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Inside the mind of a superspy - by JaneJane

Part 17 – And then there were four

October 28th 2006 08:51
He didn't have time to explain. Armed men stormed the room, Re was taken away and I was allowed to dress before being led to Bert’s office where I was made to wait. I sat alone while an eternity passed.

-o0o-

In a growing panic, Ru and Hu were scouring the ship looking for Re. They had noticed he was missing that morning during breakfast.

Actually, that’s not true. They noticed during breakfast that Je, La and Re were all missing. They assumed Je and La were busy in their room and while it was unusual for Re to miss breakfast, they expected that he was probably in the ball room having a swing.


“I’m worried about Re,” Hu began halfway through a bowl of cereal-re-psyche.

“Of course you are,” Ru had finished his breakfast and was lying on the floor licking Hu’s instep. “But why don’t you finish your breakfast and come join me under the table?”

“Seriously, I am worried. He spends his time all alone except for breakfast when he’s always here for a chat. Breakfast is the only time he’s not alone the whole day.”

Ru was licking Hu’s calf. “Yes, and this is the first time in hundreds of years that we’ve been able to have a quiet breakfast to ourselves so get under the table and don’t spoil it.”

“No, I’m going looking for Re.”

She left the breakfast room and started to search the ship, there was nothing else for Ru to do but join her.

The tension grew with every empty room and every empty hallway as they searched fruitlessly for Re. By the end of the day there was only one room left that they’d not been to – La and Je’s bedroom.

“I can’t do it,” whispered Hu, standing outside the door to her friends’ room, one hand on her hip, the other raised, ready to knock.


“Just tap on the door and say, ‘Re are you in there?’. If he answers we can walk away and ask no questions, but at least we’ll know he’s safe and we can get back to our private business.”

“But what if he is in there? What if he does answer? It means the three of them have been in there together ALL DAY!”

Ru had noticed that as Hu aged she was turning into a prude, “So?” he asked.

“So there’s only one thing three people would be doing together all day

“Yes, and there’s one thing we could have been doing together all day under the breakfast table if we hadn’t been on this stupid hunt. Knock on the bloody door and get it over with!”

“You do it,” she said. “I don’t want them to think I’m prying.”

“Why should I do it? You’re the one who’s worried, you’re the good fairy.”

“I can’t…” she had thought up an excellent argument for why she couldn’t do it but didn’t get the chance to say because Ru had grabbed her clenched fist and banged it three times on the bedroom door.

“Who is it?” La’s voice came from the other side.

“It’s just me, Hu,” she said.

“What do you want?” La called impatiently.

“Um, can we ask you a question?”

There was the sound of rummaging and clothes finding, “Hang on,” called Je.

Then the door opened. La filled the space with his ample body, it was dressed in only a bed-sheet, loosely draped around his frame. His skin shimmered with a thick coating of oil. Something that appeared to be sauce smeared his chin and a piece of synthetic meat was stuck to his left nipple. “What is it?”

“We were wondering if, er, you and Je, were in there, perhaps, aaah, with anybody else?” stammered Hu.

“What?” La frowned at her.

Ru spoke up, “We can’t find Re. We’ve looked through the entire ship and he’s nowhere to be found, we were wondering, and it’s no business of ours, but this is the last room so it makes sense that he’d be in there with you. Is he?”

La looked Ru, then at Hu, “Nope,” he said and reached to close the door.

“Seriously, La,” said Hu, “If he’s not in there with you then we don’t’ know where he could be. I haven’t seen him for two days. Have you seen him in the last two days?”

“Haven’t been out of this room in the last two days.”

“What about Je?” asked Ru. “Has she been out, she might have seen him?”

“Nope, she’s been tied up the whole time.” The piece of synthetic meat fell from his nipple and landed in one of the folds of the sheet. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all I guess,” said Hu. “See you at our next spiritual meeting.”

“Goodbye,” La closed the door.

“Let us make a pact right now,” said Ru as they returned to their room.

“What’s that?”

“We must never, ever knock on their bedroom door again.”

“Agreed,” Hu nodded, then asked, “What are we going to do about Re?”

“We’ve searched everywhere inside the ship, there’s only one other place he can be.”

A look of horror crossed Hu’s face, “Do you mean?”

“Yes. Outside.”
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Part 16 – Heat on the sofa

October 13th 2006 14:25
It wasn’t an easy decision, taking Re back to the Ministry instead of his house. In those days a man didn’t go out in public unless he looked like a man, for all I knew Re could have been some sort of lunatic, some sort of crazy, murderous, mindless killer. But when he looked deep into my eyes from behind his thick dark lashes my heart melted. I saw the soul of a person who was desperate for love. I saw someone who needed a hug and some good, honest sex. Re was not a man in woman’s clothing; he was a beautiful creature in need of my warmth and comfort.

Or, conversely, I was a woman in need of his warmth and comfort and some good, honest sex. Either way I was hot and horny, and Re was the best offer I’d had since coming back to the city and leaving behind the modern day cowboys from the other side of the black stump.

We found a comfortable sofa in the tea room and fell onto it, our arms and legs entwined like a shock treatment spider.

I don’t know how we survived the drive back from Woolloomooloo. My heart was racing, I had one hand on the steering wheel and one hand at my neck, holding back the kisses from Re’s soft, glistening lips. I didn’t stop for lights or pedestrians. I didn’t dare, we were both so hot and juicy I was worried that if I stopped driving we’d be totally out of control and get down to it right there in the front seat of my car, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the city.

Had this happened during the day (and don’t think for a minute that I would have had any more control over my hormones if this had occurred at lunch time) how strange we might have looked should the tea lady should have caught us on that sofa, a woman in a black leather bodysuit and a man in full make up and sequins trying to get naked together. The body suit was causing some problems. The zipper ran all the way from collar to crotch, a lot of things can go wrong undoing a zipper that long. Re seemed to have nimble fingers but the enamel on his beautifully manicured nails was chipped once or twice.

“Never mind that,” I said to myself, “we can touch it up in the morning.” I always carried nail polish with me.

Finally I was down to brassiere and knickers and Re was stripped to the waist. He was one surprise after another. His skin was perfect, tight and smooth. There was no body hair, not on his nipples, not under his arms, not below his belly button that I could see. He was an Adonis, ripples and musk, heat and sweat, quite different under his clothes to what he showed the world. Delicious!

He reached his arms behind me and released my breasts then drew back and looked me over.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, “What do you call those?”

I looked down, was he asking me what I called my breasts? “They’re breasts, of course.”

“Yeah, but they’re really weird, they’re enormous and they’re attached to your body. Don’t’ they come off?”

“Of course they don’t come off. What are you talking about?”

“Well my breasts came off when I took my clothes off, naturally I expected you’d be the same.”

I was a little shocked by this, but the raging lust pumping through my blood wasn’t really listening and instead of saying, “Don’t be silly, men and women aren’t the same!” I cupped them together and said, “Do you like them?”

Evidently he did because he lunged forward, mouth wide open, and had his way with them.

We lay down on the sofa, him on top. I could feel the muscles of his back give way to the softness of his buttocks, still no hair, as I pushed down to remove the remainder of his garments. He kissed me on the lips and pressed himself against me, holding me tight as the kiss travelled from my lips, across my cheek and to my ear.

His panting breath seared my skin. In our tight embrace I could feel every lump and bump of his body pushed up against mine.

Something was wrong. Some of the lumps seemed to be in the wrong place. I pushed him back and he stopped kissing me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry and desire mixed on his face.

“This doesn’t seem right,” I said.

“Is it all to fast?” he asked and sat back, resting on the arm of the sofa.

That’s when I saw him fully naked for the first time. I looked down to where his penis should have been, “What the hell do you call that?”

He smiled at me gently and said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
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Part 15 – Life at the Ministry

October 3rd 2006 12:18
Being a career woman in the 1950s was unheard of and as a result I was the only woman employed at the Ministry of the Exterior. The Ministry was a very exciting place to work but in the beginning I wasn’t on the buzzing end of the stick. Despite Margaret promising that my special skills would be of great value, the minister was of the opinion that I would make an excellent typists in the typing pool. I was sent to work in a large room filled with small desks, each with a typewriter and I was the only typist. All alone I sat in front of a machine I hardly knew how to use, next to an increasingly large pile of hand written memos that needed to be typed in triplicate and dispersed throughout the country.

My typing was atrocious and the pile grew by the hour. I had hoped, by reading the memos, I could learn more about the Ministry but they were hand written in a code that meant nothing to me.

“Inspect club in Newtown for strange men in dresses.”

“Exhaust fumes reported from water tower in Auburn.”

“Black and white photo model has red lips.”

Because of the incredible pressure on me as the only typist and my inability to type, memos like that got a little mixed up.

“Insect deer in/near Tower Bar & Lounge weaving tresses.”

“Escort fines extorted from Walter Flower in choler.”

“Bleak and vile promo motet bass lent bops.”

The combination of my poor secretarial skills and the invention of the first steno-copying machine gave me my change to break out of this drudgery.

When a memo came through that wasn’t in code, “Cowpats in Orange spell ‘Disaster’”, I knew exactly what it meant. I was a country girl, much as I hated to admit it, and I knew all about cowpats and animal droppings. If cows were poo-ing in the shape of words I wanted to be the first to get my hands dirty finding the cause and went directly to the Minister to get his permission to follow-up.

“Jane, my joyous junior janitor of the genus,” he began as I entered his office. Like most politicians, the Minister had his own special way of speaking. Some politicians spoke in riddles, some spoke in lies, this one spoke in alliteration. Though he didn’t really have the vocabulary for it, “What wild wind whisks you away from your youthful, um, yummy. No I’m going down the wrong path there. How happy your happy hair and face … Hello Jane.”

I handed him the memo, “Minister, I felt I should bring this memo to your attention immediately.” He read it.

“Cow pats in Orange eh?” he looked at me. “This is the most sensible scrap I’ve seen in months. Finally it seems the fog that’s furrowing the faces of my fellow spies is sifting away to something less sinister.”

“I think you should send me to investigate it Minister. I’ve worked here for two years, I have all the necessary skills as an agent and I have specialist knowledge in the field of animal droppings.”

“Dear girl, don’t get down going gradually demented doing gruelling demeaning grains of deniably grave duties,” he smiled.

“Minister, I have to take this case. I am wasted in the typing pool. Now that there’s a steno copy machine the tea lady can take care of the memos faster than I can and still make and excellent pot of tea.”

“But beauty in the building is scarce and scattered so such a bounty as yourself begs to be secreted somewhere safe and boring Jane.”

“Minister, can we speak frankly and off the record?”

“OK.”

“I know that some agents seem to have succumbed to some strange power that’s stopping them from succeeding as spies.”

“Jane, I thought you wanted to speak off the record.”

“Minister, this is the most sensible memo I’ve seen and I believe it is a clue to the cause of the strange behaviour of the other agents. If something isn’t done soon I fear there will be pressure from above and there won’t be a ministry for either of us to keep a secret.”

“OK,” said the Minister. “I’ll let you go. It is true, for some reason the recent batch of memos being distributed are turning out to be senseless. I fear that all of my agents have been taken over by a mind controlling device.”

“Thank you Minister,” I said, suppressing my excitement.

“You’ve got one week to get to the bottom of this cow poo. I don’t want to take the risk of my only remaining sane secret agent coming under some unknown lunatic’s mind ray.”

Finally, I was out of the typing pool and into something I could get my teeth stuck into.
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