The Chastity Game

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

Tuesday, April 6th 2010, 7:56 pm

Tori was exhausted after the final set of exercises in the gym; and the cool water from the drinking fountain tasted so good. Christ, she was glad she’d packed up smoking ten years ago; trying to catch her breath these days was already challenging enough! Her fortieth birthday had hit her pretty hard a few months back. But to be fair, it had come at the end of a pretty rough year – catching her husband in an affair, the messy divorce, and all this while she was recovering from serious injuries she’d received at work. Yes, that was a year she’d certainly prefer to forget.

But she was getting her life back on track. As she filled another paper cup from the water fountain she glanced in the mirror. Not bad, she thought. Her old job had demanded peak physical fitness, and since it was very male dominated there’d been plenty of macho peer pressure to keep her going. But she’d put on weight and gotten out of shape while she’d been in hospital. Fortunately, once she’d got out, nine months of physio and exercise classes had trimmed her figure nicely. She wasn’t fooling herself – she’d never regain the same kind of figure she’d had when she was twenty five – that was an unrealistic expectation – but she was starting to like her more mature curves. Her hips and breasts swelled out nicely from a rather trim waist; good muscle tone without going butch. Yes, it really wasn’t bad.

Her best friend Becky had persuaded her to splash out on a boob job when the divorce finalized last year. They’d gone to the clinic together for their procedures – Becky had always been flat chested, which had been an advantage for her when she wore a flak vest at work. Tori on the other hand, had always felt her breasts were one of her best features – even when they were squeezed against the ceramic plates of a flack vest. When she’d been accepted into the SO15 Counter Terrorism Command she’d had to accept the teasing about them from her male colleagues – part of a “woman’s burden” in a traditionally male occupation. Time, and a very low body fat index thanks to her fitness regime, had taken its toll on her boobies – much to her ex-husband’s chagrin. But the enhancement surgery had completely reversed those effects, and been a huge confidence booster when she needed it most. It was definitely the best five grand she’d ever invested.

She felt a tingle in the hairs on the back of her neck. She casually glanced in the mirror behind the water cooler – yes, she was being watched.

A strikingly pretty blonde girl was standing by one of the resistance machines, wiping her arms with a sweat towel. She smiled at Tori when their eyes met, and walked over to the water cooler. She had a fluid, graceful motion, and good posture. She’d taken ballet, or some other dance lessons when she was younger, Tori guessed – but it could also indicate martial arts experience. Perhaps not Karate or Kung Fu, but Something that required more grace, like Savate – that would be typical for a French or Israeli operative.

“I agree, you’re looking pretty good,” the girl chuckled as she filled her own paper cup.

“Sorry – I don’t normally ogle myself,” Tori answered, blushing.

“Well I think you look great – you’ve really toned up in the past few weeks,” the girl told her.

“Y…you’ve seen me here before?” Tori asked. A tingle of concern ran up her spine – she was officially retired now – so there shouldn’t really be any security threat. But old habits die hard – and frankly any threat was more likely to come from the private sector nowadays given the work Tori was now involved in.

“Once or twice,” the girl said, nodding and patting away the sweat from her brow. “I remember a few weeks back you hadn’t secured your resistance weights properly and it sounded like the roof was caving in! I think you’d probably just joined.”

Tori laughed. “Oh God!” she said. “Yes, that was a bit embarrassing!”

“I’m Gemma,” the girl said, holding out her hand.

“Tori.” Gemma’s hand was damp with sweat from her workout, but her grip was firm and confident for such a petite girl. That would also be consistent with a professional operative.

Tori looked at her more closely. She was blonde – probably natural, judging by the complexion and eyebrow color. It was cut in a fashionable bob which framed a very pretty face – almost elfin. Blue eyes – actually really striking blue eyes. Did she use those color enhancing contact lenses? Slim body – she was wearing a baggy T-shirt and faded black leggings, but it looked like she had a well toned figure. Early twenties. Maybe five six. Her flawless skin was flushed from the exercise, but not tanned. She didn’t use the tanning booths or fake tan obviously – and she clearly hadn’t been anywhere sunny over the Christmas period. Her accent was Home Counties – Tori would guess Buckinghamshire or Hertfordshire; no trace of anything foreign. She’d probably had a private education, or a good state school. Nice engagement and wedding rings – expensive, but not outlandish. Her fingernails were professionally manicured, but the nails were trimmed to a short, and very practical length. They were coated in clear polish only; nothing trashy. She was wearing small diamond ear studs that also looked genuine, and which matched the solitaire diamond in her ring. No other visible piercings, tattoos or scars.

Tori laughed to herself. Sizing people up was a professional habit.

“Are you nearly done with your workout?” Gemma asked.

“What? Oh, yes I suppose so,” Tori told her. “I’m certainly exhausted.”

“Would you like to grab a coffee?” Gemma asked. “It’s good here – they’ve got a great espresso machine; and the little biscuits they give you are yummy.”

Tori smiled. There was something quite engaging about the girl’s smile, and her simple, open statements. Of course, if she was working for another agency, they’d choose somebody exactly like that. Gosh those eyes were amazing – Tori couldn’t see any sign of colored contacts; could they be natural?

“I can’t drink coffee at this time of night,” Tori replied, smiling. “I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Have a decaf.” Gemma looked at her over the paper cup. “I’m buying.”

Jesus; was she actually being chatted up? She dismissed the thought immediately – this was obviously a professional meeting. The job she was working on right now was purely commercial, but if certain people knew about the German government deal she was bidding for, they might think it was worth making an approach. She’d have to go through with the meeting – better to keep your enemies close and find out more about them.

“Err. Well…” she stammered. If the girl pressed her now she was definitely a pro.

“Just coffee; OK?” Gemma said softly. “It’s hard to make friends in a place like this.”

OK, that settled it.

“Gemma; I’d love a coffee,” she said. “A decaf, that is.”

They did a cool down session in the mat area together. Gemma held onto Tori’s feet and helped her with a couple of stretches. Tori did the same when it was Gemma’s turn. The girl’s body was quite lovely. Yes, she was a bit too good to be true for a “normal” person. Agencies would use a girl like this for first approaches; but they obviously hadn’t done their homework for this one. Tori was straight. There were a few of the guys here tonight who would have been better choices than Gemma. Still, it was fun – and good practice – to go through the motions. Tori would need to find out as much as she could about the lovely Gemma, and try to figure out who she was working for.

They both took long showers. As Tori dried herself in the communal area, she saw Gemma glance at her scar – it stretched around from the bottom of her ribcage to where the surgeons had gone after the bullet that had lodged against her spine. It wasn’t particularly horrific to look at – the skin grafts had taken care of most of it – just a slight discoloration that tended to draw the eyes. The girl blushed when she saw that Tori had caught her looking.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” she said. “Were you in an accident?”

“It’s OK,” Tori said. “It was a work-related thing; it’s a long story.”

Gemma’s hair, being shorter than Tori’s, was quicker to dry. She offered to go ahead and order the coffees. By the time Tori was ready, Gemma was sitting at a table by the window, two steaming cups of coffee in front of her.

“I got decaf too,” she said, smiling. “You’re right about getting to sleep.”

“Oh I forgot!” Tori said. “I need some more water – I get really dehydrated – can I get you one?”

“No thanks,” Gemma smiled. “I always bring a bottle from home.”

Tori deliberately bought an exotic, flavored water at the counter. She chose one that was in a smooth sided container, not ribbed as most of them seemed to be. As she paid the cashier, she discretely wiped the bottle on her sweatshirt. Not quite discretely enough – the cashier gave her an odd look when he handed her the change. Tori walked back and sat down opposite Gemma.

“They had this new pomegranate flavor water,” she said brightly. “Did you try it yet?”

“Sounds…interesting, but no,” Gemma said, smiling again.

“Take a sip; I haven’t touched it yet – see if you like it.”

Gemma looked puzzled, but she cracked open the seal and gamely took a mouthful of water from the bottle. Tori noticed she was holding the bottle towards the bottom. She’d make sure she took it back at the top to avoid smudging the prints.

“It’s nice,” she said. “A bit sweet – but it says here it’s packed with Vitamin C, so that’s got to be good to keep the colds at bay!”

Tori took a sip also, careful to hold the bottle with her top two fingers. Gemma’s fingerprints and DNA were now on the bottle. For a professional operative that had been unusually careless.

“Hmmm,” she said to the girl. “I think you’re right. It’s a bit sweet – I don’t want to spoil the taste of the coffee.”

She slipped the bottle carefully into her bag, so as not to smear the prints. She took a sip of the coffee – actually it was good. She’d never tried the little café here before.

“So Gemma,” she said as casually as she could. “Do you live near here?”

“Little Wharton,” Gemma told her.

That figured; they’d put her somewhere close.

“My God, that’s the next village to me!” she said, feigning surprise. “I’m in Great Wharton – just down from The Green Dragon pub.”

“Oh we’ve been meaning to try it!” Gemma said, smiling. “They say the new chef is good – didn’t he used to work in that fancy place in Marlow?”

They chatted as they sipped their coffees.

Tori found that Gemma was twenty eight – older than she looked. She was a financial analyst; and she was happily married to Greg, who worked in some kind of computer security. Tori was starting to get an odd feeling about this. The girl was so open, which wasn’t in itself proof that she was genuine; but she was giving Tori too many facts about herself – it would be way too easy for Tori to run a check. Maybe this wasn’t a professional pick-up after all. So why…

“What do you do?” Gemma asked her.

“Mostly consulting work these days,” Tori told her. “I used to be in the police, but I retired last year.”

“Retired?” Gemma chuckled. “What are you – thirty five?”

“You’re sweet,” Tori said, smiling. “I turned forty last August. Very traumatic!”

“Well, even so…retired? Are you independently wealthy or something? And you seem too intelligent to just retire and vegetate.”

Tori sighed. “It was a medical thing – I was shot during an incident. That’s what the scar is.”

“Oh.” Gemma looked genuinely surprised; and embarrassed – which was a hard emotion to fake. “I’m sorry Tori. That…that must have been awful.”

“I think ‘awful’ is a reasonable description,” Tori chuckled. “It’s not something I’d want to experience again.”

Gemma didn’t seem to be able to make eye contact now – that was a very common reaction for ordinary folks. Either she was a bloody good actress or…

“Look Gemma,” she said softly. “It’s no big deal. I was in the police. I was involved in a terrorist incident. I got shot – it’s one of the risks of the job.”

“Terrorists?” Gemma whispered. “Hang on…I thought you looked familiar; are you Victoria Moore?”

Tori paused. People did still recognize her from time to time; and she’d given Gemma plenty of context. It could still be innocent.

“Jesus; you saved all those people!” Gemma whispered.

She really did have the “innocent charm” thing down to a tee. She was good, and at least she hadn’t said “Jesus; you killed three terrorists!”

“Part of the job,” Tori told her.

The coffee cups were empty – the conversation had suddenly dried up too.