This Little Piggy

Jarvis & Smith ~ Chapter 6

500 words based on a sentence selected by Dive.   Click here for more info.

This week's sentence is from Boris Pasternak's Doctor Zhivago:  The hotel staff were being driven frantic; the incident in No.23 was only one more nuisance added to their daily vexations.

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The hotel staff were being driven frantic; the incident in No. 23 was only one more nuisance added to their daily vexations.  It was not every day that one of the guest suites disengaged from the building and jumped to rejoin the mother ship hiding behind the moon.  The Commander must have had her reasons and they would have to deal with the local authorities and the specialists who would undoubtedly be brought in from Bureau headquarters in Washington.


Jarvis, lying on the bed in Suite 23, was being driven frantic as well, being fully consumed by the expert ministrations of the intoxicating Miss Smith.  He’d arrived at the hotel in response to a scribbled note to find her dressed only in heels, silk stockings and a lovely blue sash, which seemed oddly familiar somehow.  She stripped him, learing at him hungrily, her dimples lending an incongruous air of innocence, and teased him, dancing with an intricately carved ivory fan.  Then she’d taken a more direct approach.  As he reached the outer limits of control he and the bed began to quake, which he attributed to Miss Smith’s considerable skills.  Just as he reached the point of no return, she began to hum a haunting and familiar tune.  Jarvis lost focus and then lost consciousness.

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“Tell me again why we have to wear these ridiculous getups?” asked Richmond, fastening the off-center buttons on his white smock, carefully keeping the stethoscope draped around his neck.


“Just go with it,” said Miss Smith, her eyes briefly glowing red as she adjusted her starched white pinafore and matching nurse’s cap, “It adds to the ambience.  Besides he’ll expect an element of camp.”


Richmond sighed and rolled his eyes.  The things he did to humor the Commander these days.  Once this mission was over he’d ask to be reassigned.  She’d lost all sense of decorum and gravitas.


Jarvis opened one eye and found himself lying naked, prone and spread-eagled on a cold metal table, arms and legs restrained.  He lifted his head, blinked both eyes, trying to bring the room into focus.  From what he could see, he seemed to be in a laboratory of some sort.


“Hello Gregory,” said Miss Smith, dimples flashing.  “I believe you’ve met Mr. Richmond.”


“I don’t understand.” Jarvis said.


“We’re collecting samples and checking on the health of humans of a certain age,” Miss Smith answered.  “And you’re just what we’re looking for.”


“And now,” said Richmond, “We need to run one last test.”


As Richmond reached for the metal probe suspended from the ceiling on a gimbaled arm a flash of electricity arced between his hand and the instrument.  He pulled on a pair of heavy black rubber gloves.


“This,” he said, patting the gleaming machine with a gloved hand, “We call this the Hog in Armour.  Its snout routs around just about anywhere.  Miss Smith, how about a soothing song for our friend Gregory?”


Miss Smith began to hum that blasted song again.  Jarvis’ world went black.

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copyright (c) 2010 Lulubelle B