"How does he treat you?"
"He treats me fine. He's professional... passes out advice on how to handle my assistant, how to present myself here in the hood, that sort of thing. I haven't had any problems with him."
" ... Huh. Well, you watch him, honey. From what I've been told, he's not just a trouble-shooter, not just a union buster. He's an arrogant, cocky, manipulative snake in the grass who doesn't hesitate to step on anybody to get ahead. That's how he's gotten so far in so little time. Yes, he has a reputation for getting things done, but the way he gets things done is usually about as unethical as it gets and with a foot on somebody's head."
"But, if that's the case, how is it that he doesn't get caught?" I asked, thinking of the Funraiser. "If you can get this information about him, how is it that he's made it to the rank of Major in just nine years?"
"Because," Dad explained, "like I said, he gets things done
for
the upper ranks and, to quite an extent, that's all they care about. But that's not the only reason. He's very good at covering his tracks and keeping people who do see him for what he is safely in check. It's pretty hard to level an accusation without proof of some kind and, if he happens to have something on the accuser, it's downright foolhardy to say anything. Add to that a natural unwillingness in the upper ranks to even listen to an accusation against one of their most effective trouble-shooters, especially when you consider how they may have used him in their own less than ethical dealings... Well, you're a smart girl. I'm sure you get the picture. In another ten years,
he
could be Territorial Commander."
"But, that's...!"
"That's the Salvation Army," Dad finished for me with a grim tone. "I've been telling you this most all your life. It aint what it used to be. These days, ambition in the ranks means being what he is, to one degree or another, and that's why I've warned you about that so many times. So, be careful of him. Don't trust him, no matter how he comes off, no matter how professional he seems. The best that can come from dealing too closely with him is ending up exactly like him and, even then, there's still no guarantee that he won't throw you under the bus for the slightest reason, maybe even just because he perceives your advancing career and favour with the upper ranks as a threat to him."
"I understand, Dad."
(If he only knew how well I understood.)
"Good. And one more thing... His wife is just as bad as he is. You've heard that old saying, 'Birds of a feather flock together'?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's them. Always remember: a husband and wife, especially in the Army, is a team. They work together towards shared, common goals, and don't think for one second that they ever would have gotten married to begin with if their ethics, or lack thereof, weren't in tight lockstep with one another. She's quite the looker, I'm told, but certainly not to be trusted. She acts as his soft side, the side that people let their guard down with and open up to, but don't you be fooled; talking to her is talking to him, and he'd never have gotten as far as he has without her being on the very same page with him, right from day one, from the day they met at CFOT. Okay?"
"Okay, I'll be careful with her," I promised.
We spent almost an hour on the phone, talking of these things, then catching up. Unfortunately, most of that part of our conversation was one way. It wasn't as though I could relate most of the things that had been happening in my life, and I was unwilling to lie to my Dad any more than I'd already done out of necessity. I told him a little about Donna, how she'd become a good friend and was looking out for me, and that made him feel better about me being where I was. Mom got on and, of course, went through mostly the same worried questions, warnings about Major Hurdle and his wife, etcetera. But I was glad to finally get off the line, not because I didn't miss them or anything like that, but because I wanted the headspace for consideration of the changed landscape of my real relationship with the Major.
Taking a deep drink from the glass I'd left on the counter, I carried it to the window, making a thoughtfully sour face at the taste as I surveyed the street below without really seeing anything.
I had no question as to why the Major had lied about the Territorial Commander being his uncle. He was working me right from the start. He probably knew about my parents and their disfavour with the upper ranks before I ever even crossed the provincial border, and my convenient flirtations only gave him the hand up on me that he was already looking for. Claiming that Commissioner Lambert was his uncle only made him seem more opposing in my eyes, much the same way that chimpanzees will hop up on each other's backs in order to appear larger in the face of a dangerous predator.
But, I wasn't a dangerous predator and never had been. I was a victim, and he'd seen that right away. His lie had been about keeping me fearfully where he wanted me, under his thumb and forced to do whatever he wanted. Why, even if I were to try resigning my commission, he could tell me not to, to stay in uniform, serving him for as long as he had a use for me. The more dangerous to me and my parents I perceived him as being, the more sure I was to fall to his demands.
But the Territorial Commander wasn't, in fact, his uncle. What did this change? How did this fact alter the strategic map between him and me?
The answer, of course, depended on just how much favour the Major held with the upper ranks. As Dad had pointed out, he'd have to have some to have made it as far as he did in such little time, especially without having been exposed by someone, but... what if the reason he'd lied about his 'uncle' had been because that favour wasn't quite what he'd like it to be, and he'd felt he might need that extra leverage with me on account of it? For all I knew, he may have fallen out of favour recently. For all I knew, some of his underhanded dealings, such as pimping out vulnerable young women, may have recently caused the upper echelons some embarrassing, unwanted attention, even if it had just been baseless suspicions and questions.
Was it possible? Did I dare proceed on such an assumption? Underestimating an opponent, especially one like the Major, could be fatal, especially for me and my parents. As I've said, I wasn't exactly the dangerous predator in this game.
Of course, now that his 'uncle' was off the board, how vulnerable were my parents? Yes, he could still ruin me with his recording of me masturbating for him, and he could certainly embarrass the hell out of Mom and Dad with it, but could he actually affect their careers? I doubted it. I doubted it very much, no matter what sway he may, or may not have held with the upper ranks.
So, it seemed that my personal position wasn't that much better, but I at least had the freedom to move without having to worry about any consequences my parents might suffer, the only real consequences now being the death of my own career.
Taking another drink, I turned and walked back to the counter, again regarding my uniform where it lay on the floor and, for the first time in my life, I questioned it. I questioned whether or not I belonged in it, considering some of the things I'd recently done, such as the incitation and participation in an incestuous orgy with the Bennetts. Not to mention physically beating and raping a woman's husband with her. That could be jail time.
I quickly finished what was in the glass, telling myself that the average man, especially a former Muslim misogynist, would probably never report such a thing.
Walking around the counter to the refrigerator, I began mixing another drink, thinking of my connection to that uniform in a different light. What with all that Donna had said about the
Salvation Army
in addition to what my father had always preached about them, especially today and the personal viewpoint I now had, I suddenly had to wonder if that uniform belonged on me, and not the other way around. I mean, slut or no, I was no Major Hurdle and would certainly never condone another officer operating the way he did, but the upper echelons themselves seemed to have little or no problem with it.
Despite my parent's roles in uniform, those of serving God and helping people without the trappings of rank and ambition, two trappings of which I was personally guilty, I couldn't help but think again of what Donna had told me. She'd explained that I didn't belong to the Army, but that the Army only held a place in my life, and only for as long as I wanted it there. I had the power, not them, and my conversation with Dad had unexpectedly helped me to see her point in a different light, one that compared my ethics with those that my uniform was coming to represent.
I took a sip from the fresh drink and sighed, aware of how I was only telling myself what I wanted to hear, but ruling that none of this was priority in any case. The Major still had me under his thumb, and I had to get out from under it. It then occurred to me that, having the ability that I strongly suspected she did, Donna could actually fix this situation for me. Easily. In fact, she may have even already done so the day before. Then again, if she did have this ability to control people's minds and, given how I knew she felt about me, why hadn't she done so before now? Did she want me to deal with my own problems? Did she want the situation to spit me out of the ranks on its own so that I could never blame her for having led me away from my career?
So, failing some sort of reply to my text, or until my eventual reunion with her the next morning, all I could say for sure in terms of the situation regarding my boss was that he was no longer quite the Major Hurdle he'd been for me.
With this thought, I wandered down the hall and into the bathroom, starting a much needed bath with my smartphone safely on the vanity. By the time it was ready, I had a fresh drink, carefully setting it on a little stand beside the tub before stepping into the bubbly, hot water without removing my garters. I figured they'd need a good washing too and, besides that, it turned me on a little to be wearing something in the tub.
"Mmmmm," I hummed as I stretched out in the glorious heat. "Sooo nice..."
I slowly rubbed my body down with my hands under the water, sides, thighs, calves, taking extra time with my pussy and boobs, twisting and pulling at my nipples for a little while as I remembered Darren screwing his mother in the missionary position on the floor. He liked to fuck hard and fast, and his mother had certainly appreciated that. She even appreciated watching him do it to Haley from behind while her father fucked her mouth. She came so hard watching that as I licked her pussy, Sumitra sucking her enormous boobs.
Another fun highlight was when Margie actually held her daughter down so that Joel could slowly force that big, beautiful cock right up her tush. Well, Haley did seem to have an anal fetish and, while Darren's cock down her throat probably prevented her high pitched screams from shattering the windows, there was no doubt that she loved it.
That family would never be the same again.
This brought my thoughts back around to Donna, to the almost certainty that none of the fun we'd had with the Bennetts would have ever happened without her. She'd changed them somehow, like she had the Rahmans, probably on the very first day she'd met them and, from there, we'd all been enjoying our hasty trip down the slippery slope of transgression.
