Read Online Black Tide by Brendan DuBois - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brendan DuBois
Tags: USA
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terminals, television sets continuously tuned to the four networks, plus monitors for ---- among others --- the Associated Press, United Press International, Reuters and English language translations of Agence France-Presse, Tass, New China News Agency and the All India News Service.
"Well, then," Carl said. "Something's approaching which might change your attitude, son. Time to get down off your chair."
I did as he suggested, just as Cissy Manning came in, smiling and giving me a furtive wink. Her hair was long this summer, and since I liked red hair, I'd told her teasingly that it gave me more fun things to play with. The petty rules which ran our section went fairly deep and wide, but so far, thank God, they hadn't yet gotten down to the fashion level. Cissy wore a pleated skirt that was a couple of inches above her knees, charcoal-gray stockings and high-heeled shoes. She also had on a dark green silk blouse that highlighted her green eyes, and which was unbuttoned far enough so that when she bent down to kiss my nose, I made out the faint spread of freckles across her chest and the lace cup of a white bra. Remembering the last weekend we had shared together, on the Maryland coast, I blushed. That recent evening, fueled with a half-bottle of champagne, I had gone on a freckle hunt and after a lot of laughs and shrieks, I had lost count and shared an entirely pleasurable post-hunt repast with her.
"What are you up to?" she asked, sitting on the edge of my desk, swinging one shoe free from her foot.
"Trying to maintain my enthusiasm for this section, and having a hard time doing it," I said, sitting back in my chair.
''A lack of enthusiasm, Mr. Cole?" she asked in mock surprise. "You've always had a reputation in this office for a lot of enthusiasm."
And with every word of her last sentence, and with a wicked smile on her face, she pulled up the hem of her skirt until l could see a garter belt snap, holding up the charcoal gray stockings. Then she winked and dropped the hem of the skirt, and leaned forward again. By then I could have used Carl's fan for my face.
"Heard that your latest work has been de-atomized," she said, her voice low.
"You got it."
She looked behind her --- no doubt checking for eyewitnesses --- and then turned again and kissed me on the forehead and said, "I've got the latest Victoria's Secret catalogue at my place. Care to browse through it with me tonight, after a sinfully delicious meal? You know, in a couple of weeks, we're going out Nevada for our field re-qual training. This might be our last chance for some decadent living before we're out tramping through the sands."
"Is there a modeling session included?"
She jumped down from the desk. "What do you think, that a tease? Seven o'clock?"
"Seven it is."
Cissy winked and left my cubicle and I took a deep breath, thankful that the gods and the fates had put the two of us together. She bent over to check one of the wire service terminals, Carl's voice came drifting up from the other side of the cubicle: ''A lingerie fashion show, how sweet."
In a moment I was back on my chair, looking down at his smiling face, and I said, "You got big ears, Socha."
That made him laugh. "Been accused of having big body parts before, but never ears. You go on and have yourself a good time tonight, Lewis. I'm tired of havin' a grump for a neighbor."
I didn't answer Carl, but I looked over the cubicles of my working group, smiling at them all, at Carl and Cissy and Trent Baker over by the Reuters wire, and even the damnable George Walker, sitting in his office (a supervisor's one, it had a real door), peering out at us with distaste. Though I was in a job that could never be discussed with family and friends --- except for those who shared the same clearance level --- it was a job that I enjoyed very much. I was where I wanted to be. I fit in. I was content.
Within two weeks, everyone in this room --- except for me --- would be dead.
When I got
"Well, then," Carl said. "Something's approaching which might change your attitude, son. Time to get down off your chair."
I did as he suggested, just as Cissy Manning came in, smiling and giving me a furtive wink. Her hair was long this summer, and since I liked red hair, I'd told her teasingly that it gave me more fun things to play with. The petty rules which ran our section went fairly deep and wide, but so far, thank God, they hadn't yet gotten down to the fashion level. Cissy wore a pleated skirt that was a couple of inches above her knees, charcoal-gray stockings and high-heeled shoes. She also had on a dark green silk blouse that highlighted her green eyes, and which was unbuttoned far enough so that when she bent down to kiss my nose, I made out the faint spread of freckles across her chest and the lace cup of a white bra. Remembering the last weekend we had shared together, on the Maryland coast, I blushed. That recent evening, fueled with a half-bottle of champagne, I had gone on a freckle hunt and after a lot of laughs and shrieks, I had lost count and shared an entirely pleasurable post-hunt repast with her.
"What are you up to?" she asked, sitting on the edge of my desk, swinging one shoe free from her foot.
"Trying to maintain my enthusiasm for this section, and having a hard time doing it," I said, sitting back in my chair.
''A lack of enthusiasm, Mr. Cole?" she asked in mock surprise. "You've always had a reputation in this office for a lot of enthusiasm."
And with every word of her last sentence, and with a wicked smile on her face, she pulled up the hem of her skirt until l could see a garter belt snap, holding up the charcoal gray stockings. Then she winked and dropped the hem of the skirt, and leaned forward again. By then I could have used Carl's fan for my face.
"Heard that your latest work has been de-atomized," she said, her voice low.
"You got it."
She looked behind her --- no doubt checking for eyewitnesses --- and then turned again and kissed me on the forehead and said, "I've got the latest Victoria's Secret catalogue at my place. Care to browse through it with me tonight, after a sinfully delicious meal? You know, in a couple of weeks, we're going out Nevada for our field re-qual training. This might be our last chance for some decadent living before we're out tramping through the sands."
"Is there a modeling session included?"
She jumped down from the desk. "What do you think, that a tease? Seven o'clock?"
"Seven it is."
Cissy winked and left my cubicle and I took a deep breath, thankful that the gods and the fates had put the two of us together. She bent over to check one of the wire service terminals, Carl's voice came drifting up from the other side of the cubicle: ''A lingerie fashion show, how sweet."
In a moment I was back on my chair, looking down at his smiling face, and I said, "You got big ears, Socha."
That made him laugh. "Been accused of having big body parts before, but never ears. You go on and have yourself a good time tonight, Lewis. I'm tired of havin' a grump for a neighbor."
I didn't answer Carl, but I looked over the cubicles of my working group, smiling at them all, at Carl and Cissy and Trent Baker over by the Reuters wire, and even the damnable George Walker, sitting in his office (a supervisor's one, it had a real door), peering out at us with distaste. Though I was in a job that could never be discussed with family and friends --- except for those who shared the same clearance level --- it was a job that I enjoyed very much. I was where I wanted to be. I fit in. I was content.
Within two weeks, everyone in this room --- except for me --- would be dead.
When I got
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