Samara's eyes were unblinking as she stared at the computer code. Next to the double screens was a large computer tower with smooth black carbon composite panels that made it look sleek. One of these panels was on the floor, exposing the blue lights, wires, and computer bits where her hairpin plugged directly into open electronic components. The end of the hairpin was flashing purple. Her slender hands were gloved in delicate leather, and the way the fingertips were smooth revealed that her nails were cut short. Violet-streaked black hair was pulled into a sleek bun without a hair escaping, and her green eyes were highlighted with violet eyeliner. A cheap rhinestone tiara perched regally on her head.
On her finger was an LED-lit ring that began to swirl with purple light. She took it out, unfolded it, and hooked it onto her ear. A voice spoke softly into her ear, but the language was strange even compared to binary.
From behind her, Etienne stalked into the doorway wearing a similar all-black, skin-tight suit with a knit cap covering his hair. "Samara, five minutes until the police arrive."
"The police were notified by an anonymous source that the impeccable students of We-All-Get High are having a nom-fire tonight. Munchies and weed will be provided to all who can keep a secret. They'll be busy for another 20 minutes at least."
Etienne's outer lip curled slightly as he said, "Do you have it?"
"Oh, I have sex appeal. I have the file too." She turned back to him and winked, the sparkling violet eyeliner glittering in the light from the hallway. With one swift motion, she swiped the hairpin from the open-faced console and replaced its panel with a few snaps. By the time she sauntered out of the room, it appeared just as it had when the CEO left. On the polished walls she could see her fine ass. And she could also see Etienne checking out her fine ass. That would need to be reported, though she’d do the berating in the bedroom.
They both slipped over the fence and into their car, but, instead of driving away immediately, Etienne slipped a hand onto Samara's thigh. Rubbing between her legs softly but assertively, he leaned over and kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Pushing him back into his own seat, she swung her legs over and straddled him, rubbing up against the bulge in his pants and staring down at him with heated eyes. She took off her crown for a moment, unpinned the tight bun, and shook out her violet-streaked hair, which smelled of hairspray and jasmine. Voluptuous curls tumbled down, and she slipped the hairpins into the cup holder. She resumed kissing him intensely, and their breathing became heavier. Neither heard the sirens screaming towards them.
Etienne's hands tightened around her butt, but it wasn't from arousal. The police's flashlight shone into their faces, which were laced with guilt. Etienne had been right; it was only five minutes. Well, closer to ten really. They looked conspicuous with their black outfits, and Samara's tiara was still on the driver's seat. "Our clothes aren't off, officer," Samara began, before Etienne could say anything. "I'm sorry. We're just on our way to meet friends. We're having a ‘Spy Who Shagged Me’ party for my birthday.”
The cop didn't look convinced.
Grabbing the tiara, which said "Birthday Girl" in gaudy rhinestones, Etienne fit it hurriedly onto Samara’s head, whose recently released hair looked like a make-out mane.
"Get going, then," the officer said, waving them on and backing away from their window.
It was only two days later when a rhinestone was found in the CEO’s office.