Chapter 1

 

Kirsten hurriedly checked her make-up and then quickly left her little flat. Work started at 8am at Ibrahim's, not 8.05 or even 8.01. She'd already been spoken to once by Miss Mirza and she simply daren't draw any more attention to herself. Her heels echoed down the street as she hurried to the bus stop. As she turned the corner she almost bumped into a couple coming the other way. Before she could apologise she realised with a sudden stab of fear that they were State Security officials. A man and a woman in the distinctive black, leather uniforms. The man looked her up and down; he was a big, dark-haired, intimidating person. Maybe ten years older than her twenty-two. He licked his lips appreciatively and held out a hand.

"Card."

Kirsten fumbled in her handbag for her State ID. She knew it was in there, everyone was extremely careful with their ID cards these days. It was a criminal offence not to carry one at all times. No excuses, no exceptions, no let offs. To be found out of the house without one meant a mandatory year in prison. That had happened to a friend of hers, Marcus; nobody had seen him for ages. Both the State officials were people of colour. She had a natural deference to them; they seemed to run every aspect of social and political life now. But that was only fair, she quickly corrected herself. Why would it be a problem if people of colour actually did control everything?

She handed over her ID card and although she tried to keep her eyes respectfully downcast she swallowed nervously as he ran it over his arm-scanner. Sometimes a bored State official might give a card a cursory glance and hand it back. For others it may be just an opportunity to strike up a conversation with her. This didn't look like it was going to be one of those times.

"Name?"

"Kirsten Jane McKenzie, sir." Kirsten had discovered, painfully, that when an officer from State Security demanded your name, they meant your full name.

"Age?"

"Twenty two, sir."

"Address?"

"Apartment A, 14 Millard Crescent, sir."

Kirsten fought the urge to look at her watch; the bus was due at any minute. The officer was apparently in no hurry. He looked more carefully at his screen. Kirsten wasn't absolutely sure what information could be accessed via the scanners the officials carried with them. None of her friends knew either. But it certainly wasn't going to be good news as far as they were concerned.

"Where you going, girl?" Asked his colleague, an Asian girl of about her own age.

"I...I'm going to work, miss."

"Where do you work?" The girl strolled around and stood behind her.

"Ibrahim's, miss. In the town centre, miss."

"I know where it is, you silly bitch. Do you think I'm stupid or something?"

"N...no, miss. Sorry, miss." She was beginning to panic a little now. She half turned to speak to the girl as she circled around her.

"Eyes front, McKenzie!" Barked the man. Making her turn immediately back.

He reached forward and casually squeezed her breast through her suit jacket.

"Bit small, aren't you girl? Bit undeveloped for a girl your age? Not very popular with the gentlemen at work, I'd guess?"

Kirsten flushed a little; she was quite sensitive about her under-sized breasts. Nevertheless, the official was correct and, as required, she told him so.

"Yes, sir. I am a bit small, sir. Sorry, sir."

Mentally she cursed herself. Why had she apologised to him? It wasn't her fault after all? Apologising for things that weren't her fault seemed to be almost her default position at the moment. As if encouraged by her timidity the man took a handful of her other tit and squeezed hard.

"Nice and firm though. What do you think, Nellie? Nice pair of tits or what?"

Kirsten felt the back of her skirt being raised and the inside of her leg brushed by the cane that the woman was carrying.

"Ha ha, nice arse as well. I know you're an arse man, Phil." replied the young girl.

"What are her pants like?"

"What do you think?"

"Are they posh? You know I like posh, don't you?"

"Oh, they're posh all right. Blue and silky with lace trimming.

"Nice."

He rolled her nipples in his large fingers.

"Perhaps I'll pay you a visit, Miss Poshpanties? Where was it you lived again?"

He squeezed them painfully and sniggered as she squealed

"A...apartment A, 14 M...Millard Crescent, sir," she managed to gasp.

Between her legs she felt the cane rub against her panties.