Chapter 10.
Barbara’s Advanced Training
That afternoon Ludlow took Barbara to London in the Jag, to a certain Victorian row house in Kensington. There he introduced her to the Iron Lady. The Iron Lady looked very elegant in a simple blue dress with a double strand of pearls around her neck; a golden silk scarf about her shoulders was held in place by a cameo brooch. She greeted Barbara in classic aristocratic manner, pro-offering her gloved hand to be kissed while at the same time managing to exude a friendly warmth. It seemed to Barbara that the Lady was somehow subtly suggesting that Life itself was nothing more than an amusing distraction.
“So this is the fresh meat, then, is it Jonathon?” she asked, choosing her crude expression for sheer effect upon Barbara. Startled, Barbara glanced over to Ludlow with widened eyes.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered respectfully.
“Hmmm, good then. I think I’m going to enjoy training you, then, young miss,” she said, speaking directly to Barbara. Her eyes travelled blatantly up and down Barbara’s lush, ripe body. Barbara had chosen a long, navy blue, sleeveless over-garment cut low that presented her tits to their best advantage; sitting up and pretty, a nice pair of cupcakes. Indeed, she seemed to be literally bursting out of her bodice. It was done up in the front with a long row of tiny black buttons, cut open below the waist and featured a slit in the back; a sort of equestrian outfit, her black leather miniskirt did not seem at all gaudy or ostentatious. She wore one of Ludlow’s white shirts; a white button-down collar number with the long sleeves rolled up at the cuffs. The necktie she wore, Ludlow’s also, lay between her bulging tits and almost gave her the countenance of a schoolgirl. Her blonde hair, plaited in braids that hung down over each shoulder, added to the effect, but the wickedly high-heeled shoes she wore, with little straps that buckled about her ankles, made the schoolgirl-ish look give way to a sort of wild adventuress air. A riding crop would not have been out of place.
The Iron Lady turned to Ludlow, “Does she know exactly what she’s getting involved in here?”
“Only in the most general of terms, ma’am,” Ludlow replied.
“Good, then. I tell you what, Jonathon. Due to the urgent state of the ongoing operation, why don’t you let young Miss . . .”
“Barbara,” Barbara interjected, “my name is Barbara.”
The Iron Lady gave Barbara a look that could freeze mercury over the tops of her tortoise-shell reading glasses. “. . . Miss Barbara and I get acquainted, and start with her training program,” she said acidly. “You can return to University College, Jonathon, and I’ll let you know when you can return to pick up Miss Barbara.”
“Very well, ma’am. About when might that be?”
“In about two weeks.”
Barbara stood quite demurely, clutching her handbag in front of her, her back straight and her titties pushed out, pert and impudent. Butterflies raged in her stomach, from the thought of unknown territory that lay ahead.
“Very well, ma’am,” Ludlow remarked. Jonathon turned to Barbara and they exchanged a soft, brief kiss on the lips. She felt like clutching him; she did not want him to leave. Barbara’s eyes revealed her concern. Ludlow gave the nervous girl a wink and a smile to cheer her up. “It’s quite all right,” he said. “just think of it as an in-depth studies-observation project in one of your sociology classes. That’s all it is, really. You’ll see.”
“I love you, Jonathon,” she said simply.
“I love you, too, ducks.”
“It’ll be a long two weeks, darling.”
“It’ll be over before you know it, love, and it’s for the best. You’ll see.”
They kissed again, lightly, then he turned to leave the house. The Iron Lady rose to see him to the door. At the door they held hands briefly, exchanged polite kisses on the cheek in the French fashion. She looked him in the eye; Ludlow detected a softening in her normal haughty persona. “She’s a beautiful young woman, Jonathon,” she said, quite out of character.
“Thank you.”
“I think you’re a very lucky man.”
“Please don’t be too hard on her,” he said.
“It takes the hottest fire to make the hardest steel,” the Bitch replied, returning to her normal demeanour. Ludlow nodded; it was true of his own training. The young girl must face her own trials and tribulations and emerge, stronger and the better for it. The Bitch softened again, placed a gloved hand to his face and lightly stroked his cheek with a finger. “We’ve had our moments together, Jonathon,” she said quietly, “let her have her turn.”
Ludlow nodded. They stood silently for a moment, holding hands and facing one another. The Bitch lightly squeezed his hands. “Goodbye, Jonathon.” He closed his eyes and ever so lightly kissed her on the lips.
“Goodbye, ma’am.”
When Ludlow left the Iron Lady returned to the room and said to Barbara, “Now then, young lady, why don’t we sit down and have a cup of tea, and we’ll go over your training program before we get started.” They moved into the front sitting room. The room was stark, almost barren, yet despite the bare walls and the uncarpeted hardwood floorboards, was appropriately appointed with a few pieces of silk-upholstered furniture that seemed not out of place. Yellow light of the afternoon’s sun flooded in through the swathes of gauzy drapes that adorned the two broad windows on either side of the white marble fireplace. A girl in a traditional French maid’s attire was placing a tray bearing a porcelain tea service on a small side table.
“Thank you, Gabrielle, that will be all for now.” The French maid performed a courtesy, of all things, and turned to leave the room. When she did so Barbara became aware that the maid’s outfit was actually only white cuffs and a frilly starched white apron worn over a black fishnet body stocking. Barbara was taken aback to discern that the girl was quite naked beneath the see-thru garment. The Iron Lady seemed not to take any notice, either of the erotic nature of Gabrielle’s costume, nor of Barbara’s gaze as Gabrielle’s shapely backside exited the room.
The Iron Lady spoke as she poured tea for the two of them. “Before we proceed, it must be understood that normally an operator goes through a quite extensive period of training, in three phases, the longest of which is eight weeks. Given the current situation, and the fact that you’re involved in the conduct of an ongoing operation, we’ve narrowed down your training regimen to the absolute basics required to ensure your survivability in an operational environment.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Barbara replied, taking her cue from Ludlow’s etiquette.
“It will be almost impossible to impart upon you the kind of discipline that an agent normally develops over years of preparation and training. You shall have to rely upon a deep sense of self-discipline, which we have detected in our investigations into your school performance, both academically and in sport. Hopefully your stay here over the next two weeks may heighten this trait, for it is absolutely necessary for survival in our line of work.
“Having said this, it is absolutely imperative that from this moment onward, for the duration of the next two weeks, you obey any and all commands and directions given to you, immediately and without question. Are you willing to do this?”
Barbara hesitated for the slightest moment, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I noticed that you did not give your assent right away,” said the Bitch. “This is good – we do not want automatons here, we want agents capable of free will, able to think on their feet and to make difficult decisions under the most trying of circumstances. We have already determined you to possess this personal trait, part of the reason why we are willing to bring you onboard at such short notice. However, I will say it again; because of the extremely abbreviated time to which circumstances limit us, during the course of your training here you must be willing to obey any and all directions that you receive. Immediately, without hesitation. Is this completely understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Barbara said, with the slightest hint of resignation.
“Very well then,” the Bitch proceeded. “Subjects covered will include simple tradecraft, clandestine communications, an introduction to explosives and pistol marksmanship to name a few. Are you quite comfortable with this?” She held her cup up by the saucer and sipped her tea as she imparted this, as if she were discussing something as mundane as The Royal Horticultural Society’s annual Rose Exhibition.
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. Ludlow had briefed her on some of what she was to expect, although he had not gone into great detail.
“You’re an open-minded and intelligent young lady, otherwise you wouldn’t be here with us.” The Iron Lady replaced her teacup and saucer to the table and faced Barbara, her gloved hands folded primly in her lap. Barbara nodded politely, holding her saucer in one hand and holding her teacup daintily in the fingers of the other. “Now then, I’m sure that you have a healthy and enthusiastic interest in
shagging
, don’t you my dear?” She said this last with special emphasis on the earthy term.
Barbara nearly lost the tea she was sipping; it was her first introduction to the Lady’s habitual use of crude language quite out of context with her surroundings, her refined poise. “Well, uh, yes, I suppose I do. Yes, ma’am.” Barbara was apprehensive, but not anxious. Jonathon had asked her to have faith in him; that no matter how bizarre or outlandish the course of events that followed may seem, everything that was to occur served a legitimate reason and that although she may not realize it at the time, given time the point of it all would come to her.
“Of course you do. It seems that we humans are the only members of the animal kingdom that engage in
