New Order, New Opportunity Pt. 03

Chapter 7 : Opportunity & Anniversary

The trouble with her job, thought Becky White, was that most of the staff didn't want to be there and most of the clients didn't either. Placing sponsorship opportunities had been interesting once upon a time. There had been more sponsors than clients and the sponsors had been keen to get the right placements. There had been bonuses for finding the right clients, they'd been paid well.

Now though? Well, there were more clients than sponsors and the clients were there because they had run out of other options. Becky spent most of her time telling clients at the OC that no, there was nothing today. Occasionally, one of them would try to bribe her. One of them had even tried to offer her some prick-sex! As if she looked like the sort of girl that would want that! Mostly though they knew they had nothing to offer her or anyone else here.

Sometimes though there was something she could do for clients. Like today. A new batch of opportunities had come through. And placing clients meant she had some chance of meeting her targets for the month. Sure, these were government placements and they weren't the most popular, but if you didn't have a sponsor then at least this solved that problem. Becky was explaining the possibilities to the new client that was sitting in front of her.

"James Leonard", it said on his ident card. She hadn't seen him before. In fact his application said this was his first approach for a sponsor. He must be stubborn to have held out so long. That might count against him with the sponsors but it wouldn't stop her putting him on a short list if he looked like he'd fit the bill.

"It's the Government Facilities Service," she said, "domestic and building services. Sponsored employment and government location placement."

James was wary. On the face of it, this would seem ideal, solving all his problems at once, job, sponsor, and a flat. He'd heard things though, about Government placements. They'd sounded like they were only one step up from the camps but right now he could see himself ending up in one of those if he was unlucky. Or even if he wasn't unlucky. It didn't take much imagination to think that the police wouldn't be happy until he was in the care of the judicial system.

Becky pushed a printed sheet towards him. He'd have to move up north, but that was hardly a problem and this would carry the new locality permit that he would need.. He'd have preferred a private sponsor but no, Becky had said, there weren't any private placements on their books right now. Perhaps in a few months? James wasn't willing to wait. The experience with the police and the repeated harassment of the last few days had been the last straw. He looked again at the printed sheet. A five year contract seemed like a long time. "It's your choice," said Becky. She scowled at James. "Do you want a sponsor or not? If not, can we bring this to a close? I've got quite few interviews to go through this morning and there will be plenty of people interested in this even if you aren't."

James gritted his teeth. He was imagining what it was going to be like assigned to domestic duties for some government official or shifting garbage from one of the vast administrative offices that New Order seemed to have spawned on the edge of every city. And then there were the supervisors. Hard bitten, ex-military types mainly. Vicious, petty, sexually voracious. At least those were the rumours. On the other hand, what choice did he have, really? "Sorry. Yes, I'd like to apply. Can you put my details forward or do I need to fill anything in?"

"Don't worry we've got access to all your details. If you just put your ident card in there and key your PIN. That will let the application go through."

James sucked his lip and hesitated for one moment before pushing his card into the slot. The system seemed as though it was thinking. James's fingers hovered over the key pad waiting for it to asking him to enter his PIN. The prompt never came. "REFERRED" the display over the key pad said.

"Oh," said Becky, looking at her own screen. There was a pause. "Ah. I'm sorry. It seems, ah, these opportunities have closed."

"All of them?"

"So it, ah, seems. Sorry. I don't have anything else either."

James didn't believe it. It was something about him. He was certain. He thought about asking the woman what the system had told her. It would be a waste of time, though. Defeated he got to his feet and turned to go.

Becky watched him leave with relief. She would never have guessed. Looking at him he appeared so ordinary but "Potential Subversive" the system had said, "Not Eligible for Sponsorship" and "Refer to Security But Do Not Attempt To Detain" She had pressed the button that would alert the security people to watch out for him as he left the building.

James was half expecting to be stopped by the two burly women that sat by the entrance to the building but their system had only told them to make sure that he left the building. He wasn't stopped. In a few moments he was out on the street again, still with no job and with no sponsor either.

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Barry Haste had got back home on time. There would be the usual housework to do, of course, but at least he didn't have so much to worry about at work these days. It wasn't too much of a hard day in the office and he didn't have the responsibilities that he once had. Neither Margery nor Valerie would be back yet. At least that meant he would have a clear run at getting the house tidy and getting thing sorted for the evening meal.

It was a special evening, Valerie had told him; their anniversary. Barry hadn't known but they'd been lovers for two years even before New Order had been elected although it had been another eighteen months before his wife had taken advantage of the changes in marital law.

Anyway, "special dinner" Valerie had declared and so it would have to be.

Barry got to work clearing up from breakfast. Margery had left early, then he had gone to work leaving Valerie scowling at him across a cup of coffee as she eased herself into the day. He'd wanted to clear it up before he left but Valerie had told him not to. "Sod off," she had said, "last thing I need now is you clattering around in the kitchen."

Now there was an envelope addressed to Margery on the hall table; an anniversary card, Barry assumed.

It took Barry about an hour to clear the kitchen, tidy up the dining room and lay the table. Valerie had told him what they wanted prepared last night and he'd had a bottle of sparkling wine chilling in the fridge. He had just about finished when he heard Margery coming in.

It had been a lot of effort to get things ready but he was actually quite pleased with the result the table looked attractive, the food was in the oven and he'd even got some flowers from the garden. The girls would like that.

His satisfied thoughts were soon interrupted. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" Margery swore from the hall. Barry wasn't sure if it was a good idea to find out what was going on but he didn't have go to find out. She came stalking into the dining room, pulling off her uniform tie and hurling her cap down on one of the seats. "You can clear all this up," she barked waving to the carefully laid dining table, "she's had to go on duty. More bloody subversives! The trouble you lot cause!"

She slammed out of the room.

Barry knew there was no point in trying to argue that all men weren't the same. So, that was what the envelope for Margery had been, not a card at all. Why couldn't she have left him a note and saved him all this effort?

He looked across the table with its carefully laid places, polished cutlery and shining glassware. There was nothing else except to clear it away, he supposed.

By the time he had finished, Margery still had not reappeared. When Barry emerged from the dining room the only sign of her were the shoes she had kicked off and her uniform blouse, discarded and laying crumpled on the stairs where she had dropped as she pulled it off going upstairs. He gathered it up. It would have to be laundered before she went back in tomorrow.

Barry followed the trail of clothing. Margery's skirt had been dropped by the bathroom. Inside the bedroom that the girls now shared, Margery was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, her eyes red from crying, the bottle of sparkling wine clutched close to her. She was wearing only her bra, panties and tights. "All your bloody fault!" she barked at the confused Barry. "If you were earning more, she wouldn't have to take on these extra shifts. If you were any good at your job she'd be here now." She downed the last of the wine, peered disappointedly at the empty bottle and half tossed it away from her. It rolled up against Barry's feet. He bent down to pick it up. "Bloody useless, you are. Bloody useless. Bloody. Bloody. Bloody." She grasped herself around her knees pulling herself into a tight ball, still obviously crying.

Barry couldn't think of anything to say. A moment later the phone rang. Margery almost fell over as she lunged across the floor to reach it. Barry started to move towards the door but Margery gestured from him to stay. "Val!" Margery, exclaimed with delight. "... No, of course, I'm fine. No, it's not your fault... Mmm, lovely. Yes, I will. Soon. Mmmm. Love you, Val!"

She put the phone down and leapt to her feet, obviously pleased by the call, but still more than a little drunk. "There," she said. "I knew she'd get back as soon as she could, and we're going to have some fun!"

That should have been enough to worry Barry; too often their fun meant his discomfort. "I'll sort the table out again then," he said, being careful to keep any sound of irritation out of his voice.

"Don't worry we're going to have supper in bed," Margery giggled. Val's got a birthday present for me."

"All right, I'll leave you to it," Barry said. Valerie and Margery were energetic and vocal lovers. He'd be able to hear the sounds of their passion from most places in the house and he really didn't want to be reminded of their disinterest in his sexual capabilities.

"Oh no," said Margery, picking up a pair of tights with a grin. "Val was MOST insistent that you stayed around. In fact, she told me to make very sure you did."

Barry started to back away but Margery was quickly on him, putting her training in unarmed combat to expert use. In spite of the fact that she was by no means sober, she was still fitter and lither than Barry was and he soon found himself with his face pressed against the carpet and his arms pulled round behind him as Margery tied his wrists. "Oww!" he yelped as she tightened the knots.

"Just as well you didn't take up a career as a criminal," Margery giggled, slipping back against the bed. "I don't even need my handcuffs!" She pulled the belt from the skirt which Barry had brought up and jerked it tight around his ankles. It had been the work of a moment to render Barry quite helpless. "Now sit there, quietly and behave. I'm going to have a shower."

Barry watched fuming. Margery stripped off her bra and panties, not concerned in the least by the view that she was giving him of her naked body as she scurried around the bedroom. He tried wriggling his wrists and ankles but without success. He was still sitting on the floor, frustrated in his escape attempts, when Margery emerged from the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around her and another wound around her hair. "Mmm, that was good," she said with a smile as she finished drying herself off, ignoring Barry as she rubbed her body with the soft, fluffy, towels. She tossed them down beside Barry as she climbed into bed, he would have to tidy them up when he got free.

She had just snuggled down beneath the quilt, when Barry heard the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. Valerie was home.

She appeared at the door of the bedroom, smiling at Margery who was in the bed with just her head poking out over the quilt. "Sorry, I'm late, lover," she said."But I'll make it up to you." She slipped off her jacket and threw it over the back of a chair before climbing up on to the bed and kneeling alongside Margery. "You've not got much on under there, have you?" she said.

Margery giggled and shook her head. "Wrong," she said. "I've got nothing on at all!"

"Shocking!" exclaimed Valerie in mock outrage as she pushed back the quilt and, still wearing her blouse and skirt, climbed in alongside Margery.

From where he was on the floor, Barry couldn't really see what was going on but from the squeals, cries, grunts and sighs, he had a pretty good idea of what the girls were up to. After one crescendo of squeaks and sighs there was a quiet pause before Barry saw Valerie erupt from beneath the quilt, her skirt up around her waist and her blouse unbuttoned.

"Oh, come back," Margery urged.

"It's all right. I got us an anniversary present." Valerie almost tripped over Barry as she crossed the room and dealt him a kick as she passed him.

When she returned, Barry just heard Margery say, "Oh excellent!" and then felt Valerie lifting him up until he was kneeling at the end of the bed. He turned around to see with dismay that Val had strapped on a substantial dildo and the way she was licking her lips made it obvious what she intended to do next.

"Can you find something to quieten him down," Val called to Margery as she began to press the dildo up between Barry's buttocks. "He isn't really going to enjoy this much."

Margery bounced out of bed and into the bathroom. Barry squealed as Valerie pressed the dildo against his arse bud; opening his mouth just enough to let Margery jam a wet face cloth inside, leaving him coughing and muffling his cries as Valerie pushed the dildo home. Barry squawked with discomfort as Valerie pushed against his buttocks time and time again. Margery sat on the pillows at the other end of the bed laughing as Barry tried to struggle against Valerie's attentions.

"The best part is this, though," Val said as she tossed a piece of paper to her lover. "Read it out."

Margery grabbed at the paper. Barry was still choking on his face cloth gag as Val continued buggering him. "Thank you for your kind offer," Margery read out. "We will be happy to take Haste, B, as part of our domestic service and cleaning team. Please let us know the details of the accounts where the payments for his services should be made."

"He'll be bringing in almost half as much again as he does from that soft office job," Valerie said as she pushed the dildo home once more. "So I can cut down on the extra duty shifts and we can spend more time together." Barry gave a, "Gack!" into his facecloth gag as Valerie bucked her hips forward forcefully.

"He really is completely fucked, isn't he?" Margery giggled.

"What's even better is that he voted for New Order first time around!"

Margery collapsed with laughter. "You never said! Why on earth did he do that?"

"Fed up with the other lots he said. Thought that some new ideas might shake things up a bit. They couldn't be worse than what there had been before could they?"

"Not from our point of view, that's for sure!"

"Well I've had enough of this for tonight," Val said as she pulled back from Barry's back side. He gasped with relief as the dildo pulled clear of his sore arse. He heard it drop to the floor as Valerie unstrapped it and it fell to the floor. A moment later there was a stinging blow to his arse as Val snicked Margery's wet towel at his arse. He felt her release his wrists. "Clear the mess up Barry dear," Valerie said. "And then leave us in peace. We need a cosy night together and you need to get your sleep; you're going to be working much harder from here on out."

Chapter 8 : The Night Visitor

James woke suddenly. It was still dark and he wasn't sure of the time or of why he had woken up. He blinked at the darkness of his room, pulled the blanket over himself and lay down again. A second later he felt a gloved hand press down across his mouth and weight across his chest as though someone was sitting on him. His eyes sprang open, suddenly more awake than he had ever been before. He found himself staring up into a face masked in a balaclava. The full red lips and mascara-ed eyes he could see through the holes in the mask told him his assailant was a woman even before her voice snapped, "keep still and quiet, stupid," at him. He tried to wriggle free of the woman straddling him. All she did was to reach behind her back and pull a pistol from her belt. Pushing it up under his chin, she snapped, "I said keep fucking still!" James, terrified, did as he was told. "Good," the woman said. "That's better. Now you're going to do just as I say, right?"

She pushed the barrel of the pistols against his throat. "OK?"

"Mmm," agreed James from behind the woman's glove.

"Great," the woman said. "I'm going to take my hand away and you're going to keep quiet."

"Mmm," grunted James again.

The woman slid her hand away reached into a pocket in her black combat trousers and came out with a roll of tape. "On your face," she ordered. "And get your hands out from under the blankets. Cross them behind your back." James wriggled himself around beneath the woman. He was hardly surprised when he felt her wrapping tape around his wrists. "There's nothing here to steal," he started.

"I told you to fucking keep quiet, you stupid shit!"

The woman slammed the butt of her pistol into James's ribs. He gasped in pain as she straddled his mouth with another strip of the tape and then groaned almost inaudibly as she pulled two further strips across the lower half of his face. He was expecting the woman to pull tape around his ankles next. It didn't happen. Instead, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from his bed. He fell out of the bed as she stood up. As he sprawled on the floor, she kicked out at him. "Get up you dim fucker," she snarled, pulling him to his feet.

As he struggled to his feet he realised that the woman that had rendered him helpless with such ease was a good six inches shorter than himself. Slim and slightly built in a tight fitting black sweater and combat trousers, she moved with a fluid ease that told James he had no chance of breaking free of her grasp. She forced him from the bedroom and pushed him, still barefoot and without trousers, towards the door of his apartment. "Let's take a trip," she said as she peered out of the front door, checking that there was no one in the corridor outside.

The woman took him, struggling against her grip, along the corridor, down the back stairs and out of the building. The derelict plot at the back of the building was empty as it always was after dark except that backed up by the door was a small van, its back doors open. The woman pushed James inside, followed him in, closed the doors and called, "Time to go!" over her shoulder.

The van started to bounce across the waste ground towards the road but James wasn't going to get to watch the scenery. The woman reached down beside him, took a hessian sack and pulled it over his head. As he grunted in protest, she wrapped tape around his chest to keep the sack in place and then taped his ankles. She pushed him down flat on the floor of the van. "Stay down there, we've got a way to go."

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Justice Lady Catherine Stearns sat patiently listening to the evidence being presented before the court. As usual the Police seemed to have built a convincing case. Detective Sergeant Haste had been a particularly good witness. She and the others from her station had obviously done a thorough job. Stearns wondered if there would be any end to these subversives. They didn't seem to be deterred by the sentences and their plots seemed to get more devious by the month.