Operation: Mailgirl Ch. 01

Author's Note: This story draws heavy inspiration from the Mailgirl stories penned by Seahawk76 and lizstanton8181. The original Mailgirl concept, of course, was originated by Cambridge Caine. I have decided to attempt yet another spin on naked girls running around office buildings, so the settings and characters in this story are original and my own.

The previously mentioned author's stories focused on the concepts of public female nudity and masturbation with a healthy dose of submissiveness while maintaining a realistic view of Western working environments, which I found fascinating. Keeping the fiction grounded in reality made the idea of Mailgirls that much more exciting. However, there weren't a whole lot of graphic sexual encounters in those stories, so I decided I'd try writing a treatment that did. This first chapter will set up the story, so I plan for future ones to be more explicit.

This is my first foray into the world of erotica, so helpful comments and suggestions are more than welcome. This first chapter is to set the table and tone for the the rest of the story. I hope you enjoy the journey.

*

Claire Cameron Holliday checked her makeup in her compact mirror for what seemed like the fifth or sixth time since she'd entered the cab that morning. It was still as immaculate as when she first applied it in the bathroom of her hotel room thirty minutes prior, but she still cast a critical eye over everything she could. She couldn't recall the last time she had fretted so much over her appearance, but she also couldn't recall the last time she'd had an assignment that put her on edge as much as this one did.

She was twenty-five, four years removed from graduating summa cum laude from Duke University with a degree in International Studies. The oldest of four siblings to a career CIA officer and a police detective, her post-educational path was rather clear cut. She took a job with the CIA, hoping to work her way through the organization and attain the same level of confidence and respect as her father. However, she was still a woman in a male-dominated world, so her climb was always going to be uphill.

Working against her were her looks, the same ones she was still so assiduously critiquing in her compact mirror. At five foot ten, with shoulder length blonde hair, big, bright blue eyes that alternated from deep cerulean to almost teal depending on the lighting, accompanied by high cheekbones, full lips and sparkling white teeth, she had been told on more than one occasion that she was in the wrong line of work. She usually laughed these arguments off, calling attention to her eyebrows, which were dark brown, thick and very well-defined. But truth be told, she had given fleeting thoughts to hanging up her pencil skirts and long commutes and trading them in for a bikini and an exotic beach somewhere far away. Years of varsity volleyball and soccer had given her a lithe, toned body which often elicited more than its fair share of glances whenever she hit the beach. The gazes were often centered around her chest; she had been blessed with a pair of natural D-cup breasts which complemented her slim figure. Still, despite the allure of making a lot more money being on the cover of some men's magazine, Claire stayed true to the pursuit of what she considered her real calling in life.

Her first few years at the agency were spent in training and she threw herself into it wholeheartedly, coming out at the top of her class. Despite her stellar record, however, she found she was being assigned to menial tasks like data surveillance and arm candy for dignitaries at official functions. She had made mention of this to her advisor within the Agency, a grim, no nonsense man by the name of Grimes, and he assured her the role for her would come sooner rather than later and she would need to seize it.

Which brought her to why she was in a cab, weaving through downtown Seattle traffic, on her way to Mizutomo Tower, the newest skyscraper in the SeaTac area. It had gone up relatively quickly over the past two years, buoyed by the capital the Japanese conglomerate had invested in it. The promise of new employment and a stimulus to the economy were also driving factors. At eighty-five stories tall, it beat the Columbia Center by nine floors and almost all of those were occupied by the Mizutomo corporation. It had indeed brought new jobs to the Seattle market, with almost two thousand people milling in and out every day. Among those workers were a select group of thirty young women who had to deliver interoffice memoranda and packages, completely in the nude.

And today, Claire Holliday was going to join their ranks. She was on her way to become a mailgirl.

*****

"Clarissa Hathaway." It was the cover name she'd been supplied with by the agency, close enough to her own name that she would be able to respond to it for the short amount of time she was scheduled to be there. She didn't imagine she'd be using it much, however, given the fact mailgirls were known only by number.

The lobby security guard peered at the cleverly manufactured ID, then back up at Claire's face. "Miss Hathaway here to see Madame Henckel," he intoned into his intercom before looking back at her. "She'll be down in a few to escort you up."

"Thank you," Claire said with more compunction than she actually felt as she slipped her ID back into her pocketbook and stepped to the side of the lobby desk to await her chaperone. This gave her a little bit of time to reflect on the circumstances which had brought her to this point, for what seemed like the billionth time in the past two weeks.

*****

She'd gotten the email from Grimes and shot straight out of her seat and nearly ran the eighty feet to his office. "Claude Basara," she said breathlessly, standing in Grimes' doorway. "We're going after The Butcher."

Grimes hadn't looked up from his paperwork, his ever-creased forehead furrowed in deep thought. "Operation has been authorized, but there's still a lot of prep needed before we go all in." He gestured to a folder on his desk.

Claire moved into his office, shutting the door behind her before sitting down and reaching for the folder. "I almost didn't think one would be greenlit," she said, flipping through the dossier. "Not with Basara holed up in UEWA."

He grunted. "It almost didn't," he replied, finally looking at her. "He's still there and shows no signs of moving."

She frowned. The United Emirate of Western Arabia was a perfect sanctuary for a rich expat like Claude Basara, who sought to escape extradition by establishing legitimate business in a foreign nation. His extensive American criminal record meant nothing to the UEWA, not with the amount of money he was bringing into the country. He was untouchable as long as he never set foot back into the United States, a prospect which seemed to suit him just fine. "So what's our angle?" Claire asked.

"Not bag 'em and tag 'em, that's for sure. This one we're in for the long haul." Grimes steepled his fingers in front of his face, studying the young woman seated in front of him. "Have to know you're up for it, no matter what the cost."

For someone like Claire, who had fought for everything she'd achieved, only to be held back by the bureaucracy and male-dominated hierarchy that still pervaded the clandestine intelligence community, being assigned to such a dangerous case was the opportunity she was looking for to prove her mettle. "I'm up for it, Grimes. You know that."

He studied her for a few long moments before pushing another folder over to her. "This is how we get close to Basara." When Claire reached for it, he held it down before she could pull it towards her. "You can say no, just want to tell you upfront. But if you commit, there's no turning back. We only get one shot at this."

Claire's frown deepened, but her curiosity was piqued. She could think of only a few circumstances in which she would say no to a chance like this, but she knew Grimes wouldn't have said it if it wasn't something he meant. "What is it?"

"See for yourself," he replied, releasing the folder from underneath his fingertips.

She opened it and began reading. Her dark eyebrows gradually crept up her forehead as her blue eyes scanned the pages, absorbing the information. "Mailgirls?" she blurted after a few minutes, looking back up at Grimes. "This is really our play?"

He nodded, his face implacable. "Brass thought it would be the best way to get into his network undetected. His buildings in the UEWA are all staffed by mailgirls and he's looking to hire. They say his vetting process is extremely thorough, but you haven't had enough skin in the game long enough to be on his radar just yet."

Grimes' assessment was cold and clinical, as always, but that didn't stop Claire's mind from reeling. The CIA's best play to getting close to a dangerous international fugitive was to strip her naked and have her deliver interoffice correspondence. It was laughably implausible on its face, but here she was, seriously contemplating it as the next step in her career. "How does this even work out? What's the endgame?"

"Like I said, it's a long term operation. You know how they go, Holliday. Recon first, then reassessment and reprioritization." Grimes' voice remained gruff, impassive. He was looking into her eyes, which Claire had always given him credit for, as so many of her coworkers tended to let their gazes drift over the rest of her body. "Basic vital information is there, but you'll get the full rundown if and when you commit."

She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. "How long do I have to think?"

He leaned back in his seat. "Brass wants to get moving on this ASAP. Window to fill the spots in Basara's company doesn't stay open long. I'd say you have tonight to think about it. Need your decision by oh-seven-hundred tomorrow."

Staring at him for a few moments more, Claire flipped the folder closed and rose out of her seat. "You'll have it."

*****

And they did, which lead to her present situation. As she gazed at her own reflection in one of the glass walls of the building lobby, it was plainly obvious why she was chosen. While she had taken the night to think about it, the choice to commit wasn't so much easy as it was necessary. Undercover agents took risks all the time... she just wouldn't have anything covering her, at all.

Grimes had told her to play a mailgirl convincingly, she had to experience the role. Thus her presence in Mizutomo Tower. The mailgirl phenomenon had started in Japan and had spread across the world. In the United States it was a little slower to catch on, but Seattle was a gateway to the east and many Japanese corporations had operations in and around the SeaTac area. Mizutomo Tower was the first of a handful of buildings that had naked young women running through its hallways, delivering mail on their bare feet.

It was ludicrous and degrading, Claire had told herself millions of times. She could never let any of her colleagues, family or friends know. The thought of exposing her body to strangers in a professional setting was enough to make her hair stand on end. Yet here she was, standing in the lobby of a building serviced by mailgirls, waiting for someone who would take her and show her how to be one of them.

The elevator to her right chimed and the doors opened to admit a tall, striking woman into the lobby. While Claire considered herself to be on the tall side at five ten, the woman approaching had at least two inches on her, even factoring out the inch-long heels clack-clack-clacking across the marbled floor. Claire couldn't help admiring the woman's figure, concealed as it was behind a tight black dress.

"Miss Hathaway, I presume," she greeted Claire, a slight German accent punctuating her speech as she came to a stop in front of the lobby desk.

Claire nodded. "Madam Henckel."

"Mistress," Henckel corrected with a slight glare at the lobby guard. Obviously he'd made that mistake more than once before. "Shall we be on our way?"

*****

"I understand you will only be with us for a week or so?" Mistress Henckel queried in the elevator, her eyes raking over Claire's form.

"Yes," Claire confirmed, meeting Henckel's gaze. The cover identity the CIA had provided her gave her an appropriate backstory of a mailgirl needed for an international customer with a very tight time window.

Without preamble, Henckel reached out to grasp Claire's chin in a firm grip. It took all of Claire's willpower to restrain her self-defense training and stand there without reacting. "Yes, Mistress," Henckel corrected. "Mailgirls must address superiors with either 'sir' or 'ma'am' or by their titles. Do not make that mistake again."

"I won't... Mistress." The word felt foreign in her mouth, but Claire forced herself to say it. She knew the life of a mailgirl would be degrading, but the immediacy of Henckel's indoctrination still took her by surprise. Grimes had told her to be prepared, and his words continued to ring in her head.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. Only then did Henckel release Claire's face. "Follow me," she commanded, striding purposefully out into the hallway.

Claire obeyed, falling into step behind the taller woman, her jaw still numb from the vice grip it had just been in. They were in what looked to be a service area, with grey concrete walls and exposed piping overhead, a stark contrast to the pristine marble floors and walls of the rest of the building. She wondered idly if Henckel was taking her this way to keep the inhabitants of the building from seeing her clothed.

Henckel lead the way up a metal spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, her booted heels clicking on each step. At the top of the stairs, she placed her hand on a scanner pad on the wall next to the single door, which slid open slowly. In a move that surprised Claire, Henckel stood aside and beckoned with her hand. "After you."

Resisting the urge to grimace, Claire nodded. "Yes Mistress," she said, walking through the door into a richly decorated office. Dark mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, and the large desk in the middle of the room was also made of the same material. Red velvet cushions lined the large chair behind the desk and the smaller ones in front of it. The equipment sitting on top of the desk looked state of the art.

Claire heard the door close behind her, then felt Henckel brush past her. "Middle of the room," the woman commanded. "Undress and leave your clothes on the table to your right."

Swallowing the last of her pride, Claire walked to the indicated spot, then turned to face Mistress Henckel, who now stood in front of the desk, arms crossed, facial expression stern.

Claire stepped out of her shoes and placed them next to the table, then reached to the side of her skirt to unzip it, sliding the garment down her legs until it collected in a pool around her ankles. Reaching down, she gathered it up and folded it neatly before placing it on the indicated table, something which elicited an approving click of the tongue from Mistress Henckel. Claire next reached up to undo the buttons of her blouse, exposing her ample bosom, supported by a red lace bra, which matched her panties. As she reached behind her back to unhook it, Claire could feel Henckel's eyes continue to rove over her body, even as her natural, but shapely and firm breasts came into view. The room was slightly chilly and Claire felt her nipples harden as the air hit him, sending an involuntary shiver through her body. She placed her bra next to her clothes, then reached down to remove the final piece of clothing. The red panties took their place on the table and Claire stood there, completely nude.

She felt helpless, but she didn't let any emotion cross her face as Henckel started walking around her, inspecting her naked form. It wasn't the first time she'd had a physical examination, but the incredulity of this particular one was enough cause her to clench her fists in stressful anticipation.

"Your body is in excellent condition," Mistress Henckel pronounced, coming to stand in front of Claire again. It wasn't a compliment, but an objective assessment. "No piercings, no tattoos... this is good."

Henckel reached out to take hold of Claire's arms, which were straight to the sides. "Put your hands at the small of your back, and grasp your left wrist in your right. Spread your legs shoulder width apart and push your torso out."

Claire did as she was told, adjusting her body so her legs were apart, her arms were behind her back and her chest was thrust forward. She could only imagine how degrading this looked, and was slightly thankful the inspection was being done in a closed office.

"This is the 'Feet'' pose and is the standard position you will take upon entering an office after delivering your duties," Mistress Henckel informed her. The taller woman traced a hand down Claire's chest, through the valley between her breasts and down the flat of her abdomen before unceremoniously cupping Claire's exposed sex.

The action caused Claire to gasp in surprise and her eyes sought out Henckel's to glare at them. Their gazes locked for the slightest of moments before Henckel brought her other hand around to slap Claire clear across the cheek.

Henckel's voice was impassive. "You are not to look into the eyes of your superiors without their permission. Doing so would earn you a demerit, as would this." The hand on Claire's pussy moved upward, fingers tracing over the small patch of blonde pubic hair over her mound. "All mailgirls are to be hairless from the neck down."

Claire swallowed, the feel of Henckel's hand on her body sending what seemed like electric shocks through her system. "Yes, Mistress," she managed.

Mistress Henckel smiled for the first time, looking down at Claire with a rapacious gaze. "Good, you're learning quickly. Let's get you up to speed. We haven't much time together, after all." She made to move back towards the door, but stopped as if remembering something. "And before we go any further..."

The taller woman reached into her purse and fished out a thick black marker, the kind used for writing on postal packages. Turning back to Claire, she knelt down until her eyes were level with Claire's waist. The marker moved to Claire's left hip, just above her pelvic bone and slowly traced the number "20" on her bare skin.

*****

"Over here. There's an empty mat."

Mailgirl Number Twenty (she was not allowed to think of herself as Claire or Clarissa on duty) followed the other naked mailgirl to a lavender mat tucked in the corner of a foyer area. It was emblazoned with the company logo and was just wide enough to accommodate two kneeling mailgirls. Parked in front of it was a metal bowl filled with water.

The other girl was Mailgirl Number Sixteen, who had been assigned to train Twenty for the duration of her stay at Mizutomo Tower. Sixteen was younger than Twenty by a few years, but had already been a mailgirl for two and a half. She had a delicately featured face and dark chestnut brown hair done up in a braid which hung between her shoulder blades. Her body was lithe and toned, a dancer's figure, if Twenty had to venture a guess. Her breasts were smaller than Twenty's, but were ample B-cups capped with small dark nipples. A sheen of sweat glistened on those breasts as Sixteen took her place on the mat.

They had spent most the morning on various runs around the building, wherein Twenty had quickly learned that being a mailgirl was every bit as degrading as it sounded on paper. The same lustful, perverted stares from the mostly male employees greeted them at every department they visited, along with disdainful looks from the scant few female workers. Twenty could count on one hand the number of clothed women she'd seen, whereas they had encountered at least five or six other mailgirls darting through the hallways and stairwells, each moving as quickly as their bare feet would allow.