As Kassidy walked down the hall to her interview, she felt both nervous and excited. She was ready for anything, but what would that anything be? Could she really handle a field assignment after all these years? The paperwork had been ominous, but she had seen such things before; she worked in Records after all. The waivers she signed gave total absolution to the Agency and the people involved for anything that happened to her. They would not even acknowledge her existence. The mission for which she was being considered was as Black Ops as it could get based on that alone, let alone the sexual overtones.

Sharon Bartholomew was returning the other direction. Kassidy knew her by reputation and a few break room conversations. She worked downstairs in the evidence room. As they got closer, Kassidy could see a hint of tears and puffy red eyes. Smears of black mascara were not quite wiped away cleanly. Her suit jacket was unbuttoned, and her blonde hair was a little messed up. Kassidy couldn't help but notice Sharon's nipples were budding through her blouse, more than a little.

"Everything OK?" Kassidy queried.

When Bartholomew hesitated, Kassidy started to regret asking her anything. She could see that Sharon just wanted to run off without talking, but she did answer. "I just couldn't do it. It was too much."

She looked at Kassidy a moment longer as if anticipating the "couldn't do what?" question which would naturally follow, then hurried off before it could be asked.

That was weird. The incident made her all the more nervous. She knew that multiple candidates were probably being considered for the mission and that Sharon was probably one of them. The building was pretty empty and it was already getting close to 7 o'clock. There wasn't any other likely reason for Sharon to still be here.

At the security door, Kassidy swiped her ID card and keyed in the access code that Peters gave her. This was her first time inside the Domestic Counter-Terrorism wing; not the kind of place you just dropped by for a visit. No one was at the reception desk to greet her, but it was a whole different world than the rest of the building: a big 3D department logo cut in polished metal on cherry wood paneling, carpet, wooden doors, recessed lights. Nice.

She could see down the hallway. An Army First Sergeant stood guard outside a door near the end, already watching her. He was probably 6'2" and looked more commando than government drone, any day, any time. She checked the room number. Yes, this is where she was supposed to go. "Ann Kassidy to see Simon Peters," she said to the sergeant. He barely moved as he opened the door and told her to go in using only a look.

She walked in cautiously. The large office was dimly lit with a Tiffany style lamp on a small ornate wooden table in the middle of the floor. An oriental rug spread out into the darkness away from the light. The normal furniture was pushed back towards the walls as evidenced by dimples still in the carpet. It all reminded her of a hotel lobby instead of an Agency office.

Obviously they wanted a clear view of her while hiding their own reactions, an old interrogation trick. Sitting behind a folding table, she could see Agent Peters's face in the light of his laptop screen. A camera was connected to the computer, easily missed in the dim light. It sat on a short 8-inch high mini-tripod on the table. The red "recording" light was off, for what that was worth. Two other men were in the room. One man behind fancy wooden desk and the other in what appeared to be a big padded leather chair which looked a bit Victorian. He would look right at home drinking from a brandy snifter and smoking a fat cigar.

Kassidy didn't wait for instructions. She steadily walked across the carpet to the middle of the room and stood near the light trying to look confident. Suddenly, she wondered what she should say, if anything. The silence was uncomfortable, yet the three men didn't seem to notice. It was as if they were considering, analyzing.

The man behind the desk spoke, "I'm Director Ellison Timor. This is Supervisory Special Agent James Southworthy. You already know Special Agent Peters."

The names were not surprising to Kassidy, but she still felt a bit awed. Both Timor and Southworthy were Agency legends with more stories to their names than she could remember--even if only half of them were true.

"It's been a long day Agent Kassidy so I'll get straight to the point. Agent Peters has briefed you on the risks involved and the special nature of the mission?"

Kassidy refocused in time to understand she was expected to answer.

"Some, mainly about the risks involved."

Timor paused as if evaluating every word. "You understand that there is a distinct possibility you may be sexually abused, raped and asked to use your body in any manner necessary to garner information?"

Nothing like the direct approach. In this case, she'd rather have all the cards face-up on the table anyways. Kassidy felt that Timor clearly wanted to hear her answer for himself, as if he had to convince himself that she could do it and that he was making the right choice. She expected no less of him. Kassidy decided on a measured answer. This was the kind of thing that could be reviewed by a Senate investigation someday so she knew she better get it right.

"I understand that the situation is dangerous and such things would not be preventable, given relevant circumstances."

Timor placed his elbows on the desk and touched his fingertips together. He stared at her, over his hands, with a thoughtful gaze. She knew that kind of gaze. She was no rookie and recognized it for what it was. He wanted to see if she would volunteer anything else or crack. Her will and determination were being tested.

Peters knew that look from Timor as well. So far, so good. The highly trained interrogator in him liked what he was seeing. She was showing mental toughness. Now they would find out just how tough she really was. Peters's body reacted already. He was getting hard thinking about it. He watched as Southworthy set the trap, following their plan. Southworthy was calm with the ruthlessness of a seal hunter. This was one of the few times Peters saw a hint of that stone cold assassin's temperament. When Southworthy spoke, Kassidy turned and looked him in the eye. No easy feat to return his gaze, even with the dim light.

"Just how committed are you, Agent Kassidy? There is no room for hesitation in this mission whatsoever."

They all watched carefully. Too quick a response indicated a lack of thought. Too hesitant and she was not really on-board.

"My commitment is maximal."

Was there hesitation there? Peters thought he saw it. Timor didn't even twitch at the answer. Southworthy simply continued.

"You would need to submit to whatever they might do to you. The slightest hint of professional training could blow your cover."

"I understand."

Peters noted Southworthy's increase in intensity and projection, as fine as any Shakespearean actor. He was trying to intimidate her.

"Do you? It would mean that if they want to rape you, then you put on a good show and try to enjoy it."

"I know." Kassidy couldn't help but feel a rush through her body the way he said that.

"It could involve permanent bodily damage."

"Since this is a code one mission, I understand that the stakes warrant paying such a cost if necessary?"

"So, no reservations?" asked Southworthy.

No reaction to her questioning tone. They weren't going to tell her anything yet. "Only concerns of my own abilities." Kassidy answered firmly, even if her voice was a little soft. She wanted to believe her own answer. She did mean it; she thought.

"Naturally. You would be supremely overconfident if you didn't have doubts." Southworthy's tone seemed to be a little less harsh as he replied.

Peters believed she meant it. Her reactions seemed natural on the close-up. The scanner thought she was telling the truth. He also knew that she was now trapped either way. Southworthy, the ruthless hunter, had chased her into the pit and was moving in for the kill. Peters's hard-on was growing under the desk. He was waiting to see the look. The look that he knew would be there.

"Are you ready to prove your commitment?"

"How so?" Kassidy was getting a sinking feeling. Talk would not be enough for this interview. A couple hours ago, she was all set to go home at the end of the day, have that leftover salad, cook a little herb chicken, and catch up with her reading, maybe have a glass of wine. Now, here she was, the interview of her career, rather, the interview of her life.

"Ann, take off all your clothes and place them on Director Timor's desk."

Peters zoomed in on her face. There it was! The look ranged from outrage, to confusion, to defiance, to flight and then to resignation. The last part was the best part. He waited for it. There! Submission and a hint of arousal. Peters had it all in high-def. Exactly the pattern they had hoped for. The flash of resignation and submission at the end was what he cherished. The look when a woman knows you own her; that she must do your bidding, like it or not; that was one thing. However, the hint that perhaps it might turn her on to do so; holy shit, that's something special. She had that look, if only for a moment. In that moment, Peters knew Agent Ann Kassidy was the right woman for the job--or rather she would be.

Now I know why Sharon was so upset. Kassidy didn't think about running out the same way though. She was more in shock than anything else. Part of her had had this dream a hundred times. Humiliated in front of men. Forced to undress. One of her strongest fantasies. However, this was reality. She wouldn't be able to open her eyes and make it go away if she didn't like it. Maybe the test was to stick to the high ground and not do it? No, she could see three sets of lustful, predatory eyes in the dark waiting expectantly.

Peters knew it was his turn now. He must make Agent Ann Kassidy into Ann the convincing victim. Could her resolve be shattered? Could he break passed that earlier mental toughness? Her hands shook as she started to undo her jacket. He didn't even need to say a word yet. She didn't try to make excuses. He took his first clue from her perky nipples. Her bra and silk shirt were not enough to hide them. Perfect. A confirmation of arousal. Perhaps her body was already in tune with some hidden psychology, secret fantasies. Yes, those fantasies would be the key. She would give in willingly if the right buttons were pushed. Some further exploration was in order.

"Ann." Peters deliberately did not use her last name or her title. No professional etiquette now. She was nothing but a woman about to be naked before him now. "Have you done this before? Undressed for others?"

Her face was turning red, but her head gave a brief embarrassed shake, "No." More importantly, her hands did not stop. The last button was undone. Peters was seeing exactly the response he had hoped for. She knew better than to lie. Not answering was also not an option. They would just keep pressing or end the interview. She complied despite her reluctance. Peters knew she had just the qualities they needed. Hopefully it won't take too much therapy to straighten her out at the end of the mission.

Kassidy dropped her jacket carefully on the floor, flat to avoid wrinkles, then started to undo her shirt buttons. Peters noticed how she looked down towards the floor, the slight trembling in her hands, but most importantly, he noticed her body language. Her legs were not tight together in subconscious defense. Instead, they were slightly parted, open. Maybe she was careful of her balance in her high heels. More likely, she was showing an unconscious hint of receptivity and submission.

Kassidy felt their eyes as if they were an audience of hundreds. The moment of truth. This is some kind of game. They'll suddenly tell me to stop. They just want to see if I would have done it. Her fingers had a mind of their own. She was fighting them. I need this. I need to know if I can do it as much as they do. She tried to work up her nerve. She wanted to look confident. If this is what it takes, I can do it. I will do it. I'll never have another chance like this one.

Peters savored every slight movement as she undid the buttons of her shirt, a bit too rapidly, as if she was afraid she might not go through with it. After finishing the buttons, she carefully untucked the shirt from her skirt. This was where the last girl ran out, but this one wouldn't. He already knew. Ann reached up to pull the shirt off. It was then that Evan's saw it: she looked up, a quick scan of her eyes to each man in the room; she was more in control of herself than she was letting on. He wondered, willpower or curiosity?

Peters locked eyes with her for a moment as she peeled back her shirt. He felt her gaze was a challenge. She was daring him to look away first, to look at her chest. He doubted that she could see his eyes clearly in the dark, but she looked right at him nonetheless. She dropped the shirt on top of her jacket. He wanted to look at her bra. A woman's daily bra can say so much about her sexuality. Did she dress for comfort? To minimize? Maximize? Plain? Sexy? Padded? She had not been given a chance to go home before the interview. Whatever she was wearing was selected this morning for a normal work day. He wanted to look, but he also wanted to read her eyes. Did she mean to be so bold? What game was she playing?

All Peters could think was Fuck! She looked right into the camera, not for long, but her eyes spoke volumes. The strength she was exerting; this was really hard for her. Shyness, a hint of fear, a bit of anger. Most of all, though, an unmistakable undertone of raw lust, a visage of bedroom eyes. He knew he was right about her. Her bra confirmed it. It was an expensive looking, sexy bra, but also supportive and functional. Exactly the kind of woman they needed: sexy as well as functional and reliable.

Kassidy paused a little, looking more towards Timor than anyone else. Nothing. They weren't going to let her off the hook yet. OK, fine. If it's boobs they want, then it's boobs they get. She unceremoniously reached behind her back with that awkward, sexy, undignified, self-grappling movement women have when they undo their bra.

Despite her brave intentions, the moment her bra fell away she couldn't help but feel defenseless. Her erect nipples and small girlish areolas were no secret now. Though self-conscious of her areolas, she was rather proud of her proportioned, firm, C-cups. Her eyes were adjusted to the light more now, and she could see their faces some. They weren't even looking at her chest. They were looking lower down at her skirt, waiting. Hell. This was no bluff.

The flood of thought and emotion paralyzed her. The hesitation before she could act seemed like an hour. Any second, they could say something, interview over. Instead, she felt like a lone antelope surrounded by hungry lions, circling her in the dark, looking for weakness, waiting to devour her. She steadied her nerves, took a breath, then dropped her skirt, immediately stepping forward out of the cloth circle it left on the floor.

All three men gasped almost imperceptibly in the dark; their turn to try to hide their reactions. None of them managed it completely. Kassidy wore the tiniest of tiny tear drop panties. They hugged her mound, only her mound--her completely bald mound. The sheer white fabric was little more than a technicality. The panties didn't even hide her pussy lips effectively now that the fabric was wet from her arousal.

She looked at the floor, but it wasn't out of embarrassment any longer. She knew that the predators were considering. She wanted them to get a good look without seeming to challenge them back with her eye contact. She was posing as the horny submissive. She knew her arousal would just make her seem all the more sexy. This had become about pure raw sex the minute she dropped that skirt. She had little left to hide and with that she gained confidence, fueled by a freedom from caring. They were the ones who could worry about trying to hide those hard-ons she knew they all had.

She was breathing harder herself, the strength of her lust a complete surprise. Now that her nightmare/fantasy had been lived, the intensity of the experience was far greater than she would have guessed. She froze completely for half a minute, then her body starting to move on its own. She bent over and picked up her clothes then walked to Timor's desk. Leaning in slightly, her breasts only a foot or two away from Timor, she laid each article of clothing out neatly over a few closed folders marked "top secret." She turned slightly so that Southworthy and Peters were presented more directly with her bare ass, the g-string covering nothing. She pulled her wet panties off and put them directly in front of Timor, close, so he could smell the lust juice saturating them. She turned to walk back to her original spot in the middle of the floor, high-heels still on.

They seemed to be staring at various parts of her anatomy. She felt awkward and exposed as she stood with her feet about shoulder width apart, arms at her sides, not knowing what else to do with them, but knowing that covering up anything in front with her arms would send the wrong impression. Regardless of her outward presentation, the confidence she had a minute ago was quickly evaporating.

Timor broke the silence, but he took his own sweet time before he did. "Well, that was a bit intense, I'm sure, but necessary."

Whew! I did it! Kassidy was a bit amazed with herself. She didn't know how she suddenly found the strength.

Timor continued, "We need to be 100 percent positive that you can handle this mission. Now, if you would excuse us for a few minutes, we have matters to discuss before we start testing."

What the fuck! Start the test? Kassidy thought her head was going to explode. Really? Timor gave her a moment. Southworthy had an evil smirk. Bastard is enjoying this. Peters looks like he wants to jerk off under that table. Keep it calm. They are trying to put you off on purpose. Don't blow it now.

Southworthy spoke next. "While we deliberate, why don't you be a dear and go find the break room and get us some coffee? You'll probably need to make a fresh pot. Ask First Sergeant Hale if he would like some too please. Just bring a tray with some cream and sugar. Thanks."

Yes, he's definitely enjoying this. She paused. Was she supposed to get dressed first? Southworthy must have realized what she was thinking. "Don't worry dear, the place is empty except for us. No use getting dressed when you'll need to be naked again for the test anyways."

Kassidy was furious. She had never been asked to get coffee before. Something about it had become so incredibly demeaning in recent years. The expectation of obedience in the tone of Southworthy's voice was what really irritated her though. What is this? The Stone Age? She knew this was part of the test. Being naked didn't bother her. She knew that was a setup. Even so, everything Southworthy said pushed her buttons and she couldn't help feeling the way she felt, this was degrading. Was that the main effect they were trying to achieve?

"Close the door on your way out if you would dear."