by C. L. Black
“Not at all dear, were they a disturbance?”
“Na. Sure sounded like someone was getting laid, though.” Catherine bent forward, picking up the shopping bag. “Thanks again, for these.”
“I think you should thank your mother and God for those, my dear.”
“No!” She smiled. “I mean these things you got me.”
“Yes, they are lovely, dear. Why don’t you thank me and them with a quick body shower?” Miss Christi edged back in her chair. “Please.”
Catherine stood close enough that her aroma encroached on Miss Christi’s ability to enjoy her breakfast. She dipped her still-sticky left paw into the bag, removing a new matching bra and panty. “They’re very nice. Don’t you think?” She held them up then slowly, slid them across her sun-drenched breasts. As she did, it sounded as if she purred. She did it again. “So Gran, do you like ’em?” Bet you do, you old lesbo.
“Shower first.” Miss Christi quickly reached for more jam, spreading it liberally. “Please, dear.”
“Oh-my-God. These are so nice!” Sexy too.
Miss Christi looked up. “Yes, very. Oh, I had the longer skirt sent over.”
Catherine again stroked the lingerie against her breasts. It was clear she wasn’t shy about showing her assets. She had plenty to show. From her wild mane that fell and nearly reached her narrow waist, her supermodel beauty ran all the way down to her painted toes. The titillating display seemed as much for herself as for Miss Christi’s benefit. She caught herself looking in the mirror. “Oh, Gran!” The lighting perfect, she paused at the awesome sight. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Yes, yes, I agree, most impressive, my dear.” Miss Christi lifted her gaze. No makeup. Katherine’s face. “I’m happy you find them acceptable.” She was, however, most unimpressed by Catherine’s concept of personal hygiene. Returning to find solace in her breakfast, she spread a generous portion of strawberry jam on her last piece of multigrain toast. Her nose found safety in the jam’s scent.
“Please, my dear. A shower first.” Miss Christi grew annoyed with the girl, having ignored what to her was a most reasonable and basic request. She persisted, “Please, my dear! A shower will make you feel like a new woman.”
“Why? Took one yesterday. Remember?”
“You stink.” She bit into her toast, now liberally coated with jam, savoring the factory-fresh strawberry flavor. Help me, Sir Katherine. “Please, my dear.”
Patience. You must have patience, my love.
“Oh?” Standing chest to face with Miss Christi, she bent forward to load her rich full breasts into the lace-trimmed cups of the new red Hush-Hush 34D cleavage-enhancing push-up bra. She reached around and clipped the catch, securing herself. She reached into the shopping bag, retrieving a pair of red cotton panties. Using her best theatrics, she pulled them on ever-so-slowly, giving Miss Christi a nice view of her firm teenage bottom.
“Five minutes?” pleaded Miss Christi, her eyes glued to the front page of the Journal. Word of Krump’s secret visit to the UN filled the front page.
“Okay! But not the hair.” She stopped mid pull, and then reversed, divesting herself of the new panties only seconds before they could be considered a scented collector’s item. One swift kick off her bare foot sent them sailing high into the air. They both watched as the red cotton touched down on the table, partially covering the Krump headline and her breakfast plate. “Oops.”
“Still play soccer, do you?” Her egg-white omelet had lost its appeal. Thank God the toast was in her hand.
“Used to.” Her head hung. “I was aiming for the bag. Honest!”
Miss Christi wasn’t fazed by Catherine’s behavior. She bit deep, licking a piece of jam that was stuck to her lip. She kept her toast near. Its aroma protected her senses. It provided a suitable short-term defense. She glanced over her brave toast to read the Krump story brief, still visible on the cover, giving no recognition to the impromptu theatrics.
Catherine would soon realize Miss Christi had but one button. She too preferred zippers. In the forty-five years since first arriving at Blachmann, Miss Christi had lost control only once. She hadn’t gotten her tea that morning. The tea, a very special blend, was her security blanket—very calming.
So far, she hadn’t seen anything new. She decided to have a little fun of her own. She addressed Catherine, “Just globs of flesh, my dear.” With that said she went back to her paper. “Mind rescuing your panties, my dear?”
Fuck! What do I have to do to get a rise out of you? She snatched her fresh panties from the Journal. “See anything you like?” Oh-my-fuck! Am I really trying to seduce my own grandmother? “Do you think they go with this bra?” Yup.
Boundaries needed to be set, and fast. Miss Christi gently shooed their Catherine away. “Please, go take a shower! Would you? Please, dear. Your perfume! Please, dear.” Her mouth was on fire. “I think we’ll both find you most refreshing without it.”
“Fine! If it will make you happy, I’ll take one.” Catherine whipped the panties back into the bag. She then removed the steamy bra, tossing it, again covering the newspaper.
Miss Christi plucked the smoldering bra from her paper, dropping it back into the shopping bag before handing it all to Catherine. “Go now. Shower and prepare yourself for today’s journey.” Miss Christi watched the kitten’s retreat through the mirror. Well, my love. I think we’re making progress.
As Catherine showered, Miss Christi helped herself to the perfume, storing it safely away in her own bag. Both found the shower refreshing. Catherine toweled off and reached for her purse. “Where’s my fucking perfume?” She looked up to find Miss Christi holding a piece of toast.
“Come, dear. There isn’t time. Eat this. We have a long day ahead. Perhaps you lost it last night.”
“Yeah. I wish.”
Back on Track
Track 6, Penn Station, 07:54 local
Miss Christi and Catherine took their seats in First on the 8:03 Acela to Boston. Without asking, Catherine surged past, taking the window. Her iPhone’s power nearly depleted, she wasted no time in setting it up. She rested it on her new fourteen-inch leather miniskirt while sticking her Skull Candy in each ear. Miss Christi noticed the kitten hadn’t pushed the volume up as loud as yesterday. The kitten would be able to hear when she wanted to. The Acela started rolling. They were on their way to Boston and then, the Castle.
Catherine hadn’t detected their remaining shadow. Thanks to KK, Jane had missed the train. Miss Christi’s other operative, the Temptress, Sam, short for Samantha, had made it on board. Concerned that Catherine might remember her from their encounter in the restroom yesterday, Samantha had borrowed one of Danielle’s dark wigs to conceal her strawberry blonde hair.
Once under way, Miss Christi continued telling what it was like growing up in an orphanage, never knowing anything of her real mother and father.
“Yeah, that must have sucked. East Germany? Where’s that?”
“Yes, actually, it did suck, my dear. East Germany is history now. It’s all part of Germany. I didn’t have a choice?” Miss Christi recalled that day she arrived and saw Blachmann Castle for the first time. How frightened and alone she felt that cold rainy September day.
“No, I guess not, Gran. I mean, Miss Christi.” Catherine abruptly changed the subject. “When did you know you were a les— I mean, ga-ay?”
“That’s a little personal, don’t you think, dear?”
Catherine turned away, back to the window. “I’m sorry. Tell me more about the orphanage.”
“Well, it was during the war.” Now it was Miss Christi who wished to change the subject.
“What war?”
“World War Two, my dear. The war against the evil fascist ideology known as National Socialism.
“You mean the war against the Germans?”
“Well, yes and no. You see, my dear, the Germans weren’t all evil. They had allowed themselves to fall under an evil spell. It was their leaders,
the Nazis, who were evildoers.”
“You mean Hitler!” Am I in school? “Don’t you?”
“Yes, dear, Herr Hitler and his evil band of Nazis. The German people were for the most part just pawns, to be used up by the Nazis in their quest for world domination.”
“So what does any of it have to do with you, Miss Christi?”
“I shall tell you, my dear. One fine September night, one of Herr Hitler’s bombs accidently fell on the hospital I was in, killing my mother and many others. It was earlier that same day, I was born. I wasn’t found until late in the afternoon the next day. I’d been buried in the rubble.”
“No fucking way! What about your father?” Her tone was serious. Catherine looked at Miss Christi, taking her hand. “You lay there all alone?” For the first time, she actually saw her.
Miss Christi’s lip quivered. “No, my dear, my mama was there in the rubble too. Dead. Unrecognizable, I imagine.” She added, sliding her free hand over, Katherine’s.
Catherine felt odd and remained silent. She turned back to the window, staring at her own mother in the glass. For a moment she shared their mutual loss.
“At the time, they had no way of determining who my mother or father was. The Nazi bombs destroyed the—”
“What about DNA?” interrupted Catherine, eager to solve the mystery. “You know, like on Forensic Files.”
Miss Christi chuckled. “It was nineteen-forty, my dear. DNA identification was not sufficiently developed until the mid eighties.”
“Oh yeah, and no internet either. That must have totally sucked.” Catherine remembered her priorities. She growled, “No stupid texting either.” Her thumbs tapping angrily on her dead friend. She hadn’t received any texts since last night. “What’s wrong with this stupid fucking phone?” Dead.
“Battery? Can’t always count on technology, can you, dear? Did you remember to charge it?”
“Guess not.” She tapped on her iPod, putting Katy Perry on pause.
“You see, dear, I only know because I was told some years later, by my Katherine. She told me I was kidnapped by Nazi spies and secretly smuggled out of the UK. They took me to a secret orphanage inside Germany. Of course I have no memory of this because I was only two days old. I was held there, a captive, until I was five. I don’t remember much about it. Just as well. I’m sure it must have been most unpleasant.” She gave a shiver. “Afterward, I went to a home for orphaned girls in Britain. I don’t care to remember those years either.” She looked away. She looked an ocean away.
Miss Christi returned and continued. “One day, my Katherine came and took me away to live and receive my education at the Blachmann Academy. She never would say why I was chosen. There were so many of us orphaned as a result of the evils of that war. I’ve lived at Blachmann Castle ever since. She taught me so—”
“Oh-my-fuck!” Catherine gasped then blurted, “You fucked your teacher!” She realized that Miss Christi’s lover was the same Katherine Black that had founded Blachmann Academy. She made a face, not looking too pleased with the revelation. “Didn’t you?”
“Well, no, not right then, dear. It was some years later, when I was grown, mind you. But it’s true. I’ve always been in love with my Katherine.” Miss Christi paused, gazing through, Katherine. “Your father and mom never told you any of this?”
“No fucking way!” Catherine paused to collect her scattered thoughts. “They always told me my grandfather, I mean, your love, died in the war? What war? They definitely never said he was a she. Hey! Now that I think about it, they never said much about you either.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yeah, once. I was like, ten. I asked my mom. She tried to change the subject. When I asked again, she yelled at me saying you were both dead and never to ask about it again!”
“Is that so? Well, my dear, I will be happy to answer any questions you wish to ask me.”
“Tell me about her. Would you? Please?” Catherine pulled out her left earbud.
“There’s so much to tell, my dear.” Miss Christi’s face beamed. “My Katherine was an amazing person. Let’s see. Oh dear, what can I tell that you might find interesting? Where should I start? She lived such a full life. I know. Let’s start when she was your age.”
“She knew then?”
“It all began with the ’36 Summer Games. They were to be held in Berlin that year. My Katherine was to participate in swimming, diving, and equestrian. Was the same summer she met her first real love. She was fifteen. Just like you.”
“Really? She was in the Olympics at fifteen? You know I’m a wicked fast swimmer.”
“Yes, dear. Your mom told me. It was about that time when she first became a spy.”
A spy? “What? No fucking way, Gran! You’re making this all up. You’re totally bullshitting me. Aren’t you?”
“It’s all true, my dear. My Katherine was a spy; a double agent, actually. In fact, all during the war, the Nazis thought my Katherine was spying for them.” Miss Christi shook her head, no. “Actually she was an OSS secret agent feeding Herr Hitler’s cronies’ false information. Her true assignment was to gain access to Herr Hitler’s inner circle. She was successful. Of course she placed her life in great danger on many occasions. After the war, she became involved with the British Secret Intelligence Service. Yes, she was also a spy for the British. Most people know it as MI-six.” She shook her head, no, again. “That’s not its proper name, dear.”
“Like, fucking James Bond?” Catherine’s face signaled total disbelief. “Come on, Gran. My dad says that’s all make-believe bullshit.”
“More like Jane Bond, my dear. Together, they set up the first Blachmann Academy. It was a cover for a secret program to develop teenage female operatives for use in clandestine activities. That’s why I was brought to the Academy. I was selected to be trained as an operative. Actually, I was to be used as bait in a Cold War operation, a deadly game of cat and mouse. I was the mouse; a pawn, really, considered expendable, an acceptable cost to achieve the greater good. Of course I had no knowledge of any of this at the time, dear. In fact, I didn’t learn the complete truth of the first Blachmann, or my expected fate until…”
Miss Christi closed her eyes, searching her past. “Let’s see. I think it was sometime in ’62. Yes, yes, I remember it clearly now. The Wall had been erected, cutting Berlin in two. That was the time she rescued me from the evil duke. His name was Simon von Krump. I was being held in a secret facility in what was then called East Germany. In a most evil place called Colditz Castle. Of course I’d been in love with Katherine from the beginning. Couldn’t help it. You know what I mean?” She gave a look.
“Yeah, I guess.” BP…
“We first met some years earlier. She was my brave GoodKnight in shiny armor. But back then, in the fifties, to her I was only an assignment. I was her mouse, to be trained and used by her to achieve London’s goals. At least, that’s what she thought at the time. Boy, was she ever wrong.”
“No fuckin’ way! You’re making this shit up. Aren’t you? God, Grandma?” Catherine stiffened, percolating with disbelief. “You’re fucking with me?” She wondered how anyone could believe the tale Miss Christi was spinning. At least this train ride isn’t as boring as I thought it would be. And last night. Vicki— BP!
“It’s all quite true, my dear.” Miss Christi held up her right hand. “I swear it. So help me God. Why else would she be buried at Arlington?”
“I thought that was only for soldiers?”
“Soldiers, yes, but also diplomats, and…” Cupping her mouth to Catherine’s ear, she continued, “Intelligence operatives too, I do believe.” She settled back and resumed her normal soft tone. “Would you like me to check it on Wikipedia?” asked Miss Christi, reaching for her Kindle. “Won’t take but a moment, dear.”
Catherine stopped her. “When did she die? Tell me about her. Please, Miss Christi.”
“Nineteen eighty-eight. December twenty-first.”
“Where? What happened?”
“Over Lockerbie, Scotland—”
“No fuck! I’m sorry. Can’t help it.”
“That’s understandable, dear.” Since getting her first whiff of MK’s perfume, Miss Christi couldn’t help it either.
“She was on that plane? Really?”
“So you know of the Lockerbie tragedy?”
“Yeah. My mom and dad always drink a toast on that night. My mom would start. It goes something like, oh yeah, ‘To those who have fallen.’ Then my dad would say, ‘May—‘”
Miss Christi interrupted, reciting the part Catherine’s dad always said every night at bedtime. “May their souls always hover above us, ever watchful…”
Catherine joined in, like her mom would always do when they tucked her in together. “Let the GoodKnights of Blachmann protect us from all that is evil on this good earth.” Together, they sat, silent; each was back in time.
“Yes. It was the one thing she feared.”
“Flying? Yeah, I hate flying too.” Catherine nodded.
“No dear; sabotage. It was a bomb, remember? Same as her father.”
“Kinda. What really happened?”
“Agents of the Axis of Evil placed a small but powerful bomb aboard, hidden, as I recall, in a cassette tape player. It was placed on the 747 as checked luggage. She was in first class. When it detonated, the forward section broke off with my Katherine. They were at thirty-one thousand feet. Those seated in the main body of the plane were ripped apart by the almost five-hundred-mile-per-hour air blast. The larger sections fell for two minutes before crashing down on the small village of Lockerbie. The front section, the part with my Katherine, came down mostly intact. Did you know that several people actually survived the initial explosion?”
Catherine shook her head. “No way.”
“Yes, dear, it’s true. I was later told she had survived the blast and the fall. Yes, she was actually killed by the impact with the ground. They found her still strapped into her seat. She was holding a picture of me and your father. I was heartbroken.” Miss Christi dropped her head, tears streaking from her eyes. She reached down to retrieve a tissue. “My bag. I’m sorry, dear.” She stretched, trying to reach her bag.