[Our story continues directly after the climax of "Dress Off 8: Hotpants in Helsinki". The evil she-devil herself, Elizabeth Harrington, has stolen the encrypted Helsinki Archives from Bree Carson, Monica Fairchild and Brittney Barecat. The three agents have barely escaped with their lives, although at least with the consolation prize of one of Harrington's mind-controlled slaves - Charlize - captive in the trunk of their getaway car.
Meanwhile, retired Director Angelica Highsmith has freed the mind of the Agency's current Director, Sonya Foxwell, by realising that making the affected person orgasm breaks the mind control. Now both Sonya and Angelica are in Fiji, on a mission to not just stop Harrington, but also free another one of her slaves, Tess Trueheart. And more than anyone else, Angelica has a history with Harrington...
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[Helsinki, Finland. Present day.]
Elizabeth Harrington hauled herself off the ground, sitting on her haunches and feeling her jaw while she mentally bumped Monica Fairchild up several levels on her "special treatment" scale. She didn't bother to look up at the sound of car tyres squealing in the distance and simply spat at the pavement, replaying the sweet feeling of breaking Carson's ankle under her heel to soothe her dark mood.
After thirty seconds of visualising the blonde bitch under her foot, yelping in pain, she looked around and noted that Takara and Akemi were standing less than two feet away. Neither had moved to help her. Both just looked at her with a dull, passive look. Useless drones, Harrington snorted. Weak women who'd let themselves fall under the mind control that the organisers of Lesbian Strip Humiliation had crudely made the cornerstone of their obvious trap.
"Go get the other car." She barked at the Japanese zombie women. Shaking her head in disgust, she stood and strode over to where Tess Trueheart lay on the ground, herself in some agony from the spray Olivia Berkeley had fired, clutching at her eyes.
"Get up."
Tess staggered to her feet, and Harrington batted away the woman's protective hands, looking into her eyes with no concern for the other's suffering. Looking for any sign of her old enemy's mind having resurfaced, Harrington finally grunted in satisfaction. Carson and her band of bitches may have escaped her this time, but Trueheart was still hers. She knew that Tess's friends would try and come to her rescue and that she'd be ready and waiting for them when they did.
A new car pulled up, and Harrington cast one last look around the scene of their recent battle with Carson, Fairchild and Barecat. All three of them had escaped, and the fact that the South African woman Charlize was nowhere to be seen indicated that she'd been in the car that had just sped away. The stupid bitch had been sent earlier to get their car and clearly had managed to let herself be overpowered by that traitor Fairchild.
Even if Harrington hadn't considered the zombie women easily expendable pawns not worthy of a second thought - with the sole exception of Tess Trueheart for her bait-worthiness - the fact that Charlize let herself be overpowered by Monica Fairchild bumped her into the category of "terminate employment with extreme prejudice" anyway. The secondary fact that this had led to Harrington herself being knocked over by the auburn-haired harlot was merely a second layer of blame for Charlize to wear.
Harrington spat on the ground again, but contented herself with picking up two cameras that had been dropped by Bree and Brittney during the struggle. With an evil smile, she walked over to the car and unceremoniously booted Akemi out from the passenger side seat, leaving Takara at the steering wheel. Behind her, Tess and Thula joined Akemi in the back seats.
Eagerly snatching at the ornamental box containing the encryption keys, she retrieved twelve small pieces of rolled-up parchment, each of which had a number in the corner and then a mapping of the twenty-six letters of the alphabet to a seemingly random set of dots, similar to braille.
Loading up one of the cameras as Takara started the car moving, Harrington busily looked at the pictures, her eyes rapidly moving between the pictures and the parchments. The bumps in the pictures mapped to letters, and Harrington first tried cycling through the twelve parchments in number order, forming sequences of letters on a piece of paper she retrieved from the car's glove box. Her eyes blazed with greed as the first few letters appeared, but then there was a twitch of frustration and a snarl as the letters started to appear as randomly on the paper as the dots did in the photos.
Harrington started again, this time with a different sequence of parchments, and clenched her fists when the letters again failed to materialise into words in either English or Finnish.
After the fifth time of trying, Harrington threw the pieces of parchment into the box and glared out the window. There was no indication in any of the photos as to the order of the code sets. Twelve possible code sets that could be used in any sequence, possibly with repeats, and some potentially not be used at all. The number of combinations would be in the trillions. Harrington swore and gave the ornamental box she'd been given back at the Arena of Embarrassment a death stare. Even a powerful computer would take far too long to decrypt that.
There was more to the encryption keys than she'd been entrusted with. The men who had supposedly hypnotised her were only stupid and not completely imbecilic, it turned out.
Harrington stared out the window into the Helsinki night sky, as buildings flashed by on the way back to their safe house.
The organisation who thought Harrington was their puppet - Restoran, as they seemed to call themselves - had given instructions to return to the Arena upon retrieving the archives. She peered at the box suspiciously. Why even give her half of the keys?
No matter. They'd be back on the jet soon. A quick message to her own Headquarters would ensure that she'd have all the resources she needed to do a little educating. In particular, it was time to teach Restoran that trying to hypnotise a venomous snake could result in some rather nasty bites.
Harrington leaned back into her chair and smirked. After all, there wasn't much that could beat the expression on someone's face when they realise you've betrayed them...
****
[Twelve Years Ago, London, England]
Elizabeth Harrington reclined back and permitted herself a brief, humourless smile. Twin monitors, each displaying a different woman in quite a severe state of undress, took up most of the hard wooden desk in front of her, with the only other adornment being a walkie-talkie, a keyboard and a mouse.
Harrington pressed a button on the keyboard. Stretching her arms out, she then interlinked her hands behind her head in satisfaction as the woman on the left monitor shrieked on camera. The woman's white tank top, one of the few items she'd had left on, began to visibly disintegrate on her firm, tanned body, leaving her with a necklace and two pasties to provide any modesty for a pair of magnificent breasts.
Harrington let the flustered blonde woman desperately look around for cover - a futile activity given the crowd she was in - for a full minute before she leant forward and pressed the talk button on the walkie-talkie. Harrington continued to drag out the scene and savour the spectacle before finally speaking.
"Well, Ms Evans, it seems like Ms Hemsworth has successfully retrieved her clue. What a shame, and you were doing so well for so long! Still, one item left for you and two for her, so still close and who knows how this game will finally play out? Decider Enterprises has certainly seen comebacks in the past."
The woman on the screen was blushing so hard that the red pasties that now constituted her top and the bright pink panties that barely concealed her ass cheeks, seemed pale and washed out in comparison.
"The next clue is simple. But your penalty for Catherine solving it first doesn't bear thinking about does it, Chase?"
Harrington allowed herself another smile as the woman on the screen visibly flinched at the sound of "bare".
"So very simply, the clue is this, 'You'll be practically invisible when you take three-quarters from where magical new journeys begin.'"
Harrington watched as a visibly confused and embarrassed Chase Evans looked left and right, an expression of resignation marring an otherwise beautiful face, and then hurried off to the left, off-screen.
Harrington leant forward and tapped a button, turning off that camera and returning her to a screen where she could pick one of at least fifty other cameras strategically placed around the city. Idly, she let her mouse cursor dance across the screen before settling on a camera that looked out onto a train platform.
Harrington returned to relaxing in her chair, focussing solely on what she would say next and the offer she would possibly make. The room was a long, narrow rectangle, with light green floor-to-ceiling curtains running the length of both of the long sides and a single door in the middle at the far end.
A general low murmur, the kind associated with milling crowds of people, could be heard through the walls now that Harrington had stopped speaking, but she blocked that out. The crowds were Chase and Catherine's problem to worry about, not hers.
Fifteen minutes passed and Harrington continued to stare expressionlessly at the screen. Then, a rise in the volume of the murmurs from outside heralded movement on the camera feed. A woman, dressed only in an impossibly tight white tank top and with bright blue panties, sprinted onto the platform and frantically ran along it, her eyes scanning for something, while all around her people were pointing, with some obvious laughter showing even without an audio feed.
The noise outside the room grew louder, and Harrington could now hear wolf whistles through the door.
The woman suddenly stopped, backtracking to the train's last carriage and peered at something stuck to one of the windows, the insides of the carriage hidden by closed curtains.
The woman, an attractive young twenty-something brunette with large breasts that strained the tank top to near breaking point and the legs of a natural runner, suddenly started looking for a door to the carriage and then, when no door presented itself, dashed along the platform to the next carriage, entering that instead.
Harrington heard rapid footsteps on the other side of the door, and it burst open to reveal the panting, heaving chest of the brunette, who immediately scanned the room as if looking for someone other than Harrington and closed her eyes - uttering a prayer sotto voce - when it turned out she and Harrington were alone.
Swinging the door shut behind her, Catherine Hemsworth walked towards Harrington, leaning forward and resting her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. Harrington just stared, amused by the woman's performance so far.
"Thank God... it's just... you and me..." Catherine said, finally straightening up. Close up, Harrington could see her white tank top was drenched in sweat, and two pointy diamond hard nipples poked through, looking like they'd shred the top if Chase turned too quickly. A simple, thin gold necklace around her neck nestled in her cleavage.
