Staff Sergeant Porter uncrossed her legs seductively and stood up. As my primary courier Katey Porter had a good inkling of what my work here at Level 43 entailed. So I wasn’t too surprised when she winked and asked if the portfolio she’d just relayed to my possession contained ‘anything interesting’. About ‘anyone in particular’. I smiled, took in the tanned length of the NCO’s silken legs and reminded Staff Porter that the less she knew about my dealings with both the Bureau of Ships and the Ministry the better.
But with Katey and her exquisite legs gone soon after I confessed to myself that the contents of the memo contained within its bulky envelope were indeed VERY interesting. And in fact did deal with one especially noteworthy female.
A most unfortunate young female……
Jaimee Horvath answered the questions as best she could. Still fully clothed but with her hands bound up tightly behind her back. Technically the coed with the amazing blue eyes and light brown hair wasn’t under arrest quite yet. But Level 43 does have a unique way of intimidating even thee most strong willed women. Jaimee Horvath may have possessed a first rate mind. As well as a more than merely suitable body to go along with it. But she was also painfully aware of the fact that she was also as guilty as sin.
“Yes sir. Yes…y-yes. No sir…I’m sorry sir. Could y-you pl-please repeat the question?”
Miss Horvath and myself were entering into hour number three of what the Ministry liked to refer to as her ‘exit interview’. We we alone…in a room that boasted a pair of windows set high in the wall. Placed in such a manner to admit just enough sunlight so as to allow an interviewee the thought that things like hope and mercy still existed in a world governed by the Bureau of Ships. I told myself for the umpteenth time that I liked the four-inch heels that Jaimee had wisely chosen to wear for our little chat.
“That’s right sir. Yes…y-yes sir. Correct sir…I’ve…I’ve been a whore for almost three years now. No. No sir…I n-never ever slept with any one of my contacts. I…sir…I was a ‘look but never touch’ asset. Yes sir. Yes…I was extremely proficient at whoring myself Commander. As you’re probably well aware it was my team that got the intel prior to the mining of the HMS Citadel. Yes sir. Sir? Urm…my title? Sir…my official grade within the Sorority was Prime Body, 2nd Class. Yes sir. Y-yes. I was a whore Commander.”
In my after action report I condescendingly mentioned how articulate Miss Horvath’s demeanor was throughout our extensive debriefing. For my part I selfishly accepted the amusement I experienced in seeing this painfully beautiful girl answer my direct questions under extreme duress. Jaimee (this portion I omitted from my report) had a way of arching her back and presenting the swells of her not insignificant breasts - wrapped in a lemon yellow sweater and set off by a criminally short skirt - whenever she searched for yet another lie to waylay my probing scrutiny.
“That’s right Commander…I used my body for the advancement of the Sorority’s manifesto. Yes…y-yes sir. Again…I…I wholeheartedly apologize for conducting myself as a whore upon Bureau grounds. And s-sir…this slut…she…she hopes her body is pleasing to you right now.”
I signed off on the latest memo that Staff Sergeant Porter had brought me and made ready to explore its contents. My work at Level 43 is a labor of love but it is in fact never ending. So it came as a mild shock to me that Katey crossed - then recrossed - her sensual legs and made no sign whatsoever of exiting my office. In full uniform Staff Sergeant Porter could only do so much to showcase and show off her nice little body. But it became very obvious to me that my head courier was currently engaged in soliciting gossip.
“Soooooo? Sir? What’s the scuttlebutt? With that blonde? Jaimee whatever-her-face? Word is she’s the guest of Controller1 at TheP.o.R.T. Hmmm?”
For like the billionth time I greedily surveyed the epic sweep and flow of Katey’s delicate yet perfect legs. Spread out before me like a lure to a marauding grouper. Her husband and I had served together within the old 67th Mechanized. Before Robert had gotten himself a posthumous Merit Medal in action atop Hill Bravo. Six years ago now. Ahhh, Katey……
“Right. First of all her hair was very light brown. And whatever-her-face translates to Jaimee Horvath, aged twenty-two. Late of Celtic Park apartments. She was a saboteur.”
Katey was as much impressed with the unfortunate Miss Horvath’s resume as with my own utter inability to NOT divulge Ministry matters to a common Staff NCO. Merely because said trooper displayed a pair of sexy legs identical to those of Taylor Swift before the war. Prior to the necessity for an agency like Level 43.
Staff Sergeant Porter was toying with me now. Somehow a pair of uniform blouse buttons had come undone and I noted that my Katey was wearing a non-regulation pink brassiere.
“Oy! And…I informed Mr. Myers in writing that once the gang rapes had rendered Jaimee senseless that he was to contact me directly. So that I could dictate to both himself and his interns as to exactly what protocol of physical torture Miss Horvath will be made to endure once within Circus. It’s my belief Stream Eleven will be carrying live footage of her ordeal. Satisfied?”
Katey smiled, buttoned up her uniform blouse (looking impressive, replete wirh military decorations) and smoothed out a close-fitting hunter green skirt so that her commanding officer could enjoy one last glimpse of those flawless wheels.
“Yes. Oh, sorry Commander. Yes SIR!”
Once Staff Sergeant Porter had gone I was alone in a room with a pair of windows set high enough in the wall of my bunker that enough sunlight streamed in to make this Scribe feel as though both the Bureau of Ships and the Ministry had a firm handle on our collective security issues. Then I thought of Katey’s legs…and that pink bra…and I wondered if maybe we weren’t being hoodwinked big time.