My Only Talent Ch. 39

Mallory bounded out of the van and jumped up on me. What happened to all that military discipline? But I was glad to see her too. Steadfast loyalty was a welcome contrast to some of the behavior I had seen over the weekend.

Summer looked tired but wonderful. After a tender kiss, she said, "I had two very taxing events Friday and Saturday, and today we had to clean and reconfigure the kitchen space to put in a new oven. It took forever. I followed your flight on the web and came to get you. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Summer. A lot."

She drove back to her house where remodeling was still very much in progress and we dropped my stuff near the entry door and fell into bed and immediately asleep, both exhausted. I had to catch the 0730 shuttle bus to Folkestone in a few hours, and she had morning shift at Kent FRS. About 4 AM I had a morning wood wakeup call and reached for Summer sleepily. It was wonderful. She microwaved a couple of breakfast sandwiches that she kept prepared in the fridge for just such exigencies and dropped me at the bus stop about 30 seconds before the bus arrived. We both just made it. Damn it felt good.

Things were in flux at work. OHH announced "Your training period is over, and now you two lollygaggers will have to do some actual work! McFadden, you are reassigned as engineering liaison to the Chunnel II project, and Roberts will be your assistant. Officially, you are to assist the doddering dildoes of Downing Street by providing engineering assessments of their so called strategic plans. But beware, their ideas are all political puffery masquerading as governance, and it will be up to you two to steer them in some sort of realistic direction."

He paused and looked disgusted and thoughtful at the same time. "Specifically, they want to have a grand discussion and produce a pretentious white paper about whether the second undersea link with Europe should be a rail installation like what we run now, or just a passive roadway setup for vehicles, or a full on futuristic maglev hyperloop. Bloody science fiction!"

OHH sat down next to us and lowered his voice. "Beware, you two. The politicians will try to run roughshod over you and get you to say that what they want is also a good engineering choice. Don't do it. You get to control what the engineering sections of the report say - and keep it straight up. If they recommend something you think is infeasible, say so, in plain ink, and why. I will back you up, but passively, by refusing to force you to change anything. Since you, McFadden will be here long term, and may have to work with these idiots for years, I suggest that Roberts plays the bad cop to your good cop. Always give them a way to save face but steer them in the right direction. They must to learn that charm, charisma, and electioneering cannot trump physics and economics."

He gave us the backgrounder on the last set of meetings on the Chunnel II plans, contact information for our government counterparts, and a schedule of planned meetings. It looked like a whole day meeting every Monday, one here at our HQ in Folkestone, and alternate weeks in London. OHH was only on the agenda for the penultimate meeting before the report was released to the public. Lots of time on the train for Drummond and Robbie, I supposed. Our final report was due on my last workday before I went back school in August. I guess we had our work cut out for us. We spent the rest of the day going through the backgrounder and looking up the reports and the studies it referred to. Drummond had written a term paper on the whole idea just before he graduated, and he would help me get up to speed. The first meeting was right after I got back from Texas, since the 4th of July was not on holiday calendar here.

+++++++++++++++++++

By day three of our Chunnel II studies, I was up to my ears in doubletalk and illogical bullshit and was happy for any interruption, even a call from Tessa Formby. "Hello, Robbie. I need you to help me out with something. It's not for me, it's for one of Elizabeth Ashcroft Knowles associates at DEFRA, if you know what I mean."

"No gossip Tessa, not for you or any of your Tattler crew!"

"Absolutely. Your devoted fan Abagail Clayton Bowles must not know anything about this, nor can anyone else at the Tattler. This is from my former life, not my current one."

"OK, Tessa, but how can I help?"

"I can't say on the wireless, Robbie. I'll pick you up at your bus stop by the Holiday Inn Express and drive you to Wingham and explain what is needed on the way. What time will you be ready?"

"I'm a little busy today. How about 6 PM GMT?"

"See you then." I texted Summer, telling her I would be a little late getting home, and dove back into the reports, writing a list of key questions as I went. I set my alarm for 5:45 and when it beeped I closed my desk and walked to the bus stop.

Tessa showed up in another of those Audis with the steering wheel on the right-hand side, and she was even driving it herself. I stepped in and buckled up, physically and psychologically.

She began without fanfare. "I need an intelligent and perceptive male, unknown to most folks in London high society, who can be a credible Master to escort a submissive slave to a very exclusive sex club, observe one of its members carefully and report back to me."

This sounded interesting. "Are you to be my slave, Tessa?"

She laughed. "In your dreams, teenybopper, plus I would be recognized immediately. You must supply your own submissive. Can you do that?"

I forced myself to laugh just as tauntingly as she had. "Of course, Tessa, and I'll bring a young and spectacular one! She pointedly ignored my little dig. "But what kind of club is this?"

"It's called the Walpole Society. Very secret, very upper crust, and by invitation only. One of my contacts can sponsor you as a guest and prospective member. They officially practice frottage, the old-fashioned kind, not the new wave gay kind. Understand?"

"You mean they ride up and down in elevators and rub against strangers to get themselves off?"

"Not exactly. One member rubs up against another member's submissive, with permission, of course. They have a formal evening for just that. It's almost ritualistic. But they have some other evenings with other themes, too."

"I'm not sure what the new modern wave is, though."

She laughed again. "Oh, you tender and unspoiled lamb. I need to get you invited to some parties, so you can see the sights. All the gay guys like to 'frot' by rubbing their dicks together. It's consider a safer sex alternative to anal. It's the male equivalent of tribbing." I had certainly seen that, at home.

I suddenly thought of Duran Drathars, and my blood ran a little cold. "No thanks, Tessa, I am not wired that way!"

"I only meant you should see it for your edification, not do it for gratification!"

"I don't even want to watch. What else do these Walpoles do? What do you want to know, and about which Walpole?"

"They don't want anything to do with the new kind of frotting either. They have other theme nights, though. The members always come in business dress, and their subs wear a mask to hide their identity and in a state of undress appropriate to the theme. For example, the night I can get you into is topless night, and all the subs must come bare breasted. The members all walk around showing off their sub's breasts and occasionally giving another member permission to fondle and kiss them. Some bring their wives as their sub, some bring their mistresses. But nobody notices that, officially. I need to know who a certain member is escorting. We know it is not his wife, but we don't know who his mistress is."

"I surely won't recognize her, or him for that matter."

"No, but I'll send you some pictures before the party. The fellow we want to know about also has a verbal 'tic' - he starts or ends most of his sentences with 'don't you know' or 'don't you see'. Afterwards we will have an interview about what you remember, and a sketch artist will work with you and we'll to try to figure it out from there."

I thought about my 'mask camera' from the Halloween parties. "Why not just smuggle in a cam?"

"No chance, Lance. No phones or even any metal objects allowed. They screen and wand everybody very thoroughly. It's practically a SCIF. There are some very powerful people in that club and they make sure they get no unwanted publicity."

"When is this little party?"

"Thursday night. The club meeting doesn't start until 10 PM. I will send a car to pick you and your sub up at 7 in Wingham and arrange for you to have dinner before and then be dropped at the meeting. I will pick you up afterward. Can you be ready?"

"Sounds interesting."

"I'll owe you one, Robbie. This is important."

"I may need your help with something, now, Tessa. Can you get me the skinny on the MP's that are interested in the Chunnel II project?"

She did not look surprised at all, but still asked, "whatever for, Robbie?"

"I may need some leverage, but I want to find a win-win compromise somehow."

She looked thoughtful, then smiled. Damn. Another hot woman who knows something I don't. I didn't realize until she had dropped me off that I still didn't know why all this was so important to her. Need to know, I suppose.

I called Summer. She was still at her prep kitchen but about to finish up. I invited her over and told her to 'save the date' for Thursday night, as we were going to a special event.

She arrived a few minutes later full of curiosity. "Where are we going? What should I wear? Who are we going to meet?"

I was deliberately vague. "We'll go out to dinner at a nice place, so dress well. Business suit for the man is all I know. But you have a special requirement."

She waited. I heard her Suzie rev up. I wanted to let her imagination run wild.

Then, "we'll go out to dinner, in London. But after dinner, things will change. You will need a mask to wear after dinner. Nothing fancy, just one of those simple little costume masks like a masquerade party."

"What kind of party, Robbie?"

"I can't tell you right now. But you will be going as my sub, my pet, so you will do whatever I tell you to do. No questions, no hesitation."

Her Suzie signal burned and turned. I let her stew for another moment.

"Oh, and after dinner, when we go into the party, you will have to remove your top and expose your breasts for the remainder of the evening. "

Her Suzie shuddered, but betrayed that she liked the idea. No images of what she thought might happen, though. Just excitement.

+++++++++++++++++++

Drummond McFadden and I did our homework on the MP's and bureaucrats that we might expect problems with on the Chunnel II report, and hoped that Tessa could supply some other stuff I couldn't find with 'conventional' sources before push came to shove. There were some major problems with just providing a roadway for vehicles, and huge other problems with the maglev approach. Both shared one very big problem - there were few if any successful examples for us to get operational data from even 'normal' above ground siting. If the present Chunnel taught us anything, it was that undersea tunnels often had new and different problems that no one anticipated beforehand.

I got to play bad cop even before the first project meeting. The political guys in London had asked for a conference call, so we put them on the only speaker phone we had, in OHH's office. Just as predicted, they tried to dictate what we were to write, chapter and verse, in support of conclusions they had already reached. When a guy named Digby, who was a policy assistant to a Labour member of the House of Commons named Richard Paul, finished the outline of his demands, Drummond just gestured to me, as if I had the floor.

I tried to get into my role as the ugly American. "That's not how this is going to work, Digby baby!"

I could hear him sputtering over the phone, but I pressed on. "We will work together to lay out reasonable and explicit goals and our mutually agreed to criteria for concluding that they have been reached, and we will write a report with a plan that is well supported from an engineering perspective. Otherwise, the engineering sections we write will totally undercut the hasty and ill-considered plan you just outlined. Your loyal opposition will use our section of the report to draw and quarter you."

There was a full fifteen seconds of shocked silence. "What is your name, young man!"

"Robbie Roberts, old man."

"We will discuss this in great detail and face to face at our next meeting, after I have directed your superiors to bring you to heel!"

They disconnected loudly. Drummond looked shocked. I looked up and saw OHH grinning from ear to ear.

"Those Texans are a combative bunch, aren't they McFadden? Remember to find a way to let them save face, Roberts."

+++++++++++++++++++

I wasn't really looking forward to our meeting on Friday, but I was looking forward to Thursday night's activities with Summer. She was dressed in a very classy dark blue suit outfit, and I noted it featured a blouse and jacket that could be easily removed. She was braless, and I could see perky nipples through the fabric of the suit. Her hair was up in a way I had never seen before, and she had an understated pearl necklace with matching earrings. She looked tall, strong, and perfect.

I smiled at her. "I always like showing up with the hottest looking woman at a party. Makes me feel important."

She smiled back. She did a double take when a big copper and tan Bentley Mulsanne pulled up to my little flat. A uniformed chauffeur type jumped out and opened the back door for her. She strutted over and floated into the seat. I hustled to the other side. She looked at me funny, then smiled as she relaxed in the buttery leather seat. We wound our way into London, and Summer's eyes got bigger and bigger as we made our way across Waterloo Bridge and stopped near a big old building. "Somerset House!" she said.

Maybe that was a coincidence, but I was learning that with Tessa Formby, few things were coincidental. What was she trying to do?

The driver wound his way through an archway and we were led to a restaurant entrance. It was called Spring. There were lots of windows and white walls and high ceilings. Summer looked around in awe. To say the meal went well was an understatement. She knew exactly what to order, even asking for some things that were not on tonight's menu, which the chef prepared for her anyway. She told me what to order and tasted some of each of my dishes, too. Summer was enchanted, loved every bite, and I was enjoying the buzz she was feeling. I thought the food was good, too. The biggest buzz for me was when the waiter told us the hefty check had all been taken care of.

The driver magically re-appeared just as we emerged from the dining room, and soon we were turning into a non-descript stone building only a few blocks away. There were no signs or external markings at all. The driver stopped at what didn't even appear to be an entrance. He handed me a printed invitation and jumped out to open the doors for us. A narrow door opened suddenly, and we went in. The big wooden clock in the foyer said ten minutes to ten.

Security was a lot better than your average airport. A guy dressed like a butler took my invitation, logged us in with a tablet computer, and dropped the invite in a shredder. The hallway from the little external entrance was like a cattle chute with walls about armpit high directing us along one path and one path only, and there were guards on each side looking intently at monitors as we walked through, so I presume we were being scanned by something. At the end of the 'chute' we were again scanned with hand held wands and then passed thorough to a little coat check station with two little private booths for one couple at a time. They looked like the dividers in an airport restroom, but floor to ceiling. Summer had to check more than an overcoat, she had to remove and fold her suit coat and blouse. She had not worn a bra. Her Suzie signal sounded as she began to unbutton her blouse and was in full cry by the time she folded it into the little plastic snap top box that was provided. Her incredible breasts were high and mighty like a carved bust on the front of a sailing ship, and her nipples were like beacons, too.

I tried to look very casual and Masterful, but her Suzie was infectious. Neither was I prepared for the rolling waves of signals when we opened the door as passed into what looked like a medium sized hotel ballroom that must have been last redecorated in the early Victorian era. Ruby colored velvet wallpaper predominated, above elaborate wainscoting and a host of very polite potted plants on ornate stands. But I only noticed the décor for a moment, because suddenly my little mammalian brain was triggered by dozens of pairs of breasts moving about unencumbered.

There were at least three dozen couples already in the room, and a few more arriving behind us. There were big breasts and little breasts, high perky ones and relaxed dumpy ones, little hard nipples and big soft nipples in every size shape and color. It was like Christmas morning - everywhere I looked I saw something interesting. Summer drew herself up to her full height, making herself one of the tallest women here, and taller than many of the men, which made her muscular chest stand out and her nipples 'pop' like one of my roommate Kevin's favorite female body builder videos.

It had to have been a hard-wired reaction, but it stopped me in my tracks. I know they are defined as secondary sexual characteristics, but they had a primary and fundamental effect on me. I was focused on watching all of them, and my cock was suddenly very hard.

I began the hear envious Suzie signals from several of the women nearby, and some stark male desire signals from their Masters. It all seemed to resonate with Summer, and she drew a ragged breath. I did my best to smile mildly like I did at the many Cotillion country club receptions my mother made me attend from age 11 on, which had resulted in me serving as an escort for several young Dallas pre-debutants and debutants. Those debutant balls would have been a lot more fun with the dress code in place here!

Suddenly I realized I had no idea what proper manners dictated at an event like this. Does one politely look away, or is it considered a complement to stare and mouth breath at the lovely breasts on parade? Do you nod anonymously or work the room and make introductions? I decided to use the same method I had for learning to use the proper utensils at formal meals, wait for someone else to start and mimic their actions.

Suddenly, Summer grabbed my arm and hissed in my ear, "Oh my God, there is one of the OKS board members over there!"

I couldn't help asking, "Is he with his wife or a mistress?"

She gasped. "It's not his wife! It's one of the female King's School alums, though, who was widowed several years ago." She tried to bury her face in my shoulder.

"Head up high, my pet. They probably won't recognize you in that mask, and even if they do, they will probably not mention it to anyone and hope you don't either. The man will be staring at your chest, not your face, I am sure."

Her Suzie boiled anew. Perhaps a partial trigger of her 'darkly dirty' fantasies about dancing naked in front of people she knew.

The guy next to me introduced himself to another man but did not introduce the woman he was with. This pattern was repeated with the next couple and the next. By the time he reached us, I knew what to do. I offered my hand "Robbie Roberts."

He introduced himself and stared pointedly at Summer's chest. "Lovely" he proclaimed.

Luckily, I was already staring at his companion. "Likewise."