The Day After

As had been the tradition for over a hundred years, shops along Cecil Court were closed on Sundays in January. This January of 2028 was no different. After being open extended hours seven days a week in December, the shop owners along 'The Row' had long ago agreed that a little time off was well deserved. Some shop owners took the entire month off to go on holiday. So it was on this day that Joanne Hallewell planned on sleeping in even later than usual. Olivia's party had gone late the previous evening, and the lingering affects of the wine she had drank had led her to flip over several times to return to her slumbers. Well, that and the desire to return to her dreams.

Normally Jo didn't remember her dreams in the morning. Too, for some reason, most of the people in her dreams were strangers to her. That was something she might ask a psychiatrist about some day. But the previous night's dreams were vivid, memorable, and involved people she knew; Major Taylor and Olivia. It came as no surprise that these two would be in her dreams after fantasizing about them when she went to bed the previous evening.

She hadn't really fantasized about Olivia; she was just thinking about what Peter had said about trying to determine if the woman was a lesbian or not. She felt rather guilty that she had lied to the Major about never having been with a woman. She had, in fact, been involved with a girl while in her freshman year at Cambridge. It had been a fairly short interlude, but was very intense while it lasted. Lying in bed the previous evening, Jo had briefly imagined what Olivia would be like in bed and, after drifting off to a sated sleep, her dream revealed her presupposition on that subject. It was an enjoyable dream, but oddly, as dreams sometimes do, it vanished into the mist only to be replaced with a somewhat modified replay of her humiliation at the dinner table earlier in the evening.

What struck her now, as she thought about the dream, was that she didn't feel that same humiliation in the dream; it was something else. Pride. Jo's hand unconsciously went up to her throat to feel for the collar that she knew wasn't there. In her dream it had been there; her wide slave collar. Peter's hand stroked her hair softly, just as he had done at the party, but then the hand traveled down to her bare shoulders and back. Only now did she recall that she had been naked in the dream. While experiencing the dream she had not given her nakedness a second thought. It had felt very natural, as did the leash traversing the space between her collar and Peter's lap. The leash lay across his leg, tethering them together while he stroked her like the family pet. Proudly, she sat erect with her chest out and her head held high. She looked up at him and felt a warmth flow through her and a desire to please him.

Jo turned over and closed her eyes, but after a few moments it was fairly obvious that she wouldn't be falling asleep again as thoughts of the day ahead began to creep into her mind. The day was one she had been both regretting and anticipating at the same time. It was the day her grandmother was returning to Long Riston.

This was a sobering thought. The running of Leather Bound Books, and the Kink Support Network safe house, was to be totally her responsibility! Grandma Tina hadn't said anything about it, but Jo could see the dear old lady yearned to be out of the city and back in Long Riston. She hoped to help out from time to time at the small family owned bookstore, but her days of running the operation and being on her feet twelve to thirteen hours a day were over. As far as the Network was concerned, she had served them well during the past three years, and would still be available to lend assistance if there was a need and a means to do so.

While sad to see her grandmother leave, Joanne looked forward to the role she was there to fill. Owning the store was exciting, but being able to help women like Mrs. MacMasters, and the others who had hid in her basement for a week, was even more so. It was horrible that women in London would feel so threatened by the Regime that they had to resort to fleeing, but at least she could provide a temporary safe haven for them.

Now that she was fully awake, Jo decided to get up and start breakfast. Sounds on the floor above indicated that Christina was awake, and most likely finishing up with her packing. By the time she had the dishes on the table, and the meal ready to serve, her grandmother had made her way down to the kitchen. Christina wanted to hear all about the party Jo had attended the previous evening at Olivia's, and then couldn't believe what she was hearing when she learned of the humiliation the women were subjected to.

"Behaviour like that makes what the Network is doing all the more important," the elderly woman said. "You can expect a lot more women wanting to leave the country if this keeps up."

"I'm worried that it will only get worse," Jo said. "There seems to be no stopping the regime."

"We're all worried about that, Jo. But the Network is working quite hard behind the scenes to stop their plans for the future. There's a lot going on in the other sections of the Network that we aren't privy to."

This made Joanne sit up a little straighter. "Other sections?"

Christina finished chewing her food and then said, "Sure. Like any Intelligence organization we have cells. Only a few people know everything that's going on in the organization, and those people are up there in Scotland. For security reasons we have no idea what other cells are up to, but I can tell you that we have people in the regime, the MRU, the local government, the police, and even in the media. Who? I don't know, and I don't care to know."

She took a sip of her coffee and then continued, "Leather Bound is part of two cells. We're part of the underground railroad that helps funnel people in and out of the country, and we also serve Peter's communications group."

"Is that his group?"

"Communications? Yeah, he's in charge of all of that, and in charge of the safe houses and who knows what else. Cecil Court just happens to be located in a prime spot for sending and receiving transmissions, so he set up his equipment in our attic."

"Huh," Joanne said, "I wonder why that is?"

"Oh, it has something to do with being close to the BBC satellite dishes. I don't concern myself with the details of Peter's business, and neither should you."

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Joanne got up the nerve to say, "I heard last night that Peter was married to a regenerated woman, and that she left him. Do you know anything about that?"

"Who told you that? Olivia?"

The tone of her grandmother's voice made Joanne regret bringing it up. She and the Major were obviously close, and maybe the thought of people gossiping about him was upsetting to her.

"All the women there last night seemed to know all about it. I don't think it's any sort of a secret. I just thought there was probably more to it than what they know."

Christina backed away from the table and took her plate to the sink where she rinsed it off. She turned towards Jo and leaned up against the counter.

"There's more to it than even I know. Abigail, that was her name, had worked with Peter in MI6. After the regime took power and the MRU's were dispatched like rabid dogs to hunt down deviants, she got caught up in their nets and was sent to an MRU facility to be regenerated. Apparently, according to what I heard, she was able to resist the treatments, probably due to her training in Six. When she came out, Peter took her and married her, most likely to protect her from the men she used to work with. I guess there was a lot of interest in her, but the Major had the clout to fend off the others. They were married for two years."

Pressing her luck a little, Jo asked, "So...why did she leave him?"

Christina took Jo's empty plate and rinsed it off, then placed it in the dishwasher with her own. "Their marriage was meant to keep her safe and to provide Peter with the appearance of having a mate during those early days. Edinburgh wanted to bring her out earlier, but at that early stage of the regime's rule the security near the border was tighter than it is now. They had to figure out a secure way to move her out of the country, and until they did, she stayed with Peter."

"So how did they get her out?"

"I was never told. In fact, we never know where the women are taken once they leave Cecil Court. There's some things we shouldn't know, Joanne." Christina saw her granddaughter shake her head slightly, as if she didn't quite get it. It was time to drive some uncomfortable facts home.

"What would happen if we knew all of the escape routes, and all of the people in the other cells, and then we were caught and interrogated? Do you think we should know all of that information?"

The expression on Jo's face changed as a little light bulb must've come on in her brain. She got it.

Before Joanne could respond, though, the doorbell buzzed. "That must be Jonathan," she said, knowing that her brother was coming over to take their grandmother home. "I'll go let him in."

Jo and Jon spent the next half an hour loading Christina's belongings into the back of his large van. When it was finally done the elderly woman descended the stairs and stood outside for a moment looking at the front of the building that had been her home for so long.

"Take good care of her, Jo," she said, and then turned to her granddaughter. "I always wanted the store to be yours, and I couldn't be happier today."

They shared a very tearful goodbye and then Joanne returned to her apartment feeling a sudden emptiness about the place. Leather Bound Books would not be the same without Christina Hallewell standing behind the counter. Cecil Court would not be the same without her, either. Memories that went back twenty years were as vivid as the day they were created. Playing hide and go seek with her grandmother in the little book filled rooms of the store. Playing with her toys under the front counter while business was being conducted above her. Helping the grownups find books they were looking for and the look of pride on her grandmother's face when she found them. Sitting for hours in one of the quiet rooms reading book after book. All of the joys of her childhood with her dearest grandma flooded back and Joanne couldn't stop the tears if she tried.

Bzzz, Bzzz. The sound of the doorbell startled her, and Joanne jumped up out of the chair she had been sitting in. Had her grandmother forgotten something? A single door in her kitchen opened to two staircases; one leading down to the store and the other to a door off of the sidewalk in front. It was set up that way so that the apartment could be accessed without going through the store. Rather than just pushing the button for the door release on the wall panel, Jo hurried down the stairs to open the door. When she did she was surprised to see Olivia Wright standing in front of her.

"Darling!" Olivia said with a flourish. "I just came..." she stopped mid sentence. "Oh honey, what's the matter? Has something happened? What is it?"

In her haste to answer the door, Joanne hadn't given any thought to the fact that she still hadn't brushed her hair or put on any decent clothes. She probably looked like hell, and here was the bubbly Olivia Wright standing at her doorstep! Behind her was a sleek black sedan with a male driver sitting behind the wheel. At least he seemed to be reading a newspaper and not paying any attention to what was going on around him.

"I'm...I'm sorry!" Joanne stammered. "I know I must look a mess. How embarrassing." She took a step back as if to partly conceal herself behind the door.

"You've been crying, sweetie, are you okay?" Olivia looked genuinely concerned.

It wasn't her disheveled look that Olivia had noticed, it had been the watery red eyes. That made sense. "Oh, yes, well my grandmother just left and I was having a little pity party over it. I'm really going to miss her."

"You poor thing, can we go upstairs?" Olivia asked.

"Well..."

Olivia had already taken two steps forward forcing Joanne to quickly decide whether to yield or block her. The woman had such an air of confidence and entitlement that Jo reflexively found herself stepping aside to let her pass. She took a quick glance out towards the street and closed the door behind her. Other than Olivia's car and driver, the area was deserted. As they ascended the stairway, Olivia held her hand down behind her for Joanne to take. She did.

In those brief moments, Joanne pictured her apartment, and the upstairs spare bedroom, thinking of anything that might have been left out that Olivia shouldn't see. There was nothing incriminating in her apartment that she knew of, and she was positive that the dresser was against the wall in the spare attic room to conceal the communications room. She breathed more easily and followed the woman into the kitchen.

"What a delightful home!" Olivia gushed, as she looked around the kitchen and then stepped into the living room to take a look around. "It's just so...I don't know, warm and comfortable."

"Thank you," Jo replied. "I'm sure it seems like a hovel compared to what you're used to. Your house is so magnificent."

"It's cold and totally uninviting," Olivia flatly stated. "Can we sit?" She motioned towards the small sofa, and seeing Joanne's nod, sat down. After Jo had joined her she said, "I came over to apologize for last night," Olivia said. "Can you believe the nerve of that horrible man?! He wasn't even invited!"

"Oh, he wasn't invited?" Joanne asked, somewhat surprised.

"Hell no. He somehow heard we were having a get-together and just showed up, like we'd be honored to have him."

"Well, I had such a good time, anyway," Jo said.

"Darling, you need to get out more often!" They both laughed at that. "So did the Major escort you to your door afterwards, or maybe....?"

The smirk on Olivia's face revealed the unasked question.

"No!" Joanne blurted out quickly, and then decided to embellish a little. She hadn't had time the previous evening to act on Peter's notion that Olivia was a closet lesbian, but now maybe.... "Although I think he would've come up if I'd asked him to."

"Why on earth didn't you?"

"Oh, he seems nice enough, but, I don't know..." she looked down at her hands in her lap and paused just to make it seem like she was holding something back. She was also thinking about Peter's advice to make it seem as though Olivia might have a chance with her. "I've never had much luck with men, and it never works out."

"Oh dear." Olivia shifted her position so that she could place her hands on Joanne's arm. "Do you think it's just the men you've been with, or all men?"

Joanne had to admit that Olivia had a very personal way about her. For being relative strangers, she felt that she could talk to her about anything, but it made fabricating small lies that much easier, too. "Who knows? Maybe it's all men. I just can't seem to get excited over the prospect of dating."

Olivia's hand went up behind Joanne's head and gently caressed her hair before coming to rest on her shoulder, while her other hand traveled down her arm towards her leg. "Maybe you'd be more comfortable with someone a little softer..."

Joanne looked up at her and then slid back slightly so that Olivia was forced to retract her hands. "I don't think so, and even if I did I'd be a fool to let you know about it."

This response seemed to surprise Olivia. "Oh? I thought we were becoming friends."

"I think we are, but these days you have to be careful of who your friends are, and who they might be married to."

"Oh." Olivia sat back and there was an awkward silence in the room. "Of course you're right, darling. I'm just so dense sometimes, I hadn't even considered that when I spoke. I suppose I'm guilty of living in my own little world and not paying much attention to what George is up to." She stood up. "It seems I must apologize to you again. I'm really making a mess of it."

"In such a short time, too," Joanne said, hoping to add some brevity to the situation. They had only known each other for a little under twenty-four hours.

Olivia covered her mouth with her hand. "Good lord, you're right. I should go before I cause further damage."

"Oh come on, it's nothing that serious," Jo said, hoping she hadn't scared her off. "Please stay."

"My MRU husband is getting ready to go out of town for a few days, so I should get back before he leaves, anyways." Olivia stepped into the kitchen and Joanne walked ahead of her to get the door.

"Okay, well, let's get together again soon, okay?" Joanne said as she pointed towards the correct staircase to use to get back to the street. "We can start off fresh."

"I'd like that," Olivia replied. "Goodbye, Jo. I hope you'll be okay with your grandmother gone now."

"I'll be okay. Thanks for stopping by. You really did cheer me up a little." Joanne watch the woman go down the stairs and out the door to the waiting car.

After hearing the sound of the sedan drive off, Joanne went down into the store and took the hidden stairs in the poetry room to the basement. In the desk drawer was a phone Peter had given her to use if she needed to contact him. It had some sort of fancy encryption on it that he had explained to her, but that explanation might as well have been given to her in Greek. She pressed the number five three times and listened to the ring. He answered on the second one.

"Well, hello," he said. "How are you feeling today?"

"A little hung over, and a little sad."

Oh, that's right, Christina was leaving today. Did she get off okay?"

"Yeah, she's heading home right now with Jonathan."

"I'll miss her, and I'm sure you will too," Peter said. "So what's up?"

Joanne went on to tell him about Olivia's visit and how she feared she may have over-reacted to Olivia's suggestion.

"I think your reaction was within reason. There's a definite sense of paranoia among women in this city, and I'm sure she's encountered it before."

"I hope you're right, sir," Jo came back, hoping she hadn't screwed things up already.

"Say, I need to come over and use the transmitter. Is now a good time?"

"How about in an hour?" Jo desperately needed a shower and wanted to look presentable when he arrived.

Peter agreed to that, and Jo bounded back up the stairs to her apartment.

An hour later she was watching the street below from her window and saw Peter's black Aston Martin Vanquish pull up to the curb. She ran down the stairs to let him in and was surprised when he handed her a bouquet of fresh cut flowers.

"Don't make too much of this, okay? I'm simply using these as a cover, even though I do feel like giving them to you after last night's stellar performance. But really, they give me a good reason to come over."

Joanne took the flowers and led the way up the stairs. "Well, for what ever the reason, thanks. They're very nice."

Once up in the attic communications room, Peter sat down in front of the transmitter and pointed at a toggle switch. "On," he said as he flipped the switch and the lights on the front sparkled to life. He reached over and pulled a chair next to his and patted the seat. When Jo sat down he said, "It takes a couple of minutes to warm up properly. This is an ancient machine, but a very special one. I've replaced a few of the components with state of the art electronics that make for an odd mixture of old and new. It has so far baffled the Signals Corp in trying to decipher the codes. Well, that and I'm in charge of the Signals Corp and have altered the decoding algorithms so that instead of trying to decode the messages they subtly work against that end. I'm working on a new set of codes for the Network so we can finally allow the guys at work to decode our old ones." That brought a smile to the Major's face. "What a victory that'll be for them."

"Okay, it should be good now." He reached into the back pocket of his slacks and withdrew a single sheet of paper. "You seemed a little drunk last night," he commented as he flattened the paper out in front of him and then folded down a small flat keyboard from the front of the transmitter.

"I think everyone got a little bit drunk last night," Joanne said.

"Not everyone," Peter said as he began typing the words he had written on the paper. "I had four pretty strong drinks but took only about three sips from them. The rest is in a planter next to the chair I was sitting in. You had a sink right in front of you. Most of your drinks could've gone in there."

"Oh, I'm not allowed to drink?" The words sounded a little snippier than she wished they had.

"No one's stopping you from drinking, Jo. Nothing positive can come of it, though, only negatives." Peter's gaze seemed distant, as if his comment had brought up some memories.

Joanne sat silently, considering his statement. He sounded a little disappointed in her for getting drunk, but he had to understand this was all new to her.

Peter checked what he had typed so far against a small monitor off to the side, and then resumed typing. "Having a clear head is very important, that's all I'm saying." He stopped typing, looked at his watch, and then turned towards Joanne.

"Listen Jo, don't get me wrong, you did an outstanding job last night. Some of the intel you gave me in the car is in this communique to Edenburgh. Good stuff, really, I'm impressed. I just need you to be sober enough to hear and remember what's being said and by whom. We need the little details along with the big, the innuendos, the things that are left unsaid. I need you to be alert."

"I understand, sir."

Joanne squirmed a little in her chair and gazed at Peter as he pecked away at the small keyboard. He wasn't upset with her at all; this was business. Everything he had just told her made perfect sense, and she would learn from it. In a way, his delivery was not that much different from Agent X's. X had a wonderful sense of humor and was fun to be around, but when she was talking shop she was very serious.

Peter stopped typing and leaned back in his chair. "Okay," he said as looked at his watch again. "Now we wait."

"Wait for what?" Jo asked

"Three o'clock" he replied, leaving his answer to hang in the air for a moment as if he wasn't going to elucidate.

After holding his paper up to the monitor and rechecking his entry he finally continued, "The BBC sends out bulk program updates and information to all of its affiliates around the world twice a day; three PM and three AM. When we transmit, our signal is only exposed for four seconds before it's mixed in with theirs. We piggyback our signal onto theirs as it's beamed over to their satellite dish. Once their signals are redirected by their satellite, our friends pick up their encrypted messages by tuning their sets to a specific wavelength. The BBC receivers filter out that wavelength as static noise."

"That's ingenious!"

"Thank you. A real genius thought it up."

"Let me guess..." Jo said, cupping her chin in her fingers and looking perplexed. "You?"

Peter laughed and said, "Yeah me, with a lot of inspiration from some very smart people in the Network tech group." He looked at his watch again. "Okay, getting close. Let's check that these thumb dials are set to 1660. Will you verify that, please?"

Joanne leaned in and looked at the numbers. "They are, sir."

"They have a lot of information going out, so we have a fifteen second window at a minimum. I usually wait five seconds to make sure they are actually sending. Ours will only take two seconds to send, and then the four seconds in the air to mesh with theirs." Peter's hand went up to a small black button on the front of the transmitter, and then he withdrew it. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"May I?"

Peter motioned towards the button and Joanne reached out to hover her finger over the button. Peter held his wrist up so she could see the digital numbers on his watch tick off, and at exactly 10:00:05 she pressed the button.

"See? Nothing to it. You're a natural," Peter said as he reached up towards the set, flicked the frequency thumb dials to scramble the numbers, and switched it off.

"Very funny, sir," Jo replied, knowing that he was kidding with her.

"That's all there is to it. If you needed to send an emergency message, that's how you would do it. But remember, my message was coded. Even if the regime intercepted it they wouldn't be able to decipher it. If you send a message out un-coded, they'll be able to read it, and if you use this transmitter outside of those two times they'll be able to track you down. So unless it's an absolute emergency, don't use this equipment."

"I hope I never need to," Joanne said as she stood up and moved her chair back. As they made their way down to the living room, Joanne asked, "So what do you recommend I do about Olivia?"

"Oh, I think she'll be back. I wouldn't worry about it," Peter said as they reached the door leading down to the street.

"She said her husband was leaving today, do you think I could go over to see her? Maybe apologize for reacting like I did?"

Holding the door open, Peter stopped to consider Jo's suggestion. "I suppose you could." His eyes searched Joanne's, assessing her intent. "I wouldn't mind knowing where George has gone off to, but don't just ask her, see if she volunteers the information first."

"Okay," Joanne replied.

Peter pulled out his wallet and thumbed through some business cards. "Give Charley a call," he handed her one of the cards. "He'll drive you over there."

He turned to leave and then looked back at Joanne. "Just go to apologize and socialize; plain and simple. If you pick up any information, great, but do not take any chances or press for information. You're too important to us, and we can't afford to have any suspicions cast on you or Leather Bound."

"I'll be very careful, sir," Jo said. She watched as he descended the stairs and left the building. Picking up her cell phone, Jo dialed the number on Charley's card and arranged for him stop by in an hour. That would give her plenty of time to get ready.

Opening the closet in her bedroom, Jo removed one of the spandex outfits she had purchased while at the University. She had never actually worn it anywhere because, truthfully, she thought it clung to her a little too tightly. The design of the jet black body suit was such that the ornate stitching on the front forced the tight material to form to the shape of her breasts. Maybe if her breasts were smaller that would not be such a big deal, but her breasts completely filled out the fabric intended to hold them, and even bulged slightly against it. If there had been a half size larger it might've fit her better, but there hadn't been and she had bought it anyway. It hadn't helped that browsing through the uniform store had gotten her slightly aroused. And it didn't help now that she was getting the same warm feelings. While her instincts were telling her to be more conservative, her mind was pulling her in the opposite direction.

Did she want Olivia to make a pass at her? What would she do if she did? The way Olivia had touched her earlier had felt good, but maybe that was due to the lack of intimacy she had been experiencing since her last relationship, what was it...nearly a year ago? And even that hadn't been what she would call intimate. Lessons learned from the two psychology classes she had aced at the University played through her head. She recognized that Olivia's dominant disposition was very attractive to her submissive tendencies. The dream she had the previous night and the number of times she had thought about Olivia during the day was playing their part in the decisions she was making now. It was all right there for her to see. And she saw it.

Understanding and acknowledging what was driving her actions made her feel better about what she was doing. Stepping out of her panties and into the cool spandex fabric, Joanne smoothed out the wrinkles as she worked it up her long legs and over the gentle curve of her hips. Bending over, she tugged the material this way and that until it formed perfectly around her limbs. After removing her bra, she reached down and found the holes for her arms and brought the fabric up so she could push them through. When her hands came out the other end she began smoothing out the spandex until she was satisfied with the lay. The zipper in the back went from the front of her crotch and up her back to the nape of her neck in the back. As the neck line came to the front it slanted downwards so that it was open to her collarbones. Before pulling the zipper all the way up she considered which collar she should wear.

The slave collar was the obvious choice, given the state of arousal she was in. The alter-argument flicked through her mind as well. She had a slender black leather collar that would look stunning with the outfit, and she removed it from her drawer and held it in her hands. It would look really nice. She replaced it in the drawer and removed the wide slave collar. Fuck it. She allowed the smile that wanted so badly to come out as she fitted the wide leather collar around her neck and buckled it in the rear. Now the zipper could be drawn to the top of the garment. Looking in the mirror, she fluffed her shoulder length curly brown hair and thought that if Olivia didn't go for her she was probably not gay!

An amusing thought, and very egotistical, she knew. Looking out the bedroom window she saw that the clouds had moved in and it looked somewhat blustery. It was a good day to wear her long leather coat, not only for the warmth but for covering the outfit she was wearing. For one thing, she wasn't even sure Olivia would be home, or would invite her in, and she didn't have her phone number to call ahead. She looked out the window again and saw Charley's sedan pulling up to the curb.

With butterflies in her stomach, Joanne opened the front door to find Charley standing there, holding a short leash.

"Good afternoon, Miss," he said as he held up the clip end of the leash. "I'm here to escort you today."

"Do we really need that?" Joanne asked. Having the Major lead her on a leash was one thing, but Charley?

"Sorry, Miss. I could lose my license if it was reported that I didn't secure a female passenger. Even though I'm just a driver, I'm also legally your guardian while you're in my vehicle."

Joanne lifted her chin and separated the high collar of her coat slightly to allow the man to attach the leash. Remembering what Christina had said about the other cells working hard to subvert the regime, she hoped they were making progress because this was frikkin' ridiculous! She followed him the few steps to the car and was ushered into the back seat. Moments later they were on their way.

It was only a short distance from Cecil Court to Knightsbridge but on the way Joanne considered several scenarios that were likely to play out. Other than Olivia not being home, or not being invited in, the rest made her very nervous. As Charley pulled the car up in front of Olivia's stately townhome, Joanne half regretted wearing what she had. But when she looked up and saw a curtain being separated slightly she knew it was too late to turn around.

Olivia already knew she was there.