“Blast you, you cunning voman viz your cunning vomanly vays!”
Yes... the woman that can inspire such passion and outrage could only be Luisa Danforth, Ace Girl Spy. She first met light of day in Treacherous Hearts, a WWII tandem tale written by me and the irrepressible Mark. She appeared in other stories as well, Brittanica: The Final Frontier (set well into the future), Sand and Crumpets (set in the present day in a Las Vegas brothel) and Love Among the Pyramids (1930s) to mention just three. Here are some excerpts from Treacherous Hearts, complete with original exclamation marks.
*****
Then Luisa did what any other red-blooded Englishwoman would have done in such a situation: she kissed him! His firmly-moulded lips were a velvet whip to her senses! Down she plunged, in a miasma of ecstacy and ever-increasing longing… longing for a fulfillment that could not be denied any longer!
*****
Hours later, she couldn’t say when, she was woken by a sharp jab to her ribs. Looking up into the dusty air of the barn, she could see that at the end of the hay fork that was prodding her was a robust young man, dressed in farm clothes that couldn’t disguise the broadness of his shoulders and his magnificent chest, nor his powerful thighs. But enough of that, thought Luisa. She had a civilization to save and she was the girl to do it.
*****
She gave some attention to her travelling companion. He was a striking man, not only for his rugged jaw and closely cropped black hair, but also for the black eyepatch he wore. His one mesmerically blue eye drew attention away from the two pale slashes of skin on his cheekbones: his Heidelberg scars!
*****
“Good night!” he whispered hoarsely, then bent and kissed her hand with lips that burned with unspoken passion. Luisa drew back, not daring to speak – how could she when she could barely trust herself to stand upright, let alone be coherent? It was all the signal Reinhard needed. Swooping down, he took her in his arms and kissed her with a scorching intensity that she had only known once before. Luisa did what any red-blooded Englishwoman would do: she kissed him back! His hands moulded her pliant form against his hard body. Luisa’s head swam with the intensity of sensation that was suffusing her very being with ecstacy. Somehow, she managed to pry herself apart from him, gasping for control of her senses, wanting nothing more than to be consumed by these magnificent sensations.
*****
And with that Dalibor kissed her passionately. What wealth of emotions flooded Luisa’s body! She had only felt this depth of passion three times before! It was all she could do to stop herself from falling out of her seat and into Dalibor’s arms. Suddenly, from far behind them, she heard a man’s voice.
“Nein, for ze love of Gott! Do not be thus torturing me!” It was Reinhard and he had witnessed their impassioned farewell. Luisa broke away and looked over at the hapless Captain, still tied up to his tree.
“Poor idiot,” she sighed, then turned to look at Dalibor. “Be kind to him, please!”
*****
Standing up, Louisa placed on hand on her heart while the other hand held her tea cup securely. She looked off into the distance and envisioning all the pink bits that made up the British Empire said, “By all that is Holy, while the Union Jack still flies over thick steamy jungles, vast plains, busy trading posts, bustling sea ports and over millions of natives and ex-patriots, and over all those who drink tea at an appointed hour and change for dinner, I will set Count Delrowski free!”
*****
They entered and there, sitting on a wooden pallet was Count Delrowski. He rose elegantly, but it was obvious to Luisa that he wasn’t in the best of health. However this could not detract from his natural presence that seethed and coiled its way around the cell like a heady vapour. He was slightly taller than average with light brown hair brushed straight back from his intelligent brow. His startling blue eyes spoke volumes and his compact build was like that of a jungle cat, composed and ready for anything. He wore camel coloured wool trousers and a white linen shirt that had seen better days.
*****
“Yes,” replied Ryzard, with a slight smile of predestination illuminating his handsome visage. So Luisa and the Baron hadn’t consummated their relationship? What a relief to the heroic Pole. Since he had first laid eyes on Luisa’s delicate beauty, he had burned with an untold passion that was all too new to him. What rewards lay in her strong yet supple arms? What delight to lose oneself in those impossibly fascinating eyes? What ecstacy to rain kisses on her swan-like alabaster neck? What transcendence to burn with the fire of a thousand volcanoes, as they finally entwined themselves in to a miasma of passion and…
But enough of that, he thought to himself, it was time to rescue the Polish pilots.
*****
Silently and masterfully the Count swept Luisa out onto a magnificent marble balcony and into a rose-covered bower where they were hidden from view. And before she could catch her breath and continue her tirade, the dashing, one-legged, author-equestrian-hero-diplomat-soldier clasped her in his arms and did what any other red-blooded Polish man would do: he kissed her! The dancing, the music, the city, the whole wide world stopped for Luisa as she was lost in a tide of emotion and a depth of passion she had only felt four times before!
Suddenly the earth moved. And it wasn’t just the force of Ryzard’s searing kisses. A great booming sound caused the magnificent chandeliers to tinkle. Berlin was under attack!
*****
“Yes… yes I suppose you’re right,” sighed Ryzard, turning about and taking Luisa in his arms. “By Vladimir! If you veren’t an ace girl spy, you vould make a hell of a pilot!” Inevitably, indisputably, irrevocably… Ryzard’s lips met hers and they were both swept away on a torrent of emotion, of a sort that Luisa had only experienced five times before!
*****
“I mean, you oafish lout, that I’m willing to take us both out to save this nation, nay the world as we know it from your evil ways! Since the glorious days of Sir Bramwell Pemberton, gentleman spy, it is I, Luisa Danforth, a mere woman, whose natural fragility was always my greatest strength, who is the world’s greatest spy!”
“Blast you, you cunning voman viz your cunning vomanly vays!”
*****
“Well, I say,” murmured Sir Bramwell in his still beautifully-well-modulated voice. “I say Luisa, you’re a credit to women everywhere!”
“Here, here! I say! Hooray! Three cheers for the old girl! Jolly good, what?” cried the Polish pilots who were learning English with great facility.
“Yes,” said Winslow meaningfully, “I’ve always said if Luisa weren’t a gel, she’d make a jolly fine chap!”
*****
Luisa looked up at the Count with such meaning in her eyes that Ryszard did what any other redblooded Polish pilot would do: he kissed her!
What emotions whirled through Luisa’s mind? What torrent of physical sensation assaulted her slender form? She had only felt this way six times before.
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