Alien in the House

forty-five minutes or less, and Pierre wants everyone prepped on what’s going on where. Commander Reader also wants to ensure that we have the right teams assigned to the right politicians.”
    Jeff sighed. “We’ll be down shortly, Walter. Just have to change into our formalwear.”
    “Yes, sir, Chief, I’ll advise.”
    The com shut off. “You know, I can remember Gladys interrupting us like that, all the time. Is it just some Head of Security thing, or are they watching us on a spy cam so they can interrupt at rotten times?”
    “I don’t think so,” Jeff said with a chuckle. “Though I admit, I’d rather be making love to you than going downstairs.” He pulled my head to his and kissed me deeply while he let me slide slowly to the floor. By the time our kiss was done, I was ready to go for it and tell the rest of the gang to handle things in our absence.
    But, such was not to be. Jeff patted my bottom and then we got down to the business of getting dressed.
    Since I’d done some running around earlier, I took a fast shower. Proving his dedication to the Diplomatic Corps, Jeff refused to shower with me. Decided to make him pay for this after the party was over, hopefully for hours.
    Shocking no one, Jeff put on what he always put on—a black Armani suit, white shirt, and black tie. Despite being promised that diplomats had to wear casual clothing, somehow Jeff had avoided such and I was still impatiently waiting to see his butt in jeans again. A handful of times in three years wasn’t enough, really.
    I had put my foot down and demanded a dress that wasn’t black, white, or black and white. Thanks to Pierre, our Embassy had its own designer on retainer, and Akiko had listened to my pleas. She’d created a lovely green cocktail dress that was slinky without being overtly sexy, and festive without making me look like a badly wrapped present under a Christmas tree.
    Akiko also handled all our accessories, so I had lovely shoes that matched without being matchy-matchy, and a larger-sized handbag. Yes, we were in our own home, so I didn’t need to carry a purse. But my experience told me I always needed to have my purse on me, if only to grab my Glock, or the adrenaline harpoon Jeff far-too-often needed slammed into his hearts.
    I transferred my necessities from my standby big, black, cheap leather purse—aforementioned Glock and harpoon, iPod, earbuds, external speakers, cell phone, special assassin-issued burner phone, hairspray, brush, cash, and I.D. Hey, just because we were supposed to stay in the Embassy complex didn’t mean we
would
. I was savvy to the ways of my life now, and it was always better to be prepared.
    The handbag had a long strap, allowing me to put it over my head. The dress had been designed for this, so the bag’s strap looked like part of the dress’ trimming, and the bag itself looked like it belonged right where it was hanging. Yeah, Akiko was that good.
    I wasn’t big on makeup, so I didn’t apply any. Gave my hair a good brushing and decided to go with putting it up in a fancy banana clip. Easy, yet looked like I’d put some real time and care into the ’do.
    “You look gorgeous, baby,” Jeff said as I finished up. He kissed my neck.
    My neck was my main erogenous zone, and he knew it. “Mmmm, you do that any more and we’re going to call in as too horny to attend.”
    “Not an option.” He kissed my neck once more, then took my hand and we headed downstairs.
    Pierre and Reader kept us all busy handing out assignments and ensuring we all knew what not to say to whom, so much so that the time flew by. Painfully, sure, but at least the ordeal went quickly.
    Doreen and Irving Weisman also added in with suggestions and tips. Doreen was the daughter of the former heads of the Diplomatic Corps and Irving was her human husband. Because she’d grown up in this life, Doreen was our most experienced member on staff, and because he was a guy who’d scored a Dazzler—meaning he was incredibly smart—Irving had paid attention and was now as good as Doreen at saying the right things at the right time.
    Doreen’s parents, Robert and Barbara Coleman, along with the rest of the former Diplomatic Corps, had been eaten by the Poofs, on my order, during Operation Confusion. Doreen had loathed her parents by that point, so she wasn’t holding a grudge.
    Also, my order or no, the Poofs held a great deal of political sway on Alpha Four, meaning that if the Poofs ate someone,