This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.
Unfortunately no politicians or lawyers were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.
If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me and lie.
I will always welcome contact.
AUTHOR'S HEALTH WARNING
Dear Reader,
Life can be a crock sometimes, so if it all right with you, I actually prefer happy endings. So, if you want the hero(ine) to have a really miserable time, READ SOMETHING ELSE.
But if you want to see good prevail, and end up with a soppy smile, then I have achieved what I set out to do.
Please enjoy.
Tanya
tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk
The legal stuff.

This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.

Monique

by Tayna J

Part 23.

I had arrived on the Monday, having been given my uniform at Langley. I was dressed in the blue skirt, white blouse and blue tunic. With stockings and court shoes. My hair I had managed to put up, and the hat I wore felt really odd. I had my Lieutenant’s bars on my shoulders, and a couple of medals above my left breast. Chris had told me that they were for Zurich. One was for the work I had undertaken, and another was for being wounded in the line of duty. I had the Intelligence badge, and felt very cool.

I was given my first car, a Mazda MX-5. Chris said that it was in keeping with my image. All I know is I had a huge grin on my face from the moment I slid behind the wheel. It was even registered legally in my name.

I reported to the main gate, and was saluted by the USAF SP man on duty. He checked my ID card, found my name on the list, and gave me a car pass, instructing me where to park.

I parked the car and walked to the reception. I had to carry my bag in my left hand, as I kept having to return salutes. I checked in with reception, and shown where my room was in the Officers Quarters. It was a two-week course, and I was to stay here for the duration.

The course was quite basic, and sought to reinforce previous training for those officers who were either reservists going regular, or for those who had been on secondment in special posts for some time, and were out of touch with current policy and procedures. I was an Intelligence Officer, as were a few of the others. I was also one of only three women amongst twenty-five men.

I found that after the previous course, it was very relaxed and lax. I still rose at 06:00 and went for a run, and undertook my training programme in the gym every day. I took a pride in my uniform, and had to admit, I had the right figure. I learned how to bull my shoes in the cadets at school, and now I ensured that I was as immaculate as I could be.

I was relaxed, and able to be myself, almost. I had no difficulty with my accent, as I was myself, and did not have to try to be anything different. To make it slightly easier, I slipped into a New England accent, and no one questioned my roots at all.

I had been a bit worried that I would be exposed as a fraud, in that I had no previous military training, and it would show. However, I needn’t have worried, I think I was the most military minded of them all. I know I got some funny looks when I was up so early every morning and running four or five miles before breakfast.

In the IT sessions, I was streets ahead of most of the others, and was able to help the slower members of the group. I found the input was very valuable, and loved every minute of it. I had always been interested in programming and computer languages, and most of my knowledge was about a year out of date. Compared to the majority of the group, I was years ahead.

I enjoyed the course, but kept myself a little distant from the others. This was not hard, as I was nearly ten years younger than the next youngest person, and was one of seven unmarried or unattached officers.

I attracted most attention in the gym, where I was anonymous. I had no rank insignia on my training vest, and I was able to converse with whoever was there without the built-in barrier of rank. There was a group of senior NCOs who were on a heavy weights programme, and I was usually in the gym at the same time. I was, to my knowledge, about the only female using the gym regularly.

In the middle of one session towards the end of the second week, one of the guys, who had just bench-pressed the weight equivalent of my car, came over and watched me.

“I never knew this was a spectator sport,” I said, between weights.

“Hell, honey, the way you do it, it sure should be,” he said with a grin.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Take it how you see it.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment. Thanks.”

“You sure are welcome. I’m Luke. Luke Gray.”

“I’m Monique.”

“I’ve seen you in here before.”

“Observant as well. Lucky me.”

He laughed.

“What course are you on?”

“IT and intel stuff,” I said.

“Oh, I’m on Nav/comms.”

“So, you are flight crew?”
“Yup, you?”

“Intelligence.”

He frowned, as usually only officers were on the intelligence courses. I laughed.

“So, where are you from?” I asked, changing the topic fast.

“South Carolina, you?”

“All over. But recently, Maryland.”

“You have a New England accent.”

“How strange,” I said, and he laughed.

“You are an officer, ain’t ya?”

“Does it show?”

He nodded.

“Unfortunately. You have a precise way of talking. You been to University as well?”

“That shows too, does it?” I said, as I finished the lateral pull-downs.

“You have real good muscle tone.”

“As a chat up line, I’ve heard it. As an observation, thanks,” I said and smiled. He glanced at my left hand.

“It just ain’t my day. The best looking girl in ages, and now I find she is an officer, and I bet you are engaged to an officer?”

I grinned.

“Army,” I said, and he shook his head.

“Are you too proud to join me for a beer, or will you get into shit for fraternising?” he asked.

“Where and when?”

“Short walk from the main gate. Meet you there at six?”

“Okay, no uniform, no rank.”

“Shit, you will?”

“Why not?”

He grinned.

“Okay, I’ll see you at six.”

I smiled as he dashed off. I could do with some social fun. The officers club was so stuffy, and I only had a couple of days to go.

I dressed down, with a pair of jeans, cowboy boots on the outside and a very tight black tee shirt with ‘Toomuchsexmakesyoushortsighted.” in fading white lettering. I had my leather jacket, and let my now very long hair down.

I was a couple of minutes late and he was already waiting for me.

“Sorry I’m late, I had to find my brain,” I said, and this made him laugh. It was common knowledge that all officers had their brains removed.

“You ain’t that late, and boy, you sure look good,” he said. I blushed.

We walked about three blocks, and there was a small bar set back from the road.

“This here is the unofficial non-coms club,” he said, as we went in.

It seemed much smaller from the outside, and stretched back quite a way. There were a couple of pool tables out in the back, and booths all around. There was a long bar down one sidewall, with bar stools. We went and sat on a couple of these.

“Hi Luke. Who’s the lovely lady?” said the barman.

“Hey Wally, how’re doin’? This here’s Monique.”

“Hi Monique. What ya doin’ with this guy? He’s no good, ya hear.” Wally said, and I smiled.

“What can I get you folks?”

Luke looked at me.

“Beer is fine, Bud, Miller, or whatever,” I said.

“They do a good draught here,” he said.

“Fine, not a big one though,” I said.

A couple of guys came over, curious to meet Luke’s new friend.

“Hey, Monique, this here is Sam, and Chuck. They are both top sergeants on the cargo Galaxies. You know the big ones?”

“Hi guys, I know the C-5s well, thanks all the same Luke,” I said, and he grinned and shook his head.

“What the hell is a nice girl like you doin’ with this guy?” Sam, the older one, asked.

“Ah, well you may ask. I don’t know - he promised to take me away from all that, and led me to all this,” I said, and took a long drink of my cold beer.

The guys sat down.

“Are you with the military, Monique?” Chuck asked.

“Might be,” I said, with a grin. “What do you say we forget all that tonight. Who will give me a game of pool?”

We went to the back, and Sam got set to cream me at pool. I had played a lot of snooker in England, and the occasional game of pool, but I was surprised at the way my new anatomy got in the way. I took it careful the first game, and decided to let him win, and gauge the table and my opposition.

I gave him a reasonable game, but lost. Only to find myself playing Chuck. I had an advantage this time, as Chuck had already been drinking for some time, and I was able to beat him. Then Luke played me, and I noticed a few more spectators drift over to watch.

Luke was good. But I had one or two tricks up my sleeve, or rather, my tee shirt.

I took my jacket off, and bent over carefully lining up each shot. I noticed Luke’s eyes drifted to my breasts, and so when he was playing, I always stood just in his line of sight. I was thus able to beat him by outrageous gamesmanship.

A few more girls seemed to be in evidence, and there was music on by a dance area. The guys took it in turns and I danced with them all. I carefully watched my alcohol intake, and was aware that they were trying to get me drunk. I managed to lose a few glasses of beer, and by the time Luke and three other guys escorted me back to the base, I was the most sober of the lot.

I gave each a friendly kiss on the cheek, and went to my room. Tomorrow was my last day.

I decided against my run the next morning, and dressed in uniform as usual. I had breakfast in the officer’s mess, and walked past the nav/comms wing on my way to my class. Approaching me were three sergeants, Luke, Chuck and Sam. I smiled.

They were half way up with the automatic salutes when they recognised me.

“Hi boys. Thanks for last night,” I said, with a smile, as I returned their salutes, and kept walking, without turning round.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” said Sam, and Luke laughed.

“You knew. You son of a bitch.”

I stopped, and looked back. Luke was being chased down the road by the others.

I completed my course, and put my gear back into my car. I drove to the US Air Force base at Dover in Delaware. I reported to the CO, and was assigned my quarters. I was taking up the post as Intelligence officer, with a special responsibility for coordinating with the other services and liaison with the contingency planning officer. After September 11, each base was in a high state of alert, and had an intelligence officer constantly assessing security systems and measures.

As it happened the Major in question was based here, in a different department, but I was due to start my new job after some leave. I had a date to watch a certain someone pass out of Sandhurst.

Before I flew out, I travelled, in uniform, to visit the Munroes. I pulled up outside their home, having rung the General to make sure that I was still welcome.

I walked up the path, and rang the bell. I was a very different person to the student of a few weeks ago.

Stacey answered the door, saw the uniform, turned round and yelled, “DAD!”

“Hi Stacey,” I said quietly, and she swung back and stared at me. She frowned, and then shook her head.

“Monique?” she asked, doubtfully.

I smiled, and took my Rayban sunglasses off.

“The very same, or rather the real me,” I said.

She stared at me, looking at my uniform, including my name badge. Lt.M.Bonnard.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Can I come in, and I may be able to explain.”

She stepped back, and let me enter.

Marianne saw me, with a curious smile on her face. I knew that the General had told her.

“Hello Monique,” she said.

“Hi Marianne. How are you?”

“I’m fine thanks dear. It is nice to see you again.”

“It is nice to be back.”

“Mom, what the hell is going on?” Stacey asked.

Marianne smiled, and left us alone.

“Monique?”

“I am Monique Bonnard. I am an officer in the US Air Force, and I work for Military Intelligence. I am genuinely half French, and I was employed by the powers that be to investigate a certain lecturer at the University who had suspected terrorist links. Our friendship was genuine, and an accident of circumstances. I now work for your father, and he ordered me to come clean to you. I value our friendship, and I did not want there to be secrets between us.”

“So you were American all along?”

“Not really,” I said. “I was employed by the government because of my background, and that I was the only person who could identify the suspect.”

“I’m still confused. Just who are you?”

“My father was English, my mother was French. I got unwittingly involved in a case of terrorism and corruption in Europe. I found myself working with the company, and displayed an aptitude for the type of work. As a result of that, I was offered a further contract, and here I am. My real name would mean nothing to anyone, and as far as I am concerned Monique is my real name. Bonnard is my mother’s maiden name. My father was a wealthy speculator and Mr Fixit. I don’t use his name because of various dubious connections.”

“Is that your natural hair colour?”

I laughed, this was the Stacey I knew.

“Yes, it is.”

“It suits you, but the red was cool.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not sure about the uniform, though.”

“That comes off.”

“Is Alex real, or is that another story?”

“Alex is very real.”

“I’d like to meet him.”

“I’d like you to as well.”

Suddenly, the barriers were down, and she hugged me.

“I missed you. I tried to find your address in France, and no records could be found.”

“I wonder why that was?” I said, and she giggled.

We went up to her room, and caught up with our news. Brad had proposed to her, and she was still thinking about it. I thought she could do better, so I told her so.

She laughed, and agreed, but didn’t know how to let him off without hurting his feelings.

A door slammed, and I guessed John had returned.

We went down stairs, and John glanced at me, and then had another look. His jaw dropped and his frown was a joy to behold. Stacey got the giggles.

“Hello John. Remember me?” I asked, as Miss America.

“Monique?”

“Mais oui, comment ca va?”

His frown deepened.

“Huh?”

“I am a US Air Force officer, I was working undercover for the government on a top secret investigation, and my cover was as a foreign exchange student,” I explained.

“Do you work for my dad?”

“Sort of,” I said.

“Oh.”

The General chose that moment to break up the party, and he smiled at his son.

“Sorry, John boy. But this girl works for me.”

“Aw, Dad.”

“This young man has had the hots for you ever since you stayed with us. I tried telling him you were already spoken for, and so he’s going to have to see it for himself.”

It was my turn to be confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“We’re going to England for a vacation. I just happen to have been invited to attend the Sovereign’s Parade at Sandhurst, you know - the Passing Out Parade, as a guest of honour, and I need a staff officer to come with me.”

I stared at him like the idiot now, and this caused the others to have a laugh at my expense.

“Monique, we are going to England, and you are coming too. Courtesy of the US Air Force.”

“But?”

“We are flying out a week before the event, as I understand you may wish to attend the Commissioning Ball, and will need to buy a new gown, as you only own a meagre fifty already. We have been given the use of a house in Surrey, which is the property of the US Government, and you will please stay with us, and you can act as a guide for Stacey and John as they look round your home town.”

I smiled.

“Home town?” asked John.

“London,” I said. “Thank you General. I would be honoured to be your staff officer.”

“You got your sexy uniform, girl,” he said with a twinkle.

“Yes sir, thank you sir!” I said, and saluted him, for real this time.

since 12/31/04