Chapter 2: Meeting You

Audio version of Jacklyn Taylor Stories
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It was late at night, and we were all exhausted after a long workday at the restaurant and an after-hours gathering in the grill master’s backyard.

It was May, the kind of perfect May when everything is in bloom, flowers are fragrant, and fruit trees are blossoming in the northern countryside. Truly, an idyllic May.

Jack was sitting on an old couch, finishing a cigarette. He seemed somewhat melancholic, surrounded by happy couples who had been giving each other signals all evening, silently agreeing it was time to head home.

Jack, however, longed for the night to continue. He sat scrolling through profiles on a dating app, Grinder, for what felt like an eternity. But the search yielded no results—he knew he couldn’t justify a spur-of-the-moment one-hour meeting that involved driving far while under the influence, especially when he had to open the restaurant early the next morning.

The backyard party was winding down. People were cleaning up the table, signaling the end of a pleasant evening. The guests began dispersing, leaving Jack, the grill master, and a few others to finish tidying up. Once everything was in order, Paola brought out a freshly boiled kettle with coffee supplies, and they all sat down for one last cup. The grill master took a sip, rolled his own cigarette with aromatic tobacco, and lit up.

In the silence that followed, the distant howl of a lost jackal echoed through the fields, and a snow-white owl flew overhead. By then, it was well past midnight. The brilliant full moon bathed the open space in silvery light, illuminating even the distant military base, where a couple of officers strolled the perimeter, and guards changed shifts.

The sound of a notification broke the quiet. Jack glanced at his phone and saw a message on the dating app, which he had left running in the background and all but forgotten about. He opened it and, as usual, responded curtly:

“How are you?”

“Good. What are you up to?”

“Just sitting here, bored.”

After exchanging a few more lines and photos, Jack—buzzed from alcohol and another cigarette—decided to take a chance. Quickly bidding farewell, he jumped into his car and headed to meet his new acquaintance. Thankfully, like all agents, Jack had taken the standard anti-alcohol neutralizer, allowing him to remain completely sober.

The streets were completely empty. Jack drove cautiously, unhurriedly, enjoying the view around him. Turning at a crossroads away from home, he continued toward a neighboring village. The trip was brief, and upon arrival, he messaged his new acquaintance:

“I’m at the gate. What’s the code?”

“7954.”

Entering the code and following a few additional instructions, Jack proceeded to the designated house and sent another message upon arrival.

Derek emerged from the gate, walking toward Jack’s car and waving for him to step out.

Derek was a head taller and noticeably lean, his slim frame accentuated by shorts and a sleeveless shirt. His hair was a charming mess, adding to the allure that already left Jack captivated.

Among agents, it might seem surprising, but there have always been men and women from the LGBTQ+ community in their ranks. Everyone has their preferences, problems, and desires, but they mustn’t interfere with the job. Thus, during operations, all agents, regardless of orientation, become almost asexual, unless the mission demands otherwise.

For Jack, this spontaneous meeting was a monumental step. His severe social anxiety, especially regarding personal interactions with men, often triggered panic attacks. The roots of this fear stemmed from events five years ago during a high-risk assignment.

Walking through the small yard, they passed a path lined with plants and young trees. Jack noticed a bush of rosemary under the kitchen window; its scent dominated the cool evening air as they passed. A few steps further revealed Derek’s cozy veranda, adorned with a hammock and seating area. Clematis vines draped down from the canopy above.

Had Jack known then that this property belonged to the British crown, and the man standing before him was part of the royal intelligence, he might have been less impressed with the unfolding events of the next few months.

To be continued

“Extraordinary RetilJack”

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