Dress Off 08: Hotpants in Helsinki

Spinning on her heels, and still unsuccessfully trying to balance holding on to important equipment and covering up her naked breasts, bush and butt, Brittney spluttered as she watched 'O' dive to the floor and try to retrieve the last tattered remnants of her old lab coat. "No!" 'O' cried, metaphorically looking up into the sky of a harsh and uncaring world, or at least literally in to the ceiling of an unaware and indifferent store building. The traces of gas left were beginning to affect 'O's clothes as she grabbed at what she could of the lab coat remains, and now beat a retreat from the store as well.

As Brittney hopped from one foot to the other, her face incredulous, 'O' ran past again, casting Brittney a dirty look and hissing "this is why I didn't want to lend you my lab coat!"

"You. Shot. ME!" Brittney called out to her partner's retreating back, before hot-footing it to the car as well. Both piling into the car, Brittney frantically pressed the ignition button and didn't bother to wait for 'O' to strap herself in before pulling the car out and gunning the accelerator.

They had gas at least, Brittney chanted to herself. At least they had gas and the car was going to make it to Seattle. She couldn't repeat her chant though without flinching involuntarily at the word "gas". Clenching the steering wheel and fixing her eyes on the road ahead, Brittney attempted to block out the fact that she now naked, again, and that there was a now-steady soundtrack of complaints, apparently on repeat, coming from 'O' about the tragic cost of their latest side-mission and the darkness that this cast on the world as a whole.

They had gas, Brittney chanted again, her eyes twitching. They had also left a trail behind them that Inspector Clouseau could probably follow, but they had gas.

****

Monica turned down the busy side-street, the hum of tourists and stall vendors alike haggling over all manner of trinkets, clothes or mementos forming an ever-present backdrop. She herself paid little attention to the various items that hopeful sellers thrust in front of her. A crystal clear blue sky hung over Suva, and Monica adjusted the red-rimmed sunglasses she'd picked up a quarter of an hour ago, casually trying to appear as if her focus was ahead, even though her senses strained for any signs on the periphery of the pursuer they'd picked up only minutes after leaving their hotel in the Fijian capital city.

Bree was eight steps ahead, winding between the stalls and being far more casual in her interactions with the street merchants. At one point she even tossed a few coins the way of a large gentleman peddling silk scarves, twirled to face Monica and proceeded to give her a sexy wink, running the scarf around her neck and down her body.

Monica looked up to the heavens, and gave her a stare. Bree batted her eyelids seductively and Monica raised an eyebrow, giving a barely perceptible nod over her right shoulder, asking whether the woman who'd been stalking them since the helicopter pad had was still trailing behind.

Bree laughed and spun around again, seemingly lost in the moment under the warm morning skies of a beautiful Suva summer day. As she did though, there was the faintest movement of one hand, and Monica clenched her jaw. Yes, had been the signal. Yes, she was still there.

At least she was now fully dressed, Monica thought. Having escaped from the Arena of Embarrassment after their torturous little game had come to an abrupt and premature end, the two women had managed to find their way to the helicopter pad where they'd first landed for the Arena on the evening of the day before last. Thirty six hours was a long, long time. Having found the helicopter pad again -- not a long run from the Arena under normal circumstances, but made all the more longer by, at least in Monica's case, having to be done naked and with the threat of pursuit at any moment -- Bree and Monica's luck had nevertheless held out as they found it only lightly guarded.

The pilot was clearly not expecting much in the way of trouble out here on a small, picturesque island chain away from the main population centres of Fiji, as she'd been asleep in her flight suit in a hammock enjoying an early morning lie-in when the two escapees had stumbled across the site. When she'd woken up to find Bree and a very naked Monica standing over her, her startled cries of alarm had very quickly turned into helpless muffled moans as Bree had clamped one hand over the woman's mouth while Monica grabbed her hands and unceremoniously sat on her, pinning the hapless pilot to the hammock.

The pilot's eyes had immediately swivelled around to look for the guard who was supposed to have been patrolling the helipad, only to spot the unconscious man sprawled across the ground where Bree had sneaked up on him and laid him out with a kick to the head. The pilot's morning had gotten progressively worse when it was quickly discovered that she was roughly the same height and size as Monica, and so the flight suit she'd been snoozing in had been rapidly re-purposed to provide the severely under-dressed Monica some much needed modesty. Stripped and with no assistance immediately to hand, the pilot had reluctantly pointed in the direction of the main island. She'd been tempted to point in the wrong direction, however Bree's imaginative description of what she'd do if Bree and Monica had to return back to this place had convinced the pilot that the two women would not be the best people to cross.

Left tied naked to her hammock, with her panties stuffed in her mouth to block any cries for help, the pilot had been forced to watch her two assailants fly off in her own helicopter. The aircraft wobbled more than a little as it took off as Bree experimented with how to operate the controls, and with her auburn-haired companion clinging on for dear life in the passenger seat, eyes squeezed shut as the helicopter dipped, swayed and rose seemingly at random. The wind from the rotors had blown across the bound pilot, and she's squealed into her gag as the air had whipped across her naked breasts, making the hammock swing back and forth. She'd pulled at the ties that Bree had found in a maintenance kit -- to the accompaniment of a triumphant "aha!" and a naughty wink at Monica -- and that had used to secure her to the hammock. Ultimately however she had been unable to do anything as Bree had finally got the hang for flying, and had flown low to the north, the buzzing beat of the rotors and the strong wind finally dying away as the pilot resigned herself to being found like this, naked, stretched out under the blazing summer sun, the hammock still slowly swinging back and forth.

That was yesterday. It had been a fifty minute flight from what Bree and Monica had, with the aid of a map, quickly determined to be Kadavu Island, to the Fijian capital of Suva on the island of Viti Levu further north.

Upon landing in the capital, Bree and Monica had been easily bluffed there way past a few inquisitive staff, helped in no small part by a wad of cash from the wallet that Monica had found in the flight suit she'd procured. The cash had even stretched to a night's stay at the Grand Pacific Hotel, which was an infrequent stopping off point for agents when travelling to this part of the world. Lying next to her lover in that warm bed had led to the best night's sleep that Monica had experienced in a long, long time.

Well, eventually that had led to a great night's sleep at least, after an extended session of having appropriately re-acquainted themselves with each other. Following Monica's enforced absence, courtesy of a stint as an undercover agent and supposed partner to their sworn enemy Elizabeth Harrington, there was much to catch up on.

Much of yesterday afternoon had been spent acquiring gear and trying to make contact with anyone in the Agency, either locally or indeed anyone back at Headquarters. With mounting concern, Bree and Monica had drawn a blank on both. In didn't help that the Agency's South Pacific operations were based nearly entirely in Australia and New Zealand, which given the vastness of the region was lessen than comforting given that the former was over 2,000km to the west and the latter was about the same distance away to the south.

Now their friend and colleague Tess Trueheart had spent a full day as a captive of their hosts at the Arena of Embarrassment, and who knew where she was now, or what they were doing to her. And instead of launching a rescue mission they were stuck in Fiji with not enough money to make it back to the U.S., and no idea if and where a safe house or supply depot would be. Monica's security credentials to the Agency's network had been no use via the laptop they'd procured yesterday so she'd left a short computer program of her own devising running back at the hotel, while they'd headed out this morning to clear their heads and find some inspiration. Instead, they'd found a tail.

While around them the sun blazed down and life continued on normally, Bree and Monica fought against the crescendoing wave of urgency that was welling up inside both of them, and forced an outward show of relaxed enjoyment.

Bree continued her merry dance through the streets, Monica trailing behind not too far, while further back a tanned, tall, brown-haired woman in her early forties dressed in a loose white blouse and summer skirt followed their path, stopping occasionally at a stall but never buying anything.

Bree found an alleyway to her right that suddenly caught her attention, three-quarters of the way along the side street they were on, and gave every impression that the alleyway merited immediate and thorough investigation. With a short laugh she disappeared down it, while Monica continued on her way along the street, focus ahead with a laser like intensity, not bothering to pay any attention to Bree's little side-adventure.

Moments later, the mysterious pursuer arrived at the entrance to the alley, and hesitated for a moment. With a visible sign of uncertainty, the figure peered down to the alley, reacting in surprise at the fact that it was evidently completely empty. Further hesitation struck the figure as they looked back down the side-street at the retreating back of Monica, and then back to the empty alley. There were side doors and external fire escapes, all of which were either closed or devoid of any signs of life. The figure seemed to weigh up the chances of heading down the alley and the potential ambush that it represented, versus following Monica, who at least had the advantage of being in sight.

After a few moments of what seemed like agonised self-reflection, the figure picked the safer route of following Monica, and proceeded to hurry as quickly as could be done without revealing her presence.

Monica reached the end of the side-street, which opened up in a wider boulevard. Here, she herself now waited for a moment, as if weighing up options, and then turned left, and continued on her way, seemingly oblivious to the figure who with increasing wariness continued to follow her. The pursuer threw the occasional worried glance back behind them, seemingly expecting Bree to re-appear out of the alleyway and set off in a pursuit of her own. When Bree failed to re-appear though, the woman merely frowned and scuttled along, as Monica wended her way back to the Grand Pacific Hotel at a relaxed pace, with her destination now only a block and a half away.

The hotel was one of the best in the city, with an expensive clientele and a staff that could be counted on to not ask too many inconvenient questions of paying customers if they could afford the rates upfront.

As Monica strolled into the lobby and headed to the lifts, she politely nodded at the concierge and continued her air of unaffected, care-free casualness as she stepped into a waiting lift and hit the button for the second floor. As the doors slid closed, she noticed the tall figure of her well-tanned stalker enter the hotel as well, trying for all the world to look like just another guest.

Monica's mouth flickered into a smile as the doors shut, and whistled to herself as she exited on to the second floor and headed for the door to their luxury apartment.

Checking behind her, she saw the lift she'd just been in return to the ground floor. Undoubtedly her pursuer was waiting for it to arrive. If she'd seen on the control panel what floor Monica had gotten off at, then it would be only moments before she was on the floor herself. Now was not the time for Monica to lose her tail.

Loitering at her apartment door, Monica made a show of trying to find her access card when she heard the lift chime and the doors slide open. Magically finding her card, she placed in it in the lock and opened the door, allowing herself to be seen for an instant entering the apartment, just so the woman wouldn't have to look too far. No point in delaying the encounter any further.

Monica made a show of turning on the shower, leaving the bathroom door open so that the sound of the water reached the door, and waited, after first stripping naked and carefully wrapping a towel around herself.

After only a couple of minutes, there was the faintest move of the door handle, and a barely perceptible sound of someone playing with the lock system. Clearly the woman who'd followed them had wanted to wait just long enough to make sure Bree wasn't going to immediately arrive too, and that Monica was naked and washing herself, where she'd be unable to defend herself properly.

As the door silently swung open, the forty-something tanned brunette entered, a sharp face and piercing eyes seemingly at odds with the care-free loose white blouse and frilly yellow skirt that she wore.

Monica stood up gasped, and dropped the towel, revealing her naked body to the stranger. It was an old trick, and one that worked far better on men of course, but it only had to buy a split-second of distraction on the part of the stranger for the next part of the plan to work.

Stepping out from where she was hiding behind the door, Bree grabbed the woman's arms and pulled them behind her back, while Monica deftly swooped in and ripped open the tall woman's blouse, exposing a white lacy bra that was now the only cover provided to a large pair of breasts. Bree pulled the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms, bunching it up at the wrists making it all the more harder for the woman to use her hands even if she did get free.

"Who are you, and why were you following us?" demanded Bree, keeping an iron grip on the stranger who was struggling to break free but making no progress whatsoever. Her voice was sharp yet betrayed no trace of the mad dash that she'd just done to beat Monica and their pursuer back to the hotel room.

"You'll never get me to speak, bitch!" the woman spat, a with a distinct Australian accent, simultaneously trying to lash out with her foot but only finding air. Bree winked at her partner and then pushed the hapless woman towards the king-sized bed.

"Well, you'd know better than me, so if you say so, I'm happy to take your word for that!"

The two agents dragged the struggling woman into the apartment's bedroom. Monica hurried over to a shopping bag that had been left on the floor from yesterday's shopping expedition, and produced a short length of cord. Bree made short work of tying the tall woman's hands behind her back, and then, with the woman unceremoniously dumped on her back on the unmade bed, got Monica to hold her down while Bree stood back for a moment and surveyed the scene.

"Well," Bree murmured, "I think we can take it from her response and general demeanour that she's not a friendly, and we're going to need a gag if we're going to question her... properly." The forty-something woman gave Bree an evil look and opened her mouth to snarl an invective-laden retort, only to find Monica's hand clamped over her mouth after only a few words.

Bree put a hand to her own chin for a moment in quiet contemplation, studying the room and their new and somewhat reluctant guest, before sighing theatrically. "Well, I do so hate to repeat myself, but needs must." Bree said finally, reaching forward and swiftly moving both hands under the prone woman's skirt, much to their captive's muffled surprise. Grasping the woman's panties in both hands, Bree nodded to Monica, who used her spare hand to slide under the struggling woman's back and pull her off the bed slightly, allowing Bree the opening she needed to relieve the woman of her briefs.

"Right," said Bree briskly, holding up the underwear for a moment's inspection while the woman she'd taken them from squirmed under the constraints of her wrist ties and having Monica lean over her and hold her down. "If it's good enough for our dear friend the pilot who, I might add, was a damn sight more cooperative and accommodating." Bree paused and looked at Monica for a second, and then glanced over at a chair in the corner of their bedroom over which a flight suit had been thrown. Bree had liberated from it's first owner to assist an escape, and then liberated it from it's second owner to assist in some escapades of the sexual variety. "Well," Bree conceded, "eventually our friend the pilot had been cooperative anyway."

Then she gave their brunette captive a bemused look in response to the death stare she was getting back, and dangled the white briefs off one finger. "Open wide!" Bree said, teasingly. The woman's eyes shot wide open as she realised what Bree was going to do, and Bree waggled a finger at her in a mock telling-off. "Now, that wasn't what I meant and you know it!"

Bree leaned forward as Monica switched from holding her hand over the woman's mouth to instead holding the mouth open. Bree made short work of pushing the balled-up underwear in, despite the muffled protests of their prisoner, and quickly fashioned a gag out of a bit of tape that Monica had helpfully conjured up, pressing it firmly over the cheeks and lips. The woman grunted and squirmed with indignation.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Bree winked and got Monica to help her sit the woman up on the bed, clad now only in her white lacy bra and frilly skirt.

"Now," Bree said conversationally as a now-dressed Monica walked out of the bedroom and over to a desk in the far corner of their living area, retrieving two chairs and placing them both in front of the captive woman so that Bree and Monica could sink into them and take some pressure of their weary feet, "We're going to ask some questions, and you're either going to give us answers or," Bree took two steps to her right, and happily pulled a pair of scissors out of a bag, "you're going to give us clothes." Bree brandished the scissors and made some snip-snip gestures, winking at her captive and letting her eyes wander over what was -- she had to admit -- an impressive chest. "Trust me," she added after a few moments of uncomfortable silence for their prisoner, "you don't want to run out of things to give us."

Settling into the chairs that Monica had brought, Bree continued to wave the scissors around idly while Monica disappeared off momentarily to grab her laptop from the room's safe. "So, here we all are in Suva. Me, a simple woman with simple tastes and pretty universal desires, such as not being followed and attacked wherever I go. Her," Bree indicated Monica with another wave of the scissors that had seemingly entranced Bree's audience, judging by the way the woman's head bobbed and swayed in synchronicity with the implement's shiny metal, "objectively the hottest Computer Scientist in the world, who right now is hacking viruses and," Bree paused momentarily to search for words, before shrugging her shoulders after a few seconds of casting around didn't result in the necessary inspiration striking. "And inserting cat videos into the network, look, I don't know. Computer'y stuff, right?"