Reading notes:
1. This is a work of fiction, using some characters invented by the late Ian Fleming.
2. All characters are aged 18 or older, and all the sex described is consensual.
3. Whether you enjoy the story or no, please consider leaving a comment. All authors thrive on feedback.
The rude, raucous ringing of the telephone finally dragged Olwen from the depths of a beautiful dream, in which she was riding James Bond cowgirl style on a deserted white sandy beach on some island in the Caribbean. She realised that it was the red phone, and sleep dropped away from her instantly. She picked up the receiver.
"Moneypenny. What's up?"
"Sorry to wake you at such an ungodly hour, darling."
The mellifluous tones of Mary Goodnight's upper class drawl sounded in Olwen's ear.
"There's a hell of a flap on. M's like a bear with a sore arse, Bill Tanner is trying to smoke himself to death, and your presence is required immediately. Get your beautiful arse in here in ten minutes tops. M says this is top priority, so don't wait for any red lights. If you break any speed limits, the Service will sort it out. Just hurry!"
"Is it James?" asked Olwen anxiously, but she was talking to the dialling tone. Mary Goodnight had rung off.
Olwen rolled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. She loaded her toothbrush and started to brush her teeth even as she sat down on the toilet and began to pee. She spat, wiped and stood up.
"No time for make-up," she thought to herself. She rushed back into her bedroom, thanking the gods that she always slept naked. Opening her dressing table drawer, she pulled out a clean pair of knickers, and put them on. Next came her suspender belt and then a pair of sheer, black stockings were rolled up her shapely legs and attached to the belt.
A crisp white blouse was taken from her wardrobe and hurriedly buttoned on over her white lacy bra, followed by a smart black skirt. She raced downstairs in her stockinged feet, grabbed her handbag and the first coat she could lay her hands on. Her office shoes were where she'd left them last evening, just inside the front door. She checked that her car keys were in her handbag, and hurried out into the dark, chilly November morning. Four minutes after getting Mary Goodnight's summons, Olive Moneypenny gunned her little M G sportscar down the quiet country lane, away from her house and in the direction of the offices of Universal Export, the non-existant company which was used as a cover for the British Secret Service.
Olwen shot into the underground car park at breakneck speed. She was obviously expected because the crash barrier was already raised and the heavy duty bollards were sunk into the road. As she slowed down to acknowledge George, the one armed guardian of the carpark, she saw him wave her through.
"Don't stop!" he yelled. "M's waiting. Leave your keys in the ignition. I'll park your car for you. I've held the lift. It's all ready for you!"
Olwen blew him a kiss and screeched to a halt outside the open lift doors. She dashed into the lift and pressed the button for the seventh floor. As the lift doors closed, she saw the bollards ascending to block the entrance and the crash barrier came down to meet them. George would park her car safely, she knew, but first he'd make sure that the carpark was secure from unwanted visitors.
The full-length mirror in the lift gave Olwen the opportunity to brush her hair into something that resembled respectability, and she just had time to put on some of her favourite scarlet lipstick before the lift came to a halt and the doors hissed open.
The silence of the seventh floor was palpable. Olwen stepped out into the dimly lit corridor and hurried towards the vestibule outside M's office where her desk was situated. As she walked swiftly and quietly down the carpeted corridor, Olwen could see that the red light above the door to M's office was shining brightly, despite the fact that the outer door was open.
Olwen hung her coat up on the stand in the corner of her office, switched her desk light on and put her handbag in the bottom drawer of her desk. She pressed the intercom button, and M's voice broke the silence.
"At last, Miss Moneypenny. Come in please and shut the door behind you."
Olwen did as she was told, shutting the padded, soundproof outer door and then opening the inner door to M's office. She took in the scene in front of her and assessed the situation.
M was sitting behind his desk, his hands clenched and illuminated in the pool of light from the green shaded lamp that always burned when he was in his office. Bill Tanner, the Service Chief of Staff was sitting in one of the office chairs, and Mary Goodnight, James Bond's secretary, was standing by his side. She smiled a silent greeting, and Tanner acknowledged her presence with a curt nod of his head.
M leaned forward into the pool of light, his pipe billowing clouds of creamy blue white smoke.
"Good morning, Miss Moneypenny," he said gruffly. "Thank you for coming so swiftly. I'll bring you up to speed directly. Then I want you to report to the Chief of Staff. He and Miss Goodnight are already aware of the situation. You are both being assigned to the C.U.N.T. division within the double O section"
Olwen looked at Mary, who winked at her and ran her tongue around her full, plump lips. Both women knew that the division they were being transferred to dealt with Counter-terrorism, Using Nefarious Tactics, which was a bit of a mouthful, but in essence meant that agents assigned to C.U.N.T. were given a free hand to complete their mission in any way they saw fit.
"This operation requires your special skills, Miss Moneypenny," M said gruffly. He didn't look at Olwen when he was speaking, and she knew that the old man must be embarrassed.
"You have a good record whenever you've been drafted into the double O section, " M went on, "and I know you usually work with 007. He's already in the field, but he's hit a problem where even his talents won't help him. He has to infiltrate a gang of female terrorists."
Olwen smiled.
"That's where I come in, sir?" she asked. "What's Mary's role in this? Is she going to be my handler?"
M blushed again, jammed his pipe into his mouth and grunted. He nodded at Bill Tanner, who grinned at Olwen.
"You've chosen a very apt word there, Olwen," he said. "Mary is indeed going to 'handle' you. You see, the gang that M is talking about is headed by a woman who goes by the name of Pussy Galore. The gang is strictly lesbian. You and Mary are going to join it!"
Olwen looked at Mary and grinned.
"Well you always say you would love to go into the field, sweetie," she said. "It's great that I'll be there to hold your hand for your first mission."
"I think Pussy Galore is going to expect a bit more than hand holding, Olwen," Bill Tanner said with a chuckle. "We've learned that she's on the prowl for a new girlfriend. Her ex chucked her a couple of months ago. Discovered religion, apparently. Gave up the criminal lifestyle, ditched Pussy and is now shacked up with the local vicar of the parish."
