“Where to?” Charles asked. After a moment’s hesitation, he tossed her shirt to her as well.
“I’m gonna be one of the Charlie’s sluts,” she answered, pulling the tight white t-shirt over her bouncing tits.
“Really?” Charles asked disbelievingly.
“This guy I met, he said he worked for the government. After my tryout, he said I should come here and join the Supreme Lean Ultimate Team. I’m supposed to become one of the SLUTS,” she explained.
“REALLY?” Charles asked, even more disbelievingly.
“Yes, really. I’d be good, I’ve seen every episode of Charlie’s Angels and all the movies and—“
“Who sent you here?” Charles asked, trying to figure out which of the people he knew might send her here and why. Sending a hooker to his work only made sense as sabotage, but then she should have been shouting his name and trying to hump him in the halls, not spreading her legs for Marcus. It didn’t make sense.
“His codename was Balding Eagle,” she volunteered.
After a moment’s hesitation, Charles began to consider that she might be serious, she might actually be that gullible. That was interesting.
“Describe him.”
“About your height, 5’8” or so, fifty years old, balding of course, pot belly, I met him at the Golden Moat Bar,” she explained.
“Right, very good,” Charles didn’t recognize that man, at all. “And tell me about your testing,” he commanded. |