Helping the General 1-3

[GenderBender]

The receptionist recognised him and held out the room card as he approached. He smiled his thanks.



'Your friend,' he detected a slight pause while she chose the right word, 'is already there.'



She winked as she said it and he reciprocated.



He could have let himself in, but he knocked and waited.



The door opened and he stepped inside.



She was waiting for him, dressed in army fatigues and jacket. Figure-hugging, almost like it was tailored to fit. Which it could have been if the rank she was showing was correct.



'Am I supposed to salute?' he asked.



She stared in surprise before replying, 'Are you flirting with me?'



He just smiled and held out his hand. 'Orlando,' he said. She shook, firmly but briefly. 'Florence,' she replied, 'but just call me Flo.'



That wasn't her real name, but then he wasn't called Orlando. Names didn't matter.



She stared awkwardly at him before collecting herself. 'Sorry, I'm not used to this. Can I offer you a drink?'



He glanced at what was on offer and helped himself to a non-alcoholic lager. She followed suit.



They settled own, with her on one of the chairs, while he settled onto the sofa.



Each sipped from their bottles, slowly. Orlando watched, but said nothing. Timing was important. Vital in fact.



'This is difficult,' she began.



'Take your time, Flo.'



She smiled, perhaps at his consideration or, maybe, at the use of the unfamiliar name.



'I don't know what you've been told.'



She was fishing, but that is what he had expected.



'All I know,' he replied, 'is that you have had a rough time.'



'That's what they called it, was it?' Her tone was harsh, cynical.



'It's up to you to tell me what you want me to know. Nothing more. But obviously I need to understand enough to be able to help you.'



Her body seemed to relax, probably in response to his soft gaze. Feedback almost always mentioned his eyes. It was what the receptionist had experienced downstairs.



'Everything that happens, everything we say and do, is completely confidential. I will never repeat anything to anyone, ever.'



That soft look again.



What he had said was true. He hadn't mention that the room, like all the rooms in this seemingly innocent hotel, were wired – everything that they said was recorded, and everything they did was filmed.



'Maybe it would help if you told me a little about yourself. General background. Just to break the ice.'

 

[GenderBender]

'General background, right.' Flo took a gulp of her drink.



'Career military. Third generation military. Grandpa and daddy both made colonel. When I wanted to join, daddy said "no, it's your brother's role". But grandpa said no, I was a better man than Jake would ever be. Damn right, too. That guy is a straight up and down, one hundred per cent, ass fucking, ball sucking, pansy. So I joined and the rest is history.'



Another long swig from her bottle.



'Met my husband at our first posting out from the Academy. Good times we had back then.'



'Good times?' Orlando prompted.



'Yeah, fucking of course. That's what military couples do. What else is there to do? Confined to base and trained to maximum fitness with nothing to drain our energies. So we fucked, like everyone else on camp. Two, three times a day, most days. Before breakfast, in the evening, during the night if one of us woke up. Happy times.'



'So what happened?'



'Common story. I got promoted, he didn't. He couldn't abide having to salute me and do what I told him. And I couldn't cope with him trying to dominate at home to compensate. Meaning, of course, in bed, which is the only place that really matters to most guys. So, I dumped him.'



'How did you manage, then? It sounds like you enjoy sex.'



'Good question. Like I said, it's a common problem. Fortunately, there are plenty of senior guys around who are happy to oblige. Shouldn't happen, of course, contrary to good discipline and some old fashioned rules as well. But everyone does it, so no one will report anyone else. Had a thing going for a while with a 5 Star, out of the Pentagon. He wasn't getting it any more at home, so he was happy to service me. Did it very nicely too, for his age.'



Orlando was about to ask for more details, but Flo suddenly stood up and began pacing.



'I searched – while I was waiting for you – natural instinct – found the condoms.'



Orlando wondered what else she had found.



'You won't be needing those. Never liked them. I'm clean. Been checked, I insisted on it, after what happened. You won't catch anything off me and I'm told you've checked out clean as well.'



'What else did you find?' Orlando kept his eyes on hers, desperate not to draw her attention to the cameras or microphones.



Flo laughed. 'Plenty of dust. HA! You'd think they'd keep this place clean, wouldn't you.'



Orlando hoped his relief did not show.



Flo picked up another bottle, thought about it, then put it down. 'That stuff tastes like piss and has just as much effect.'



Orlando had to agree and caught a can of Stella that sailed towards him. 'That's better,' he agreed after his first mouth full.



'I don't believe you're really called Orlando. How many parents saddle a kid with a name like that?'



'Not many,' he laughed. 'But how many call their kids Florence?'



Flo did not react.



'So, you don't like Orlando. What would you prefer to call me?'



'David.'



'OK, David it is, or Dave if you prefer.'



'No, David.' He hoped for an explanation, but nothing came and he decided not to pry, not yet any way.



They sat in silence for a while, slowly working their way through the Stella.



Knowing when not to speak was as important as knowing when to prompt or ask a direct question. It was better if it came out naturally, when the client was ready.



'They trashed me, David. The bastards kicked the shit out of me. You'll see the bruises - and the rest. But it didn't break me. No way was that going to break me. I've been around that track a few times. I can take it and I took it. They got mad, naturally. But I didn't crack.'



David shifted slightly, making more space on the sofa, although there was plenty of room for her already.



She wanted to come across, he could see it, feel it, and finally she rose.



She settled at the opposite end of the sofa, looking straight ahead, avoiding his eyes.



'I broke one guy's bollocks – he didn't come back again. I hope the bastard's impotent.' She spat out the word. David's hand instinctively went to his groin.

 

[GenderBender]

David slid along the sofa to sit beside the general. He reached over and began gently to unbutton her uniform blouse, but she brushed his hand away and stood up, her back to him. She unfasten the blouse and then pushed it over her shoulders, before turning to face him.



She was broad shouldered and muscular with prominent biceps and a washboard stomach. Her pale skin was a maze of colours – yellow, purple, red, green – the remains of the bruises. But what caught David's eye was her bra. Pink with white trim, low cut, push up. He rose and walked towards her. 'Not the usual uniform issue,' he grinned. 'No,' she replied, 'my 5Star from the Pentagon gave it to me. I thought it might help you,' she added, 'in view of our age difference.'



David put his mouth next to her ear and whispered 'I don't help to be aroused by a powerful woman.' He moved closer and reached behind her to unfasten the bra. Again she moved his fingers aside, but this time more gently. As she lowered it, he saw that the bruising extended across both breasts with both nipples torn. David lowered his lips to plant a soft kiss on each.



'Is it the same,' he lowered his eyes to her waist and beyond. She nodded and sighed. 'See for yourself.' Carefully, he unbuckled her belt and lowered her fatigues. Her muscular legs and buttocks were disfigured like her torso. Her crotch was covered by panties that matched her bra. He carefully lowered these to reveal her swollen and torn labia.



As she had said, her attackers had trashed her.



She sank onto a chair, removed her boots and kicked her clothes away. David sank to his knees, opened her thighs and kissed her thick lips. The General ran her fingers through his thick curly hair.