“Hey, girl,” Melissa said from behind her. “You look like hell. Must’ve been a great weekend. Hot date? I’m jealous.”
“No, just didn’t sleep well.” Zoe got her coffee and decided to drink it black this time. She never drank it without loads of cream and a sugar substitute. Sitting at a small table, she curved her hands around the cup and sipped while she watched CNN news.
Melissa sat beside her. “So you hung out at home all weekend?” Melissa didn’t make eye contact, but she did keep checking the news.
“I did some work at home.” Which was a lie. She couldn’t bring her work home. In the background, Zoe heard the words “breaking news,” followed by: “The White House has just released news that Turi Aleid of Chad has returned to his country, but not before signing the UN peace agreement. Chad has been one of the key countries in this long, drawn-out effort for…” Other employees stood around the television screen watching, giving cheers.
“He signed?” Zoe exclaimed. “How the hell did that happen? When?”
“Julia had a press meeting a few minutes ago,” Melissa said. “I just came from there.”
“But Chad was set against this treaty.”
Melissa frowned. “Did you and Jason talk this weekend?”
“Yes.” Zoe opened her eyes wide as if the caffeine had sent a jolt through her system. She lowered her voice and glanced at the television then back at Melissa. “Was that you?”
“How do you mean?” A satisfied smile slowly quivered at the corners of her mouth.
“That room,” Zoe whispered. “You made it happen. The signing.”
“Now you see the importance of this operation.” Melissa leaned close and whispered, “So you’re ready for your first presentation?”
“Hell no.” Zoe shoved her coffee away. “I told him I wasn’t interested.” There. It was out.
“What?”
“I’m not into that crap, and I’d do a lousy job faking it.”
Melissa flattened her hands on the table. “National security, the world’s security for that matter, depends on this program. You can’t say no.”
“I already did. I told Jason. I just haven’t given my notice yet.”
Melissa shook her head. “You don’t give notice, or resign from the FLC.” Her eyes held fear.
“I’m happy to work in another aspect of the program, not the sex-game part.”
“Why? It’s just a role. You could be saving thousands of lives.” Melissa smacked her hands on the table, drawing the attention of a few people at neighboring tables. She ignored them, and they politely turned away. Obviously, she had expected Zoe to be thrilled to be part of this warped secret society.
“Lots of reasons. For one, I don’t think I’d do a good job since I’m not familiar with that lifestyle.” And dark, dangerous sex destroyed my love life once before. I don’t want to risk it again. Zoe stood and tossed her cup away. “I need to get to my office.”
Chapter Fourteen
At eight p.m., the West Wing looked deserted. Rather odd for so early. Zoe’s footsteps echoed more loudly than usual without the muffled voices on the main level. Hours ago, a few people had come down the stairs briefly, but returned after about a half hour.
Zoe closed the third folder of the day when her phone buzzed with a text, Twitter or Facebook update. Normally, she’d ignore it while at work, but her brother being in Iran made her nervous. Her blood pressure maxed out every time she heard the phone now.
The text was from Jason. Her pulse quickened. The ache for him was deep, just when she’d thought they were meant to be together. But after what happened over the weekend, what chance did they have? Work had always gotten in the way of their relationship.
Meet me in the Red Tape Room now. Door is open. Please. We need to talk.
She stared at the message for a while and considered ignoring it, sending a message saying, Forget it, or telling him to come to her office. But maybe what he had to say was black ops again and that room was more secure than her office.
Whatever his reason, she wanted this over with. Maybe he had a suggestion on how to avoid a resignation. Fine. She’d meet him.
Marching directly to the Red Tape Room door, she tensed. Jason was excellent at problem solving, but she knew there wouldn’t be an easy solution. There must be something she could do to help without wielding a whip.
The door was ajar. A sliver of light showed through the crack. Slowly, she opened it and stepped inside. Jason stood at the far corner by the St. Andrew’s Cross with a serious expression. Seated in a medieval-looking chair with elaborately carved wood and leather cushions was a woman. She was turned away from Zoe, her head down as she studied the clipboard in her hand.
“What’s going on, Jason?” Zoe asked, ignoring the woman for the moment.
He stood straighter and gave a slight nod toward the seated woman.
“Have a seat, Zoe.” Facing her, the first lady pointed at the leather bed beside the chair.
A rush of air left Zoe’s lungs as if someone had hit her in the chest with a sledgehammer. Sweat broke out all over her body, and she felt cold and hot at the same time. “Mrs. Bryson. I’m sorry to disturb you. Please excuse me.” Zoe turned for the door.
“Have a seat, Zoe. I’m the one who asked you here. I told Jason to set it up.”
Zoe sat on the bed, where Jason and she had made love. The bed with restraining straps and pulleys. And she was here, about to have a conversation with the first lady. “Yes, ma’am.” She folded her hands in her lap and sat up straight.
“I understand there’s a problem.”
“Problem, ma’am?” Hot chills raced through her again. She hadn’t been working for the White House for more than a couple of weeks, and already she was screwing up.
“Do the duties of the FLC disgust you?” Mrs. Bryson was calm, straightforward, not judgmental. A simple inquiry.
“It’s not that, ma’am. I don’t feel I’m…qualified to perform.” Zoe cleared her throat. “To be effectively convincing. If I don’t fool these dignitaries, the consequences—”
“Could be horrific,” Mrs. Bryson agreed. “Call me Faith.”
“Yes, ma’am. Faith.”
“Consider this your intelligence briefing,” Faith said, taking a deep breath. “The FLC, or First Lady’s Club, is a secret program initiated only during desperate times, and the world has been going through very desperate times, especially since 9/11. Hardline opposition, economic sanctions, military pressure, bargaining, and other foreign policy tactics become useless against foreign leaders who are convinced that their ways and beliefs, no matter how violent or detrimental to their own people and culture, are the only way. They’re so resolute in their thinking that they’d rather kill thousands or even die themselves than change.” She paused for a moment, as if letting that sink in. “Sometimes they mean well, but mostly they’re interested only in personal gains of power, wealth, resources.”
“I don’t understand how sex tapes can manipulate these men,” Zoe said.
Faith smiled. “Men from different cultures, religious backgrounds, in a variety of locations, have been fighting the same war for centuries. Men start wars because they want more power and control than their neighbor. With all their differences, there are a few things these leaders have in common. Basically, men are aggressive creatures. They’re competitive and have strong sex drives.” Both women glanced at Jason, and he gave a wry smirk.
“Can’t argue,” he said.
“Perception, honor and trust are very important for a successful career and also for a man’s self-worth. Even among terrorists. They have their own strong sense of honor and trust among their followers. If honor and trust are compromised, the leader will lose respect, control, and he’ll not just be forced to resign, but he may lose his life or be maimed to set an example. In some countries, even today, a thief will have his hand cut off.”
“I understand that,” Zoe said.
The first lady con
tinued before she had a chance to add more. “If we can’t negotiate with them through peace talks and the United Nations’ influence, how can we discredit them among their followers? We destroy that honor and trust on a basic level so their followers stop following or take them out of their position. The FLC creates scandal with our tapes.”
“Can’t these dignitaries claim these tapes are fake?” Zoe asked.
“A photo can be faked. Several high-definition videos cannot. At least easily. Experts can examine the recordings and see they haven’t been tampered with.”
“You’ve found the FLC to be effective?” Zoe didn’t want to question the first lady, but she wanted to know.
She smiled with pride. “Very. We’ve managed to get treaties signed, recovered hostages, and ended wars.”
Zoe sat up straighter. “End wars. You mean, more than one? Which ones?”
Faith studied her for a while and glanced at Jason, who stood at his straight Secret Service attention again.
Zoe glanced back and forth between the two. What did Jason know that he hadn’t told her yet?
“What wars?” Zoe said softly.
Faith raised her chin, extremely serious now. She paused for a moment. “For one, the Civil War.”
Zoe jumped up. “What?” She pressed her hands to her mouth, glancing at all the equipment in the room. The furnishings and sex toys were not very old.
“This room has been updated since then, of course, and they used photography, not video,” the first lady said. “There’s a cave in Kentucky that houses some very old files, including letters from Mary Todd Lincoln to her Pinkerton agents, who helped her arrange meetings with key officials. There’s also an outfit she wore, sealed in a container to preserve it.”
Zoe huffed and made a face. “I’m sorry, but Mrs. Lincoln? Really? That’s ridiculous.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them, because Mrs. Bryson slowly stood, narrowed her eyes and pinched her mouth together.
“Sit down, Ms. Summers. This is not a joke.”
Zoe complied.
“Mary Todd Lincoln did a heroic deed, and she’ll never be honored for it. When thirty thousand British soldiers were perched on the border of Canada, awaiting orders to invade the United States, her husband feared he’d have to fight a war on two fronts. If that happened, Lincoln would’ve lost the war. Out of desperation, Mary stepped in. Foreseeing this future outcome and the consequences, she had shopped in New York City well before the war got out of hand and organized the Pinkerton agents to investigate Lincoln’s enemies, trying to protect him.
“The Pinkerton agents helped Mary set up the Red Tape Room and arrange a rendezvous. She called it Mary’s Parlor for Tea, where she wore an outfit that looked like a cross between a saloon moll and a dominatrix. She wielded a riding crop and wore a black mask and riding boots. Behind a privacy screen, photographers had cameras set up. After the British prime minister’s assistant was photographed in a compromising position, Mary threatened to send copies of the photos throughout Europe. The British are a very formal and proper people, and political positions are handed down through generations. Perception, honor, and trust are severely guarded. One photograph is worth a thousand words. An indiscretion like that could have destroyed the reputation of a whole family and a country. British soldiers were pulled out, and the prime minister’s assistant quietly resigned, claiming an illness contracted while preforming his duties in the United States. The invasion never happened, and Lincoln could focus on ending the war between the North and the South.”
“The FLC has been going on since then?”
“Yes. Not all first ladies have initiated its functions or taken part directly. Sometimes they appoint someone. I chose to take part.”
“I understand the importance of this program,” Zoe said. “But wouldn’t it be best to have someone familiar with the BDSM lifestyle? I don’t think I could fake it and be convincing enough. I’m sure there must be someone else better qualified.”
Faith nodded, and for a moment Zoe thought she’d say, Okay, fine, forget we asked. You can go back to your job at Langley.
Faith stood and paced to the middle of the room. Zoe stood, too, out of respect.
“Sit, Ms. Summers.”
Zoe sat and crossed her hands in her lap again.
Faith tapped a finger to her lips, as if thinking. “Consider this. Would you have slept with Hitler if it could’ve prevented the Holocaust?”
Zoe’s mouth dropped opened. What do you say to that?
“How about Bin Laden? Would you have played his Domme or his slave for one night if you knew that videotape would’ve prevented 9/11?”
Zoe didn’t know how to respond. The heat in the room rose, but her body felt chilled.
“We’ll help you prepare, and you won’t be alone,” Jason added, his tone guarded.
The first lady narrowed her eyes. “Men like this don’t know what civilized is, don’t know what the meaning of integrity is. They’re pure evil. They hunger for supreme power and control. That’s why we have to warp our logic when dealing with them.”
Zoe stiffened but attempted to keep her nerves intact. “The FLC kicks them in the balls, but not literally. Discredits them and drops them to their knees with a sex scandal.” Did she just say that to the first lady?
Faith smiled. “Zoe, you’re a professional. You’re trained to remain calm when dealing with terrorists, drug or arms dealers. Am I right?”
“Yes, but I’d be more effective in the field,” Zoe argued.
“This is the field. It takes months to find people and establish top-level security clearance. You have the physical appearance our targets are interested in—blond, young and attractive. The FLC must never be made public under any circumstances. You will complete your training with Jason and Melissa by next week.”
“Next week?”
“There’s a reception planned a week from Friday, and a number of the delegates will be attending, including President Majeed Kadir from Iran.”
“Nice guy.” Zoe tried to keep her tone light.
“Our intel determined he’s a sociopath,” Jason added. “He’s worse than what you’ve read about in the news. His latest feat was attacking a group of British soldiers. Kadir staked twenty of the murdered soldiers’ heads on spikes and lined them along the border.”
Zoe pressed her hand over her heart and felt nauseated. “My brother’s in Iran right now. Won’t I be putting him at risk?” She lowered her gaze, fists clenched as she tried to grasp the horror of what she was getting into.
“I’ve known about your brother,” Faith said. “Kadir won’t know who you are. There will be no connections made between you and your brother.”
“Good. Then it’ll be my pleasure to whip that SOB’s ass. Sorry, ma’am.”
Faith smiled. “Don’t be. But he’s not a sub. He’s a Dom and a sadist. He’ll want a submissive. He prefers slaves, actually. You’ll be his slave for the session.”
Zoe let out a breath and shot Jason a look that meant business. He returned an innocent shrug. “I guess we better get busy.” Heat rushed to her face. She knew what busy meant.
Faith walked toward the door. “Welcome to the First Lady’s Club, Zoe. You’re officially our newest member.”
Tyler Kirkwood, a Secret Service agent who had the demeanor of a Marine, was waiting to escort the first lady back to the residence. He closed the door behind her.
Chapter Fifteen
The Master must stay in control in all situations, especially when an inexperienced sub struggled with her emotions and desires. Zoe stood in the middle of the room, head lowered, hands at her sides, and body shaking. All Jason wanted to do was take her up in his arms and walk away from all of this. That couldn’t happen. Duty came first. Wasn’t mixing emotions and duty what nearly got them killed in the past? They could get through this. It was early evening. After this session, he’d take her to dinner.
“Zoe, I know this job isn’t what you expected.
” Crap.
When she raised her head to look at him, tears sparkled in her eyes. “You really think I can do this?”
“Yes, I know you can. It’s not what either of us expected. Missions change. We can do this.”
Except for her sharp tone, she blanked her expression. Not only was she in agent mode, she was drawing away from him. Would he lose her when this was over? His chest tightened. He refused to believe that. Zoe was good at hiding her emotions, though she had a couple tells.
“Get it over with now and tell me what you really think of me. I know you’re pissed,” he said. “Get it out of your system now so we can get to work.”
“How do you know I’m pissed?” Her tone was calm and even, not giving away the storm of fury he guessed was building inside.
“You’re trying not to cry. You cry only when you’re really angry. And you’re tapping your hands at your sides, a nervous twitch.”
She stopped the tapping. “Yes, I am pissed.” She shrugged at that. “So now what? You spank my ass, and I say, ‘Yes, Master, more’?”
“You call me, sir. I’m not your Master.”
“Let’s get on with it.” She unbuttoned her pale gray suit jacket, but left it on. Beneath it, she wore a pale green blouse, scooped low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. The skirt was tight along her hips and thighs and stopped a couple of inches above her knees with a back slit and pleat, revealing more leg and a hint of lacy thigh-highs.
His groin responded to the rim of lace. He reminded himself he needed to stay in control during this session. Her life and the lives of those involved in the FLC were at stake. How could he do this while she was upset? “Have a seat. We’re not going to do this when you’re not mentally prepared.”
She breathed in through clenched teeth. “I’m fine. Really. I want to do this. Finding out ahead of time probably wouldn’t have helped.”
His gaze followed her slim legs to the pencil-thin heels. How did women walk in the damn things without breaking their ankles?
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7) Page 39
