Behind Her Eyes

Chapter Two: Scent

The door of the limousine clicked shut, and Heinrich took his seat opposite Zoe, his eyes devouring her. Zoe did her best to smile as the car pulled off noiselessly.

They were alone in the back of the car—all senior Party officials rode in driverless, electric vehicles. For now, Heinrich was content to look at her. As a senior party official, he must have great need for the Public Service, and use it often. That's what all the propaganda said—that men like Heinrich had difficult, stressful jobs, and that the welfare of the people and the defeat of counter-revolutionary forces weighed heavy on their shoulders. It was only logical that they would receive benefits of food, housing, and intimate companionship in excess of that required by workers with less responsibility. Satisfying the urges of these officials was, well, a Public Service.

For her part, Zoe was unsure how to act. She had some experience with men, but no experience as a Public Service girl—volunteering for such a thing repulsed her. Remembering Yvain's exhortation not to cover up, she tried to sit neutrally, with her arms at her sides and her legs slightly parted. She made occasional eye contact with Heinrich, trying her best to smile in a way that seemed inviting.

On one side of the limousine interior sat a small table with a tall bottle of yellowy-white and two conical glasses on long stems. Heinrich reached for the bottle, opened it, and poured out a small measure into each of the glasses. He picked one up and presented it to Zoe.

<I'm gonna need olfactory,> Yvain said. <Your sense of smell. So we can check there's nothing funny in this wine.>

<Wine?> asked Zoe. <I've never had wine before.> In her cannery worker residence, it was a good day when the water was clean. She opened her senses of smell and taste to Yvain as she took the glass by its stem.

Zoe held the glass up to her nose and took a subtle sniff while Heinrich was preoccupied with his own glass.

<Analyzing...> thought Yvain. <Okay, it's clean. Just don't have too much, we need you to stay focused.>

<You don't need to tell me twice,> Zoe thought back. She knew enough about the effects of alcohol to know she shouldn't have too much of it while sitting naked in the back of a strange man's car. She smiled at Heinrich, who was holding his glass towards her, and brought hers up. The glasses clinked.

"To a delightful evening," said Heinrich, winking at her.

Zoe giggled in her most girlish fashion and took a careful sip of the wine. It burned slightly as it went down, and she had to force herself not to cough.

There was barely time for two more sips before the limousine stopped and Heinrich bade her to place her glass back on the table. "We've arrived, my dear," he said, taking her once again by the hand.

Heinrich ushered Zoe out of the limousine. They were in front of a tall, sleek building made of glass and chrome. Zoe suppressed a shudder at once again exposing her body to the night air, and glanced around anxiously for spectators. But again, no-one was around. Heinrich led Zoe up the stone steps in front of the building and through the dark glass doors, which opened automatically as they stepped in front of them.

Inside the building, Zoe immediately locked eyes with a blonde receptionist behind a large desk. "Hello, Comrade Sylvia," boomed Heinrich's voice at her side, "is my room in order?"

"Yes, Comrade Heinrich, all is as you wish it," the lady behind the desk replied. "It has just been cleaned, and we have brought up your computer as requested." If she was in any way surprised at Zoe's state of undress, there was nothing in her expression that betrayed it. She didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"Excellent, excellent, I will be able to continue our work with no delays, once my mind and body have been refreshed by Public Service," boomed Heinrich. "I hope the clean-up after last night's entertainment was not too onerous." He winked at Zoe. "You would not care to join us, Sylvia?" At this, Heinrich's hand, which was against Zoe's upper back, pushed her forward slightly, as if displaying her to Sylvia.

"I must continue my work at this post, Comrade," Sylvia said bluntly, keeping her eyes firmly averted from Zoe's body. She was maybe a decade older than Zoe, but still in fine shape, though she had faint lines around her eyes and mouth.

Heinrich laughed. "One day, Comrade, perhaps you will change your mind. Public Service is a great honor."

"From each according to her ability," said Sylvia.

"To each according to his need," finished Heinrich, squeezing Zoe's shoulder forcefully. "Thank you, Sylvia, I will let you know if we need anything."

Heinrich turned and led Zoe towards an elevator. She glanced back at Sylvia, who was still averting her gaze, and silently thanked her for that.

The elevator went all the way to the top floor. Throughout the ride, Zoe could feel Heinrich was becoming more eager and ready for her Public Service—he held her tight to him, his hand moving vigorously up and down her arm. It took all her willpower not to test her new martial arts skills on him. Indeed, it was all she could do to keep her body relaxed and avoid stiffening up at the unwanted touch. The wine helped, a little.

"You're a little tense, my dear," Heinrich purred.

Zoe gulped. Clearly, she was still giving off some negative signals, despite her attempts not to.

Heinrich slipped his arm around her waist as the elevator doors opened, and Zoe forced herself to put her arm around his. As they stepped from the elevator, he glanced down and frowned. "Romondo should have given you some heels, your feet are filthy."

Zoe looked down and blushed, as Heinrich was quite correct. A relatively short time out on the streets had dirtied her feet considerably.

"No matter," continued Heinrich, giving Zoe's waist a reassuring squeeze. "You can take a shower before we begin. I am a patient man."

With this statement, they had reached the door of Heinrich's hotel room. He placed a hand against the palm-print reader, the door clicked open, and Zoe was quickly ushered inside.

The room that awaited them was far, far bigger than any living space Zoe had been in before. Her eyes widened taking it all in. It was at least twice the size of the cannery quarters she had shared with nine other women. That room had been jam-packed with bunk beds, but this one contained merely one, very large bed with fluffy pink sheets and a heart-shaped headboard.

The room also had a large screen on the wall, three leather couches arranged around a glass table near the window, which was opened a crack to let the air in. There was a polished mahogany writing desk against a wall, with a computer on top. Zoe's feet sunk into the carpet, which was softer than any mattress she'd ever slept on. Smooth jazz played softly from an unseen source.

"The shower is right through there," said Heinrich, pointing Zoe towards an ajar door she hadn't previously noticed.

"Thank you," she said, slowly walking towards the door. Conscious of Heinrich's expectant eyes on her, she exaggerated the movement of her hips slightly. For the mission to succeed, it was critical that he never doubted her Public Service experience.

The bathroom was about the same size as her old living quarters, and was bedecked with gleaming porcelain. Zoe had never seen such sparkle. She reached back to pull the door shut, but then thought better of it. Heinrich had already seen her naked body, so what use was hiding, except to make him suspicious? Still, she shut it most of the way, leaving the door ajar.

Unlike everything else here, the shower was fairly small, small enough that Zoe felt reasonably well assured that Heinrich would not be able to follow her in. Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped inside and turned on the tap.

Zoe gasped as the water hit her skin. It was so warm! At the cannery, Zoe was used to cold showers, carefully time-limited, though she had had the relative privilege of being able to shower alone. On the brief occasions were there had been hot water, it had scalded her. But this water was just perfect, from the moment she turned on the tap, and she had a feeling that Heinrich, unlike her building manager, would not begrudge her a shower of longer than thirty seconds.

As the water cascaded down her body, Zoe turned to the array of soaps and lotions on the wide shelf behind her. She grabbed one of the pink bottles and unscrewed the lid. It smelled divine. Zoe squirted a large dollop out onto her palm and started rubbing it on her skin.

She started with her shoulders, and soaped down each of her arms. Then she got some of the soap on her back, down and around to her stomach, then up to her breasts... the smell was intoxicating. Zoe soaped down her legs and cleaned her feet thoroughly. She felt really good.

As she massaged the lotion all over her skin, taking in its delightful aroma, she felt a shudder go through her mind. An external shudder.

<Z-Zoe, I...> came the mental voice of Yvain, stuttering and stammering, accompanied with mixed feelings of embarrassment, shame, regret, self-reproach, and deep longing.

For Zoe had forgotten that her senses of sight, hearing and smell were still shared with Yvain. He had clearly also been enjoying the luxury of Zoe's shower. Mortified, she immediately shut him out of all three. <Why didn't you say anything?!> she screamed at him.

<I... I was going to, b-but then... uh, I waited too long... and... well, I have to keep visibility, you know, for the mission... but, uh, well, maybe not of everything... I was going to say something, honest... but it was too late, and I didn't want you to feel embarrassed...>

Zoe felt like her whole body was burning up. Yvain had just sat quietly while she inadvertently gave him a front-row seat to a private and highly sensual shower. That pervert! Who was also her handler! How was she supposed to look him in the eye, let alone have a professional relationship after... after this!

<I'm really sorry, Zoe,> thought Yvain. <You trusted me with access to your senses, and I've abused that trust. I'll understand if you want me to hand over to someone else. Another woman, yes, that might be best... I can introduce you to Violet...>

<No!> The force of Zoe's response surprised her, especially because she was still thoroughly angry with Yvain. But she didn't want to change handlers now, not in the middle of an important and dangerous mission. Whatever Yvain's faults, at least she kind of knew him. <Let's continue the mission.>

<Okay,> Yvain thought back, his words devoid of emotion.

Zoe returned to cleaning herself, though now she moved mechanically, and the joy and luxury of the experience was gone. She scrubbed the rest of her body and then closed the tap and stepped out of the shower in a cloud of steam. She grabbed a fluffy white towel from the towel rail and wrapped it around herself, sighing pleasurably at how it felt against her long-exposed skin, and picked up the hairdryier, a device she was excited to use for the first time. She gave a start as it whirred to life.

<Yvain,> Zoe thought, as she experimentally held the hairdryer at different angles to her head, <do they put tracker chips in towels?> She glanced down again at her covered body.

<Unlikely, but... possible.>

Zoe sighed. <Thought you might say that. I'd like a more definitive answer, though, if you can find one.> Walking from the hotel to her rendezvous with the Resistance in a towel would be far preferable to doing it naked. She couldn't feel any trackers, just silky fabric. Not that they were ever big enough to feel.

Zoe stepped out of the bathroom to find Heinrich seated on the edge of the bed, facing her. He had changed into a red silk robe, which hung open, exposing copious body hair, and smiled toothily at her appearance.

"You smell divine, my dear," he said, "but please, dispense with that thing and let me have a proper look at you."

By "that thing" he of course meant Zoe's towel, and so, mere minutes after finding covering, she was forced to dispense it. Trying not to show displeasure in her expression, Zoe loosened the towel and let it fall to her feet.

Heinrich's smile rose with the towel's fall. "You're glowing, my dear," he said, opening his arms. "Romondo clearly thought that no clothes could enhance your beauty, and he was correct. Come to me."

Steeling herself, Zoe stepped out of the towel and towards the bed. She walked slowly, partly as an attempt to look sexy and seductive, to play the part of the Public Service Girl, but mostly to put off the inevitable. But, even in a large room like this, there just wasn't that much space between the bathroom door and the bed, and soon she was in embracing distance.

Heinrich stood up from the bed, his robe falling further open still, and his arms wrapped around Zoe. He was starting to moan.

Zoe reached up her own hand and caressed Heinrich's face, smiling at him sweetly. Her other hand rubbed the top of his head. She slowly slid her fingers up his chin, and then all the way past his right ear, so that her thumb rested against the slight bump where his CMR was implanted.

<Now,> she thought at Yvain.

<Gotchyu. Uploading...>

There was a tingling sensation in Zoe's hand, like she'd been sitting on it. <Please hurry! I don't like where his hands are going!> Zoe suppressed a squeal as she felt a pinch on her left buttock.

<Okay, it's done. Remove your thumb, and disengage.>

Zoe pulled her hand away from Heinrich's ear. There was a zap of electricity, and she felt a sharp pain in her thumb. She cried out, then stopped herself, putting the hurt thumb in her mouth.

But Heinrich didn't notice anything. His eyes had rolled up into his head, and his whole body spasmed and fell back onto the bed, releasing Zoe. His arms hung in the air above him, still making caressing movements, and his breathing became heavier.

<That'll occupy him for a while. And once he's done, he'll fall asleep. Just stay quiet, and you should have more than enough time to get the information we need.>

Zoe glanced at the computer sitting on top of the mahogany desk. It was a large, slender plate of glass with a matte-black back, remarkably scratch-free. Beneath the screen, a second piece of plastic was attached to it at an angle—this plastic surface was uneven, and had an array of letters, numbers and symbols drawn on it.

<There's no finger interface,> Zoe thought, after studying every side of the smooth plastic. <And what's this other part for?>

<I... can't see what you're talking about,> Yvain replied.

<Oh, right. Guess you need that back again.> Zoe granted access to her eyes, keeping them focused on the computer. She was looking for the feature most computers had, a small hole on the side, big enough for a finger, that would allow the user to control it with their CMR.

<Thank you,> Yvain thought back. <This is old tech. You have to use it with your hands,> Yvain replied. <That thing's called a keyboard. You press the keys to make things happen on the screen. Old guys like Heinrich tend to like this kind of stuff more than CMR interfaces.>

Zoe knew a few older workers at the cannery who refused to use their CMRs for anything. She hadn't realized older people at higher levels were the same.

<You'll have to press a key to wake it up,> Yvain thought at her.

Zoe pushed down the letter A, and the screen turned from reflective black to bright white. Letters across the white surface read, "Authorization required."

<It'll be wanting Heinrich's retina scan,> Yvain told Zoe. <Quick, pick it up and wave it in front of his eyes before he finishes and falls asleep.>

Zoe bit her lip as she gingerly picked up the computer, which was very light, and tip-toed back to the bed. Heinrich was still writhing around, an enormous smile plastered across his face, and had begun thrusting up and down. Holding the screen at arm's length, Zoe maneuvered it over his eyes until the screen turned green, and then brought it back to the desk. The text "Access granted. Welcome, Heinrich," flashed across the screen, and she was in.

As she took in the long list of filenames on screen, Heinrich began to grunt behind her. <The thought of the simulation you fed him is kind of disturbing,> Zoe thought. <I mean, he's seeing and feeling me... do all kinds of...>

<I just copied your likeness onto a standard, uh, routine,> Yvain said quickly. <There's nothing of you in it, really, beyond superficial appearances.>

<I hope you deleted it afterwards.>

<Cut and paste, no backups, I swear! I'm a professional.>

<Says the guy who keeps "standard routines" around. Was that from your personal collection?>

<Keep this up, and you'll have to do it the old-fashioned way next time.>

<Next time?!>

<Only joking! Though you do have experience now...>

The grunting became more forceful, and then there was a sight of relief, followed by silence. A few minutes later, Heinrich was snoring loudly.

<What am I looking at?> asked Zoe. Yvain was guiding her through using the computer, something she hadn't done with her hands since her schooldays, when she was still too young for a CMR.

<These are the files he keeps on his agents. The City has them all over to keep tabs on its enemies. Especially us. Take a look at that one, just below the one we just read.>

Zoe tapped her finger on the screen, and another profile came up. Like all the others they'd seen, it contained a photograph, a name and a bunch of biographic and mission details. She felt a shock of recognition at the photo, a scowling woman with smokey eyes and shoulder-length blonde hair, though she'd never her before. It wasn't her shock of recognition.

<Holy shit, that's Violet!> Yvain's thoughtwaves carried along a frantic sense of panic. <She's—she's one of our top agents!>

Zoe took a moment to realize what Yvain meant. <There are spies in the Resistance?>

<I didn't want to believe it, but there it is. That's definitely Violet. Real name Kirsten Kisin. Deep undercover, multi-year operation. Objective: destroy the Resistance from the inside. This is insane, Zoe. I would have trusted Violet with my life. Hell, I almost handed you over to her earlier.> This last thoughtwave was accompanied by a shudder of regret.

<It's okay, you couldn't have known.> Zoe glanced behind her, at the slumbering hulk of a man lying on the bed. His snoring was getting louder, and he was starting to drool. His gargantuan stomach rose and fell obscenely as he slept, serene and completely oblivious to what was happening right under his nose. This man had a high-placed spy in the Resistance, who had been sabotaging it for years.

Yvain's shock flooded Zoe's mind and she glared hatefully at Heinrich. He was disgusting, a representation of the City that worked her to the bone and bled her dry. The City, and Heinrich, took everything, while destroying any chance of resistance. So secure was he in his power, so arrogant, that he would bring a new strange woman off the street to this room every night and fall asleep with her, fearing nothing.

Woah there Zoe, she thought privately to herself. You're not some kind of super-spy, at least not yet. Right now you're just a naked girl with a line to the Resistance. But maybe that's enough.