‘Have you ever seen a grown woman naked?’

‘…The first female Attorney General is also the very worst Attorney General ever; Janet Tahoe. This particular morning finds Attorney General Janet Tahoe hard at work in her office shredding papers as she sits behind her desk. There are lit candles on her desktop, an assortment of butane lighters and a large box of wooden matches. She is a large woman, in her fifties and she presents an imposing sight. Imagine an older, six-foot tall, two hundred pound Elton John in a baggy dress; she even has the same bobbed hairstyle. The only make-up she wears is a token dab of orange lipstick. She wears thick, coke-bottle glasses. Ms. Tahoe is definitely a man trapped in a woman’s body.

The phone rings--her private line. Ms. Tahoe snatches it up, irritated at the interruption. “What?”
It is her NAAG hag compatriot, Marsha Shark.
“Tahoe, this is Marsha Shark. We need to talk.”
“Marsha, you can’t keep calling here for personal matters. I’m the Attorney General of the United States. I work for the taxpayers. Let me switch to a secure line. Hold.” There is a brief pause as Tahoe fumbles with the right button. She comes back on the line. “Go ahead Marsha.”
“Huh; sounds different. Anyway; I’m a taxpayer too and so is Mr. Peter Bigg the Fourth. And he is a large contributor to our party and to our cause.”
“That may be, but I have to uphold the integrity of this office. And you know very damn good and well that I’m not influenced by who gives what.”
“That is bullcrap. I know all about you and Wee Willie and Al Gorithm and the Chinese money connection and the Los Alamos situation. I have big problems; the Swedish Bikini Team. What have you found out about them?”

 “…Next, never ask me about the Swedish Bikini Team ever again. After this conversation, which never took place, they’re off limits.
“Now, here’s the story. The original Swedish Bikini Team members were a gaggle of bimbos who were not really Swedish. They’re history. The real Swedish Bikini Team babes hold diplomatic passports and were members of an elite tactical counter-espionage unit, known as the CSD or Covert Situations Division of the Swedish Navy. These bikini bitches are experts in satellite reconnaissance photo interpretation. They helped us out in Iraq with the no-fly zones last year. They prevented a barracks full of Royal Marines from being blown-up by a truck bomb. They interceded and destroyed the truck and the terrorist operatives. They can improvise weapons and are skilled in underwater demolitions, armed and unarmed combat and deep cover espionage. They work for Blue, Ltd., a private counter-espionage organization headed by a Major Martin Chatsworth Bluestone; USMC, retired. He is also known as the Mysterious Mr. Blue. There are a lot of dead ends in his background. He has joint citizenship; British and American. And he’s a brilliant tactician. Blue’s clientele just happen to be exclusively NATO countries and he’s affiliated with Echelon; which is directly linked to the CIA, NSA and MI-7. This Major Bluestone may also be involved with the MJ Twelve thing.” Marsha gets curious at the mention of ‘MJ Twelve’. She pauses before asking, “What’s MJ Twelve?”
“Classified, above my clearance level; might be linked to extraterrestrial activity. Most likely a planned diversion to discredit…actually; I can’t really talk about it.”
“You brought it up.”
“I’m simply trying to warn you away. And since Blue, Ltd. is privately owned and not part of the government per se, and since they do their work on a per-contract basis, they can get away with a lot of shenanigans that an official government agency cannot.”
“Are you kidding? Why would a group like that use a bunch of blonde bimbos to do their dirty work?”
“I thought I had made it clear that they not bimbos. They just look like bimbos. They’re high level computer geeks who just happen to be able to kill bad guys with their bare hands or with any object that happens to be lying around; including firearms. The Bikini Team thing started out as a joke and then it became their cover. You do know what cover means in this context, do you not?” Marsh is insulted by this comment; her response is one of irritatation. “Yes, I get it.”
“Good. Even as we speak, one of them, known as Erika, is finishing a very important undercover mission in Bosnia. Another one, Helga, just finished a mission in Amazonia. It had to do with the Russian mafia.”
“But I thought that Sweden was neutral.”
“These girls no longer work for Sweden; like I said, they work for Blue, Ltd. But as regards Sweden; don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers.  Remember the Vikings? They were world-class bad-asses. And we’ve had a secret mole exchange program with Sweden since the end of World War Two.  Anyway, since the Swedish Bikini Team is on inactive status with Sweden, they’ve applied for American Citizenship. And if I were you, I wouldn’t mess with them. They’re out of your league; as you found out. Oh, and one more thing…”
“Blue’s right hand ‘man’ is a blonde bitch named Olga Olsen; they call her DoubleOh. She’s an American citizen of Swedish ancestry and is one tough bitch. She helps coordinate the Swedish Bikini Team’s logistics. It is rumored that she is designing a non-lethal hand-held weapon for the SBT; she calls it an SBT Gizmo. The Department of Defense would love to get their hands on one of those devices. DoubleOh also helps the SBT babes out with their satellite reconnaissance system. One must beware of her; she has a habit of standing back and thinking. And she’s also a computer geek. Right now she and the Mysterious Mr. Blue are skulking around on Saint Martin Island.”
“This doesn’t sound good.”
“You’re so very observant. Oh, and she has a thing for Betty Grable; she likes to dress in Betty Grable drag. In fact, she likes the whole forties thing. And aside from being prettier than Betty Grable, DoubleOh has double Ds.”
Marsha attempts to ask more questions: “But…”
Tahoe glances up to see the tour group of schoolgirls, finished with their cursory tour of her world, begin to file out. She feels that opportunity is fleeing so she cuts Marsha off: “No buts. I gotta go. Something important has come up. Don’t call me; I’ll call you.”

As Tahoe turns her attention to the little girl and slams the phone down, her twisted mind races at the possibilities as she tries to come up with just the right thing to say to this sweet, innocent, little brunette Ingénue. Beads of perspiration begin to form on Tahoe’s forehead, she feels a slight case of the shakes coming on and she wets her Tidy Dydies, enjoying the sensation of warm body fluid. Searching for an icebreaker, Tahoe flashes back on a really funny movie she saw many years ago and she manages to stammer out a line, paraphrased from the movie. “Uhhh, have you ever seen a grown woman…naked?”…’


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