I opened the door to greet two women in Salvation Army uniforms. One was an attractive slim woman, in her early thirties, standing around 5’9”. She wore a smart black jacket bearing a silver S high on each lapel, buttoned up over a crisp white blouse buttoned to the neck with a metal brooch depicting a wreath surrounding a shield with the Army’s name on top of a vertical sword. A black skirt fell to above the knees revealing long shins clad in black nylon with heeled black shoes. “I’m Captain Alice, it’s a pleasure to meet you” she spoke with a sophisticated warm voice as she extended her hand in greeting. Her clear grey eyes were lined with black mascara; her nose wide and long, an engaging smile on a thin-lipped mouth subtly glossed with lipstick. High cheekbones and a small firm chin added to a compact almost impish appearance. Short shoulder length golden hair fell from a soft black hat, emblazoned with the army’s red shield, swept high off her forehead and stylishly sweeping over her ears.

“Major Anne. You were highly recommended by your mother in-law. She’s a captain, you no doubt know” Her companion gripped my hand firmly. “Yes, I recall her mentioning that” I replied. Similarly dressed, her voice was strong and firm. Barely over 5’, Anne was in her 60’s, slender with red hair cut so severely that it was almost masculine. “Your sister in-law is also a cadet” she informed me. “I wasn’t aware of that” I admitted. Her face was small almost elfin with mischievous blue-green eyes, slim eyebrows, a small slender nose, long ears and a small mouth with a touch of lipstick. As she smiled she looked cheeky and pretty, but then her mouth became tight lipped that made her severe. Small metal-framed oval glasses enhanced the impression of a strict but slightly sexy Victorian schoolmistress.

Directing the women to my office on the first floor above The Golden Lotus, I gave in to my base instincts to watch two women in uniform climbed the stairs in front of me. A woman in a smart paramilitary uniform is exciting; a sense of commanding strength yet feminine in the way that her jacket hugs the curvy contours of her body and a skirt that shows off her shins and calves, especially in sheer black nylons. Although Anne’s short shins seemed shapeless from the front, I was pleasantly surprised with the view of well shaped calves with a nice swelling of firm muscle as she climbed. But it was Alice who I couldn’t stop gawping at, her slim ankles tapered to a shapely swell of solid calve muscle flexing as she climbed. My paranoia was shouting posh woman + strong legs = pain for Jim.

Reaching my office, Anne commented with a wink and knowing grin, “You have a lovely view don’t you Mister Priest?”. “Please call me Jim”. I went over to the drink making area - okay it’s a kettle! “Why don’t you ladies make yourselves comfortable while I make us a drink” I asked. Taking their orders, I watched as both women unbuttoned their jackets and sat by my desk. Alice’s skirt rose high upon her thighs as she brought one leg upon the other and wrapped it around in that strange but alluring manner of long legged women. By contrast Anne sat demurely with both feet on the ground, knees together. Returning with the drinks, I sat opposite trying my best to ignore the vast amount of leg on show.

“So how I can help The Salvation Army?” I asked. “The Militant Wing” Alice corrected indicating the sword on her broach. “I’m sorry I’ve never of that” I replied. Alice continued “When The Salvation Army was established in the 19th Century, it was not uncommon for physical attacks on our halls and members by certain sections of the community, pub landlords, pimps, rival Christian groups and so on. The Militant Wing was set up by suffragettes to provide a more physical approach in our fight in the name of The Lord”.

“The Army is committed to fighting human trafficking. Slavery is very active in the UK. It indulges some people’s sexual fantasies and inflates the egos of others” Alice told me “Did you know women can be sold for anywhere between 500 to 8000? It’s big business, Jim, worth at least 64 billion worldwide”. Anne spoke up “In all of the fuss over John Davidson [JIMP#11] the media lost sight of the fact that he was importing slaves as well as drugs”. “You were at Davidson’s airfield. You mean to tell me that you didn’t snoop around his office?” Anne’s tone of voice implied criticism. “I was busy trying to stop people shooting the Police” I replied. “You’re not a very good private eye are you?” Anne bit back scathingly. Ignoring her colleagues’ outburst, Alice continued, “We want you to help us track down the distributors and from them their other suppliers. Then we can shut down this inhuman trade”.

“The last time one of your lot asked for me help she ended up getting assassinated and I got beat up” I snapped. Picking a menu off my desk, Anne asked, “Alice dear would you mind awfully getting us some nice Chinese food to eat from downstairs? I’m sure Jim won’t mind” she winked at me. Making our selections, I stood up to watch Alice make her way below.

“She really doesn’t know what you’re talking about” I turned around and was shocked to see Anne with her blouse unbuttoned revealing a thin black lace bra. “I wanted to show you something Jim” she said cheekily. Although the petite woman had a slender body, her breasts were relatively large and were pushed into two hemispherical mounds and an inviting cleavage. “They’re um magnificent” I fumbled for the right words. “They should be. They cost my late husband enough money. Not bad for a 68 year old eh?” Anne responded, “Do I scare you Jim?” “Well you’re sort of terrifying, but in a sexy way,” I admitted. Anne grabbed my hands and used them to kneed her chest which moved in exciting ways under my fingers. “Don’t be scared. Tell me if they feel like the real thing?” “They do, they feel great” I admitted. Still guiding my hands she rubbed her nipples, which quickly hardened and jutted out from the thin fabric. “Come on Jim. Make an old woman very happy. I can satisfy you in bed better than any 18 year old” she stated as a matter of fact. “Please, Alice will be back any minute” I pleaded. Removing one hand, she firmly brushed the front of my trousers up and down several times. “Maybe she’d make a threesome” she teased “You’re enjoying this I can tell or are you frightened that I’m more than you can possibly handle in the bedroom?” she taunted. “Maybe later then” she said with a wink. “Anyway this is what I actually wanted to show you”. Releasing my other hand the lusty woman withdrew a necklace from her cleavage.

A silver buxom multi-limbed Goddess surrounded by a circle of flames dangled from Anne’s hands. I realised my mistake, Anne was the danger not Alice. “Don’t you want a closer look?” Anne asked. “No thank you, Sir Humphrey has one about so big” I held my palms apart by about 2 foot “he says it’s an early variant of the Hindu goddess Durga”. “Anahita” Anne replied then stopped looking like she had just said something she shouldn’t have. “Does Alice have one too?” I asked. “No. The Sisterhood uses a light touch to direct organisations such as The Militant Wing. They don’t always need to know” Anne admitted. “So why should I help them?” I asked.

Just then I heard the front door open and footsteps upon the stairs. Quickly buttoning her blouse, Anne spoke quietly pleading, “Jim please believe me that I am asking for your help as a Salvationist nothing more. The Sisterhood is in turmoil after Paris. We don’t all agree with what was done there”. “The elite death squad killed her” I said. “Who pulls the strings, Jim? Who pulls the strings?” Annie whispered. I looked into her eyes for a long moment for any hint of deception but detected none.

As Anne helped Alice arrange the food on my table, I made up my mind. Searching through my filing cabinet, I withdrew a document wallet. “I believe I can help you. At the airfield two able young women helped me. One of them was a security guard”. I paused to looked at my notes “She mentioned visits by a white van signing in as Crook of Ugley”. “Very funny Jim” Anne said. “No, I’m serious. The van always turned up when flights were due and the loaders never went near it. It’s a lead worth following”.

------Guy Crook’s Story------------

I smirked as I drove my top of the range black Mercedes S-Class at 60 mph down Bury Hill ignoring the 30 signs. Speed limits are for losers not for executives like me. Pulling into the opposite side of the road to pass parked cars with my headlights on full beam, the loser in the oncoming red Escort had to brake hard to let me pass. I smirked again, I’m executive, he’s not. The sooner I got to the nearest big town, the sooner I can get a BJ or more. Town girls would do anything for a good-looking exec like me and the car was a babe magnet.

As I slowed to take the T-junction, I noticed a young blonde in a smart Salvation Army uniform in my headlights, long black nylons reflecting the beam. She seemed good looking, in her early 20s about 5’10” with a slim body and long long legs. The uniform looked sexy with a short skirt, nylons and high heels. Of course she noticed me, everyone notices me I smirked. She smiled, her head titled coyly. I smiled back and she smiled wider parting her red lips and running her tongue around the inside. She was desperate for it!. Pulling out quickly in front of some loser, I turned right, ignoring the squeal of brakes as I drove quickly to the small market square just around the corner and parked.

Smirking at the local morons admiring my expensive designer clothes, I walked back to the junction where she was still waiting dimly lit by the streetlights. Pulling my stomach in, I pulled myself to my full 6’5” to impress her. “You’re the bloke from that flash car ain’tcha?”. It was a pleasant voice with a local accent and a hint of Mockney (faux Cockney) identifying her from the Council estates. “Yeah that’s my car. I’m Guy and I’m an executive” I smirked impressing the girl. “Why don’t we go for a spin in it?. It’s much warmer than out here”. “Sorry I don’t take rides with strangers. What sort of girl do you think I am?” she laughed softly. Still smiling she added seductively “There’s a den in the hall” nodding to a low long building hidden in the dark behind her “we’ll be much more comfortable in there”. Placing a small soft hand in my palm she guided me to the hall. “What business are you in?” she asked opening a door off from a small entranceway. “I supply workers for the construction industry and agriculture” I replied looking around a small but cosy room. It was warmly lit with an old sofa on one side, an old desk with a phone and a cheap music system opposite and an overflowing bookcase along the back. “You mean slaves?” Julie asked unbuttoning her jacket and removing her hat. “What?” I snapped. My anger drained as Julie flopped into the sofa, her skirt hitching up to expose legs all the way to her crotch and the small white panties beneath her tights. Smirking at the thought of getting my hands on those legs, I removed my coat and threw it on the desk then sat down next to her. In the subdued lighting, I got my first good look at Julie. Bleached blonde hair so pale that it was almost white tumbled in artificial waves to her shoulders, her dark roots and dark eyebrows telling the lie. Her face was quite attractive, long though a bit square with a slender nose and a dimpled chin. I didn’t like the chalky layer of foundation on top of which she wore thick blusher, eyeliner and lipstick. Twisting to face her, I leaned across and ran my hand up and down from her ankles to the top of her thighs enjoying the feel of the thin denier and her long shapely legs. “You are really very attractive” I told her “you could be a top model. I know a bloke who runs a top agency in London”. They all fell for that one. “I tried that once. It was a rip off” she replied. I noticed she had quite a crowded looking mouth with prominent incisors.

“Your legs are sensational” I said as I felt her long shapely calves. “You’d be a great leg model” rubbing her long thighs “I can make you rich”. “Really?” she smiled. Aching for her, I ran my hand to the top of her thigh and around to the gusset. “Oi! What’s your game? What sort of girl do you think I am?” she scolded knocking my hand away. “I know exactly the sort of girl you are” I moaned lustfully “you’re the lucky girl who’s going to get my big executive dick inside her”. I leaned forward to kiss her but was blocked by Julie’s arm across my throat. With her hand on my shoulder she levered my head back painfully. “Uggh you repulsive slimy fat toad” she exclaimed.