SCARLET by Jessica Drew Part 6 Sam recuperates after his accident, but he is a wanted woman, and it isn't long before trouble comes knocking at his door. * * * * * * * * * *

“Time to wake up, sleepy head!”

Sam awoke to a female voice, his eyes blinking. Sunlight streamed into the room as curtains were thrown open, casting the woman in a hazy silhouette. Sam shifted in the bed, pulling himself up into a sitting position, the covers falling from his bare chest.

His body…

Sam ran his hands over his flat chest.

“What the hell?”

Sam stared down in disbelief, his hands roaming across his masculine body, his hands sweeping up into his straggly, sandy colored hair. He thrust a hand down underneath the covers, his eyes closing, his mouth forming a half-smile as he cupped his crotch, cradling his penis and balls.

“Is everything okay?” The woman spoke again, stepping forwards, slowly coming into focus.

“Lenore?” Sam’s voice was reassuringly masculine and rich with his Philly accent.

“Who else would it be?” Sam’s girlfriend stepped forwards, her green eyes sparkling as she sat down next to Sam on the bed. The light from the window cast a halo around her long brown hair. She reached out with her slender hand, stroking at Sam’s head.

“I… I had the strangest dream…” Sam began, trying to recall all that had happened.

“Had? Or having?” Lenore ’s voice was like silk, as if she were whispering straight into Sam’s ear.

“What do you mean?”

Lenore lent closer. “Maybe you haven’t woken up yet...”

Sam watched as Lenore’s face began to dissolve, the room beginning to fall away around her into a black emptiness.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Signorina, mi senti?”

Sam awoke to a female voice, his eyes blinking. A shard of light fell across the room through a window on the far wall. He sat up from the bed with a start, still reeling from his vivid dream, feeling the tug of gravity on his heavy breasts as they shifted on his chest. He looked down at the feminine contours of his body, his long hair draping around his face.

“Grazie a Dio! Ero preoccupato per te.”

Sam looked up at the woman standing expectantly before him, her hands perched on her wide hips. He tugged protectively on the bed sheets, pulling them higher over his naked female body, drawing his feet up towards him on the bed.

“Where am I?” Sam began in his soft French accented voice.

“You… speak English?”

Sam nodded.

The woman looked surprised. She was perhaps in her late forties, a little overweight, olive-skinned with long dark hair reaching to the lower half of her back. She was dressed in earthy tones; a dark rust colored vest top and a long brown skirt that ended at her ankles.

“La mia casa… You in my house. My name is Gabriella.”

Sam ran a hand through his mess of blonde hair. His whole body ached as he struggled to remember what had happened to him.

Water… Drowning…

His cough wheezed from deep within his chest.

Gabriella stepped forward, gently sitting down next to Sam on the bed. Her light brown eyes looked into his. She took his slender hand, stroking it softly.

“My husband… He pull you from water. Bring you here.” Her broken English was thick with her Italian accent.

Sam closed his eyes, remembering the jet-ski and the smoking remains of the yacht that he had left behind.

“I hit something…” he recalled at last.

Gabriella looked down at the floor, looking embarrassed. “I tell him… I say Federico, you fix light on boat. He no listen.” Her eyes darted, too ashamed to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam reassured the woman. “I mean I’m fine… Aren’t I?”

“You sleep all night and most of day but… ”

“Well, nothing feels broken.” Sam swung his long legs from the bed, still holding the bed sheet above his chest.

“No, no, you rest. We look after you.” Gabriella stood up, looking flustered. “You like soup? I make soup.”

Sam gave a polite smile as she let herself out, closing the wooden door behind her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam carefully stood up, the bed sheet wrapped around his naked female body. He instantly felt dizzy, his legs wobbling, feeling weak. He stumbled a few steps, his bare legs brushing together as his hands sought support from the nearest wall. He pulled himself over to a small white vanity table, leaning down to the mirror positioned along its rear edge. He wiped a hand across its dusty surface.

Sam’s heart sank. His dream had seemed so real that it came as a bitter disappointment to see a feminine face peering back at him. He rubbed his hands against his smooth cheeks. There was no longer any trace of his makeup and his hair was loose and unkempt. As Maria Ramirez would doubtless have pointed out, he looked like shit.

Sam looked away, sparing a thought to Maria. To Carlos. Eduardo…

Joseph.

He did not know if any of them were still alive, and despite the awfulness of all that he had endured at the hands of Carlos and Maria, he still felt sorrow for them.

Especially Joseph. If it hadn’t been for Joseph’s selfless act he would never have got away.

Sam recalled his escape from Gaul, wading through waist deep icy sea water, as smoke had filled the corridors. He remembered the armed, masked man that had boarded the yacht.

Then Joseph had come for him. Taking charge, he had brought Sam to safety, buying him the time he needed to escape on the jet-ski. He owed him so much.

Sam turned from the mirror. The bedroom was small and faded pink paint flaked from the walls. A battered white wardrobe stood in one corner, with the small bed that Sam had slept in occupying the opposite corner. He looked around for his clothes, or what little he had been wearing before the accident, but could not find them anywhere. Sam wasn’t sure he liked the idea that he had been undressed by a stranger, but Gabriella had seemed harmless enough.

Sam shuffled over to the small window, his limbs aching. He felt battered and bruised. He was tired and worn out, with nothing left to give. He unbolted the window, throwing it open, a welcome breeze hitting his face. He closed his eyes, bathing in the sunlight and the fresh air. He took a deep breath, his chest swelling beneath the bed sheet that he wore.

After a full minute, Sam opened his eyes. Surprisingly, things felt a little different. He straightened his aching back, his tired eyes opening wider.

Civitavecchia.

Sam looked out of the window to the narrow road below. A moped honked its horn as it drove slowly, avoiding a group of people that walked freely in the quiet street. Washing lines criss-crossed the road with the building opposite, all yellow-walled with colourful shuttered windows. Sam could smell the salt of the sea on the air and hear the call of seagulls in the distance. They couldn’t be too far in from the coast.

In his moment of rejuvenation, Sam thought instead to what had been accomplished. Despite all that had happened to him, he had completed his mission and obtained a copy of Carlos Ramirez’s database. He could only imagine what the Agency would say when he presented them with the names and locations of everyone that Ramirez had been trafficking. Maybe they’d even offer him a promotion, though Sam had every intention of quitting the Agency at his earliest convenience. He’d had quite enough adventure for one lifetime. Once he had his body back, he was out of there.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam sat on the bed, still wrapped in his bed sheet as he sipped at the hot vegetable soup, holding his blonde hair to one side with one hand. He still found his body’s tastes to be slightly off from what he would expect, but he was hungry and knew that he needed to eat to get his strength back.

Gabriella had busied herself around the room, still clearly distraught with guilt about what had happened. She had apologised profusely for not taking Sam to a hospital, but she had feared that her husband’s fishing license would be taken away from him if the authorities found out.

Sam wasn’t too worried. Aside from some aching limbs and a cough, he felt mostly fine. Well, as fine as a man could who had swapped bodies with a woman, been coerced into sex with a notorious drug baron, and then nearly killed on a sinking yacht.

Sam watched as Gabriella brought in a vase of fresh pink tulips, setting them down on the window sill. She turned, happy that to see Sam beginning to eat the soup.

“You will need clothes,“ she began, “My daughter, she at college and leave some things.” She gestured towards the wooden wardrobe, then smiled, patting at her chest. “She big on top, like you!”

Sam felt his cheeks blush. He certainly wouldn’t miss his breasts when, and if, he eventually swapped back to his own body. They pulled heavily at his chest and constantly got in the way, moving and swaying with his every movement. Not to mention the stares that they had drawn from the likes of Carlos and Maria. Even Rivers and Joseph had been unable to help themselves.

Gabriella looked at Sam as he took another spoonful of soup, watching him like a concerned mother.

“When you ready, we have bathtub across the hall.”

“Thank you,” Sam gave a quick smile. He felt strangely unused to acts of outright kindness. He found that he had grown suspicious, expecting some hidden agenda. However, Gabriella seemed genuinely to care and Sam found himself gradually beginning to relax in her presence.

She brought a towel for him then left him to finish his soup.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam sat on the edge of the old white ceramic bathtub, swirling the water with his slender hand, testing the temperature. He turned off the steel taps and stood, unfolding the fresh white towel from his feminine body, letting it fall to the floor.

He stood naked, looking down at his breasts, his protruding nipples thick and pink. Looking down further, Sam’s trim waist tapered inwards. A large bruise marked his left side, proving sensitive to the touch. His hips curved gracefully outwards, framing the shaved slit of his vagina. His long legs were shapely, though marked with a few grazes and bruises.

Sam eased his aching body down into the hot water, an audible sigh escaping his lips. He lay back, closing his eyes, as his mind wandered.

Despite Gabriella’s hospitality, he knew that he couldn’t stay for too long. For all he knew, those Scarlet soldiers were out there looking for him now. He was, after all, a surviving witness to the attack on the yacht. Sam still shuddered uneasily when he mentally pictured the armed figure on the yacht, raising his rifle at him.

Sam still didn’t know exactly what Scarlet wanted with Ramirez, only that they had proved to be a constant thorn in his side. He remembered Ramirez’s words — that they wanted the “world to burn” — though that did not help him very much. Surely the Agency knew something about them. Not for the first time, Sam began to get the sinking feeling that Rivers and the Agency had withheld information from him.

Sam took a bar of soap from the ledge at the side of the bathtub, lifting a leg out of the water as he began to rub the suds into his soft thigh. He could hear the sound of water trickling into the tub as it drained from his leg.

Sam hoped that Rivers had received the text message that he had sent from the yacht, letting him know where he was, though he knew he could not rely on it. For all he knew, Rivers may have chased Antoinette half way around the world by now. No, he would have to find his own way out of the country, which would be easier said than done given his lack of identity and money.

Sam lowered his leg back into the water, watching as the soap dissolved, turning the water cloudy.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam padded barefoot across the hall, heading back towards the guest bedroom, leaving small wet foot prints in his wake across the wooden floor boards. He wore a white towel wrapped around his small body and rubbed at his long wet hair with another, smaller towel.

Sam could hear Gabriella downstairs and was relieved that he now had some time to himself. He closed the bedroom door behind him as he entered, and sat himself down onto the vanity table’s cushioned stool. His hips splayed outwards as he sat and he automatically crossed one leg over the other.
Sam stared at his reflection, his young, female face staring back at him. His flawless skin still glowed from the heat of the bath. There were a few brushes and cosmetics left on the vanity, presumably left behind by Gabriella’s daughter. Sam took the opportunity to brush his damp hair backwards, tying it with a length of pink ribbon that he found in a sewing box in one of the drawers. Now that he didn’t have Maria Ramirez watching over him, Sam could afford to relax his efforts a little.

Sam turned his head from side to side, observing the angles of his face, checking his hair was smooth. He rubbed at the dark lines that had formed under his eyes, wondering if he could do anything about them.

Sam turned his attention to an old cosmetic bag and emptied its contents out onto the table. He found a small pot of concealer cream and twisted open the lid, finding its contents still moist. He dabbed an index finger into it and began to rub the beige liquid under his eyes.

That was better. His face looked fresher, more youthful, and less like he’d spent half the day unconscious.

Sam absently toyed with the other cosmetics, staring down at mascara brushes, lipsticks and blushers. Back on the yacht, Sam had surprised himself with just how readily he had managed to pick up Maria’s techniques. He wondered if he could still manage it now, after everything else that had happened. He had actually found it quite relaxing before, almost therapeutic. He could certainly do with that right now.

Sam leant into the mirror, unscrewing the cap of a light tinted mascara. He took a deep breath and began to flick the brush over his long eyelashes. He blinked his eyes a couple of times. They looked better already. He continued with each eye, first the upper lashes, then the lower, drawing them out with quick gentle flicks.

He switched now to an eye shadow brush, working in some subtle shading above each eye. He could already feel his pulse calming, his body relaxing, his mind distracted from the turmoil of the world around him.

Sam continued, using a light pink blush to brighten his cheeks a little, the soft blusher caressing his soft face.

Finally, after discarding a couple that had dried out, Sam managed to find a still serviceable lipstick. He twisted the end, and brought the stick to his lips, pouting slightly so that he could evenly apply the color. It was a subtle shade that slightly brightened the natural coloring of his lips and left them looking moist.

Sam screwed the top back onto the lipstick and looked into the mirror, taking in the finished result. His hair was now neatly tied back with a pink ribbon, which he had tied into a bow. His eyes now popped, looking defined and accentuated by the subtle mascara and eye shadows. His cheek bones now had pinkish tint to them and his lips looked full and moist.

Although he hadn’t done anything much, the result was still effective. He beheld an almost innocent beauty, as if all that had happened to him had been hidden away behind a mask.

“Parfait.” Sam remarked aloud, his lips forming perfectly nuanced French.

He was still lost in a world of his own and barely heard the knock at the bedroom door.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Sam clutched at the towel that he still wore around his feminine body as he opened the door to Gabriella.

She was smiling broadly and fidgeted, unable to supress her bubbling emotions.

“Signorita! There is a man here to see you!”

Sam stopped suddenly, then took a step backwards, retreating back into the room. A man? He could feel the hairs beginning to go up at the back of his neck.

“It is your boyfriend!” Gabriella’s smile lit up her face as she stepped to one side.

Sam was in a daze. He thought he was safe, at least for the moment. But it wasn’t over. Someone had found him.

Sam’s blue eyes widened as the man stepped through into the room.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Mike!”

Sam ran forwards, embracing Rivers, his breasts pressing into his waist from beneath his towel, his head against his broad chest. Rivers hands slowly came up, embracing Sam’s small feminine body.

“Hey honey, did you miss me?”

Sam pulled away, suddenly aware of what he was doing, feeling instantly awkward. He renewed his grip on his bath towel so as not to lose it. Rivers grinned down at him.

“Giovane amore!” Sam turned back at the sound of Gabriella’s voice. She smiled warmly at them both, her hands clasped at her breast. “I leave you alone.” The wooden door clicked shut as she left Sam alone with Rivers.

“Je ne peux pas croire que tu m'as trouvé!” Sam began excitedly in his feminine, French accented voice.

“Woah, slow down. What did you just say?”

“What?” Sam hesitated. “Wait, I just spoke French again didn’t I?”

“Oh yes!” Rivers beamed down at him. “Very sexy!”

Sam felt himself blush. He recalled the moment on the yacht when he had been working at Carlos Ramirez’s computer. Just as he had begun to get in the “zone”, it had all suddenly slipped away from him, leaving Sam uttering perfect phrases of French in place of his usual programming skills.

Sam shook his head, concentrating on his words this time.

“I’ve… I’ve got so much to tell you. But I did it Mike, I actually did it!”

“That’s great Sam,” Rivers clasped Sam’s slender shoulders, his voice now sounding oddly muted as if he were withholding bad news.

Sam stepped back, out of Rivers reach, holding onto the tied knot of his towel. “What’s wrong? Rivers? You found her right? You found Antoinette?”

Rivers sighed, beginning to pace the small room. He stopped to look out of the open window, sweeping a hand through the tulips that sat on the ledge. “We’re still tracking her…”

Sam had to sit down onto the bed before he fell down. He had really thought that Rivers would have apprehended Antoinette by now. They’d been on many missions together and he had always got his man… or woman.

Always.

Sam looked down, seeing his cleavage swelling beneath his bath towel. He had almost convinced himself that he had come to the end of his tenure in Antoinette’s female body.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mike Rivers watched as Sam sat, his blue eyes staring into space, his cupid lips hung open as he struggled to take in the news. He stroked his hands repeatedly through his long blonde ponytail which was tied behind his head with a pink bow. Despite his concern for his friend, Rivers couldn’t help but glance down at Sam’s curvaceous body, wrapped in a soft white towel, his exposed skin moist from bathing.

“So what about you?” Rivers’ picked his voice back up to its usual canter, sensing that Sam’s mood had darkened. “To be honest, I was pretty surprised when I got your text. I thought you’d be floating face-down in the Mediterranean Sea by now.” He grinned, knowing that it would rile his partner.

“Oh, I’m glad you find this funny! If you must now, I was nearly fucking killed! Several times!” Rivers smiled at Sam’s French accented outburst. His beautiful feminine face was doing its best to look angered as he continued, “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Are you kidding? Half the town is talking about the mystery blonde who crash landed into shore last night. Not the most inconspicuous of arrivals if you ask me.”

Rivers watched as Sam absently crossed one leg over the other as he sat. His movements seemed even more naturally feminine than he had remembered. Rivers lent against a table, the wood creaking beneath his weight. He idly picked up a tube of lipstick from the table top, then glanced over at Sam, seeing the same pinkish tone on his full moist lips. Rivers smiled to himself. Sam was really getting into this.

Just as Rivers was about to ask Sam about it, he spoke, “Rivers, the yacht was attacked last night, I was lucky to get away before it sank.”

“Attacked? By who?” Rivers folded his arms, watching Sam.

“A group called Scarlet? Ramirez had seemed pretty worked up about them.”

“Scarlet?” Rivers paused, his eyes roaming the room as he came to a decision. “Listen, Sam, there’s something you should probably know. Antoinette is working for Scarlet.”

Sam looked shocked. He uncrossed his legs as he looked up at Rivers with disbelief. “I knew it! I knew there was more to it. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I told you we suspected her of working for another organization.”

“You didn’t ‘suspect’ anything. You knew!” Sam shot a look like daggers at Rivers.

“The Agency had it on need to know. You didn’t need to know.” Rivers held up his hands defensively.

“Rivers, she stole my body! I think I deserved to know!”

“I know, I know, that’s why I’m telling you now.” Rivers walked over, sitting down next to Sam on the bed. He looked deep into his blue eyes. “All we know is that somehow, Scarlet learnt of our mission in Monaco. They knew we were scouting out Carlos Ramirez, so they slipped an agent in. Antoinette was just hitching a ride with Ramirez so that she could get to us… to the Agency…”

“But who are Scarlet? What do they want?”

“They’re a group of terrorists,” Rivers exhaled. “Anarchists would be more accurate. They’re a growing world-wide group, rebelling against world order, governments, companies, any major organization that seeks to impose its will on others.”

“Like Ramirez…” Sam pondered.

“It would seem that no-one is safe. They usually use covert agents, slipping them into influential positions, spending years in a role, slowly causing destabilisation from within. The recessions and debts in Europe? It’s all been Scarlet.”

“I can’t believe this.” Rivers watched as Sam stared down at the floor. “So that’s why they’ve developed this screwy mind-switching stuff?”

“Exactly.” Rivers carefully checked Sam’s reactions, making sure he was following his lead. “Of course, it’s not all covert stuff, they have soldiers as well. Sometimes they’ll just use good old-fashioned brute force to further the cause.”

“Tell me about it, I’ve still got the bruises to prove it.” Sam twisted, raising his towel, showing Rivers the side of his right thigh.

Rivers’ gaze lingered on Sam’s bare leg, drifting higher. Sam’s face flushed red and he quickly pulled the towel back down. There was an awkward silence. Rivers watched as Sam nervously went back to stroking his ponytail.

“Okay, so Scarlet want to take down the Agency,” Sam continued, “But why me? I don’t exactly hold an ‘influential position’.”

“Are you sure about that?” Rivers’ knew that it was time to lay on the pressure. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to be telling me?”

Sam looked up at Rivers. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rivers stood, beginning to pace again with his frustration.

“Damn it Sam! Yesterday, Antoinette used one of your laptops to initiate a download of the Agency database.”

Sam looked visibly shaken. “Oh my god… How is that possible?”

Rivers shrugged his shoulders, “You’re the computer expert, you tell me.” His eyes held Sam’s for a moment. “Last night, just before I arrived here, I got a call from Director Millar. After analysing the database theft, you know what they found? Your fingerprints that’s what. All over the system. You coded in your own back door to the network, didn’t you!”

Sam began to tremble, his voice wavering. “I… I didn’t think it would be that big a deal…”

“Antoinette used that code, along with your fingerprint to hack in to the system. You’ve compromised the whole Agency!”

Sam rubbed at his hands. Rivers could sense that he was struggling to take it all in. He looked up at Rivers. “How did she know the code?”

“I don’t know…” Rivers held up his hands. “Maybe there are some aspects of the transference that we didn’t account for. Maybe you got the killer body and the ‘français’, and she got the codes? But does it matter? It’s happened.”

Rivers reached down into his pants pocket. “Listen Sam, I came here encase you were in trouble, but since then my orders have changed…”

Rivers produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, the metal clinking as he held them up in front of him.

“I’ve been asked to bring you in.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam watched, his mouth hung open in shock, as Rivers tossed the handcuffs onto the bed beside him.

“Now, I know I’m not gonna have to use those… Am I?” Rivers’ tone was serious and business-like.

“Of…of course not,” Sam stammered. “You’re serious about this right? This isn’t another one of your jokes?”

“I wish it were, but as far as the Agency are concerned you’ve violated a pretty major law doing what you did.”

“It was just a small piece of code… You know, just encase we ever needed it in an emergency… I never thought it would hurt anyone.” Sam hung his head, his blonde ponytail falling across the upper slope of his covered breasts.

“Do you have any idea what might happen now if Scarlet expose the Agency? We’re supposed to be a top-level covert organization. Even the CIA barely knows we exist.”

Sam could feel his pulse rising, his chest beginning to heave beneath his bath towel. “Well maybe that’s the whole problem right there. I mean… Is it even legal the way the Agency runs things?”

“Fields, this isn’t the time to be debating the legality and ethics of the Agency. We waivered that right when we signed our contracts.” Rivers looked exasperated. “Now look, I’ve got a guy waiting downstairs. You’ll go with him. He’ll get you out, take you back to the States.”

“No!” Sam stood up, gripping his towel, his eyes beginning to glisten. “I’m not leaving until we find Antoinette!”

“If I don’t turn you over, they’re gonna pull us both from the mission. Then, by the time they bring in a new team, Antoinette’s as good as gone.”

“So you know where she is?” Sam looked at Rivers hopefully.

“The database download was initiated from a location in Rome. That was yesterday. And all this? What we’re doing now? It’s just wasting even more time.”

Sam sighed. He didn’t know what else to say. It was over. Even if Rivers did then find Antoinette and he got his body back, he’d likely be facing time in a Federal prison.

“I better get dressed…” Sam offered at last.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam opened the old wooden wardrobe, using its large door as a privacy screen from Rivers, who now lay back against the bed on the opposite side of the room, his fingers laced behind his head as he waited.

For one fleeting moment Sam had felt relief and happiness at being reunited with Rivers. Sam had completed his half of the mission and he firmly believed that Rivers would have good news as well. But yet again everything had changed. Antoinette was still at large, working for Scarlet, and now armed with everything she needed to bring down the Agency. But despite all of that, Sam could only think about his stolen body.

His identity…

For Sam it was personal, and he’d be damned if he was going to let Rivers and the Agency stop him from pursuing her.

Sam swept his arm through the hangers in the wardrobe. Gabriella’s daughter hadn’t left much behind, though he could probably still pull together an outfit from what was there. He checked one of the lower drawers, finding an assortment of feminine underwear.

Sam adjusted the wardrobe door, checking again that he was shielded from Rivers’ wandering eyes as he began to untie the bath towel from around his chest.

“So are you gonna put on a show for me?” Rivers laughed from the bed.

Sam was about to tell where Rivers where to go, when he stopped himself, his mind quickly racing.

Sure. He could do that. He could put on a show.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers felt torn.

He had argued long with Director Millar in the early hours of the morning, trying to protect Sam and convince the Agency chief to let them continue on together to find Antoinette. Millar was adamant however, that Sam be brought in to answer for his crimes — namely the security breach from coding in a personal back door to the network - but to Rivers it sounded too much like closing the stable door after the horse had bolted. The important thing right now was finding Antoinette and the stolen data as soon as possible. Having Sam at his side would only increase their chances of getting the job done. Millar had then countered that Sam would now be too personally involved. If it came down to it, Rivers could be expected to kill Antoinette, and having Sam there could be a risk. Rivers had finally conceded. He would send Sam back to the U.S. with Tanner, and continue the hunt alone.

Rivers watched from the bed, tilting his head slightly. All he could really see were Sam’s small feminine feet below the wardrobe door, though the sight of his white towel dropping to the floor still caused him to sit up.

Rivers moistened his lips. Sam had bent over, the outer curve of his smooth, bare backside just about visible, protruding beyond the safety of the door. Rivers immediately felt his cock twitch beneath his pants. The enticing glimpse of naked flesh soon retreated back behind the door. Rivers listened to the sound of fabric being pulled up over bare skin, as he pictured the rest of Sam’s naked female body in his mind.

Rivers shook his head, trying to shrug off his natural male impulses and focus on the job at hand.

It came as a shock when Sam suddenly emerged from behind the screen of the wardrobe.

* * * * * * * * * *

Long, bare legs slid sensuously one in front of the other. Wide hips swung provocatively from side to side. A heaving cleavage spilled from a half-cut, lilac-colored, satin and lace bra, with a matching lacy thong stretched to barely cover a perfectly smooth crotch.

Rivers watched, dumbfounded, as Sam flicked his ponytail over his shoulder.

“You know, I think I might actually be getting used to wearing female clothes.” Sam’s French accented voice sounded like honey, oozing with sensuality. He ran a finger around the edge of his bra cups, hefting his breasts as he ensured an even fit.

Rivers cleared his throat, trying to find something to say. He drew his right leg up towards him on the bed, hiding the erection that swelled beneath his pants.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam looked over at Rivers, then down at his body. “I kind of got used to walking around like this on Ramirez’s yacht.”

“It… it’s fine. I’m not complaining!” Rivers smiled, his eyes roaming Sam’s curvaceous body. His body was stunning and his revealing lingerie left little to the imagination.

Sam turned, displaying his perfect peach of an ass, the string of the lilac thong running up between his tight, smooth buttocks. Rivers murmured to himself as he took in the vision before him, his eyes drifting up to the small tattoo on Sam’s back, just above his pantyline.

“So, uh… did you end up… you know…” Rivers could feel his heart beat pulsing in his ears.

“Did I have sex?” Sam turned back around, perching his hands on his hips, his blue eyes narrowing. “Actually, it turned out to be one of the more pleasurable aspects…”

Rivers excitedly repositioned himself on the bed. “I knew it! You slut! I knew you’d end up liking it!”

“Hey, watch your language!” Sam’s full lips smiled over at him. “You know, It’s a shame you’re sending me off, otherwise I could have shown you some of the things I learnt.” Rivers watched as Sam absently stroked a bra strap with his right hand.

Rivers gave a choking laugh, wagging his finger. “Oh no, see you’re messing with me now. This is bullshit.”

Sam stepped slowly forward, his hips swaying.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam’s heart beat raced, thundering through his body. He cringed inwardly at what he had just said to Rivers, struggling to keep up the pretence. He felt enormously exposed and self-conscious as Rivers eyed his female body dressed only in his satin and lace underwear. Even so, he did his best to move his body slowly and sensuously towards the bed. He just hoped that Rivers was buying it. His flushed face and stupid grin certainly seemed to point that way.

Sam knelt on the edge of the bed, bringing a long bare leg over to straddle Rivers’ body as his partner laid himself back on the bed.

“Holy shit!” Rivers enthused beneath him. “I’ve been thinking about doing this ever since you swapped.”

“You have?” Sam’s voice wavered a little and he had to quickly reign his performance back in. “I mean, that’s understandable. You’re a man. I’m… a woman.” He slowly lowered himself onto Rivers, his panty covered crotch pressing against the large bulge in Rivers pants. Sam couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden pressure against his vulva.

Rivers large hands slid up Sam’s bare waist, causing him to wince as he pressed against his injured side. Sam took Rivers hands, their fingers lacing together. He leant forwards, placing Rivers hands up above his head, next to the grilled iron headboard. The forward movement unintentionally caused Sam’s crotch to rub against Rivers’ bulge.

“Mmm,” Rivers groaned beneath Sam. “Taking control? I like it!” He glanced to the door. “What if she hears us?”

Sam put a finger to Rivers’ mouth, hushing him. “We’ll just have to be quiet.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers looked up at the beautiful blonde woman sat atop him. Her long blonde ponytail rested over her large breasts, which spilled from a revealing lilac brassiere. Her washboard flat stomach looked sexy as hell, and her skimpy satin thong stretched tight across her flat crotch. The thong bore a tiny pink bow in the middle of the waistband, matching the ribbon that she had used to tie her hair. She was everything that Ashley hadn’t been back at the hotel.

Ever since Sam had swapped bodies with Antoinette, Rivers had felt a strong sexual draw to his transgendered partner. Sam had been so naively innocent about what a little sex kitten he’d become, leaving Rivers with a strong urge to break ‘her’ in. It was that same thrill he felt when taking a girl’s virginity, but compounded to something even more erotic. He felt a fierce urge to dominate her, to bring her around, convert her, to bring her struggling mind into line with her feminine body. It was the challenge of it that drew him and sent his testosterone surging.

Seeing Sam wearing make-up and sexy lingerie just added to the thrill.

And now here she was, her every movement sending her panty covered pussy rubbing against his stiff cock. He longed to throw her down onto her back, tear off her panties and enter her, but instead she had pushed his hands away, taking control. Rivers found he liked it.

Her fingernails raked across his chest and she lowered herself forward once more, her breasts rubbing against him, her lips hovering inches from his.

Rivers heard a metallic “click” and realised immediately that he’d been had.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam sat up, watching as Rivers struggled with the handcuffs, his wrists now bound tightly to the iron headboard. He quickly dismounted and got up from the bed, just as Rivers’ legs began to kick out.

“You bitch! Get these cuffs off of me!”

“Mike, I’m sorry! It was the only way I could think to get you to let your guard down.”

Sam hurried back over to the wardrobe, his breasts threatening to spill free of his low-cut bra. He quickly pulled a pastel pink vest-top from the wardrobe, slipping it over his head, freeing his long hair, before tugging it down over his full chest. The top hugged his body, the neck line leaving a small amount of cleavage exposed. Sam then took a ruffled white skirt from a hanger and stepped into it, sliding it up over his wide hips and backside, trying his best to ignore the remains of an unwanted tingling sensation between his legs. He reached behind to zip up, then straightened the hem, the skirt coming to rest at mid-thigh.

Sam tip-toed barefoot over to Rivers, the head board still clattering as he struggled to pull free. Sam carefully reached into Rivers’ pants pocket to retrieve his car keys.

“Sam, come on! It’s too dangerous for you to go it alone.” Rivers looked up at him from the bed.

“I’ve done pretty well without you so far,” Sam quickly retorted as he returned to the wardrobe. The truth was he’d felt abandoned ever since Rivers had left him to walk out to pier nine on his own back in Monaco. In the days since, Sam had learnt to become more self-reliant.

Sam reached down to the bottom of the wardrobe, retrieving a pair of strappy white high-heeled sandals. He would have preferred flats, but there was little else to choose from, at least not that matched his outfit.

Sam held both heels in one hand as he jogged over to the wooden door of the room, pausing briefly to look back at Rivers. He looked pretty pathetic laying there, his arms above his head, his pants still tented with his erection.

“Jerk.” Sam offered at last, before hurrying into the hallway.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam ran along the hallway, his bare legs naturally slipping one in front of the other beneath his white skirt. His high heels knocked together as he carried them. Rivers called loudly from the bedroom and Sam feared that Gabriella would soon return, wondering what on earth was going on.

Sam reached the top of the staircase, gripping the handrail, just as a man stepped onto the lower-most step below. The man paused, looking up at Sam, his head cocked to one side as if taken by surprise. Sam slowly came to recognise the combat fatigues of the Agency’s Black Ops division. It was the other guy that Rivers had spoken of - the one that was waiting to escort him back to the States.

Sam turned immediately, his long hair whipping around him. He could hear heavy, thundering boots, powering their way up the stairs after him. Sam ran back to the guest bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Tanner! She’s in here!” Rivers called from the bed.

Barely acknowledging him, Sam hurried over to the open window, looking out to the road below. It was too far to jump. As he contemplated what to do, the bedroom door burst open.

Tanner stepped in, quickly assessing the situation. He glanced quickly to Rivers laid out on the bed, then to Sam. He raised a pistol.

“Step away from the window!”

For a moment, Sam had a dreadful flashback to the yacht, when the Scarlet soldier had emerged from the smoke, his rifle aimed and ready to fire. This time there would be no Joseph to save him.

Sam didn’t hesitate. He scooped the vase of tulips from the window ledge, tossing it with surprising force towards Tanner. The vase shattered against Tanner’s right hand, causing him to stagger backwards and drop his aim.

Sam took his chance and stepped up onto the window ledge, throwing his shoes down onto the street below, hearing them clatter against the cobbled paving slabs.

He then gripped the window frame and vaulted forwards.

* * * * * * * * * *

The clothes line held his weight, bowing in the middle as Sam swung, the nylon rubbing abrasively against his palms. The pulley wheels either side of the street squealed as they relented to the extra weight, lowering Sam enough to drop the rest of the way to the road below.

Sam swore as he hit the ground, falling onto his side from the sudden impact. Looking up he could see Tanner looking down at him from the open window, as he pondered whether he could perform the same feat of acrobatics himself. He slapped the window ledge in frustration and disappeared back into the room.

Sam quickly pulled himself to his feet, just as some passing tourists caught up, asking if he was hurt. Sam didn’t have time for pleasantries. He knew that Tanner would already be hurtling down the stairs. He quickly collected his high heeled sandals and took off, half limping from a pulled muscle.

Sam broke into a run, ignoring the pain. His short ruffled skirt bounced at his hips, his smooth bare legs freely brushing together. His arms swung naturally wide beside him, partly keeping balance and partly to clear his wider set hips. His breasts jolted with each step, restricted from their natural sway by the brassiere that he wore.

Sam made it to the first turning in the road and skidded to a halt. He looked one way and could see a parade of street-side cafés and restaurants, their patrons standing outside, beckoning passers-by to come in.

He quickly turned his head the other way, his pony tail flicking out behind him. He drew a sharp breath. There, mounted on the curb of the sidewalk, its white body work reflecting the afternoon rays of the sun…

Rivers’ Lamborghini Gallardo.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam quickly pulled Rivers’ car remote from the pocket of his skirt, the indicator lights of the vehicle flashing as it unlocked. He pulled the wing-door open and tossed his heels into the passenger-side footwell. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Lamborghini, pulled the wing door back down, and quickly adjusted the rear view mirror to his smaller body.

He could see Rivers, now free from the handcuffs, along with Tanner, as they reached the turning in the road behind him.

The engine roared as Sam turned the ignition, pumping the accelerator with his bare foot. The car hummed, sending a deep vibration through his feminine body.

Sam threw the car into reverse gear, backing up toward them, slowly enough for them to be able to get out of the way, before quickly shifting into forward.

Sam could feel his body pressing back into the seat as the wheels spun, the car lurching forwards through the narrow back streets of Civitavecchia.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam could still feel his pulse racing as he joined the main highway, heading in a south-easterly direction towards Rome. He was glad to be free of the narrow town streets of Civitavecchia.

Now that he could relax a little, Sam pulled his seat belt on, though it sat awkwardly and painfully between his large breasts. Everything felt oversized, like he was a child that had stolen its father’s car. The accelerator pedal felt large and heavy beneath his small bare foot, leaving him feeling ever so slightly out of control. His driving had been erratic to say the least and he had only narrowly avoided a collision with a market stall in Civitavecchia. Sam thought to whether there was some truth to the old joke about women drivers. In fact he was just unused to his body, and unused to the car.

Sam raised his backside from the seat, reaching down with a free hand to tug his ruffled skirt back down. His hurry to get in the car earlier had caused his short skirt to ride up. That, coupled with the irritation of his thong between his buttocks, had left him squirming in his seat for most of the drive.

Sam jumped as a dull vibration and an electronic chime pierced the air. Glancing down he saw that it was Rivers’ Agency cell phone, illuminating as a call came through. Rivers had left it still in its cradle on the dashboard.

Damn.

Sam knew that they would be able to trace the signal given off from Rivers’ phone. He quickly checked the rear view mirror encase he was being followed, then fumbled with the phone, struggling to turn it off, with one hand still on the steering wheel.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, slotting the powerless cell phone back into its cradle.

It felt like he was running away - away from Rivers and the Agency. He had to keep reminding himself that he had passed up the opportunity to run away, and was instead heading straight into the lion’s den.

He didn’t even know how he would find Antoinette, assuming even that she was still in Rome. He just knew he had to try. He’d come too far to give up now.

TO BE CONTINUED…