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Lillian Fletcher was born in Brooklyn of German-American parents. She nonchalantly strolled into the Brooklyn Navy Yard offices where Olive Masters and Commander Harvey Fulton were planning the next convoy to England to break the German submarine blockade.

"May I help you?" a secretary asked.

"I heard there's a clerical position open."

It wasn't wartime but the Brooklyn Navy Yard was on a war footing. It was the summer of 1940.The Great Depression was over; everyone who wanted a job had a job. The Brooklyn Navy Yard like every other business was desperate for workers.

Lillian Fletcher started a week after she walked into that office.

She was young, personable, beautiful and competent. Sailors and merchant seaman who came through the office invariably asked her for a date. She turned them all down.

One day, talking to another clerk, "Don't they know I don't date men." For public consumption she meant sailors and merchant seamen. For Olive Masters ears, she meant she didn't date men, period.

Miss Masters heard what she wanted to hear: there was a new clerk in the secretarial pool who preferred to be with a woman, and she was young and beautiful. "You're the new girl here?"

"Yes ma'am, I'm Lillian Fletcher. I started on Monday."

"Welcome, how about lunch at my apartment on Saturday?"

"Thank you, that's very kind of you."

Lillian Fletcher smiled to herself. ‘This was easier than I thought.'

Olive Masters smiled to herself. ‘This was easier than I thought.'

From afar it's difficult to discern who seduced whom, but by late-afternoon Saturday, Olive Masters was kneeling between Lillian's legs. "You have the most beautiful pussy. I'm sure it's even tastier than it looks."

Except for Fraulein Trude Ruttinger, no one ate pussy like Olive Masters. Her tongue was gentle; her words soothing, "you're delicious, Lillian. I could eat you all night."

It wasn't all night, but as they went to sleep, "Miss Olive, I can't wait until morning so I can make it up to you."

"What does a girl as young as you know?"

"If you want, I'll show you now." She started kissing Olive's breasts. "They're lovely, but you and I both know what I want."

"Tell me."

"I want to inhale your fragrance. I want to taste your deliciousness. I want to make you moan so loud that they hear you in Manhattan."

It had been a long time since Olive Masters had enjoyed a tongue like Lillian's and the girl was insatiable. There were orgasms and more orgasms. Like Trude, Olive fucked Lillian's face. "Miss Olive, as you can see I have some experience, but I must say I've never tasted a pussy as sweet as yours. If you'll have me, I'd like more of your sweet pussy in the morning."

Olive Masters didn't just want Lillian's tongue in the morning, she insisted that Lillian visit her apartment two or three nights a week. And when Lillian visited she didn't want just Lillian's tongue, she wanted her pussy, too.

Within a few months, Lillian was Olive's personal secretary with access to every ship in every convoy and the cargo they carried. With this information, the Nazi U-Boat Wolfpacks were able to target specific

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