By request of the prompter, Nichole Chavez
Nicole nursed the mojito, she knew she needed to stay sharp but still appear to be loose. The bar was one of those glass and wood and ocean places full of yachtsmen and women. The guy she had to find was using the boating scene as a cover for his operation, and Nicole had the key. She just had to find this guy and give it to him - but that was the problem, he had to find her first.
Nicole fingered the key inside her coat pocket and decided to order another drink and use the Mata Hari craft she'd learned at Quantico. She seductively peeled off her coat, and using her hand like a pasta spoon, tousled her hair. She felt so foolish, but Nicole was a dedicated asset, and her loyalty had been secured, permanently. She pictured her children, stuffed her dignity, and thrust her chest forward.
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