Air Force Sweetheart TacPzlSolGp Chapter 29/34   by T. D. Aldoennetti

previously:

Once back at the conference room, Nora goes to the safe for our typed notes, the pink tablets and my conclusions tablet. When she returns we begin again, still looking through the information for the elusive answer we need to identify the country which could be behind this. I’m beginning to think I won’t have the answer before the General returns. Nora has to leave; she’s scheduled to watch the desk while Jenny has lunch, so I continue the search on my own for the moment.

The cadets see their professor beam onto her dais in the newly built lecture hall just before she glances around at all the second year and a few enterprising first year academy cadets arrayed in the few hundred seats surrounding her. Her eyes taking in the few empty seats scattered here and there throughout the hall. More than she expected. The male cadets appreciating her Academy issue uniform showing her long legs and many female cadets glad she is not their age and competing for the same males whenever time allows.

"You'd be a fool not to test the waters."

Becky Waters was a wise woman. She hired me twice at Grande Illusions, once as 19-year-old college sophomore. The other as a person in his 30s who was down on his luck.

She knew the man making the proposal.

Frank Cignetti was a respected business man in the community. His wife, Marie, was also well respected, too.

"From everything I'm told, he really doted on his wife," she said.

She reminded me of the long hours at the club, although she told me she hated to lose me.

Air Force Sweetheart TacPzlSolGp Chapter 28/34   by T. D. Aldoennetti

previously:

Nora looks like she’s nervous and continues to look around at the lithographs on the walls and the tables covered with tablecloths with silverware instead of flatware, and china cups, saucers and plates.

I ask, “Just a little ostentatious, isn’t it, General?”

He looks a little apologetic, but explains, “We frequently have congressmen here, or out of country leaders of one kind or another. It wouldn’t do to take them down to the cafeteria. Then too, this room is shielded and swept for bugs and it has jamming equipment built in to prevent electronic eavesdropping, so we can discuss classified material here.”

He gestures to what looks like small air-conditioning ducts or hi-fi speakers above each table. “Each table has it’s own sonic generator above the table throwing a curtain of white noise around the table and its occupants. It isn’t 100% effective, probably closer to 20% or 30% for each table, but by the time the conversation makes its way out through one and in through another it tends to muddy up the conversations enough that nearby diners inside their generator’s influence can’t understand conversations next to them which occur at normal levels. Of course if one were to yell then that would overpower the measures taken. We just learn to talk quietly in here, so the odds are much more in the favor of secrecy.”

“Impressive, Sir.” Now that I’m concentrating, I can hear a slight whooshing sound, like the sound made by the air nozzles above the passenger seats on a commercial airliner, or maybe a radio tuned between stations, pure static. Hmmm.

Mistakes can happen at the North Pole too. Damn computers!

Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any and all references to names, products, toys, persons, etc. are entirely the work of my demented imagination. This is also set in the same plane (universe) as Bobby and Bethany. For lack of a better term, I'll call it the CarlaVerse for now

No toys were injured or kept up past their bedtimes in the making of this story.

Pleeeeeze leave a comment!

I had to stop by the store before heading to the marina.

I had to ask myself why I was doing this. I also wondered just what his motivation was.

I'll admit I'm somewhat of a reserved person. I kept very little friends. I liked everyone I worked with at the club, especially the "girls".

But none were close that I really confided in them.

I walked down the pier looking for his boat. He called it a sailboat, but it was quite impressive. It looked more like a mini-yacht.

"There you are, welcome aboard!" he said as helped me into the boat.

"Well this is really nice," I said.

Air Force Sweetheart TacPzlSolGp Chapter 27/34   by T. D. Aldoennetti

previously:

It’s nearly a week before I see all twenty-five men and hear their cover stories. This is a lot harder than deducing assignments given to Randolf. I’m going to be lucky if I get my roses. They take my deductions and don’t tell me if I’m right or wrong.

They just go off with my answers each time.

I’ve continued to pester Daddy to find out what happened to the TacPzlSolGp but he tells me he’s come up against a stone wall. I still carry that ID and crest in my purse, but I haven’t heard anything about them for some time now.

"Well, you do look different," he said when he took a seat at the table at the coffee shop.

"Told you I would," I said. "No wig, no makeup, not skirt, just me."

"Did you have a late night last night?" he asked.

It was pretty late. It was my night to perform in addition to waiting on tables.

"Of course," I said. "You missed my Gloria Estefan routine."

It brought a laugh from him.

"Wished I could have been there to see it," he said.

"No you don't, just be glad you're not a member of our regular clientele," I said. "Be glad you have a life."

Chapter One

He really stuck out like a sore thumb.

We usually say that all types come clubbing at Grande Illusions. Crossdressers, transgender, gay men, women out for a good time and occasionally a couple looking for a night on the town.

He looked like a lonely businessman in his 50s seated in the area of the club where I served as a waiter...or waitress...depending on your perspective. On nights that I didn't perform, which was most nights, I spent the evening serving the clientele drinks and food.