Curiosity ignited within me, I rushed down the hall, charging like an enraged bull towards the locker rooms.

"Natalia!" James called, my voice ringing clear in the hallway, even over the bubbling brook of voices.

My step quickened, I made for the locker rooms. But he was barging people out of the way, and just as I pushed the door to the secluded changing unit open, he grabbed my wrist, and pinned me to the wall next to it.

"Hey..." He soothed, stroking his hand across my cheek. "What's the rush, gorgeous?" He had the audacity to smirk at me, and act like nothing had ever changed.

"I've got somewhere to be James, now really isn't the time..." I shook my wrists free of his grasp and shoved him back by the shoulders. He tripped backwards into a couple men, who spat various profanities. I stepped into the doorway of the changing room, just nudging aside the door.

"Since when do you care about work over me?" He stopped me dead in my tracks. I had to devise a reason. I had to invent some way to escape him. "C'mon..."

"James, I don't know what to say..." I turned to face him, guilt masking my features.

"You don't have to say anything..." He soothed, gripping me by the shoulders with the same simpering expression on his face. He pressed his lips gently to mine and I felt repulsed. My stomach knotting up, I recoiled convulsively. "What's wrong, little red?"

I couldn't look at him the same. Not without thinking of my inability to please him sexually, how he'd seen me immodest in all my vulnerability, how he'd broken down every wall. "I'm sorry, James. I'm just not myself... I'm not myself," I professed, eyes beginning to water. I kept my gaze projected at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. I couldn't have him see me cry. I wouldn't let anyone see me cry.

He glanced up and down the corridor, checking that no listening ears were intruding on our conversation. Once sure, he focused entirely on me and held me captive by the shoulders. "Is this about last night? Because we can talk about it if you want?" He lowered his voice softly and trailed a hand through my unruly red hair. "Look at me Natalia?" He cooed and I crossed my arms over my chest defensively, my eyes still pointing at the floor. "Natalia, look at me?" His voice gained a more steely edge, and he forced my chin up so I met his eyes.

"What are we doing, James?" I asked him seriously, his complexion was a smudge through the lens of tears. "Sneaking around? Pretending like this is something it's not? Something real?" My mouth went dry and I swallowed stickily.

"You don't think what we have is real?" He sounded crestfallen. And I couldn't deal with the sting of guilt that attacked me when his puppy-dog eyes pleaded me for an explanation.

"Let's carry on pretending it's perfect, then, shall we James?" I tried to brush it off with a tearful titter and a falsified grin. I kept my attention fixated to the ground. I didn't want to see his face when I let him down again. "Pretend like you did talk to me after fucking me last night. Pretend like I didn't disappoint you. Or sicken you..." I shrugged like it was no big deal.

"Is that what this is about?" Realisation crept into his tone and the bitterness in his voice ceased to be. "Look, you weren't that bad..." He soothed, disguising what was something demeaning as a compliment. "That was your first time right?" He questioned, stroking my cheek affectionately, voice soft enough to coax my gaze to meet his own.

I nodded silently and gave him an embarrassed smile, a thin line of tears caught up in my glossy eyes.

"I wouldn't expect you to be the best fuck I've ever had on your first time. And that won't be the only time we do this, Natalia. You'll improve." More embarrassment made my cheeks flare. I felt my whole face go rosy. He cuddled me close, and I broke down, sobbing into his shoulder. He smoothed a hand up and down my spine, to try and halt my whimpers and hiccups. "What do you want me to say, Natalia? How can I make you feel better?"

"Tell me you love me?" I blurted almost instantly. It was a blundering mistake. The stupidest mistake.

I felt him tense with reluctance. His hand stopped running up and down my spine. I even heard his breathing catch. "Would that really make you feel better?" He droned monotonously, resistant to the end to those three words.

I nodded against his chest.

"I love you..." He whispered in a hurry; like the words were dirty. They were so struggled, spat in such haste. I was half-convinced that that was the first time he'd ever said them to a woman. But the words were said: albeit not-meaningfully. And with those words, I fell in love with him all over again. I hugged him tight, squeezing the air out of him, and crying the last tears I had left in me.

He had to peel my hands off of him and wriggle himself free. My dependency unnerved him. "If they're searching rooms, I have some contraband to attend to... So, I'll see you later?" He gently clasped my hand in his.

"I'll see you later..." I gave in, smearing the last of my tears away with the back of my hand.

He pecked me on the cheek and was quick to retreat. He jogged away, leaving me to investigate what Lukin had left for me as uniform.

The changing rooms were dark as always, and as I flicked on the groggy lights in the grotty room, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It took all of my willpower just to look at myself for a second. I looked a mess: with my tear inflamed eyes, my scraggly hair, and the body that had got me into so much trouble; it was my fault that James had treated me like I did.

I traipsed over to my locker, withdrawing my jangling fob of tiny keys from my utility belt, and probed one tentatively into the lock. With a click, the lock unlocked. With a creak, the door unlocked.

Inside, was a duffle bag and a small leather bag; not dissimilar to the standard issue wash kits we were equipped with.

I unzipped the back and plunged my hand into dark depths. Inside, a mountain of lace and silk. Rooting around like a lucky dip, I managed to untangle one article at a time.

Garters and a garter belt was the first shred of elasticised fabric to come to hand; lace woven with intricate designs and dangling tassels. Confused, I plucked another item of lingerie from thee pile: a low cut bra, with an under-wired metal frame and puffed up pads in the silky cups. It looked like a rib-slicing torture device. The knickers were next; a titchy triangle of material to conceal my modesty followed by an arse chaffing string at the back. Stockings were the final piece of the outfit, sheer translucent black with metal loops at the hem for the garters.

And beneath the pile of risqué undergarments, an floor length backless dress; figure hugging, illustrious silk.

Demeaning, seductive and uncomfortable: the woven threads were scratchy on my palm and the sheer material made my skin itch to the scrape.

I hurled it back into the locker in a rumpled heap. I wanted nothing to do with sex. Nothing to do with men. Nothing to do with looking sexy.

I unzipped the toiletries bag with less haste, reluctant to delve in and discover what devices lay within.

I plucked out a glass bottle of beige liquid, uncapping it and pumping a blob into my palm. Smearing it on my skin, I dropped it back in. I withdrew a slender black tube with a twisty lid; I untwizzled it and a bristly brush clogged with black gloop squelched out; I discarded it fastidiously. I uncapped a short stout black tube and twisted it; watching what I knew as lipstick swivel out – capping it, I chucked it back in the set.

I fumbled through an army of pencils, of many varieties... Blacks, whites and reds to match my hair. Tubs of powder condensed into blocks were contained within; porcelain beige, rosy blushes and palettes of eye shadows.

At the bottom of the bag were chunky ornate bottles of perfume; carrying a heavy floral scent; clear liquid sloshed around inside.

I found a pair of surgical looking tweezers, and an unusual metal device that worked on a pivot; with a curved edge.

I wasn't sure if this was a medical kit or a makeup kit.

There were bottles of assorted nail polish. Also, a kit of various brushes and pads. Again, I chucked it all back in the bag, and then slammed the locker; trying to rid myself of the slap. Ordinarily, this would've been Christmas; but these gifts weren't for my benefit – they were for someone else's.

Behind me, footsteps echoed over the din of me slamming and locking the locker; kicking it cursedly. I was breathing hoarsely with frustration, my hair mussing as I rammed my foot repetitively into the metal.

"Did you like my gift, Natalie?"  A foul voice echoed in the locker room... Lukin's voice.

I straightened to attention like an obedient army cadet and plucked my hair out of my face, still facing the locker.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir..." I sputtered, my voice thick with disingenuous gratitude. Anything less would've had me smite with his walking cane – but that would've been getting off lightly.

His voice reverberated closer than I thought it would, rebounding off the cavernous tiled walls of the changing rooms. "I thought you might..." His hands slithered around my waist unexpectedly.

I could feel the definition of his thick sausage fingers through the flimsy material of my suit. I could feel his untrimmed nails and his knobbly sore-bitten digits. His lecherous hands climber higher, and higher, raking over my belly, until they became stationary just below my breasts. He drew the pads of his fingers in circles as he cradled me close. My gag reflex flexed.

"Would you like to try them on?" He suggested. I felt his rancid breath move some of the fine hairs close to my face. My stomach lurched at the sensation.

I gave a coy giggle at his insinuation and politely swept away his invasive hands. I poised myself demurely against the locker, removing myself from his caging grasp. "I'd rather wait... I wouldn't want to end up damaging them for field work..." I kept my eyes big and innocent, batting my eyelashes unintelligibly. "For the good of the Russian supremacy, sir..." Memories of his slimy lips on mine before flooded back and I swallowed thickly. "Of course you understand..." I flatteringly brushed my hand against his.

I could see the irritation in the tick in his jaw, but something about my defenceless posture and my wide eyes seemed to stop him arguing back or striking out.

"Are you sure one private viewing wouldn't hurt?" He inched closer, trapping me against the lockers.

It took diligence not to let the alarm show in my face. "Sir..." I crooned, and my eyes swept the floor nervously. "I must attend target practice shortly..." I excused myself, pawing at his chest and then slithering free whilst he eyed me up.

He snatched my wrist as I tried to strut away, swaying my hips. "Some other time, Natalie?" He requested.

My heart shrivelled within my chest and a shiver rippled down my spine at the very thought. I wasn't a prostitute, I was a Black Widow Operative with the Red Room; the best with Department X... I wanted to challenge him. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to kill him. That wasn't an option. "Perhaps some other time, sir..." With a promising flutter of my eyelashes and a swish of my hair, he allowed me to slip through his fingers and I made a swift exit. 

A/N - I spent a particularly long time agonising over this chapter. I knew what I wanted to happen, but the words just wouldn't flow. I'm still not entirely satisfied with it; but hey-ho, it's the best I can manage. And you've all finally got James' view on the sex, so that's something!

Dedication goes to Endlessdaydreamer! x