Chapter 2.
Debrief
It was only when she turned to lead him down the hallway that he became aware the fishnet stockings she wore were actually an entire body stocking, right on down to the sleeves, which ended with starched white cuffs at her wrists. Aside from the ridiculously undersized white apron that barely covered her front, the see-through fishnet catsuit was the only article of clothing she wore. As she led him down the hallway he was able to appreciate the undulations of her ass-cheeks and the litheness of her petit form; the wide white drawstrings of the apron wound about a slender waist, the fishnet material garment was cut low enough to display a well muscled back. A stray lock of brown hair curled tantalizingly along the back of a long, slim neck, well-formed legs deliciously sculpted by the heels she wore reached from her perfectly round ass all the way down to the floor. Mademoiselle paused at an open doorway, cleared her throat and announced his arrival to the occupant within.
“
Monsieur Ludlow c’est arrive
,” she announced in a voice that tinkled like a crystal chandelier.
A gruff voice emanated from within. “Ludlow? Is he here? Show him in! Show him in!” Mademoiselle waved him toward the doorway. As he passed by her to enter a well-appointed parlour Ludlow studied the young woman’s face. Green eyes spaced wide apart met his, bright red lips slightly parted seemed almost about to speak. Her open mouth and tongue almost seemed to be a succulent piece of fresh fruit. He hungered to taste it. She answered his gaze with the slightest arching of an eyebrow.
Sir Kilby rose from an enormous armchair by the fireplace to greet Ludlow. A burly fellow, Sir Kilby was an anachronistic throwback to the days of Empire, Queen and Country. Complete with waxed handlebar moustache and monocle, he wore a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches that featured a military device on the lapel; his tie was the regimental colours of the Coldstream Guard.
Everything about Sir Kilby, even the very room itself, radiated Old School. From the wallpaper to the smell of rum-soaked pipe tobacco to the framed print of
The Defence of Rourke’s Drift
over the mantelpiece; the well-appointed parlour was a study in Victorian decor. Anybody who didn’t know any better would assume Sir Kilby was a card-carrying member of the most connected Old Boys Clubs in town. It was all a part of the camouflage the Organization was so deeply embedded within.
“Ludlow, old man!” Sir Reece grasped his elbows and clasped him on the back. “Good to see you at last!” His happiness and enthusiasm were genuine; Sir K, as he was known within the Organization, projected an almost youthful fervour that was almost infectious. And of course he showed the natural joy that came with the relief felt by a leader whose most trusted man has returned safely from battle. Sir K held Ludlow out at an arm’s length and inspected him.
“Good God, man, you look a sight!” Ludlow knew he looked like shit warmed up. “We’ll get a brandy into you, and then a bit of a clean up before your debrief, what?”
“That’d be great, Sir K.”
“A nasty business, the way things went in the end there. A very nasty business,” Sir K said as he handed Ludlow a bulb glass and poured him a generous measure of golden-brown liquid.
“Sometimes it turns out that way,” Ludlow said briefly. He hadn’t yet thawed out enough to comment at length.
They seated themselves in the overstuffed armchairs and Sir K lifted his glass in toast. “To absent comrades,” he said briefly.
“Absent comrades,” Ludlow replied. He took a deep draught of the liquor and savoured the burning sensation as it seemed to pierce his very being all the way down to his heart.
“A bite to eat, old boy?” Sir K took care of his troops with all the care and concern of a Regimental Sergeant Major, which of course was the rank he retired from the Army with. A wave of his hand and the French maid appeared, bearing a covered tray. “Ah, Gabrielle has read my mind, it seems,” Sir K declared. Ludlow wondered if she could read his.
You know she bloody well reads every dirty thought you’re having, you dirty sod you.
Gabrielle uncovered the tray, revealing roasted chicken nestled on a bed of rice. Enough to satisfy his hunger for now, Ludlow thought as he surveyed the rounded tops of a nice pair of tits, quite visible above her apron as Gabrielle leaned before him. Ludlow hardly waited for Sir K to indicate for him to eat, he practically inhaled the food. The roast bird melted in his mouth as the meal seemed to evaporate before him in an instant.
“Gabrielle will see you to a hot bath, and then when you’re comfortable we’ll proceed with the debriefing.” The French maid appeared at the doorway at the mention of her name. “Gabrielle, see our fellow Ludlow here to the bath . . .”
“
Apres-mois, monsieur . . .
” she said, leading him to a bathroom down the hallway. Following her down the hall, Ludlow was able to appreciate the way the fishnet material set off the curves of her hips. Once in the bathroom, Ludlow practically drooled at the sight of her fantastic ass from a new vantage point as she bent over to draw the hot bath.
Gabrielle stood aside with her hands over the front of her tiny white apron. Ludlow removed his coat and she took it, held it folded over her arms and remained standing in place. When Ludlow finally realized that she wasn’t about to leave the room he shrugged and continued to undress. Gabrielle took all of his clothing until finally he was down to his undershorts, which she also took as he skived them off. A slight grimace expressed her disdain at the condition of his soiled clothing. Before she turned to leave the room her eyes casually wandered down his naked form; an eyebrow arched as she shamelessly eyeballed his cock.
