Good, Not Perfect Lesbian Story

The Post Office

03: The Post Office

Jane walked into the Postal Square building at 1:00 pm dressed like one of the thousands of people in Washington, blue business suits, uncomfortable shoes. Formerly the city post office for Washington D.C., it was now officially the National Postal Museum, Bureau of Labor Statistics, and housed some senate offices. She moved through the lobby and into the elevators taking the lift to the basement. There she walked down a series of hallways, passing by security cameras before walking into a small room waiting with a receptionist.

"Good morning, Liz." Jane smiled. "I'm here to drop off some mail."

The receptionist smiled and nodded toward the door on the opposite wall. "Welcome home Ms. Baker. Please leave your briefcase here." Jane nodded at the familiar process. Liz would take the case and it would be returned sans the documents and papers she brought back to the post office and her summary report. Liz smiled and her gaze shifted to the security check in the next room. "Have a good day Ms. Baker."

Jane moved through the door and stepped onto an elevated platform and was scanned quickly for metal, electronic markers, chemical markers, and body temperature. Once complete, the light above the next entry point turned green. She laid the palm of her hand on a bio scan surface and the door clicked open.

The "Mailroom" of the Post Office was an expansive room of cubicles separated by 5-foot partitions. There were no nameplates and no personal effects in any of the cubicles but each was assigned to one and only one agent. The ceiling was 14' high and larger conference rooms and offices ran along the length of the room with large glass windows allowing visual access to the floor. Across the back wall, there were a dozen different screens mounted and a bank of computer stations where analysts worked at all hours of the day.

Jane went directly to her desk and sat down logging into her station. Immediately a message window dominated her screen."Debrief room 7, 14:00." Jane cleared the message and moved quickly through her waiting emails, notifications, and calendar. She would have access to the information only within the walls of the Post Office. At 2:00 pm sharp she entered the small conference room #7 to find her briefcase waiting for her on the table.

Moments after Jane sat down a middle-aged, African-American man with a receding hairline and about 30 extra pounds of weight entered the room. He sat across from Jane with several files and looked at her over his readers sizing her up. "Agent Baker," he said in salutation.

Jane smiled in acknowledgment but also at the wordplay with her name "Jane Doe," "Jane Dough," "Jane Baker." "Good Morning Agent Foster."

Agent Foster oversaw the operations out of Jane's government cell. The Post Office employed about 50 people total including full-time analysts, agents, and support staff. Jane was sure Agent Foster's assigned name was also a play on words as she knew that if any of the agents found themselves in dire straits they ran the risk of being "orphaned" by the Post Office and no longer falling under its protection or purview. For now, Jane fell under Agent Foster's guidance and care.

"I see that your operation out west was a success. We will have the techs work through the data and they will contact you if we need any clarification." Jane nodded. "This was an exceptionally long assignment." Agent Foster looked up and measured Agent Baker's response. "You might have been able to forward the operation if you inserted yourself into a relationship of a romantic or sexual nature with Dr. Mars."

"Yes. I think that was a strong possibility. If I was given the directive, Agent Foster, I would have executed the order. In my judgment, however, it wasn't necessary to compromise myself in that way."

Agent Foster grimaced. "We all make compromises Agent Baker. We had dead bodies in a container."

"Yes. Understand. Again, in my judgment, it was not necessary and it would not have yielded different outcomes."