sojournerwolf
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Dec 11, 2000
- Posts
- 616
Carter Moorehouse Sims IV
Sims rose from the bed in a single fluid motion. He donned a fresh shirt, tie and jacket. It would not hurt, he decided, for people to start seeing him about, seeing him as one of "them". He thought for a moment about the map of the town he had memorized, and decided to make his way to the bar called Tradewinds.
He only hoped they had a decent single malt scotch.
He walked briskly down the all but deserted street. A notice of a dance for service men the following evening caught his eye and he read it carefully.
Entering the cool darkness of the bar, he noticed many of the patrons wore uniforms or had the look about them of plant workers. It might be wise, he thought, to become a "regular" here, for with the secret project coming up, without doubt, those he sought would likewise tend to haunt the establishment.
He ordered a single malt on the rocks and found a table tucked out of the way. Nearby, a several men were talking, louder perhaps than they needed to after generous lubrication of spirits.
Sims ears perked up, though his face showed nothing as he heard them mention a name...the name of one person he had been told to keep a particular eye upon.
Jack Becker.
Sims rose from the bed in a single fluid motion. He donned a fresh shirt, tie and jacket. It would not hurt, he decided, for people to start seeing him about, seeing him as one of "them". He thought for a moment about the map of the town he had memorized, and decided to make his way to the bar called Tradewinds.
He only hoped they had a decent single malt scotch.
He walked briskly down the all but deserted street. A notice of a dance for service men the following evening caught his eye and he read it carefully.
Entering the cool darkness of the bar, he noticed many of the patrons wore uniforms or had the look about them of plant workers. It might be wise, he thought, to become a "regular" here, for with the secret project coming up, without doubt, those he sought would likewise tend to haunt the establishment.
He ordered a single malt on the rocks and found a table tucked out of the way. Nearby, a several men were talking, louder perhaps than they needed to after generous lubrication of spirits.
Sims ears perked up, though his face showed nothing as he heard them mention a name...the name of one person he had been told to keep a particular eye upon.
Jack Becker.