The Study Group Ch. 01

This story is a work of fiction. Only the really boring parts are autobiographical. Any resemblance of any character in this story to any real person is unintentional and pure coincidence. This may be a bit slow, but it sets the context for later chapters.

*****

After about 30 years of practicing law, I thought that I had seen and heard pretty much everything. That assumption was proved erroneous when Karen Clyde came into my life.

First, I'll give a bit of background about me. I have been practicing in a Midwestern city since the late 1980s. Initially, I worked for a very large "silk stocking" firm. Having never even seen any silk stockings, I did not fit in perfectly. After a few years, I felt that I was sufficiently established in the community to start my own solo practice. I also became somewhat involved in politics, as an operative rather than a candidate for reasons which will become apparent.

My practice was mildly successful, at least enough so that I could afford most of what I really wanted. My personal life was cyclical. For a couple of years up until about six months before I met Karen, I had been dating a fairly attractive architect.

One significant aspect of my relationship with the architect was that she had been raised as a nudist and introduced me to social nudism. We took a number of trips to resorts in Florida and the Caribbean and beaches like Haulover. Unfortunately, the architect decided both that my income was inconsistent with her early retirement by marriage plan and that I was really too old for her. I understand that she is now dating a surgeon. I do wish her well.

Being dumped by the architect had reduced my nuding to my own yard. As an "unaccompanied male," I was not welcome at most resorts. Traveling to a nude beach by myself just didn't seem worth the time or expense.

Also germane to this story is the fact that I had remained friends, and just that, with a truly wonderful lady who had started at the large law firm about the same time as me. Amy had a greater gift than me for passing herself off as the kind of person whom the senior partners envisioned succeeding them while still retaining her true personality. Amy had advanced to being a fairly senior equity partner.

Over the years, Amy and I would have beers together after work one or two days a month, even after she married. That what we said to each other went no farther was an unstated, but absolutely inviolable rule of our relationship. Amy would vent about the pomposity, self-centeredness, and sexism of many of her partners. I told Amy most of what went on in my life, including my nude adventures with the architect. I think that was a big part of why Amy referred Karen to me.

Karen called me one morning. She said that she had been referred by Amy. Amy had apparently done work for the company which had employed Karen's father and had been the only lead Karen could get on a private lawyer. Karen said that she was in government service and wanted some advice about some issues arising from that service. Since I never blow off one of Amy's referrals, I made an appointment to meet Karen.

When Karen walked into my office for our meeting, I saw an attractive and seemingly confident lady. I guessed (correctly I later learned) that she was in her early to middle 30s. About 5' 9", she had a figure which appeared to be splendid from what I could tell through her conservative business clothes. Shoulder-length brown hair framed a face very reminiscent of the actress Karen Allen in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

"Please read this first," Karen asked as she handed me a multi-page document.

The document was titled "Appointment to Joint Study Group on Female Terrorism." In substance, the document appeared to be a contract between Karen and the Federal Government. The document was signed by Karen, someone described as a General in the Marine Corps, a Deputy Assistant Secretary of Homeland Security, and an Assistant Deputy Director of Central Intelligence. All four signatories were women. The document generally described certain benefits that would accrue to Karen if she successfully completed a two-year tour with the JSGTF. The document also contained a curious clause that I'll quote verbatim:

Appointee understands and acknowledges that all information acquired by her by reason of service with the JSGTF, including her membership in and her own experiences while serving with the JSGTF, shall be treated as having the highest level of national security classification. However, in the event that the existence and nature of the JSGTF become public knowledge by means other than disclosure by Appointee, Appointee may then disclose her membership in the JSGTF and the nature of her service. Appointee shall not, at any time and under any circumstances, disclose any information about specific matters considered or undertaken by the JSGTF without written authorization from the National Command Authority.

I finished reading and looked up at Karen with what I imagine was a perplexed look.

Karen gave me a smile like I'd never seen before. "The JSGTF is what I want to talk to you about. I probably shouldn't be telling you this much, but I trust that attorney-client privilege will protect this disclosure."

I nodded my head "yes."

Karen smiled again. "Ok, let me tell you a true story."

Karen was an FBI agent. About three years ago, she was assigned to the San Francisco office. She had just played a large role in breaking up a ring of tech entrepreneur wannabes who were selling restricted technology to North Korea. A couple of days after the arrests in that case, Karen's SAIC handed her an e-mail from a Deputy Director in Washington instructing Karen to report to an address in Northern Virginia.

Neither I nor the SAIC had the slightest idea what it was about," Karen explained. "But, when a Deputy Director says "be there," you are there. I flew into Reagan National and rented a car with GPS, which was helpful because the meeting site was off of a two-lane road. The meeting was scheduled for very late afternoon. I remember driving up. There was a fence, but the site didn't seem too secure until I noticed cameras everywhere." Karen chuckled. "The sign said "United States Department of Agriculture Data Assistance Office.'"

Once inside, Karen found herself in a lobby with a number of other women about her age. "I recognized another girl from FBI, who was then in the St. Louis office and a girl I knew at ATF. About half of the women were in uniform, mainly Marines and Army. There was one girl from the Coast Guard."

The group of women was shown into a small auditorium. Everyone had just gotten seated when someone called "attention on deck." All of the women stood again as a door to the stage opened and three more women walked in. This group was lead by a small woman in a Marine uniform, followed by two women in civilian clothes.

The female officer said loudly, "At ease." In a more normal tone, she added, "for you civilians that means that you may sit down." The officer introduced herself as Marine General Rita Mayfield. The two civilian women were introduced as Alice Brown from CIA and Susan Wilder from Homeland Security.

Karen told me, "I remember General Mayfield's initial speech almost to the word."

General Mayfield began by saying that "You are here for a project which the three of us hope will never get off of the ground. While there is still work to be done, women in the armed forces and civilian law enforcement had made significant progress. As you know, under the previous administration, we had been authorized to select and train women for assignment to combat arms. As you may also know, that authorization was rescinded when President Trout took office in January. Instead, the President has assigned us this project. He told me several months ago that, if I thought women belonged in combat, this would be the way to prove it."

General Mayfield had stopped and Ms. Brown stood and picked up the speech. "While we find this assignment distasteful, it is a Presidential order to assess its feasibility and we have to give it our best. That is why you are here. Each of you has a squeaky-clean background. Each of you has excelled in your duties at your agencies, and, to be blunt, you are the most physically attractive women in federal service who know how to handle a gun." Ms. Brown stopped and looked to Ms. Wilder, who stood.

"I had the feeling that each one was trying to make sure that the other two took equal responsibility," Karen told me.

Ms. Wilder stood. "We are going to ask you to volunteer for a special assignment. General Mayfield, Ms. Brown, and I hope that all of you decline. You may decline to volunteer without any jeopardy to your current status and there will be no record of the fact that you were even asked. However, to be fair, there are some incentives being offered to encourage you to accept this assignment."

General Mayfield picked up the talk again. "You will be asked to serve in this assignment for two years. Everyone accepting this assignment will immediately be raised one pay grade. There will be increase within grade during your tour. Upon successful completion of your tour, you will receive another full step pay increase and we have been promised that each woman who successfully completes her tour will have a Presidential commendation letter added to her personnel file. Now, you're probably wondering what this assignment is."

Karen told me, "At that point, the lights in the room dimmed and a projection screen was lowered at the back of the stage."

Ms. Wilder told the assembled women, "We want you to understand that this was not our idea. This was the brainchild of a political appointee in the office of the National Security Advisor. Someone who read too much Playboy and Penthouse, I imagine."

"At that point," Karen told me, "an image appeared on the screen. It was a woman facing the camera. She was holding an assault rifle. Around her waist was an ammo belt with a holstered handgun. There was a knife in a scabbard strapped to one calf. Apart from that, she was completely nude."

In a voice dripping with disdain, General Mayfield explained, "The President wants us to create an all-female strike force that will operate as teams along the lines of a SEAL team or an FBI HRT. The force will include military and civilian personnel and is expected to be able to operate overseas or domestically. Except for weapons and other necessary equipment, the teams will conduct operations in the nude."

Ms. Brown added, "The idea is that a team of armed nude women will startle or confuse the bad guys and give the teams an extra edge of surprise in tactical situations."

Karen told me,"The overwhelming feeling in the room, I think, was that we were being subjected to a joke, although how or why was a mystery."

Ms. Wilder resumed. "Contrary to what you are thinking, this really is not a joke. We have been charged to try to assemble and prepare such a strike force. In order to avoid repercussions and harassment down the road, the fact of membership in the strike force will be highly confidential. As far as the public and your agencies and services will know, you have been assigned to the "Joint Study Group on Female Terrorism" and have been trying to help us understand what motivates and how to counter the female terrorist. This terminology should be used at all times when referring to the strike force."

General Mayfield interjected, "Of course, to protect the administration from any bad press resulting from this bullshit idea, detailed records of mental illness will be fabricated for each strike force member to be released in the event that someone is killed or captured naked. The Government will deny any knowledge and claim that the poor woman was running around naked with guns because of her mental illness."

The lights came back up. Ms. Brown told the group, "That is all that we wanted to tell you today. We want you to think about it and let us know tomorrow whether you will volunteer for this assignment. We expect that you may want to discuss this among yourselves. We have taken a block of rooms at the Marriott back on the highway. We have also rented a meeting room for the evening where you can eat and drink at Government expense and talk with each other. You will reassemble here at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow when we expect a 'yes' or 'no' on taking this assignment. As Ms. Wilder said before, we hope that you all say 'no' so that we can report that we were unable to find qualified personnel to perform this assignment. Good afternoon."

Karen told me, "I walked out of there not knowing what to think. It sure seemed like a hoax. But a lot of resources had been expended on it and what was the purpose of a hoax? However, the idea seemed too weird to take at face value. Anyway, I drove back to the Marriott half expecting to be told that they'd never heard of me and didn't have a reservation. Instead, a young man told me that my room was ready and pointed down the hall where 'a meeting room is reserved for your group.' He told me that the bar was opening now and that dinner would be served there at 6:30."

Karen went on, "I went up to my room and dropped my bag. I thought about just ignoring the whole thing and driving somewhere to get dinner on my own. Of course, I'd go in the next morning and tell them that I wasn't volunteering. Then, I thought,' what the hell? I'd like a drink and someone else is paying.' So I went down to the meeting room. About half of the women from the meeting were already there and the rest came in over the next few minutes. Everyone was drinking. In general, the discussion was along the lines of 'Have you ever heard anything this dippy?' or 'What the hell is this really about?'"

"After about 45 minutes, the staff came in and began putting salads on the tables. I sat down at a table with my FBI colleague, the woman I knew from ATF, and some others. One of the others was a girl who looked a bit like Sandra Bullock. She was wearing a Marine uniform with captain's bars. She introduced herself, in a thick Southern accent, as MaryLou."

"Over dinner, a consensus developed that we had to take this proposed assignment at face value because we didn't know enough to do anything else. Wine was served with dinner and a lot of it was going down. The discussion at our table turned to how dumb it would be to volunteer when the people apparently in charge were so obviously opposed to the project. That went on through dessert and coffee, although I and everyone else substituted more wine for coffee."

Karen took a breath. "Finally, MaryLou stood up. In a loud voice, she said, 'Could I have y'all's attention for a minute?' The room quieted down. MaryLou walked to the front. 'With respect to General Mayfield, I'm real disappointed in her and Ms. Brown and Ms. Wilder. I've been a Marine long enough to know that when a superior gives you an assignment, you can question whether it is a good idea, but when your superior orders you to do it, you put that aside and do the job to your very best. There's a lot about this assignment that goes against how I was raised. But, as a Marine, I don't get to do just what I think is ok. My duty is to do what I'm told as long as it doesn't violate the UCMJ. Yeah, they said that this is volunteer. But, they also said that the thought we were the best people for the job. I'll be embarrassed running around with no clothes on. But, the President has decided that this is something the Country needs and we've been picked to do it. I don't see how anyone can be true to her oath and not volunteer tomorrow.' With that, MaryLou marched out of the room."

Karen took another breath. "What MaryLou had said was not what everyone wanted to hear. People started leaving and heading back to their rooms. I picked up a half-full bottle of merlot and went up to mine. I poured some wine into one of those plastic cups they put in hotel rooms and turned on the TV. I sat down and sipped the wine. I was thinking. I remembered when I was in high school and saw Wonder Woman re-runs. I secretly thought that would be pretty much fun, running around in skimpy clothes, looking sexy, and beating bad guys. Well, they were giving me a chance to live that fantasy out in the skimpiest outfit possible: nothing. The more wine I drank, the more I thought that it could be a sexy thing to do."

Karen gave me a slightly embarrassed look. "I truly didn't know what I was going to do when I went back to the 'Data Assistance Office' the next morning. They took us back into the same auditorium. The General, Ms. Brown, and Ms. Wilder came out. The General looked at the room for a few seconds. Then she announced, 'Everyone who declines this assignment may leave now. Everyone volunteering for this assignment please stay in your seat.' Two girls out of 40 stood up and walked out. The rest of us stayed in our seats. After a moment of, I guess shocked, silence; we all broke out in nervous laughter. General Mayfield let that go for a second, and then she raised her hand. Alice Brown stood up and said, "that was a good speech at dinner last night Captain Johnson.' Looking around the room, she added 'Yes, we were listening.'"

Karen took a sip of water. She looked away for a second, and then looked back at me. "From that point on, things got very interesting. General Mayfield told us, 'As we told you yesterday, you will be conducting operations in the nude. In order to acclimate, you will be nude for much of your training. You will all be expected to report for training at Camp Pendleton, California in ten days. However, we believe that you need to start getting used to your new uniforms. You will all remove all of your clothing now.'"

"It was a little strange to be undressing in an auditorium," Karen continued, "but it was all women so it was that big of a deal. Then a man in a Navy uniform opened the door and walked in. General Mayfield told us 'You will follow Captain Wallace for a walk of the grounds in uniform.' We filed out the door into the lobby. Captain Wallace held the outside door and we each walked by him, naked, out into the late morning sun. The military girls had formed a sort of a line, but the rest of us were standing in a group. I'm sure that everyone was looking at everyone else. In my opinion, we were a group of women who looked pretty darn good naked. Captain Wallace did not hide the fact that he was looking each of us up and down. Finally, he told us to follow him and we began walking the grounds inside the fence."

"No one else was around," Karen continued, "but I kept remembering those security cameras. Whoever monitored those was getting a decent show if it was a guy. Walking outside naked was strange, but it actually felt pretty good. Somehow, it seemed a bit naughty, and the sun and breeze on my skin felt wonderful. After about twenty minutes, Captain Wallace led us back inside and into the auditorium. Our clothes were where we left them, with envelopes addressed to each of us on top. The envelope contained instructions for reporting to Pendleton and some papers I had to give to the SAIC in San Francisco. Oddly, no one seemed in a hurry to get dressed. MaryLou Johnson came up to me, she looks great naked by the way. She smiled and told me, 'We can do this.'"

Karen took another sip of water. "MaryLou is important to the story. She's become a very, very good friend. She's in the same position I am. We have a plan and I'm hoping that you can help us both. Do you mind if I use the washroom?"

I showed Karen where the unisex washroom was in my suite. While she was gone, I wondered what this was about. I didn't mind listening to Karen's story, hard to believe as it was. While I had initially categorized her in my mind as "attractive," while I had been watching her tell her story I had realized that Karen was (and is) really a very beautiful woman. Hers is a sort of "sneaky" beauty that lures you in gradually rather than smacking you in the face. Her voice was a bit smoky and wonderful. Except for a few moments when she seemed as though she might have been slightly embarrassed, Karen conveyed a calm confidence. Still, I was not at all clear on where I came in.