Secret Sins Ch. 09

I beheld her, whatever she might be and, may Jesus help me, I saw the wisdom in that simple statement.

Standing between our cars in the rear parking lot, we kissed goodbye. It was exciting, kissing a woman on the lips, in public and in broad daylight. My smile threatened to split my face open as I got into my car, waving goodbye as she pulled away.

And then an idea struck me.

After watching Donna pull out on Victoria Avenue, I hurriedly put the Malibu in drive and peeled out of the parking lot, heading west to follow her. I had to be careful, allowing enough cars between us so that she wouldn't see me, like they do on television, but rush hour traffic was over and, while that made it easier to keep her in sight at a distance, it also made it more likely that I'd end up directly behind, or beside her at a red light.

Along Victoria we went, past the downtown area and across Albert Street, where the traffic thinned out to one lane and with only one car between us. I wanted to pull over to allow some cars to go by, making a safer following distance for me before the Cadillac that separated us made a turn, but the line of cars behind me was long enough that I feared losing her by getting stopped behind them at a red light.

Biting the bullet, I activated my right hand signal and pulled to the curb, allowing two cars to go by before cutting off a third in my sudden, tire squealing merge. His horn blared, and I saw him waving his finger at me in my rear view mirror, but Regina drivers, as I'd previously noticed, aren't the most courteous in the country, and I knew he'd get over it. Meanwhile, I now had a comfortable, three car distance between me and Donna, and this situation remained until I tracked her southward down Lewvan Drive, a much easier thoroughfare on which to tail someone.

She passed the airport, finally pulling off the Lewvan and onto Gordon Road, continuing on and through a warren of new suburban streets and homes until she turned on Liberty Street, then into a driveway.

Stopped at the curb some distance back, I watched her get out of her car, her mid-thigh length dress blowing sexily around her thighs in the prairie breeze as she walked to the front door and entered. It took some nerve but, after a few minutes, I drove by the house, just slow enough to take note of its number before accelerating away.

Donna had no idea I'd followed her. On my way to my weekly meeting with the Major the next day, I was sure of this by the way she and I had interacted that morning. I did feel a little guilty, like I was sneaking around on her, but I knew that what I'd done was necessary, despite how we felt about each other, because I was then fairly convinced that Donna Liski was very un-natural.

You might now question how it was that I could still love Donna, given these beliefs I had about her, and that question is totally understandable. However, the love I felt for her came from a very personal perspective. As she'd said, we had a connection and, though I had no idea what that connection was, I knew that her love for me was as true as the fact that there was something indefinably wrong about her. Any better than that, I simply couldn't have explained.

One thing I'll say, and which might well be understandable by anyone, was that the situation with Donna had certainly become enough of an issue in my mind to overshadow the one concerning Major Hurdle. It wasn't until I noticed the strange expression on the face of the smarmy booth attendant that I was able to put that situation aside for the one at hand.

My first suspicion was that he knew about what happened at the Funraiser, and I immediately began to blush in humiliation, finding it hard to look him in the eye now that he probably knew what a slut I was. But second thoughts had me doubting this. It didn't seem very likely that Hurdle would trust one of his grunts with the knowledge of such an event. In any case, I replied to his professional greeting with a polite smile, still without meeting his eye before going on through the red door and into the Centre's administration area.

Thankfully, I didn't run into anyone, such as Major Alessa, or Marilyn Davies. All the doors in the office alcove were shut and, in front of Major Hurdle's, I had to wait for long, unnerving seconds after I'd knocked, praying that Marilyn wouldn't come out of her office until the Major finally answered.

Standing there, holding the door for me, he fixed me with the same look he always had, that professional, 'I get things done' expression that, along with his good looks, had attracted me to him in the beginning.

"Hello, Lieutenant. Please, come in."

Without replying, or even smiling, I did as told, stopping just inside to allow him to close the door behind me, locking it before he made his way back to his desk. I still stood there by the time he got seated, in full uniform and with no idea where he had the camera hidden as my eyes stealthily scanned the room. They were distracted by a smallish picture on the wall to my right. It featured his wife, Alessa, lying on her front with her knees bent, black high heels up in the air, elbows on the floor while propping her chin with her hands. She wore a pair of relaxed fit blue jeans, a yellow, short sleeved blouse and a happy smile for the camera. In the picture, she was completely decent, yet the pose was so subtly suggestive that I was surprised he'd hang it in his office.

"Nice looking woman, isn't she?"

I only looked at him without reply as he went on.

"People have commented on it. Some people don't think it's an appropriate picture for my office, but I think the only inappropriate thing is the unwholesome thoughts they have about her, and that's not my problem."

With a dry, almost emotionless tone, I asked, "Do you enjoy prompting unwholesome thoughts of your wife in people's minds?"

That took him a little by surprise, and he regarded me for a moment before replying in much the same tone, "I'm very proud of my wife. She has nothing to be ashamed of."

"Everyone," I parried, "has something to be ashamed of."

"Not excluding you, Lieutenant."

I compressed my lips with a rising anger, staring at him from the door as I understood that he'd picked up my challenge.

"Come," he ordered, his tone cold and anything but friendly now. "I have a busy itinerary today, and I'd like to get on with this."

I moved ahead, my body stiff with some very unfriendly feelings of my own for this man who held my career in his hands.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked when I went to take my seat.

After a brief pause, I rolled my eyes, put my Bible on his desk, and began taking my jacket off.

"I don't know why you're so upset," he said as he watched. "You certainly liked this part of the meeting last week."

"That was before you pimped me out."

With a sneering chuckle, he fired back, "You enjoyed that, and we both know it. You were the biggest whore in the room. I'd have you back again this fall, but now everybody knows that you'll only give it up for free anyway."

"I was drunk," I defended, insulted and humiliated while pulling my blouse open so the bastard could see the white, bikini style bra I wore. The little triangles barely covered my nipples, and I blushed, inwardly raging as they began erecting themselves.

"Sure," he sarcastically agreed. "I've heard that many times, people who excuse their behaviour on the basis that they were drunk, out of control and unable to stop themselves from doing the things they want to do when they're sober."

"I'm not a whore!" I claimed, beginning to feel quite humiliated, my anger turning to a lump in my throat that threatened tears as I finished removing my blouse.

"No, of course not. No whore would ever wear a bra like that under her uniform. Tell me, Lieutenant... will you be masturbating for me this week? Telling me how much you like to suck cock? Yes, you certainly made that abundantly clear at the Funraiser, didn't you?"

He'd successfully beaten me down, and I couldn't even answer, deciding to just stay silent unless he asked me a question as I unzipped my skirt and began pushing it down my hips. My thong matched my bra, allowing just a little of my pubic bush to peek out the top of the upside down triangle that barely covered my snatch. Finally, I was finished undressing but, when I went to take my seat, he stopped me.

"No, you're not finished."

I could only stare at him, still fighting back tears as he looked back at me like he owned me.

"Take it all off. I want you naked."

I could feel my pussy start to moisten, my clitoris erecting like my nipples, but I only asked, "Major, please..."

"Naked," he repeated, unmoved.

I removed my 'bra' first, feeling my boobs relax slightly before I slowly pushed my thong down my thighs until it fell to the floor. I stepped out of it and went to take the seat, but he again stopped me.

"No. You'll stand for this meeting."

"I- Major..."

"So, you took Monday and Tuesday off," he began

This took me by total surprise and, standing before him in nothing but my bowler and black, regulation heels, my jaw worked with no words for his expectant expression.

"That's okay," he allowed. "I can only assume that you were too ashamed of yourself to face the world. I know I would be if I were in your place, though I must say that I'm surprised you were. What's not okay is that your assistant, Donna Liski, didn't call in to report that she wouldn't be working those two days. I'm quite surprised at that, given her resume and all the positive things her previous employers had to say about her honesty and integrity. I can only assume that you've been rubbing off on her. In any case, she won't be paid for those two days, and I'm afraid I'll have to write her up for her failure to call in. And please tell her that she can expect to be called in for a meeting with me about the matter. Understood?"

"Yes, Major," I obediently croaked.

"If you can't control your own staff, I will. As for the Funraiser, if you haven't checked the Mission's account, you'll find that I've transferred one thousand Dollars to it. Use it wisely."

One thousand Dollars? He'd sold me for twenty-six thousand, and he was only giving the Mission one? A sense of injustice mixed with humiliation that I actually felt that way gripped me, but I didn't say anything. I just wanted this meeting to be done and over with.

"Also," he went on, allowing his eyes to explore my naked body as he spoke, "before you leave, you're to speak to Major Alessa about some Salvation Army promotional material that I want you to take back to the Rae Street Mission with you. Among them, there's a large, plastic sign that won't fit into your car, so you or your assistant will have to be around and expecting its delivery on Monday."

I nodded my understanding of this.

"Good job on that shield out front, by the way. One thing about that, though: I'd like some lighting around it so that it's illuminated at night. And, as soon as you can get some community involvement, I want you to do something with the outside of the building. It looks like Satan threw up all over it, and I don't know why you've let that go this long."

"Yes, Sir."

"And do something with the property, too. Plant some flowers, or something. Again, get community involvement with that. And pictures."

"Yes, Sir."

"Have you gotten out and about the neighbourhood this week?"

"Yes, Sir."

" ... Well?"

"Uh, I met... people. I mean, I've been spreading the word about the Mission and putting a personal face on it, like you said."

"And what do you tell them?"

"I tell them that we're there to support the community in any way we can, and I ask them to feel free to drop by anytime if they need support, or help with... anything..." I trailed off, suddenly seeing it as the huge waste of time that Donna told me it was.

"And has anybody dropped by?"

"Not yet. I mean, not apart from the Bennetts and the Rahmans from across the street."

"Well, work on that. Some of the promotional materials you'll be taking back with you could help there. Take them with you when you go out walking, pass them out and tell them we're there for the community."

"Yes Sir, I will."

"What types of people have you been meeting?"

"Mostly just regular people. Mothers, fathers..."

"Indians?"

" ... You mean, indigenous peoples?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," he replied, rolling his eyes at me.

"Yes, most of the people I meet are."

"Any drug addicts, alcoholics?"

"It's kind of hard to tell that."

"What about gangster types? Have you spoken to any of them?"

"I think. A few, yes."

"You think?"

"Well, I- I can't tell, and it's not like I'm going to ask," I helplessly defended.

"Find a way to draw them out next time," he said, adding, "and tell them that we can help if they're looking for an exit strategy."

I nodded.

"Have you had any trouble from that element so far?"

"No, Sir."

"Good. Now, get dressed and get out."

I merely stood there for a moment, stunned at being dismissed in such a curt manner. He only looked up at me, his expression brusque and uncaring, as it had been during the meeting.

"Did you hear me, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Sir," I acknowledged, beginning to gather my bra and thong as I again fought back tears of humiliation and helplessness.

"Don't forget to see my wife before you leave," he droned, having moved his attention to whatever work that lay on his desk.

"Yes, Sir," I managed.

"And next week... lose the attitude. You'll find I'm a lot more pleasant to deal with when I'm treated with respect."

"Yes, Sir."

It seemed to take forever, but I was finally dressed again and feeling at least a little better for that. I didn't wait for another dismissal, didn't speak to him again as I moved for the door with my Bible in hand as he continued to work, his fingers now banging away at his keyboard. But, once I was there and with the door open, I paused, looking at him with a sudden question in my mind.

Looking up at me when I didn't leave as expected, he asked, "Something you don't understand about 'get out', Lieutenant?"

" ... Does God ever talk to you?" I asked.

" ... What?"

"Does God ever talk to you?"

" ... Of course he does," he replied, now looking at me with guarded curiosity.

"Have you ever spoken in tongues?"

He allowed an even longer pause before stiffly replying, "I don't think that's any of your business."

"What does He say?" I pressed. "When God speaks to you, what does He say?"

" ... Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Get ... Out."

I softly closed the door, feeling yet better for that last exchange between us, if incrementally.

But the ordeal wasn't over yet.

I found Alessa in her office. Wearing a skirt that day, as I was, she greeted me with the same aloof manner she normally used with me, laced with a polite smile that would be all too willing to help me under the bus if possible.

"Hello, Lieutenant."

"Major," I greeted, still trying to pick up the psychological pieces after my distressing encounter with her husband.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, mock concern polluting her tone.

"No, I'm fine," I told her, unable to quite meet her eyes as I added, "Major Hurdle told me that you have some promotionals for me?"

"Yes, I do," she said, obviously taking pleasure in the fact that, despite my denials, I was clearly upset about something. She probably thought that I'd screwed up and that her husband had just gotten finished dressing me down for it. If she only knew how literal that explanation was...

I wanted to tell her what a creep her husband was, tell her how he forced me to undress for him, how he jerked off while I did the same for him. I wanted to tell her that her wonderful husband was nothing more than a pimp, an exploiter of those he should have been trying to help. But what would that get me? He'd only deny everything, which he could easily do, and then use his influence with his uncle, the Territorial Commander, to make my parent's life worse than they'd already made it while destroying my career with my own transgressions. He had me over a barrel, and there was just no way for me to get up.

The worst part was how I'd respected him, thought that he'd respected me in turn, how I'd actually been attracted to him while, in his mind, I was only something he could use for his own selfish purposes. Yes, that was the truly hurtful, humiliating part and, after that Friday's meeting, the only truth that was more self-depreciating was the fact that I deserved it. I shamelessly flirted with him, willingly took my clothes off and masturbated for him. He was smarter than I was, and I had only gotten from him what I had coming.

As for Alessa, she'd only treated me the way she did when we first met because she was jealous. And maybe she had good reason to be, considering her husband's character. But, instead of acting responsibly, I poked a stick at that weakness, making the situation worse out of self-preservation and good old fashioned cattiness. Instead of acting like the little slut I was, I could have put her mind at ease, then conducted myself respectfully with her husband so that I wouldn't be dangling at the end of his chain, and maybe Alessa and I would have a much better working relationship by now.

With all these thoughts in mind, it became much more difficult to maintain my composure with her, and outright impossible to look her in the eye as she began going through a box on her desk that held pamphlets and other informational materials. She pointed out a small, wire framed rack that I would take to the Mission to hold the boxed informational literature, then began showing me the assortment of Salvation Army promotional pictures that I was to hang in the front room of the Mission.

It seemed to take forever, and I have no idea how I got through it, but I did, forcing myself not to flee from her office, clutching the box of informational literature in front of me as though it were a lifeline.

And that's when I ran into Marilyn fucking Davies. Because things just hadn't been going badly enough, had they?

"Oh, Lieutenant," she hailed on her way out of her office. "How are you today?"

She was wearing a long, gown style, gray dress that somehow didn't look too formal for her job and went great with her auburn hair and petit frame. Her expression didn't seem to be accusatory, or in any way judgemental of me but, even in my precarious emotional state, I could read something beneath her features that alluded to more than what her friendly greeting had said.

"Fine," I managed with a pasted smile.

"Oh, are those the promotionals for Rae Street?"

"Yes," I confirmed, nodding as I moved around her in a less than friendly attempt to just get the hell out of there.

"Let me help you to your car with that," she offered, raising her hands to take the box.

"No, that's alright, I have it," I replied, still trying to get away.

"There's more in here, Marilyn" Alessa said, her tone making it very clear as to how much further above the Hostel Coordinator she considered herself.

"Okay, I'll get that, then," she helpfully offered, going into Alessa's office to grab the wire rack and the promotional pictures.

I had to wait for her because it was polite, but it was difficult. The silver lining in this, of course, was that I wouldn't have to come back in for the rest of it. Once we were outside and we'd finished packing the car, she faced me directly, deftly removing a slip of yellow paper from under the shoulder of her dress where it must have been held under a bra strap.

In a nervous, lowered voice, she said, "I was hoping I'd see you today, Lieutenant. My husband and I are having a little get together at our place next Saturday night; nothing big, just a little soiree with a few friends, and I thought you might want to come. It starts at eight. Here's my address."