RF0 Chapter 3

The STARS pit isn’t as tidy as it should be, but it’s quiet because Alana Wesker has it to herself. Her office in the corner glows yellow, while the desks in the darker room outside all show the blue of the RPD screensaver. Wesker closes the blinds. She puts her blonde hair behind her ear and rips open the courier envelope in her hand, withdrawing two shiny, white plastic file folders bearing glossy Umbrella emblems. She checks the ID numbers and sighs, then leans against her desk and opens the first.

“Oh, Victoria. Where are you going with this?” she mutters tiredly as she considers the contents. Her desk phone rings. Eyes still on the report, she picks up the receiver. “Wesker.”

“Alana, Judge Gasley just signed a warrant for the Spencer property. PC seems to be testimony of a third vic today. I thought it was contained.”

“When was the warrant signed?”

“4 pm.”

Wesker’s eyes narrow, and she drops the file on the desk. That’s when Forest Speyer demanded that Wesker leave this office to examine the cash confiscated in the Let Me Live case, down in evidence storage. Someone had called Wesker’s phone but left no voicemail.

“Valentine,” Wesker mutters.

“She must have help from outside your unit.”

“It’s Lieutenant Branagh. Does Orlova know?”

“Not y—”

Wesker looks over sharply as the office door opens. Rebecca Chambers hesitantly enters the office, pausing as she sees that she’s interrupting. Wesker’s eye twitches, but she gives no other outward sign of annoyance. She hangs up the phone and resists the temptation to glance downward. The files with their Umbrella emblems are in plain view on her desk.

“What is it, Rebecca?”

Rebecca approaches hesitantly. She’s wearing the ridiculous workout clothes that Bravo Team convinced her are required. The look suits her, at least. Rebecca is about as difficult to read as a stop sign, and her face is that color.

“Um, Captain, I heard that…”

She trails off as she spots the folders.

“Rebecca,” Wesker says firmly. The petite brunette jumps and meets Wesker’s gaze, eyes wide. Wesker glances at her watch. “You are not on duty. You did not turn on the lights. And you’ve come to visit me dressed like this.” She looks Rebecca up and down, and Rebecca swallows. There’s sweat on her forehead. “I feel as though you’re trying to get my attention.”

Rebecca is paralyzed.

Wesker gently takes her by the wrist and pulls her close. “Is that correct?” she asks, brushing Rebecca’s bangs aside and looking deep into her eyes.

Rebecca has no words. “Well,” she squeaks, looking away.

Wesker kisses her, and Rebecca melts instantly. Wesker effortlessly steers so that she has the brunette up against the desk, where her back is to the files. A little of Rebecca’s shyness goes away; she kisses Wesker back with the clumsiness of profound virginity, yet her fingertips on Wesker’s waist communicate a vague but passionate need. Wesker kisses her deeper, and Rebecca shivers.

It’s not enough just to distract her. Rebecca needs to forget all about those files. Wesker uses her tongue until she squirms, then slips her hand into Rebecca’s green shorts. She’s hot and soaked down there. She keeps Rebecca’s mouth sealed with her own so that there’s no noise, expertly teasing Rebecca’s swollen slit with a fingertip before giving her a vigorous rub around her clit.

Rebecca’s legs almost give out; she clings to Wesker with tears rolling down her cheeks. Wesker yanks Rebecca’s shorts and panties down, and Rebecca desperately helps her, struggling to get them over one of her sneakers. Wesker lifts her roughly onto the desk, and Rebecca does not know or care that her bare bottom is on top of catastrophically sensitive internal Umbrella lab reports. Wesker unzips her slacks and brings out her cock, covering Rebecca’s mouth with her hand just in time. Rebecca’s back arches as Wesker enters her. She’s sensitive, and cums easily without much vigor on Wesker’s part.

Things on the desk are being knocked askew, and Rebecca’s juices are… plentiful. That’s irksome, but it will have to be a problem for later. Wesker pushes Rebecca’s top and sports bra up to expose her breasts. She squeezes one while keeping Rebecca’s mouth covered, and the grip on her cock becomes that much tighter.

The phone is silent, but it won’t be for long. Rebecca pants and glows. She’s not thinking about anything she saw. Wesker pulls out and tugs her slippery cock. Elated yet faint, Rebecca watches with glassy eyes as Wesker spills a sticky load all over her pale stomach.

Wesker catches her breath quickly, puts her cock away, and zips up. She plucks several tissues from the box and hands them to Rebecca, who fuzzily tries to mop up a little of the mess on her tummy. As she climbs off the desk, Wesker ignores the smeared sweat and other fluids and slides the folders into a stack. Rebecca isn’t paying attention to that as she bashfully pulls up her shorts and underwear.

“Rebecca.” Wesker turns to her and takes her chin in her hand. She wobbles, frozen and overwhelmed. “Maybe we’re both thinking a little clearer now. We’ll be having a briefing soon. Let’s be professional.”

“OK.” The word comes out as a whisper.

“That means put your uniform on. And knock.”

“Oh. Oh.” Rebecca clears her throat and looks away, glowing. “Yes, ma’am.”