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Undercover secrets, p.5

Undercover Secrets, page 5

 

Undercover Secrets
 


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  Mike looked up quickly, his expression a mixture of confusion and jealousy. ‘Enjoyable? You’re right. That does sound strange.’

  ‘Galloway is an amazing man. He makes you feel like…’ She squinted with the effort of vocalising her vague ideas. ‘Like he knows what’s going on inside your head before you do.’ Anna put her hand on Mike’s knee. ‘But I was in control, remember. I was one step ahead of him. I knew what was coming. That was what made it enjoyable, feeling we’d got one over on him. Knowing that what I was doing was a means to an end, a way of getting ourselves inside that Institute.’

  Mike nodded, begrudgingly accepting her explanation. ‘So, what happened after that?’

  Anna went on to describe the selection panel and her incredibly thorough ‘medical’. Now, Mike’s jealousy metamorphosed into something altogether different. ‘So you were lying there on the bed, naked? How? How were you lying?’

  Anna showed him. Mike watched from his seat on the end of the mattress as she lay down in the middle of the bed. Bending her knees, she opened her thighs. Mike was unable to resist a glance at her naked pussy.

  ‘Oh, Jesus,’ he gasped. ‘You lay there like that? And they all…’

  ‘They all lined up to touch me.’ Anna watched as Mike’s mouth opened and closed without emitting a sound. ‘This is turning you on, isn’t it?’

  Mike replied with a silence that was an emphatic ‘Yes’.

  This was more like it. Anna was back with what she knew and loved; the ball was in her court, and she was in control of the game. ‘The first one touched me here.’ She demonstrated. ‘Then he put one hand here —’ she rested her own hand on her stocking top ‘— and he put his thumb inside me.’

  ‘Jesus H Christ.’

  Anna went through the doctors one by one, hinting with her fingertips as to what each one had done to her. By the time she had finished her account, there was an unmistakable bulge growing in Mike’s baggy chinos. And growing inside her was the sharp, desperate lust for release she had felt when the panel had finished with her. Recounting the story to Mike had re-awakened that desire, and now she had to have relief.

  She sat up and reached into Mike’s lap. Turning the dictaphone off with one hand, she lightly squeezed his erection with the other.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he whispered huskily.

  ‘You’re turned on, I’m turned on…’Did that explain it clearly enough?

  ‘We should be getting back to London. We’ve a lot of work to do before —’

  His voice ended in a strangled groan as Anna delved between his legs and rubbed his balls. ‘Lie down,’ she commanded.

  Mike climbed up on to the bed. Kneeling by his side, Anna unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. She got rid of his shoes, socks, trousers and boxer shorts and threw them to the floor. Then, sitting astride him, she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his warm, hairy chest.

  ‘Anna —’

  Whatever he was about to say, he didn’t get the chance. Anna lifted herself above his rearing cock, paused for a second to open her damp pussy lips and ease his purple plum inside her, then slammed herself down on to him. Pushing the low neckline of her dress down, she lifted her breasts out and squeezed them together. She threw her head back and yelled with relief. She took what she wanted, and filled herself up with it.

  Mike’s cock was glorious. Trapped beneath her raging lust, his body was mouth-wateringly hairy and heavy. His dark eyes were clouded with gratitude and awe as he looked up at her bouncing breasts and her pink, pleasure-flushed neck. His thick fingers reached for her buttocks beneath her skirt and grabbed greedy handfuls of her flesh. Carried away, his moaning grew louder until it was as unrestrained as Anna’s.

  Here was a man she could spend some time with, she thought. What more could she possibly want? He was clever, ambitious and sexy, and had a heavenly cock that fitted perfectly into the heaven of her pussy. So why did she imagine it was someone else’s cock, filling her; someone else’s voice, curling around her neck and making the hairs stand on end? Why, when she closed her eyes, did she see Dr Galloway?

  Chapter Three

  Four days later, Anna drove back to the Institute. She was in Mike’s car again, to keep appearances consistent with her first visit. This time though, Mike wasn’t waiting in a motorway hotel room; he was back at the office, a phone call and more than three hundred miles away.

  Concealed in the car were the tools of her trade, the means she would use to expose whatever was going on at the Institute. There was a dictaphone for keeping notes and recording conversations; a miniature camera the size of a credit card, bought from a surveillance shop; a digital camcorder; and a mobile phone for keeping in contact with the office. Hidden in her head were Mike’s home and mobile numbers, in case of emergencies, and the number of a colleague of Mike’s who lived only twenty miles away — in case of a more urgent emergency. As the gate opened for Anna, she decided she would leave all the technology hidden in the Golf until she had settled into the Institute. She could always come back to the car to fetch what she needed, when she needed it. First, she had to find out whether there were as many cameras inside as there were outside.

  Anna had phoned from a call box to let Dr Galloway know when she would be arriving. He and his wife greeted her at the door.

  ‘Anna,’ he beamed, opening his arms. ‘We’re so pleased to see you again.’

  Cut the act, she wanted to say. Somehow, his joy at her return was far more creepy than anything he had done at the interview. Anna summoned a smile to hide her sudden nervousness. ‘I’m pleased to be here, Doctor Galloway.’

  ‘Call me Peter,’ he said, putting a fatherly hand to her shoulder.

  ‘O… OK,’ she faltered, slightly put off by the glare Joan was giving her husband. Peter was making it blatantly obvious just how pleased he was to see Anna again, looking her up and down like he had done at the open day.

  ‘Come along,’ Joan urged, interrupting Peter’s leering.

  ‘I’ll show you to your room.’

  Peter followed as Joan bustled Anna into the lift. From the ground floor, which Anna had seen at the open day and which was more like an exclusive health club than a research centre, they went one floor up. Anna hadn’t been shown this part of the building at the interview, and it was a big contrast to the friendly, warm colours of the floor below. As they walked along spotless corridors their shoes squeaked on the lino. Harsh fluorescent bulbs lit the way and bounced off the white walls, making them seem slightly grey. An unending row of closed, numbered doors lined one wall, reminding Anna of a hotel. A hotel that had been stripped of soul and colour. Why, when the ground floor was so inviting, were the living quarters so stark and unwelcoming?

  ‘The living quarters are fairly bare,’ Galloway explained, reading Anna’s thoughts. ‘No one actually spends much time in their rooms, except for sleeping.

  We’re either working or we’re downstairs, enjoying ourselves in our wonderful facilities.’

  ‘You’ll find everything you need downstairs,’ Joan added. ‘You’ll probably remember that we have a fully equipped health and leisure centre, as well as a library, television rooms and three dining areas. One specialises in traditional English food, another in European cuisine and the other one serves American-style food.’

  ‘We cater for all tastes here,’ Peter said, rubbing his oily voice into the back of Anna’s neck.

  ‘Food is available from six a.m. until midnight. If you’re hungry outside those hours, there’s a bar by the pool which stocks all kinds of snacks.’

  Anna was surprised. ‘There’s a bar here?’

  ‘It doesn’t serve any alcohol, Anna.’ Joan pursed her lips disapprovingly at the very thought. ‘I hope that won’t be a problem.’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Drinking and smoking are not permitted in the Institute,’ Joan continued. ‘We provide the best medical care in the world for our staff. The only thing we ask in return
is that our staff treat their bodies with respect. So, no alcohol, nicotine or other substances.’

  ‘I don’t smoke anyway,’ Anna shrugged. ‘And I hardly drink at all,’ she lied.

  ‘Alcohol is a depressant,’ Joan lectured. ‘It destroys the brain cells.’

  Behind her, Peter muttered suggestively, ‘We don’t need alcohol to have fun, do we Anna?’

  Abruptly, Joan stopped in front of door number seventy-two. With a warning glance at her husband, she opened the door and invited Anna inside.

  The room was small, light and pristine. There was a single bed along one wall, a window opposite the door, and on the other wall a narrow wardrobe and a desk and chair. It was completely devoid of any decoration except for a small mirror over the desk, and reminded Anna of a hostel or a brand-new prison cell — except that, as she noticed with a quick flick of her inquisitive eyes, there wasn’t a lock on the door. They wouldn’t be able to lock her in and she wouldn’t be able to keep them out.

  ‘This is your room, Anna.’ Joan stepped inside after her and went to the wardrobe. ‘Bathrooms are shared, one between every four bedrooms. You’ll find yours next door but one, room seventy.’ Joan brought out a hanger from inside the wardrobe. Holding it up, she beamed at the new recruit. If the smile had not been so completely fake, Anna would have taken it as the first sign that Joan was happy for her to be there. As it was, the falseness was almost disturbing, because it made Anna wonder what was hiding behind it. ‘Take off your clothes, Anna. It’s time to put on your new uniform. Time to start your new life.’

  Peter moved further inside the open doorway as Anna put her bag down on the bed. Kicking off her shoes, Anna unzipped her jeans and dropped them to the floor. Feeling both Peter and Joan’s eyes boring into her, she shrugged off her jacket and pulled her jumper over her head. Standing in only her underwear, she held out her hand for the hanger.

  Joan’s grey eyes — a paler version of her husband’s — gave Anna a disdainful once-over. ‘Take that tacky underwear off too, please. Only regulation underwear is permitted, and it must be white underneath your day uniform.’

  Anna reached behind her back to unfasten her black lacy bra. But before she could, Peter’s warm fingers were there.

  ‘Here. Let me help you with that,’ he said smoothly. He unhooked the bra and slid the straps from Anna’s shoulders.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, blinking guiltily at Joan. Joan glowered at her husband’s interfering fingers, wanting to singe them with her narrowed eyes. Her thin lips were pressed tightly together in disgust as Peter ‘helped’ Anna with her panties, too, sliding them down over her hips. There was so much tension in the room Anna didn’t know where to look.

  ‘Fantastic,’ Peter whispered, as his fingers brushed over Anna’s buttocks and down the backs of her shapely legs. He stood up and held the crumpled scrap of her knickers up to his face and breathed in. He breathed out again in a sigh of delight.

  ‘Give me those,’ Joan snapped.

  With laughing eyes, Peter handed Anna’s tiny black panties over to his wife. As he turned and went back to his vantage point in the doorway he gave Anna a lascivious wink.

  She couldn’t believe what was going on. Peter was openly teasing his wife. Joan was obviously furious at Peter’s undisguised desire for Anna’s body. What the hell sort of marriage did these two have?

  Joan dropped Anna’s knickers into one of the two bins beneath the window. She opened a drawer inside the wardrobe and beckoned Anna closer. ‘We cannot risk bacteria being brought into the labs. The clothes you came in must all go into the bin. They will be burnt. The other bin is for your dirty laundry which is collected daily. From now on, you will wear only those items provided for you by the Institute. The white dresses are for working in, and they’re worn with these.’ Bending down, she produced a pair of white trainers. ‘The other dresses and the tracksuits are for wearing during leisure time.’ Inside the wardrobe, Anna saw two navy tracksuits, black and red dresses in the same style as the white one Joan was holding, and a pair of knee-length black leather boots.

  Joan jerked her head towards the drawer, and Anna picked out a white bra from the neat piles of red, white and black. ‘Stockings and suspenders are in the drawer below, and panties in the one below that.’

  ‘No panties,’ Peter chimed in. Anna and Joan both turned to look at him. One side of his mouth was lifted in a sneaky leer. ‘Anna doesn’t wear them.’

  Peter stared at his wife, challenging her to argue. Joan stared back at him, fury in her eyes and colour edging her high cheekbones. Caught between them, Anna felt distinctly uncomfortable. Trying to diffuse the situation, she lunged for the bottom drawer. ‘Well, actually, I do usually wear knickers —’

  ‘But not today,’ Peter insisted.

  With a toss of her cropped auburn head, Joan turned her back on her husband. Anna folded her arms and fixed her eyes on some indeterminate point outside in the grounds. Ignoring his wife’s anger, Peter offered Anna his help again. Taking her bra from her, he fed her arms through the straps and fastened the hook between her breasts. His fingers lingered over her skin, brushing the insides of her arms, the cups of her shoulders and the undersides of her breasts. The bra was a simple, seamless one, the same type Anna often wore under close-fitting tops; it had silky cups which were so sheer they left her wide nipples provocatively obvious and her shape completely natural. Anna watched as Peter got out a pair of fine stockings and a white suspender belt. Kneeling, he told Anna to lift her right leg so he could roll one almost invisible nylon over her ankle. Anna had to reach for his shoulder to keep her balance, and as she did, Dr Galloway smiled to himself. With both stockings on, their lacy tops pulled up by the suspenders, he sat back on his heels and admired the darkness of her pubic hair against the white frame of her underwear. ‘Fantastic,’ he said again.

  With that, Joan sprung into action. Spinning around, she grabbed Anna’s shoulders and turned her to face her. She whipped the uniform from the hanger and thrust it towards Anna. Anna hurried into it, keen to hide her body from the Galloways and try to stop the tension from flooding the small room.

  Roughly, Joan buttoned up Anna’s dress. ‘It’s a bit tight,’ she scowled.

  Anna looked down at herself. Her new uniform was a short white cotton dress, like a nurse’s. It had a revere collar, short sleeves, a hem which ended halfway down her thighs and buttons all the way down. The neckline came to a deep V in her cleavage, giving a hint at the inner curves of her breasts. Joan was right about it being tight; it hugged her hips and upper thighs, and the buttons were pulling under the strain of holding her full breasts.

  ‘Honestly, I can’t trust you to do anything properly,’ Joan hissed. ‘No doubt you were so busy looking at her tits, you took her measurements down incorrectly.’

  Peter shook his head, his mouth twisting sadistically. ‘No, dear. I wrote them down accurately. But I left instructions for Anna to be given a dress which was slightly too small for her.’ Peter sidled past Anna to his wife. He slipped his hand around her narrow waist. ‘You can see more of her body, that way. Those sexy hips… those pretty legs… those lovely tits…’

  Anna felt her naked pussy clench beneath her dress. And not just because Peter was looking at her as if he owned her. Anna got an almost sexual buzz from the thought that the tension between the Galloways could be a weak link she could work on. Peter was making no secret of the fact that he wanted her. It was cruel, what he was doing to his wife. Perhaps Anna could play on this; perhaps she could inflame the situation and get Joan to turn against her husband.

  But for now, the situation was diffused before the flame had a chance to take hold. Peter took his wife’s pointed face in his hands and kissed her on the lips. ‘Come on, darling, we’ve got to show Anna the rest of the building before the meeting.’

  Joan’s hard features softened slightly. ‘You’d better give her a security bracelet.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d almost forgotten ab
out that.’ Peter let go of his wife and delved inside his pocket. He pulled out a narrow strip of what looked like black plastic, and moved towards Anna. ‘This goes on your left wrist.’

  Anna held up her hand. ‘What’s it for?’

  ‘It’s a security pass. There’s a thin metal band embedded in the bracelet which emits a silent pulse. This is picked up by sensors in the doors, and will allow you access to the sections of the Institute you’ll be working in. We don’t often get intruders here, Anna, but these bracelets are designed to stop unauthorised access. They also work as a key to the front door and to the gate.’

  Anna looked down as the black band was snapped into place around her narrow wrist. She felt like a prisoner, being tagged.

  The laboratories were on the second floor. If anything odd was going on at the Institute, it wasn’t immediately obvious. The high-ceilinged, clinical rooms looked just like any other labs. There were microscopes, computers, racks of test tubes and petri dishes, fridges, labelled jars and stainless-steel work surfaces. The only thing which stood out to Anna was that each of the twenty labs they walked past was empty.

  ‘Where is everybody?’ she asked, as they peered through the glass into yet another deserted room.

  Peter glanced at his watch. ‘They’ll all be assembling in the lecture theatre. There’s a meeting at two.’

  ‘Do you have any questions so far?’ Joan asked her.

  Peter had mentioned the security band opening the front door and the gate. Anna wanted to know if the staff were allowed out — it might be useful to be able to go into the village — but she didn’t want to raise suspicions.

  ‘I was wondering, do any of the staff go walking in the mountains around here? I’d really love to see some of the countryside, get some fresh air, you know, having lived in London for so long…’

  Joan glanced nervously at her husband, but Peter didn’t hesitate. ‘This isn’t a prison, Anna. After working hours, your time’s your own. You’re free to walk in the grounds, but until you’ve completed your trial period here we would prefer it if you didn’t venture outside the fence. It’s purely for your own safety, you understand. You’re in our care now.’

 
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