8-3-2
Love and justice, these words stayed with me after waking up, linked to Joseph's face. I would have expected disappointment, but it didn't come.
Arnolph and a petulant female assistant appeared in its place. They carried a set with a wig, contact lenses, a false chin, and a nose in their arms. It suited me to change into a redhead and to make responsible officials look somewhere other than my face, they gave me a model from the Sexy Mamma collection, whose zigzagging, snake-like cleavage was supposed to add a lost charm to even the less popular curves.
Before I could go into the field, I dictated everything I could remember about the layout of Green's military facility to Mayson, Arnolph, and the principal's secretary, Josh. “He has a private room there with a window facing south because you can see the Princess Tower out of there,” I recalled.
“I can see him wallowing in there, the lazy slob,” Mayson sighed. "We'll strike at him. I hope he doesn't die in his sleep. Are you ready to assist in the Prefect´s fall?"
"Why don´t you ask me if I would have saved the people on the Titanic," I replied.
I could not go out into the courtyard, but a look through the binoculars allowed me to catch a detailed view of the passing motorcade and view the men who had left it to shake hands with their subordinate hosts. Mayson showed me photographs of them, but their gait and gestures helped me to draw out their personalities. Manabe had that typical Japanese thoughtfulness about him, even though his tall stature was not typical. He shook the principal´s hand but didn't look him in the face. However, he patted Arnolph from shoulder to elbow and nodded curtly as they greeted each other. It was possible that he felt more comfortable in the company of women. Whether it was because he sympathized with them or was not afraid of his inferiors remained to be seen.
Olsson radiated superiority and condescension. He reminded me of experienced Republican politicians under the previous regime, the self-proclaimed council of elders overseeing the wayward youth. Then again, this man often scratched his head and turned his eyes to the distance like a mad scientist. I thought I would have an interesting discussion with him, but there was no guarantee that I would like his arguments.
My target – as the principal explained – was the shortest guy. Lefebvre had sunken cheeks and shards of ice for eyes. As he walked out and surveyed the building and the staff, it must have been clear that his hand was itching to immediately start making notes and report back to Green, who wasn't as far away as he might have thought. He stayed close to Olsson but kept his distance even from him.
The principal´s office, tidy and washed, smelled not only of soap, but also of wine and of strawberry chunks floating in it. Mayson made me hold a tray of full glasses during the introduction of noble company. My mere presence was still confusing to the precious fellows.
The principal´s office, tidy and washed, smelled not only of soap but also of wine and strawberry chunks floating in it. Mayson made me hold a tray of full glasses during the introduction of noble company. My mere presence was still confusing to the precious fellows.
“This is Chef Judy,” Mayson recited his lie. "She has the best results in the culinary field and as a catering instructor."
The actual Judy became inexplicably ill, and Mayson kept her sedated. I had already worn a cook's dress, so why not an identity?
Both Manabe and Olsson just nodded. Lefebvre allowed himself a joke. "It must have taken a skilled cook to cut those strawberries. She's nice, but she's the least needed person here."
"I just wanted to show off for a while," I countered in what I thought was a Midwestern accent and reached for the fish spread sandwiches. "It's a shame we couldn't get tasters for such high-ranking gentlemen."
"We haven't come to judge luxury," Manabe replied. "We are looking for an answer to whether the Conclave invested the resources into something meaningful."
I ignored him. "As you eat, I hope you'll appreciate a certain irony. This spread was the task of choice to the late Jenine Thompson, who loved it. She hated cooking otherwise, and she hated us cooks many times more."
"I heard she had problems from the beginning because she was complaining," Manabe pointed out.
Mayson nodded. "Worse, she wanted to make her complaints known to impressionable outsiders."
"Perhaps it would serve our debate well if we familiarized ourselves with the contents of her letter," Manabe continued again.
The conversation went surprisingly well. "Thompson did not serve you any good, and she should not serve you any good now," I suggested, and she turned to the principal. "Do people outside of Tower even know that she is dead?"
“No,” Mayson said. "The Conclave finds it problematic. We'll probably tell people she's in the penal colony anyway."
"We could blackface her somehow," I dreamed. "Publish intimate details. Write a message about how she wanted to cooperate politically in exchange for not having to work in the kitchen . . ."
"Is the cook your ghostwriter?" Olsson fumed.
"We must respect the hierarchy, but a good idea can come from anywhere." He turned away from the councilman. "Don't you think so, Lefebvre?"
"These needs just show that it wasn't very wise to publicize her death," Green's man said. "It's better for people to doubt or believe than to hear something they have to keep quiet about."
"I announced it for the sake of Romanos," Mayson defended himself. "I was more cautious about that spy Lewandowska. People don't even know who she was."
"We all knew Jenine Thompson," I began, turning my attention back to myself. "I talked about her many times with Felicia, who cleans our kitchen. She was unmanageable and hostile. The enemy of the proletariat!"
"When you have something written down, show it to me," Lefebvre spoke with interest but also addressed me like a girl who just painted Neil Armstrong with her dad's glasses.
I giggled gratefully, pouting clumsily, and followed my entourage outside. In the corridor, I glanced back at Cabrera at the principal's office door with her nose up.
Mayson provided me with a pen and the paper in the dungeon. The desecration of my memory didn't hurt. I was happy being dead and continuing to fight by surprising means. I write all over some papers without having to talk to Felicia or anyone else. I could only cuddle with the notes as Mayson and Arnolph left me alone until the evening of the next day. The principal whined that Manabe was talking about nothing but a petition written by Fleischer and Cabrera, and Lefebvre decided to be a bona fide inspector, checking how the inmates cook and intending to set up supervision over other courses as well. So far, I could reach him in the principal's office.
He was there, but he didn't like it, just reading the same two pages of his notebook over and over again. "So you can write too," he snapped at me. "I will read your suggestions, but for now, I would appreciate a recorder. I need to see one more lesson."
"Yes," I confirmed. “The girls should have history now.”
"I don't care about history. That is being written as we speak," Lefebvre hissed. “Come with me. I'll focus on one of the celebrities here.”
Focusing on the future allowed me not to think about where I was following him. In retrospect, I blamed myself when he stood in front of Nicole and her Heir in the private room.
Dressed in her still-buttoned Lovemaking underwear, Nicole curled up in a chair. The stocky guy in what looked more like a swimsuit tried to protest, but the clerk was adamant.
"We have the Inspection, so we have to control teaching in all its forms!" Lefebvre shook his hand, holding a notebook. "I should properly take your missus to bed and test her abilities, but given the literal wording of today's regulations, I'd like to see how you two handle it as a couple." He sat down on the sofa, and I sat beside him. “I'm curious to see your technique and style.”
Nicole shivered for a while, but then she and her Heir came to an agreement. She stood at the door and walked back to him. The Asian stretched her legs to show off her sexy thighs, calves, and even her feet, looking adorable and elegant. He always took a few steps on the way to the bed, and then she took a step back, turning and leaning back so that her behind stood out. When she turned back, she had the broad smile of a girl enchanted by her first love. She stroked her breasts sensually and teased their exposure. Suddenly, she unfastened the pieces covering them and showed her two prides to the room. Suddenly, it didn't matter how small they were. Their nipples stuck out like the horns of the baby goats. For a while, she danced in the middle of the room, twirling her crotch. Even the movement she used to reach between her legs to reveal her latest secret was slow and erotic, and her expression with closed eyes was meant to indicate that she couldn't wait to connect with the manliest part of her boyfriend there.
Heir took the piece of underwear and sniffed it deliciously. He sat the petite Asian girl on his lap for a moment and then placed her on the bed. His movements indicated both a growing lust and a desire for tender lovemaking. He prepared his partner on the bed so that his entire head could fit between her legs and he could lick her countless hairs, her labia, and finally her insides., He did not bring her to climax, however, but tried to do so traditionally with his cock. At first, he nailed her to the wall behind the bed, but then he changed positions with her as if he were being instructed by an artist creating his portrait, and Nicole looked up at him and kissed him wherever she could reach that moment. His hands unbuttoned her underwear during the actual lovemaking, and then he gently slapped her with some pieces.
The longer they made love, the more Heir took the initiative, and made it hard for Nicole to touch him. In their final round, they were doing it doggy style. Nicole couldn't do anything while he enjoyed what she had on top and bottom.
It must be said, though, that she probably liked it and I regretted that I had only watched. Joseph has never been so dominant. I'll probably never speak to Cooper again, and I don't know of another guy I'd let into me.
"Decent." Fritz smacked his lips. "Although, as a result of the higher education, it seems that the young lady has a more interesting technique than you and is just waiting for you to want to be dominant. But that could also be interpreted as you have taught her the right creativity. You are doing well, but I probably won't ask you to return next school year."
"I'll probably be married by then. Just like beauty here," the guy said and kissed Nicole on the breast.
"I'll look now at your testimony," he informed me, and we returned to the principal's office. I read him made-up vulgar expressions of Felicia and other proletarian women. He wasn't very good at pretending to be interested. He´d certainly like to admire another fucking couple.