement.  
Vic groans and grunts, the hot scalding semen ejaculating into her throat.  The sudden surge of
cum, pushing her over the edge to an orgasm of her own.  The hot excretions of lust, wetting her
fingers as her pussy clenches the probing digits.

She feels Vic's strong hands holding her on his cock, she laps up the sticky man juice, milking his
member of every drop.  She pulls away from him, her orgasm, still spewing the fluids into her bikini.
She rocks back into the lounge, her eyes closed, the tremors of excitement rolling through her sex.

Vic,weak with his ejaculation, falls back into the sand, his gasps for air delivering the oxygen he
needs to recover.

The two lovers lie, in their respective positions, until the waves of pleasure subside.
Vic rises first, bending over to kiss Grace on her tempting mouth, brushing her hair from her face,
beads of sweat, on her body, her hand still in her bathing suit, gently massaging the clitoris.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the universe,” Vic says to her.

“Mm mm, how beautiful will I be, when you experience the best part of me?” She laughs, removing
her hand from her sex and putting her fingers into Vic's mouth.  He holds her hand, sucking her
essence from her fingers.

“Let me get you in the mood, with an erotic shoulder massage,” Vic offers, letting her hand go and
pulling her up from the lounge.

“Put your back toward me, lean back on the arm here,” he instructs.

Grace smiles, understanding that Victor will need a bit of time, before he would be able to get to her
best feminine charm.

“How romantic, an erotic massage.  Oooo, I can't wait,”she giggles, like a school girl, turning in her
seat, to get her back to Vic, slipping the towel between her back and the lounge arm.  Her legs
extend across the lounge to the other side. Vic starts his massage, first moving his thumbs over her
neck, then moving his fingers to the front of her throat.

“Where did you get the war feather charm?” he asks, continuing to loosen her tight muscles.

“What are your talking about?” she asks, her body relaxing with the pleasurable soothing massage.

“Yes, in your left ear,” he realizes Grace doesn't understand what he is referring to.

“Oh, the emerald?  It was a gift, from an adversary,” she answers, almost gruffly. “What did you call
it?” she asks, interested in knowing what it was.

“Yes, it’s from the Viking culture, made of emerald, indicates a high ranking Viking, a king or queen,”
Vic explains, his hands moving to her shoulders, his steel fingers moving in circles over her back.
“Do you know what a Valkyrie is?” he asks.

“Yes, the Ride of the Valkyries.” Grace acknowledges the classic creation of Wagner.

“Yes, that's the music, but do you know the meaning of Valkyrie?” he asks, getting very specific.

“No, I guess not,” she admits.

“The Valkyries, in Norse legends, were maidens that choose the warrior that will fall or die in battle.
If you were chosen, half that died, the bravest warriors, were given to Freya, and were taken to
Valhalla, to sit with Odin, to spend eternity drinking and telling stories.” Vic's hands move to Grace's
lower back, under the arm of the lounge.

“Mm mm.” Grace, feeling her body relax with the erotic massage, is barely listening.

“High ranking Vikings carried a charm that they wore into battle, hoping it would keep the Valkyries
from choosing them,” Victor enlightens Grace. “The charm they carried was called a war feather,
what you have is half the charm,” he finally gets to the object’s meaning.“War Feathers made of
emerald were very rare, I only know of nine in existence.” His strokes move around to her front, his
fingers in tight circles around her navel.

“Oh really?” Grace is impressed with the story.

“Yes, in modern times, when two people are connected, husband and wife, father and son, mother
and son, brother and sister, the charm would be inscribed and then broken, the two halves would
only fit their unique piece,” he explains.

Grace turns to look at Vic again, studying his face, he smiles at her, a gentle loving smile.  His hands
moving to her breasts, his gentle circles, like electricity in her orbs.

“Red hair, freckles, where do I remember that from?” she thinks, her sex beginning to respond to
his amorous attention.

Grace's thoughts are deflected by the erotic burn in her dripping delight, wanting to feel that
incredible cock penetrating her.

“Let me show you something,” Victor mumbles stopping his massage, to fumble in one of his tennis

Grace whimpers with frustration, her mind only wanting her body satisfied.

“Can you take that charm off, for a second?” he asks.

Grace sighs , removing the charm from her ear, turning toward Vic, again looking into his face. While
she is concentrating on him, he removes the sunglasses. She sees just what she thought, the most
unusual shade of green eyes she had ever seen.

“I know that face, I've seen those eyes before, where?” she thinks.

“Turn your back to me,” Vic commands, putting his hand around her, opening the fist to reveal
another emerald charm. “Take it, fit it to your half,” Vic whispers.

Grace looks at it, momentarily suspicious. This was odd, but again, she dismisses it as part of her
fantasy-reward from the The Spider’s Web. She wore the emerald charm openly enough, and making
it part of this fantasy afternoon of sex must be part of the scenario they’d arranged for her.

Again her concentration is broken by the hand, dropping to her sex, the strong fingers, slipping into
her bikini, tickling the clitoris buried in the folds of her sex. A tremor of excitement flashes through
her, as the finger probes her sex.  She sucks in a short quick breath, her eyes closing tightly.

Grace shudders, then she feels his hand slipping from her, his other hand comes over her
shoulder, dangling her bikini top in front of her. He lets it run over her breasts, the thin material
exciting her nipples.  

“Are your ready for it?” Victor whispers, his tongue licking her delicate ear.

“Yes, I want it,” she coos, her mind thinking of his huge cock spreading her labia and plunging to
the depths of her sex.

“Put the charms together, you'll understand the ride of the Valkyries,” he says, his other hand
catching the end of her bikini bra.

Grace sighs, wanting to get on with the sex, the itch in her garden of delights, moist and ready for

Victor continues to massage her breasts with the soft bikini top, her hands becoming a bit restless,
with her task. She tries to connect the two charms—frustrated she holds the two charms up and
tries to fit them another way.

“It will form a shield, then you can read the inscription,” Vic says, pulling the bikini top over one of
her shoulders, letting the strap dangle over the nipple of her breast. “It will snap, when you have it
correct,” he says in a whisper.

Grace keeps pressing the two charms together, and finally she hears a definite click, she holds the
shield in her hand, looking at the inscription.

“Victor!” she says, smiling at his name scribed in the charm.

“Turn it over,” Victor says, his hand coming around her shoulder to pick up the end of her bikini bra.

Grace flips the green charm over, and stares at the other side. Her head slowly rises, her brown
eyes wide with realization.

“Victoria!” she whispers, the name finally causing her to remember where she had seen Vic's face.

“Yes, Victoria, a worthy opponent like yourself, will earn a seat with Odin,” Victor growls in her ear.

She felt the twisted bikini top moving to her neck, the ends starting to encircle her throat.

“Victoria was your twin sister,” she says, remembering the agent she had killed all those years
ago…finally knowing who Victor was.

Victor slowly wraps her top around her neck, talking as he did it.

“Yes, we are both members of Dark Moon, her code name was Moon Beam, mine Moon Shiner, you
murdered her, in that cheap hotel room,” he says, the anger building in his voice, as the garrote
tightens around her neck.

Grace suddenly tries to break away from him, using the charm to cut him, gouge out an eye, anything
to get a chance.  The top snaps her air passage closed, a half scream escapes her throat, before
suddenly cut off. Grace swings the charm by the chain, trying to in flick some hurt on his face.  She
hears the precious stone clang off the metal helmet, but the garrote around her throat does not
give. Victor grunts again, pulling the ends of her bikini tighter around her slim neck.  Grace thrashes
and bucks, her breasts swing in rhythm with her struggles. She feels her tongue start to press
against her teeth.  Her gagging and grunting the only sound escaping her.  The burn in her lungs
moves past desperate to panic. The tongue finally slips from her mouth, dangling to  the side.  Her
legs push franticly into the loose sand, trying to get some relief.  Her hands stop trying to damage
him, going to the killing bra around her neck. Sweat breaks out on her body, her face, her raven
black hair, plastered to her face.

“There must be a way out, I must survive!” she thinks.

“Give it up, Grace. You will be taking your warrior’s ride with the Valkyries, very soon,” Victor grunts,
keeping pressure on the garrote. “You have been chosen for death, accept your fate, let the war
feather touch you,” he continues, the strain of the violent strangle beginning to show in his own
howling voice.

Grace's bedroom eyes, changing to panic, with widening pupils crowding out the brown iris, the sign
of pending death. Her desperate thoughts turning from sexual satisfaction to survival. Her left hand
falls limply to her side, the hand clasping and relaxing with her spasms of death.  Her body jerks
violently a last time, her firm full breasts, jiggle with the muscle spasm. Grace's right arm falls to her
side, her right leg straightens then quivers, gouging into the sand of the beach.  

Grace's last thought was the image of Victoria's beautiful green eyes, her own brown ones, taking on
the same blank stare. Her nearly naked body suddenly relaxes, her head rolls back against Victor’s
chest, those killer eyes, staring unbelieving at her own murderer.

He holds the garrote tight for five more minutes, drool dripping from her dangling tongue, hanging
from the corner of her blue lips. Grace Xanadu, the Black Widow, was swept away to Valhalla by the

Vic knots the bra around her neck, then fondles her breasts, pointing to the sun, her excited
nipples, stiff and erect. “I promised Victoria's spirit I would make her killer pay, it took me six years
to find you, but now I can rest,” Victor says to Grace's corpse, his large hand mauling her breasts.
Victor gets back on his knees, sneering at his hated enemy.

He lets Grace's head fall over the lounge arm, The sun glasses slipping off her face, her mouth
opening slightly, the ends of her bikini top, swaying in the breeze of the ocean.

Victor’s monster green eyes flashed with anger, as he guided his cock into Grace's slack mouth—
there was no love, no lust, just green anger.  He pushed himself into her mouth, his cock pushing
her limp tongue back into her, along with his vengeance filled penis.  He savagely drove his anger
into her, spreading her lips.  Her body rocked violently with his damn-you thrusts.  His every
thought, focused on hate.  He laughed hysterically as he punished her, thrusting down her throat,
until he spewed a sticky river of creamy cum into her mouth.

“Take that you black hearted bitch, from me and my sister,” Vic laughed evilly, pulling from her
mouth, a thick stream of drool and semen dribbling out, followed by the bloated tongue.  

He moves to the other side of the lounge, looking down at her womanly prize, getting on his knees
again. He pulls Grace's red bikini bottoms from her hips, tossing the garment into the sand.  He
pushes her legs apart, and guides his manhood into her waiting sex.  He strokes her evil curly black
snatch violently, the plastic lounge squeaking and rocking with his hate filled thrusts. Grace's titties
and head rock and sway in sync with his violent rape.  He grunts with his climax, pulling out of her in
time to squirt the creamy ejaculation on her belly.

“What ye sow, so shall ye reap,” Victor shouts into the setting sun, laughing like a crazy man, and he
was, driven there by the many years waiting for revenge.

Victor stands, adjusting the Speedos, picks up his tray and shuffles back the way he had come.  He
takes off his helmet and leaves it at dead Grace’s feet. He smiles as he starts the ten mile swim back
to where his cruiser was waiting for him.

That afternoon, Dragoon came to check on Grace. He found her body lying on the lounge just as Vic
had left her.  Her blank eyes, staring down the beach, at the footprints that told Dragoon her killer
had escaped. He plucked up the helmet Victor had left, and flung it far out into the surf.

“I hope you enjoy your ride with the Valkyries, as much as I'm going to enjoy my ride with the Black
Widow.” Dragoon chuckles, getting positioned to satisfy his lust with her body. “Moon Shiner paid
me a pretty penny, to reap his revenge.” Dragoon laughs, looking at the footprints. “I'll take my
pleasure with you Grace, then let the ocean wash my problems away” he sighs contently. “Reporting
that you were washed into the ocean, asleep, is much easier than admitting I sold out to the highest
bidder,” he laughs.

The red tropical sun slowly sinks into the ocean, the high tide, starting to wash over the feet of
Grace's body.  In a patch of swirling cumulus clouds, a tall thunder head, on the dark under side, a
flash of lightning, a quick burst of wind, sounding like a group of horses thundering across a battle
field.  The blurred images of maidens riding steeds, their flowing robes and hair, streaming behind
them.  In their midst a black-maned woman, pushing her horse to the lead.  She the most beautiful of
all, the only one with a helmet, the one we know as Grace X.
Please Send Grace and
Moon Shiner Your Feedback:
Your online
Questions, comments, or feedback for
Grace and Moon Shiner:

Comment from: Grace X
Date: May 13, 2012

KGK honey, you just keep outdoing yourself! What a fabulous present to find
when I got home from vacation! I can just see you up to all hours writing this
to have it done by the time I got home, you sweet man!

This story is amazing. Of course it has my very favorite spy/assassin theme,
and your command of the story just takes my breath away (literally!), dear
KGK. Loved the opening scene where I blow away my cheating partner
(oooh, he deserved it! You don't double-cross the Black Widow!), and then
the exotically red-haired and freckled (kind of reminds me of our dear friend
Kelli) Victoria.

The whole setup with The Spider Web organization is well
thought out. And you took me literally when I invited someone to come and
strangle me on the beach during my vacation....oh, you can't imagine how
often I lay there on my towel in Baja imagining being taken just like this! The
whole Viking theme was clever as hell (I didn't know all that about Valkyries!
I was spellbound reading the whole mythology).

And the sex! Oh God, KGK, you are such an incredible erotic writer. Pre and
post mortem, this is hot stuff! Love how you worked yourself right in
there...Moon Shiner the twin of Moon Beam, lol!

I can just picture me riding atop a thunderhead...dead, but still in my glory!

Thank you so much for your amazing talent, and your passion, dear KGK.

XOX from your GXK

Comment from: Fleming
Date: May 13, 2012

Wow Moon my friend that was utterly brilliant, so poetic and skillfully
written, so ironic and clever and well thought out and erotic, oh fuck wow
was it ever. :)

I loved how you so cleverly built it with such detail and care, leading me to
always be surprised as the story shifted from one direction to the next,
always leaving me guessing until at last he hands her the emerald charm
and we as she does realise who he is and why he's come.

A brilliant reveal, an inspired idea and its all written with such stylish flair.
Original, cool and so sexy.

The characters and their interaction, the banter, the slow seduction, the
delicious dialogue, it was all splendid and then the heated moments were
wonderful and finally the strangling of the much deserving Black widow was
so utterly wonderful and beautifully written and of course his handling of
her after was sublime.

Loved the little extra humiliation in the end as Dragoon had his way with her

Great my friend, so creative and interesting and fresh, one of your very best.

Your friend

Comment from: Othello
Date: May 13, 2012

This is a real tour-de-force, my friend! You create a whole complex spy
organization, fill it with fascinating characters and scenes, and run us
through this inspired erotica noir story at a nonstop pace!

As I mentioned to you privately, your skill would be the envy of many who
write published erotic thrillers in the author's circle that I'm a part of.
Intense, hot, poetic and stylish...with clever, biting wit and irony.
Remarkable work!

And as a long-time student of Norse myths, you did them proud.

Well done!

Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: May 13, 2012

Welcome home Grace!

Your emails and erotic noir talk, did inspire me to write.  The first draft
flowing from my fingers as a rain storm settled into the night.

Our talk of you meeting a violent end, on a beach, with nothing but your
bikini top knotted around your neck, simply driving.

I'm pleased you enjoyed the tale, when ever I hear the low rumble of summer
thunder, I will be reminded of a maiden with long flowing raven hair,
pushing her horse across the endless sky, her war feather in hand.

Enjoy your ride with the Valkyries.

Flemming, thanks for stopping by and taking a look.  A bit of your own
country in this one.  I must admit that Othello got me out of a few awkward
spots with some help with the story.

Thanks for an outstanding review, I appreciate it very much.

Othello, my most valuable advisor, without your council and guidance the
story would not be near as good.  The stroke of a exceptional writer always

I can't tell you what your words mean to me.

My forever appreciation to all that commented.

Comment from: Nighthawk
Date: May 13, 2012


Well my friend what is there left to say, the word brilliant has already been
used, but it is, you know, its quite brilliant, you have grown by leaps and
bounds as a writer, it shows in each new story that I have the delight to read
from you.

My friend you must sit down and write more of these, and I want an
autographed copy of your first book, I know that there will be one in your
future, nothing is going to stop you now my friend, you have truly found your
niche, and I thank our beautiful muse for leading you there.


Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: May 14, 2012

Thank you, NightHawk, a bit of yourself in this one too.
I think we both have learned a bit from each other.  If you read closely I think
you will recognize some lines you should be familiar with.

Thanks for your words, they mean a lot to me.


You mentioned Kelli as the red-haired Moon Beam.

Great minds do think alike.

I thought of her in that role, I needed a name, that had a female and close
male counter part.

Victoria and Victor, was the only thing I could come up with.

Perhaps we could persuade Kelli to make her name Kelli Victoria, for the run
of this story.

Then I guess I'll have to give half of my royalties to NightHawk, Grace,
Othello and Kelli Victoria, gosh, I think I'm going in the hole here.

Well, at least it was fun.

Thanks to all my friends.