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Secret Intelligence Service
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Sexus Tunc Collectae
Part VII
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Isbn 9781906503628
(c) 2020. Callassa Media Company Ltd. London
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With much fondness I vividly picture in my mind the many evenings that Rodney and I spent in my ‘rooms’, my quiet and intimate cocoon and where my intellectual education began and subsequently took on a life of its own. I really wasn’t familiar with almost everything he would tell me during those early days of my learning, but it did change because I was greatly affected by him. I wanted these concentrated times more than anything in the world and they spilled into the long days and nights when he was away. I wanted to learn more about what he told me and to read the books he would bring. Books such as; Eminent Victorians, The Life of Charles George Gordon, The Poetic Works of Alfred Lord Tennyson, and more. This would find a place alongside what was happening then, who it was I liked in the pop charts, the soap opera characters that found their way into the news (and still do), much of what was presented as important but which absolutely was not. Rodney used to listen to the banter I gave him with a smile. Was I gradually becoming like him? Yes, I was because I wanted to more than anything.
What is the essence of the Pax Britannia? This was a question he asked me while smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke slowly into lengths of my hair, twisting them around his fingers, a habit he never ceased to be enthralled by. He smoked cigarettes with a very sweet aroma and it made my hair the same. It was, on the face of it an easy question, but I found difficulty with it. There was much that I wanted to say but I hadn’t the skills to be concise. He told me; ‘My dearest darling daughter brought, the Pax Britannia is our country and its diurnal gift that we receive throughout the days, months and years. Its archetypal beauty compels us in our portrayal and in our service, where we live for her, and where we die for her.’
I liked what he said and committed it to mind along with more by way of explanation regarding who the elite in society actually are.
‘Not all own our state of mind but know that it is not just about the private schools that create and commend this realisation. It is possible to be the same status and there is and has been many because the country grants the means for enlightenment and in the scheme of things fosters the very feeling of uniqueness which lives at the heart of who we are. We can go anywhere but it is how we are in relation to others who subsequently learn from us, are influenced by our example that really matters.’
I fall into that category too, I told him, because he was my exemplar and I wanted to be same as he, but indeed, could I ever achieve that height? I had never met anyone who I felt this way so very powerfully about and I have to say that though our time was short in duration it had already cast out all other experience. It was that I had no past life, there were no others in the present time, only him and who he admitted. So quickly was I to this point.
He didn’t agree entirely with my regarding him as my exemplar. I told him again that he was and he said there were parts of me in him. I thought about that.
‘My dearest and most beautiful young bloom, you will never feel sad, never be without the perfection of the rising sun upon our history. It is no accident you are upon her soil because she draws the ones who are same to her.’
While visible affected by emotion, I asked him if that was what he meant by there being parts of me in him and he said, yes, it is.
A few days prior he had taken me to Kew Gardens, a delight for me, and in the pavilion had asked me to just stand still. He wanted to gaze at me, nothing more, to keep what he said was a treasured picture in a day that would remain, standing still as I had done. A statue of a woman upon Albion.
I have much more to say regarding my inner feelings and how they became expressed and throughout the duration I shall describe this in detail. Rodney did tell me that as a natural course I would warm toward many people, and equally what they left for posterity and in so doing understand that no explanation can be given for my feeling toward them and their contribution. The awesome embrace of the Pax Britannia is a mystery.
He said there are many ways of expressing the Pax Britannia; a reaching and portrayal through words, pictures, voice, combinations of sensuality and emotionality. What else is there? Importantly, why have inhibition? And we must be excessive in our life, in the celebration of our freedom and for me, be so by virtue of my gender.
Yes, I had a great deal to occupy my time and I would be given much more as the days went by. I don’t wish to focus on a ‘certain issue’ here but will say that (and as I have hinted already), though Rodney was a delightfully intense romantic, a Byron, a Rossetti come to life, he also carried a very deep resentment toward those who he said by their very existence defaced the beauty of life. We exist among the worst of the worst, he said, who at the drop of a hat would destroy everything we value and us in the process. Through an attendant rational and necessary conception of reality, we know that we are infinitely more powerful than they.
I asked him if it was the USSR and he said not only so, there are worse who are closer still and who because of perceived difference, attendant stupidity and intense hatred toward us would act on that impulse. He told me this without looking at me and which was his habit.
Now and casting my mind forward a little to 1982, the country would become engulfed in a brutal war with the Argentines – the Falklands War. Many boys would be hurt, some terribly and die, a long way from home.
But, do allow me to return to 1981, I don’t wish to move too quickly.
What I have just described, was a part of me that I would carry throughout my life and a good question most would ask is whether I would have felt it to that extent (if at all) without it having been spelled out for me. Would I have just obliviously got on with my life come what may? I can’t answer, but as one would expect there was much more for me to take on regarding my new home and this was all spelled out for me too. I have to stress though that it took years to not only understand it but to see it in practice.
Briefly, I was told that I would need to read about the models that defined society, the ones that revealed how it worked. I would need to read because there was ‘much expected of me because no one ever remains still in life.’ I’m not only referring to understanding the free western Europeans, Britain in particular, but societies in general – after all we lived with the Soviets and the Chinese too (and the Americans). Rodney brought me his own copies of; ‘Das Capital’ by Karl Marx. ‘The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money’ by John Maynard Keynes, and ‘Capitalism and Freedom’ by the American economist, Milton Friedman. All complete with his own scribbled notes on most of the pages. Actually it took me years (quite literally) to read them anything like adequetly, if that, but Rodney was correct when he told me that it was important I see how the structure of society really does depend on who is making the judgement and why. Basically I was able somewhat superficially to understand and contrast economics and politics from a Marxist perspective with that of the purely free market capitalist system. Britain in point of fact was not wholly either and I could understand the major differences that people lived with. Did I say I could see that British society was based on class and status? I answer in the affirmative but . . . one cannot ignore the very obvious soft socialism of the Welfare State working for everyone, regardless. Obvious to an American. Most notably I was amazed and remain so to this day at the magnificent free health care provision, not in any way based on free-market profiteering (National Health Service).
It is far too easy to look back and say I became adept in certain ways, proficient in applying certain knowledge gained from my long, long evenings spent alone. Switched on as it were and the reason for my becoming already mapped out. It was not so, and I was not the typical student in the requisite academic environment (nor anything like), replete with tutors, libraries in which to ensconce. Not by any stretch of the imagination, but I was happy. Moreover I was so very taken by my being here in its myriad experiential, living facets building up all of the time.
As an aside, the weather in Britain during that year (1981) was very, very cold. I was used to a temperate climate, being Californian. It is not to complain, but to illustrate a difference among many. My lifestyle included wrapping up in a Scottish woollen scarf and keeping warm. I think it’s worth mentioning because while I was with my parents at home there would be reports in the news, circumstances in Moscow and such, what they knew of them, but I used to wonder then how on earth anything was ever done in that extreme cold. Now I knew; it made no difference. Rodney took me to a resort called Blackpool and in the midst of the sea air blowing ashore I thought I was going to freeze to death. Blackpool was apparently a hive of activity of a clandestine sort during the Winter months. There is a fabulous Victorian hotel which will remain nameless and the heating was always turned on full. Yes, that was what it was like, coming in from outside and suffering hot aches with the heat inside.
There were of course many places I went and will describe them all as I have said already, including cities in Scotland and Jersey in the Channel Islands. There is something I want to discuss first that is significant and this took place in August month at a district named Golders Green, in the City. I will return to the hotel in Blackpool later because I wish to write about that too.
Golders Green
I have already briefly detailed my observation to date that there is an official set of behaviours people are expected to adhere to and do so as a matter of principle or whatever. However when the expectations are removed and freedom to behave as one wants becomes the accepted, there is an altogether different nature that erupts as a furore and really does illustrate its latent, hidden quality. I have also said that there is no way to know the extent of this within a person, especially by merely seeing them standing or sitting somewhere as would anyone. There is no outward sign that gives the person away in this respect because no two are same in how they become. Like I said, this was my observation of a practical sort and not a scientific study (I would not be able to make one but mention it).
So why say this again?
Important to me is how things appeared at the time, yes, but how I reacted to them and now, looking back on how I see myself having been mentally affected in ‘some way’ is what I meant to illustrate.
Virtuous in the public time yet in private in league with something else and the really public person has nothing to do with it – the inner world is where we exist. The point is; was I any different than they? Am I any different now?
Weeks prior Rodney had offered a warning; there were going to be things that would hurt and offend me, that my senses would become clouded with emotion, disgust and contempt. My self-analysis would be on-going and so would my sharing it entirely with him. This is indeed complex and some would say, given such a rationale, the way to avoid being hurt was not to engage these activities if indeed it was to these he was referring (it wasn’t). Again, things were and still are extremely complicated, I could not have walked away. I didn’t want to, not in any way. I was entirely owned by Rodney and in ways I should describe more.
What is so very powerful that all of one’s inner-self becomes discarded – perhaps at various times thereon a remnant of one’s control does shine through but is immediately extinguished and then all of this latter is gone too? I know I did say earlier that at the outset I saw myself being able to manipulate everything and be the one in control, well, come this far into my new life such an evaluation was a mere put-on. Quite literally, I would have taken my own life during any moment not only for Rodney, but for all of what he represented, in this; the Pax Britannia, the most fantastic of all service and its everlasting auspices. This had now profoundly enveloped all of my emotions and my physical self. In this was I any different than the young boys and old alike who while leaving the trenches had walked toward certain death? I say no.
Yes, many might make the comparison with religious cults, with mind-control activity and so from a scholarly perspective. Well, my response to that is; I have a great deal more to say regarding what of myself I was giving and the overriding responsibility of who I was giving to, the legitimate reason why they were so charged (with the very continuity of all our lives, in point of fact) and so on.
Yes, it is easy to exaggerate things, to prevaricate even, but my doing so is not the case, rather the reverse, a downplaying.
Back to the topic at hand, I refer to the residence at Golders Green and the amusement and pleasure of eccentrics in which I aided and abetted.
I have to say I didn’t care so much for the district, but having been through Hampstead a day prior might have had a lot to do with that judgement, perhaps superficial though first impressions do matter so ‘they’ say. The house had a Victorian look about it but also something of the up-dated medievel, large and joined to another of same. Houses joined together amused me because I never saw them in California, but the likely reason for that is not relevant here. We arrived by taxi. I was wearing a black satin dress, open at the sides and to my hip, black fishneck stockings and high heeled shoes. Rodney had asked that I wear plenty of red lipstick. In fact all my makeup was heavily indulged. I had my hair tied atop in the style of a tuntulus to which Rodney had educated me.
So then, take my hand and we can plunge together into the heart of things. All these events are rooted in my mind and in great depth of detail and include my state of mind before, during and after.
‘People who matter’, is what I knew of the partygoers. In what way, I didn’t know but it was certain they all were members of the elite shadow world where in this respect literally anything goes. I was given a name by an elderly gentleman wearing a religious collar and who looked very familiar but wasn’t I was subsequently told after asking Rodney. (In Britain they are referred to as ‘dog collars’). My name was Mata Hari, yes and the two other girls who had a giggle with me were; Scarlett O’Hara and St. Joan of Arc. There was a woman seated by the fireplace and very proficiently playing a classical cello and who looked far Eastern. Rodney assured me I wasn’t going to be shot so no need to worry (Mata Hari, an alleged spy, was shot to death by firing squad in October 1917, bless her). I was not expecting that kind of treatment but having said that it was only later that I discovered her history. Joan of Arc in my estimation suffered the worst and most demoniacally inspired fate of all and cannot comment more.
Somewhat lavish décor, classical music, drink flowing in the fashion of the Niagara Falls and the aroma of tobacco, those here were hardly noviciates it seemed, they all being naturally relaxed and jovial. Neither were multi-lingual Scarlett O’Hara and Joan of Arc. Few spoke to me directly, and this included the person who had given my name. Where was Rodney? I felt much more secure with him close. When I saw him he was in the process of organising the first game. He hadn’t divulged anything prior and as I said earlier other than, ‘expect something severe.’ Was there a mood of anticipation of severity about to erupt? Actually there wasn’t which added to my assumption that those here were familiar. Of course, I could likely have been wrong for reasons I have discussed already (one can’t tell much if anything about a person from merely looking at them). Scarlett O’Hara with her elegant and sophisticated frame and curly dark hair had settled in effortlessly well as a proficient dancer, I wondered who she was, whether she was in the service? I would endeavour to discover. I didn’t think most associated with these activities would ever be simply defined.
There was something Rodney said to me much later in time but applies here, that we had always been recreating Rome, this while we were walking through the National Portrait Gallery and amid the fantastic images of the defenders of the British Empire (I have much more to say on this).
I think it was after an hour or so that the party began heating up. I say this because there were now a half dozen or so religious collar wearers and that was all they were wearing. I was inured to naked men by now in varying states of arousal. These were not athletic men by any stretch of the imagination. Scarlett, Joan and I fell together onto a large and soft sofa. Apparently we were to sit next to each other but not remain in this arrangement as will soon become obvious. The men wearing the collars were being blindfolded. Did they look silly? I suppose it depends how one looks at it. Then my panties were removed along with my tights by a warm-handed man who was very committed to perfecting the task, being slow, gentle and dare I say, professional. Perhaps he was a radar operator and I say this because I overheard a conversation between him and others on that very topic. He moved on to Scarlett and Joan who as I, moved to accommodate him. Our new condition was being greeted by murmurs and nods of approval.
Firstly the blindfolded men were required to guess which of us the panties belonged to and none were correct despite a prize of £500. The connection had been assisted via a placing of the nose up close in the appropriate place and taking a deep breath, after which the panties were given the same ‘sniffing’ examination. Fragrance memory, I guess is what might be the physical response, akin to recognising a sound when subsequently heard. Remember all the time there were people observing, probably about thirty or so. The next was far, far more intense and involved. I think almost everyone in the room descended on us and thus began the most exaggerated oral sex ever. I heard the words; Dive! Dive! At one point I had to hold on to Scarlett for fear of being sent over the back of the sofa. Then there was a pair of reassuring hands on my shoulders holding me. If it hadn’t been so pleasurable I would make the comparison with a load of food being thrown to starving lions and the resultant fighting to get a piece. I mention fighting because I thought men unceremoniously clambering over each other to reach my vagina was illustrative of such. I could only accomadate three perhaps four heads at once. Now looking back on such antics causes me to smile in amusement at what was for them a complete loss of control akin to hand to hand battle.
The oral sex shifted into one mass orgy where literally everything imaginable is the case. I thought this had the effect of exaggerating the urge to the moon, I refer to the ones fumbling and who can’t wait until the one in front has done. Needless to say some did not.
After about an hour the party had reverted to its original state, everyone standing and chatting, the atmosphere as it was, or thereabouts because it was minus the classical cellist. I hadn’t showered (though I badly needed one, I could detect my own intimate fragrance, to be more precise I smelled of sex and others would be carrying this about their person too). I merely retrieved what had been skillfully removed from me, though I wasn’t wearing them now (they were in my purse) and my composure too had been brushed down.
This was the first occasion where I was allowed to remain and fraternise. I assumed it was carefully orchestrated for me via Rodney, experientially, I mean and it really was unusual. I felt status-elevated because of it, if indeed I was looking at it correctly because there could well have been a reason I wasn’t aware. For example; someone who it was intended would befriend me. Whatever, the opportunity did offer access to the outward character of those here, generally speaking though obviously I had ‘interacted’ with certain people I assumed were in the service before, though not exclusively verbal.
‘You don’t ever tell anyone about yourself, no matter whom they claim to be, no matter what the circumstance.’ This had been one fundamental axiom that Rodney had imparted. I took this to apply to what others might say to me too but obviously there was no way of assessing that. Superficial banter . . . yes, I guess so. I expected there to be no talking shop and all of what that means. Scarlett and Joan had earlier told me they hailed from ‘somewhere in Essex’ and were ‘loving their lives’. I believed the latter, loving their lives, because it came over that way but they both looked and sounded foreign, though I couldn’t make an assessment of where, North Africa, Egypt, perhaps. It was not to be speculated upon. I liked them both, they were older than me too.
What was rather unusual I suppose – was how a man could engage me in conversation after I had accommodated him in a fierce delivery of his carnal urge, the conversation consisting of the pragmatic stuff of life. Having said that, one man had turned and told me I was the best fuck anyone could ever have. I know it’s not exactly an enlightentening thing to be told in such a circumstance, or perhaps it is, who knows (I’d had sex at least thirty times). The most relevant factor in being told (best sex ever) was I couldn’t recall him at all. I recognised them from the backs of their head mostly, but he was not to be found among the rampaging of the primal and I, its mass consummation.
What did I come away with; what in my thoughts added to an already vast repertoire? I was engaged with the girls, Scarlett and Joan because they were like me. I wondered how they felt, I did want to know so much. I was inspired by their gaiety, their aura of beautiful mystery.
Who, if any at the party had killed people? Admittedly this is a difficult question to consider though it didn’t prevent my wondering who had. I knew from conversations with Rodney that there were the ones highly trained for that particular role and carried it out with detached precision.
The girls were enjoying their lives, yes, but all here were doing the very same. I was not to think of myself as somehow without in that respect because my dreams had not yet come true; after all it is only those who never dream that remain without. Something like that. The fullness of my dreams were yet to form and from this point in time, long into the future to become reality.
Though I have said this before; my parents (especially my mother and to this day – both staunch Republicans, though it’s not relevant, politics I mean) suspected nothing of the extent of what and who (and why) I was involved. I would telephone later and jovially tell her my new job was fabulous and she need not worry. I could have told her, it wasn’t that I was ashamed, I wasn’t at all because it’s not so simple – as already explained, but how others perceive one’s having had multiple (well into the double digits) sex partners at a kinky party is a different matter. I did tell her much, minus that part. I could never, ever tell her nor anyone about the real function of my employer. Neither can I do so now.
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Isbn 9781906503628
(c) 2020. Callassa Media Company Ltd. London
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Secret Intelligence Service
Adversitate. Custodi. Per Verum
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