Classified (The Harem at the End of the Galaxy, #2)

by Kenze, Kyle

  “By ‘top,’ you mean General Dyers? She's the one who picked me for this assignment?”

  Her eyebrow arched again. “By ‘top,’ I mean the Joint Chiefs. Although I suppose it's possible your General Dyers had some input in the selection process.”

  I stood flat-footed. How did the Joint Chiefs even know a lowly civilian contractor like me was alive? Whatever she was expecting me to say, I couldn't say it.

  She stared at me, and I stared back, and finally she shrugged. “Well, I wouldn't expect you to share your information. Evidently, you're a highly experienced agent.”

  Evidently, yet another woman had the wrong guy.

  “According to this file, you have special training that qualifies you for traveling to...” She shook her head. “It says, ‘the future.’ I have no idea what that's code for, but I assume you do.”

  “It's an experimental time travel device. Exactly what it says on the box.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don't need to get salty.”

  “I don't mean to be rude, ma'am, but I'm not sure exactly what you want from me.”

  Her cool eyes swept me up and down. “Oh, I think you know very well what I want from you. It's time for you to start stripping. It's you and me here in this room right now, nobody else. The NSA, the DSI, the CIA, and maybe fucking ESPN and the Disney Network have issued you a security clearance that gives you access to secrets at the highest level, but you still have to go through me and I'm not completely satisfied you're who you say you are. As far as I can tell, you're nobody from nowhere, and suddenly you've got the highest level of clearance to some of the blackest ops at the Pentagon, and I'm not going to let it go unchallenged. So, plain and simple, if you want to get downstairs, you need to get naked. Now. If you're wearing any enhancements or implants, it's time to come clean, because I'm going to find out anyway.”

  I put a hand on a shirt button and got to work, but I never dropped my eyes from hers. “You can trust me, ma'am. General Dyers personally signed off on the team that processed my security clearance.”

  “Yeah, well, humor me. Because the ultimate responsibility for any failure in security comes right back to this office.” She had a studied way of folding her arms under her chest to make her perky tits stick up even perkier. Unintentional cock tease or fully deliberate test of my willpower?

  Down, boy.

  I unbuttoned my shirt as slowly as I could and still be in motion. Chambers took a step forward and smacked me on the butt. Hard.

  “I'm not playing with you, boy. I don't have all day. Get those clothes off.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  You asked for it.

  She didn't comment on the growing size of the erection I exposed, although she did arch her right eyebrow even higher. Picking up a handheld scanner, she walked slowly around me to move the device about an inch away from my naked skin. There was something sexual about the close inspection of my body, and I struggled to control my response. When she squatted to scan between my toes, I could look down at the bounce of her blonde hair.

  Impossible not to flash on a fantasy about how it would be to have that blonde head bouncing at crotch level.

  She moved up slowly. From ankle to knee to thigh. Out of the squat and standing again, she circled around me holding the device at the critical level.

  “Knees.”

  I swung my knees apart to make it easier for her to scan between my balls, but honestly. “You really think I would have some amazing spy-tech implant there?”

  “You'd be amazed at where a dedicated Russian agent would wear an implant. And that's really a very natural place, considering your modern transmitters are no thicker than a strand of hair.”

  “Surprised you haven't insisted on new hires shaving off their pubes, then.”

  “Oh, I've asked the committee to consider a proposal to do just that.”

  I didn't ask what committee because I might not like the answer. We were, after all, in D.C. The Senate wasted time on more ridiculous ideas every fucking day.

  The scanner never beeped. When she stowed it away, I reached for my boxer-briefs, assuming I'd passed the audition. Smirking the smallest and most deniable of smirks, she raised a hand palm-out to stop me.

  “A manual exam is also required.”

  Oh, for fuck's sake. Well, being felt up by Rhonda Chambers wasn't the worst job assignment I'd ever had.

  “Should I assume the position, ma'am? I feel like I'm under arrest.”

  “It would indeed be helpful if you turned around and faced that wall. Hands over your head.”

  “Um, you do realize I was making a joke?” But I went ahead and positioned myself the way she wanted. At least when I faced the wall, the sheer size of my hard-on wasn't thrust right in her face. As I focused on not embarrassing myself, she began to use the deep, firm strokes of a Swedish masseuse to work her way over every square inch of my naked body.

  The reach-around was only a matter of time. The cup of her left hand lifted my nuts, while her determined right hand began to milk its way up and down my erect shaft.

  “It's one hundred percent. all-natural. all-beef,” I said.

  “Mmmm. I can feel that.”

  “Maybe you should check and see if all the pipes are in working order. I want you to feel confident I don't have any nasty implants blocking the free flow through the valves.”

  “Mmmm.” She squeezed harder. “You can turn around now.”

  There didn't seem to be a need to keep my hands in the air, so I let them fall and thrust out my pelvis. As I rotated to face her, she dropped gracefully to her knees. Where had the sofa cushion come from? Guess I wasn't the first to be subjected to one of Rhonda's thorough investigations.

  “You can taste it,” I said. “You can test it.”

  “You don't have to tell me what I can and cannot do. I already know.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” If she wanted to top from down on her knees, I wouldn't fuck with her little fantasy.

  Her coral lips shaped themselves into a ripe O. Slowly, with more patience and ability to tease than I might have expected from a woman this thirsty, she performed a slow-motion glide-and-slide. She wanted me to experience every long, throbbing minute of the time it took to get my dickhead slapped all the way to the back of her throat. That's the thing about MILFs. They have a lot to prove. In this case, she wanted to prove she could give me the best deepthroat I'd ever fucking heard of.

  My toes curled against the cold cultivated marble floor. My ass backed up against the wall, the better to brace me for what was coming. Thanks to the way her lips locked over my dick, it took only moments for her cheeks to hollow out and her throat to flex. A heartbeat later, I was painting her tonsils like goo was going out of style.

  Which, come to think of it, might just be the case.

  A red silent alarm began to flash, turning the entire room red. I turned to look at the various monitors on the wall around us, and all of them were flashing the same epileptic-inducing alarm.

  “Shit,” Rhonda said. “We're out of time. I've got to get you down that elevator, stat. Don't bother with your clothes.”

  Chapter 3

  My pubes sticky from Rhonda's spit shine, I more or less ran after her with my hand cupped over my privates. Fortunately, we didn't encounter anyone else on our short jog toward the super-duper special-agent above-top-secret interior elevator that led to the sub-sub-sub basement. She showed me where to shove the magic thumb drive in the slot, but it took a moment for the elevator's computer to acknowledge the device and then drop down, down, down into the bowels of the Pentagon.

  As we fell, I remembered the first time I fell through my desk only to warp through some invisible vortex to emerge at the fake Moon on the other end of the galaxy.

  Was this a real emergency, or just one of the regular false alarms you have to put up with when you work at a security-conscious place like the Pentagon? It didn't seem real to me, but this might just be the end of the world. You'd hav
e to expect a few bells and sirens to go off once the Department of Defense picked up on an alien ship creeping into our solar system.

  I should have told Brandy, I thought. She could tell I was worried about something. She wouldn't have believed me, but I didn't even give her a chance to disbelieve me. Was that really fair to her, to not even give her a chance?

  Shit, I should have tried to warn the general too. Even if I doubted it would do any good, did I really want to spend the rest of eternity kicking myself because I didn't even try?

  The flashing red lights, which were going off even in the elevator, stopped abruptly. A bell chimed. Rhonda punched out a sequence of numbers into the elevator's plate. A secret code. A calm robot voice that seemed to come from everywhere or nowhere read out a string of numbers. Yet another code.

  Rhonda, who understood what the numbers meant, slumped against the wall in obvious relief.

  “What?” I asked.

  She let her eyes flick over my nude body. “Some protester tried to break into the Pentagon. He's already neutralized.”

  A false alarm, after all, at least as far as I was concerned. “Maybe I can go back up and get my clothes, then.”

  “Oh, no. That won't be necessary. You'll be required to strip and change into the clothes provided for you in the dressing room anyway.” She smiled. “Besides, it will give me the opportunity to debrief you when you come by after your shift to pick up your things.”

  Well, we all knew what she meant by “debrief.” I smiled too.

  The elevator eventually reached bottom, and the door pinged open. “Maybe we'll have more time to discuss your employment contract later. We didn't get a chance to review your salary, but I'm confident you will find it a substantial improvement over your previous contract.”

  “Great. Thanks. And, uh, Rhonda...” I still had a chance to change my mind about revealing what I knew about the human future. It was insane to think there was even half of a half of a percent of a chance that Dyers would believe me. And yet I had to try. “Can you make an appointment for me to talk to General Dyers again?”

  “Of course.”

  I went out, and she went up, and for a minute I stood alone outside what looked like a smooth wall of steel lit by cold daylight-blue fluorescent bulbs set in the equally cold steel ceiling high above me. I wouldn't want to stay here long. It was like being buried alive. Noticing a small USB port at doorknob level, I inserted the thumb drive, and the wall turned out to be one of those doors that open by sliding back into a hidden slot.

  A large and complicated office complex came into view. Even in the sub-sub-sub basement in the bunker at the end of the world, you have to have bureaucracy. Serious-looking people in shitty suits frowned into monitors, whispered into headsets, or tapped on keyboards.

  Beyond the open pool, beyond the cubicles, I could see a glass wall at the far back of the room. Hard to see much, but it looked like it might hold a high-tech electronics lab.

  The nakey seemed awkward to me, but apparently I was the only one who felt much alarmed about my lack of clothes. A receptionist in a knee-length skirt that only hinted at her expensive legs hurried over. She smiled a fake smile that would've been just as fake if I was a four-star general in a dress uniform.

  “Mr. Parks. We've been waiting for you. Let me show you to the clean room, and then I can introduce you to the team. Of course, I realize you've already been cleaned, as the saying goes, but you'll find we practice some extreme precautions on this level.”

  Managing my own fake smile, I hurried after her. The clean room wasn't much different from a locker room complete with a metal cupboard where I could have left my clothes, phone, and wallet, if I hadn't ended up leaving them on the floor of Rhonda's special interview room instead.

  “You're not allowed to bring any personal items in or out of the lab,” she said. “That includes your own clothes.”

  “So my informal state of dress is perfectly fine for my first day of work.” I gestured down at my naked body.

  Smiling a smile that was more real this time, she issued me a perfectly normal pair of jeans, tee-shirt, boxer-briefs, socks, and tennis shoes, all in my exact size. The boxer-briefs were sky-blue with a navy elastic hipband, which I thought was a nice touch. The socks were a matching shade of navy.

  So it was all very... normal. It was even a little freaky that I looked so normal.

  “I can't follow you in, but from here, it's pretty obvious where to go. Good-bye, Mr. Parks.”

  It was indeed obvious. Another airlock, this one circular like a movie spaceship instead of square like the secret elevator. I inserted the Maneki-Neko in the USB slot, the door swung out, and I stepped through.

  It closed, and the door opened.

  And there I was, on the other side.

  Which turned out to be almost nothing like what I'd expected.

  If I'd thought about it, I would have already realized the team that developed the time travel device had to be all-female. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been the only man left after the alien virus. What shocked me more was how young they were. How did these sweet chickadees, who appeared to range in age from maybe twenty-three to twenty-seven, have time to graduate with honors from the likes of MIT and CalTech?

  “We won't use names here.” The leader was an Asian girl, apparently the oldest, the one I guessed to be all of twenty-seven. Her straight blue-black hair was pinned into a high bun, but little strands escaped to soften the lines of her lovely face. “You don't have a need to know our names.”

  “I have to call you something,” I said. “How about Felicity?”

  “Felicity it is, Clayton.”

  My name was no secret. Well, I was only the lab rat, so I wasn't really surprised.

  I shook her hand, then shook hands with the other two. A curvy brunette with green eyes and a cute bump in her nose that made me think she had some Persia in her ancestry. I dubbed her Jamie. An ice-blonde who could have modeled for a Nordic bikini team. Bette.

  Despite my super-duper shiny new security clearance, there appeared to be a fuckton of stuff I didn't need to know. The girls' real names were the least of it. Who or why was I selected for this experiment? Why not somebody from the actual U.S. Army instead of a mere civilian contractor?

  Did time travel affect your mind and memory in some way? It must, because I'd had dreams about finding myself on some alien planet at galaxy's end even when I was a small child. Was that dangerous? Was my unexpected promotion a way to give me hazard pay without quite calling it by that name?

  And then there were things about the timeline itself I didn't understand. Where did it start, and where did it end? Why did I already know who Darlene and Lacey were before we ever met? Why did time seem to be a loop instead of a line when it came to me? So many whys, so many questions. My head was spinning. In the end, my first question was kinda, sorta lame.

  “So what are we doing here today, ladies? Am I supposed to take the machine for a spin?”

  “You can't,” Jamie said. “It isn't operational.”

  “We are very early in the experimental phase,” said Bette. “While we're working on the development of the device, you'll be coached about how you can move back and forth in time without completely disrupting either the culture of the future or our own.”

  Huh. I'd been left with the impression they were considerably further along. “I thought the Discovery Channel said time travel was impossible.”

  Three beautiful sets of shoulders gave me three beautiful shrugs. So much for the wisdom of the Discovery Channel.

  “Our theory is based on Einstein's concept of spacetime. We believe every place in spacetime is in some very real sense a place you can visit and return from. If you believe time is a one-way arrow, which is the view popularized by a lot of popular television...” Felicity sniffed a delicate not-quite-snort to let me know what she thought about TV science. “I suppose, if that turns out to be true, those guys might be right. Travel in time wouldn't be pos
sible if the future wasn't already out there to visit.”

  I tried to understand. “Those guys think the past is gone, the future doesn't yet exist, only the present is real.”

  “Yes, exactly. If you really believe that, then of course you don't believe in time travel. There's nowhere you could travel to.”

  “Time travel might not be possible,” said Jamie. “We could be proved wrong. We're still in the testing phase.”

  “That's why it's called an experiment,” said Bette.

  I had another question, probably a boatload of other questions, but suddenly they became moot. Even as I opened my mouth, I was falling into the blurred mist.

  Fuck. I should've warned the general before I did anything. I should've at least warned Brandy. Maybe even the time travel techs would've been interested in my experiences.

  I'd spent almost twenty-four hours in my own time, and all I'd really done was fuck around.

  Chapter 4

  I was on my back naked on a picnic blanket spread out in a meadow lit by sun filtered through a circle of tall flowering trees. Mimosa or touch-me-not or powder puff, I wasn't sure of the name. It was tropical, not something I'd encounter on the mean streets of D.C. My ass kept clenching against the ground as I performed a reverse pile-driver that lifted my dick deeper and deeper into the enthusiastic depths of the tiny blonde bouncing on top of me.

  Lacey. Her eyes, half-shut in pleasure, blinked open for a minute. She smiled, then closed them again, the better to focus on internal sensations.

  If you had to fall through time and wake up in an unexpected place, this was definitely one of the better ways to do it.

  A tang of citrus-vanilla musk tickled my nostrils, a spicy fragrance that I already associated with the highly sexed women at the end of the galaxy. It seemed to stimulate me to a higher level of physical performance, which was a nice side effect of the pleasant scent. Not for the first time, I wondered at my own stamina. Inspiring as it was to be surrounded by all these perfect tens eager to mount me, there was something almost supernatural about how easily I sparked to attention again and again.