53 Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me

“We all love people in our life. The way of expressing it may change but the intensity never fluctuates. There are comparisons and fights in any relationship because of the same reason for their existence.”

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Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Wa Sing Ku’s Neighborhood, Borginia
October 13, 2024, 6:15 PM

 

The atmosphere in the Lamborghini on the ride over to the Asian drug lord’s house was filled with strained silence.

Miles was at the wheel, his eyes staring straight ahead of him at the road. They hadn’t once even veered in the direction of his passenger, to whom he’d not spoken a word since leaving Interpol Headquarters and receiving the latest set of instructions from Lang half an hour ago.

Lana cast a surreptitious, sideways glance at her faux beau’s tense profile and saw his jaw tighten even more; as if sensing her gaze. Perplexed, she dropped her eyes back into her lap, busying herself with staring instead at her long, French-manicured nails, the tips which were idly fiddling with the hem on her skimpy mini-dress which she was wearing for that evening’s excursion.

She had always known her former paramour was the strong, silent type and not one for idle chit-chat. However, they were supposed to be presenting a united front as passionate lovers to Wa Sing Ku at his impromptu “business dinner” that night. Therefore, she certainly didn’t want to go in there with any sort of dissension between them, which her spy senses told her was palpably evident – at least on his end – although she had no clue as to why!

This is ridiculous! She told herself. What the hell is his problem?!

As it was, she was already a bundle of nerves because of her ‘arm candy’ appearance, as she’d been subjected to yet another image overhaul earlier that day. Jilly and Carlos had been retained to be on-site for as long as their services were required, and while the transformation process had been less grueling and intricate than the last, she was still uncomfortable having to dress up like a slutty Barbie doll.

When Miles had emerged from his makeover, he’d looked as grumpy as he had the last time around, even though he’d only taken half an hour for his transformation this time, having only required a black root and eyebrow touchup. He was donned in another dark designer suit, as well as being cravat free yet again – the latter being presumably under protest!

When Lana had completed her transformation, her cohort did not say a word or even look at her, never mind treat her to any sort of smile or reassurance, as he had for the last occasion. Ergo, she had no idea if she looked convincingly sexy enough this round; she’d begged Carlos and Jilly to tone it down a notch from last time. After all, the last thing Lana had wanted to do was encourage the horny Ku in any way!

This time around, her silky taffy-colored tresses, while still artfully coiffed around her face, were not elaborately pinned up into a shorter, more high-maintenance style but hung down her back in long, loose waves. A bigger relief was that her face, while skillfully made up, no longer felt like an inch-thick mask on her face as it had on the night of the pool party. Carlos had even allowed Lana to wear her beloved familiar red scarf, an old gift from Ema, as the flowy material went well with her outfit, and made her feel a tad more comfortable at having a memorable, comforting piece of her old life with her.

Ergo at the present, the Agent wore only 2-inch kitten heels, the same shade as her royal blue, strapless dress, which wasn’t nearly as minuscule as the last one, and allowed her to bend over without too much scandal this time, if required –so long as she did a knee-bend!

Finally sick of the taciturn air engulfing them, at last, Lana fiddled with the radio dials on the dashboard, selected a station at random, and began drumming her fingers in tune to a song from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”.

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Toucha toucha toucha touch me, I wanna be dirty
Thrill me chill me fulfill me
Creature of the night
Then if anything grows while you pose
I’ll oil you up and rub you down
And that’s just one small fraction of the main attraction
You need a friendly hand and I need action …

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Without warning, and never once taking his eyes off the road, Miles reached over and promptly shut the song off, just as Lana was starting to mentally sing along the lyrics in her mind.

“Objection!” She turned and gave him a look of annoyance. “What gives, Miles, er, Max? Since when are you violently opposed to Broadway show tunes? I thought you and your alter ego were both avid enjoyers of culture and refinement.”

“I am indeed an aficionado of all things cultured,” he bit out tightly. “However, that song is borderline
obscene and distracting and does not even remotely fit that bill. Moreover, I require a quantum of solace to gather my bearings in preparation for this deal with Ku.”

“Obscene?” She echoed in disbelief, astounded that this ornery curmudgeon was the same unrestrained, impassioned lover that she’d once known. “Miles, when did you morph into such a crotchety killjoy who has a stick shoved so far up his rear that you could see it when he yawns?! Moreover, since when is maintaining focus been an issue for you – ever?”

Since right about now! Since listening to sexually suggestive lyrics about wanting to touch … forbidden things, which is the last thing I need in my mind at this moment!

“This is our premier time hearing from Ku since his pool party,” he succinctly reminded her. “And I delivered my end of the bargain and successfully had his requested shipment sent to Zheng Fa. It’s now his turn to hold up his end of the deal and give me what I want. This is not something to be taken lightly, Ms. Dallas. If we are successful in arranging this initial shipment with Ku now that we’ve gained some of his trust, it can be the gateway we need to get to those cocoons.”

“I’m well aware,” she replied coolly, hating his withering, know-it-all tone but so relieved to have broken the eerie reticence that she was willing to overlook it. “I have my wire in position, and there are overhead, infrared camera drones buzzing overhead the Ku Mansion as we speak.”

“Those only track heat and movement though,” Miles frowned. “The surveillance won’t be able to clearly see anything if Ku pulls a fast move on us.”

“But I will,” she pointed out. “I have my purse revolver with me if need be and I’ve been trained as a brown belt in karate if that lecher tries to try any sudden Kung-Fu moves on us! I think you’ve fallen victim to my persuasive performance and been a trifle too convinced by my helpless bimbo front, Miles. You’re forgetting I’m a highly skilled and trained Agent.”

“This is your first serious case!”

“I was a Detective in another lifetime too,” she reminded him with a smug grin. “Don’t you worry, playboy – you’ll be safe around me!”

Miles wasn’t so sure he would be. Thus far, mentally and emotionally, he felt about as steady as a house made of a deck of playing cards. Which was why, up until then, he’d been trying to hold his alluring arm candy at arm’s length so he could get a hold of himself.

“Did Carlos have nothing else in his arsenal at all? Something that could have covered you better?” He asked abruptly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “We are in the autumn season now, after all!”

“It’s Indian summer,” Lana retorted, stung at what she took as a pot-shot at her appearance, which bothered her more than she cared to let on. “I’m quite warm, although I can use my scarf as a wrap if need be. If you had such an issue with the inappropriateness of my attire, I wish you’d spoken up back at the agency so I might have changed into something my suddenly conservative, pious Zen Monk colleague deemed more suitable!”

No answer from Miles, although she saw a muscle tense in his jaw. Lana didn’t care. She was flat-out pissed off!

“Or should I perhaps have asked Carlos to have given me a burqa instead, so as not to offend Mr. Holier Than Thou?” She derided. “Would that have been more decorous for your puritanical sensibilities?”

It would have been a hell of a lot better for his senses if she had been wearing the traditional enveloping outer garment worn by women in some Islamic traditions to fully cover their bodies when in public, Miles reflected ruefully, running an agitated hand through his hair. Although being a convincingly sexy babe in a burqa would have been a very hard feat to pull off, no matter how good an actress Lana was! As it was, her current outfit – her mere presence! – was unnerving him, through no actual fault of her own. Nevertheless, the strain it created on him, on his psyche, was beginning to get to him!

Even worse was the way it was starting to impact his relationship with Franziska.

He still got a slight headache as he recalled the angry, tearful scene they’d had back at their hotel room back after they’d all parted ways post-debriefing in August. His fiancée had repeatedly shrieked at him, insisting that he should be honest with her and confess to her what was going on between him and Lana. Elaborate about why he was acting like a possessive lover when there were no cameras around and explain why he’d seemed so rattled to hear that Lana was engaged to his former colleague, Jake Marshall.

Naturally, Miles had protested that Franziska was overreacting again. He’d claimed to have merely been flabbergasted to hear that Lana had plighted her troth given the unusual circumstances, what with her fiancé being presently incarcerated. This admission had been true for the most part, and then he’d gone on to say that he, of course, cared for his former boss – as a person. Ergo, as a gentleman, he’d been averse to any perturbing, unwanted advances made upon her. He’d then hastily added that have felt and reacted the same way on behalf of any female in his presence suffering such conditions.

Unfortunately, his fiancée had refused to be mollified this time around.

“I have known you most of my life, Miles Edgeworth.” His fiancée’s voice was cold, even though her pewter orbs were red with barely suppressed tears. “I have seen countless women throw themselves at you over the years and each time, you have remained unaffected, if not entirely oblivious to them all, much like a horse brushing off pesky flies with its tail. What is it about this Schlampe that rattles you so? Why is it she brings out your protective instincts thus?”

“W –What’s this?” Miles had stammered, having a creepy sense of déjà vu come over him. “D – Do I really inspire this sort of frothing desire from the female masses?”

“You know verdammt gut you do!” Her brimming eyes narrowed. “Yet this has never been an issue until now! Who is this Frau whom you insist you only supposedly worked under, hmm? You declared you had a crush on her – but is that all it was?”

He swallowed. This was his chance. To confess everything to his fuming, expecting fiancée with the admitted (albeit questionable) jealousy issues that Lana and he had been slightly more than just supervisor and subordinate.

However, in doing so, he would then risk having her blow a fuse that he hadn’t fessed up earlier, and endure his other half blowing down his neck like a fire-breathing dragon for the rest of the sting operation once her suspicions had been validated that he was posing as the lover of his actual ex-lover.

Or, a safer bet would be to continue to play dodgeball with the questions and continue to give his hormonal swain all the reassurance and love in the world while fervidly hoping that her suspicions would eventually be put to rest at last.

It was quite the gamble, as much as it was the epitome of lose-lose situations. Given what a loose cannon Franziska was, and the fact that she was having his baby and he didn’t want her to be further stressed or aggravated, he opted for the latter, cowardly though it was.

Flat-out denial.

“Yes,” he replied after what seemed like the world’s most pregnant pause. “Yes, that’s all it was.”

It wasn’t an outright taradiddle, the barrister tried to convince himself. As far as feelings had gone, Miles was certain he and Lana hadn’t harbored past the obsessive, lust-fueled phase. That constituted as essentially the same thing as a crush, did it not?

Franziska’s eyes misted over slightly then.

“I am very disappointed in you, Miles,” she said softly. “I have always known you to be so truthful.”

Then she’d turned around and walked into the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind her.

A moment later, it’d opened again, followed by a blanket and pillow being hurled at him before immediately slamming shut again.

The barrister had thence been reduced to sofa purgatory, with Pess as his only bedtime company, for the rest of the week.

Intimacy had completely faltered between the couple, as hard as he tried to instigate it. Even his attempts to kiss his fiancée had been responded to with the driest, chastest, most close-mouthed pecks in response.

He was right back to square one – as the same sexless, sexually frustrated, and unfulfilled man he’d been circa four years ago!

Except that this time around, instead of having to gratify himself with old memories from nearly a decade ago, now he had to deal with seeing his former lover regularly, who was now engaged to the cuckolded fool she’d been cheating on with him! Miles had to go to great lengths to feign being oblivious to Lana’s smoldering sexuality. Even worse, he had to pretend not to notice the impossible-to-deny sexual tension that still existed between them, something the ever-perceptive Franziska had undoubtedly sensed from the start, which he didn’t have enough excuses or apologies in the world for!

Worst of all, he had Lord knew how many more solo operations with his sexy ex, who on each excursion seemed to be dressed to the nines in skimpy garments that left little to the imagination!

My flagrantly deprived self would have to be an actual Buddhist monk to not be affected by the constant visual titillation!

It was the equivalent of waving a prime steak in front of a ravenous lion who had been forcibly famished for ages (after his extensive dry spells the last five years, two and a half months felt like a lifetime!) and then expecting him to not even take a bite!

Miles had no idea what he’d ever done to deserve such cruel and unusual punishment.

Nevertheless, his ex didn’t deserve to have his frustrations taken out on her, and he knew he couldn’t allow them to walk into the lion’s den with any sort of palpable tension between them.

“I’m sorry Lana,” he apologized now, pulling into the driveway of the manor and looking at her with a contrite expression. “I was completely out of line with what I said earlier. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

Lana studied his face and saw only sincerity etched across his features. “I forgive you, honey,” she said with a smile as she reached for her door handle. “This time around anyway. You ready for this, Mr. Banks?”

“I am, indeed.” He came around her side of the car and extended his arm to her. “Showtime.”

Who do you think is hotter? Lana or Franziska?