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94 pages
“What isn’t wrong? I’ve been—“ And he stopped, lost for words, which was something worth seeing. “I’ve been given to this fuxxing spook as some kind of bloody errand boy. Like a…a…pet. His own personal…it’s outrageous. I’m a bloody senior. Tillotson stood there and as good as told me that if I don’t give the smarmy fu@ker—“
“Should I come back later?” asked a velvet-smooth voice from behind her.
There had to be some kind of plea-in-mitigation that would allow him to get away with throttling Carnac. Self-defence of his sanity, perhaps.
It was, technically, sexual harassment, and he was almost tempted to make a complaint, if he could have stomached the utter humiliation. But Carnac got whatever he wanted from management, and since the fu@king was the most bearable part of the whole experience, he probably ought not to tempt fate. At least the man had been quiet now for what?—he managed to check his watch discreetly—for ten blessed minutes.
“The actual fu@king isn’t bad. It’s just the rest of the time that I want to kill him.”
“You were too busy gazing into his bright fuck-me eyes, weren’t you? Well, you’re wasting your time. Unless you’re planning on having the operation, you don’t have a prayer.”
"He's a para. They're all the same, aren't they? More or less...They're not normal, basically. That's how they get selected for training in the first place."
"You told him you didn't want to fuck any more, and he just said 'okay'?"
"Yes. Precisely so. And he put a very favorable mention of my work in his report."
"Oh. Right. Then I'll tell him tomorrow."
He grinned happily, a minor but irritating problem solved.
"See? I told you it was no big deal."