SCARLET by Jessica Drew Part 12 Sam has been discovered infiltrating the study of René Gerard, the head of Scarlet. Separated from Rivers, will he have the strength of will to see the mission through? * * * * * * * * * *

Sam’s five-inch platform heels clicked slowly backwards as he recoiled away from the open door, his mouth open in shock. His backside bumped against the edge of the desk behind him, causing him to jump and gasp effeminately. He had nowhere left to go.

“Please Mister Fields, try to remain calm.” René Gerard held up a hand, glancing momentarily behind him to lock the study door. “Or should that be Miss Fields?” His eyes glanced downwards to the French maid’s uniform that tightly hugged Sam's feminine body, squeezing his breasts into a firm, swollen cleavage.

“You… you know who I am?” Sam answered at last in his quivering French accent, a hand draped protectively across his neckline.

“I know many things.” Gerard brushed lint from the arm of his jacket as he stepped forwards. He was tall, his angular features making his face look harsh and unsympathetic. “I know, for example, that you are an agent of the United States’ Agency...”

Sam swallowed, feeling his feminine body begin to tremble as Gerard approached.

“Oh yes, we know all about your secret little society, just as you know of ours.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam stammered.

“DO NOT…!” Gerard’s voice rose to an uncomfortable volume, though he quickly reined it back in, raising a warning finger. “Do not… insult my intelligence Miss Fields.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam found himself answering automatically. He began to shake even more as he looked up at Gerard, who now stood slightly too close to him for comfort. He watched as Gerard’s eyes drifted down to the swell of his cleavage, then back up to his frightened eyes.

“Tell me… why are you here…” Gerard reached out, stroking a strand of loose blonde hair back behind Sam’s ear.

Sam hesitated, finding it hard to form words. “You... stole information from the Agency… And you stole my body…” Sam gritted his teeth, feeling his eyes moisten with emotion.

“I stole?” Gerard pondered Sam’s words, clearly amused. “That is a very serious accusation.”

“Scarlet? That is you, isn’t it?”

Gerard gave a mocking laugh, “Scarlet is not I. Scarlet is we. Were you not listening to me in the hall earlier?”

Sam looked away shocked, though Gerard turned his face back towards him with a guiding finger.

“Yes, I saw you out there.” Gerard smiled. “I must say I am impressed at your resourcefulness.” Gerard reached down, fingering the lace trim of Sam’s sleeve.

Sam quickly pulled his arm away. “Where is she? Where’s Antoinette?” His voice sounded girlish, its tone stripped of any convincing authority.

Gerard turned away from Sam, exasperated. He began to pace the study. “You Americans are all the same… Always want, want, want…”

“I just want what’s mine… What was taken from me!” Sam held a hand against his corseted waist, trying desperately to control his breathing.

Gerard stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before signing up to such a… despicable organization.” Gerard strode back over to him, becoming more agitated. “Might I remind you that it was your beloved Agency that did this to you. If you ask me you have got exactly what you deserved.” His eyes drifted back down over Sam’s female body. He smiled, stifling the urge to laugh as he spoke. “Now… why don’t you… totter along… back to America." Gerard gave a dismissive wave of his hands. "Then you can dress up like this… like a slut… as much as you want. You never know, you may even find a way to get paid for it.”

Sam could feel his face and chest flushing red at Gerard’s condescension.

“No! I’m not leaving here until you tell me where she is!” Sam's voice was now thick with his French accent, as it tended, whenever he found himself under duress.

Gerard smiled broadly. “Ah, defiance! Now you are sounding more like a French woman! Well then… What if I told you she were here… right now.”

Sam visibly shook, digging his fingernails into his palms to try and counteract his anxiety. He cleared his throat. “Where?”

Gerard cast his gaze downwards. “We have her… restrained… in the basement cells.”

“She… she’s locked up?” Sam’s lips were dry.

“I am afraid she was working outside of Scarlet’s doctrine. What she did was…. unauthorized. And regrettable.”

Sam looked up at Gerard, his eyes darting as he struggled to take it all in.

“Believe it or not, I am not your enemy in this instance.”

Gerard stepped around Sam to pick up the bottle of Champagne from the tray on his desk, giving a murmur of appreciation at its vintage. He glanced back to Sam, scooping both of the crystal glasses up by their stems.

“Come. We have much to talk about.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sam… I know you can’t answer right now… But be careful okay? Something about this doesn’t feel right.”

The wooden chair that Mike Rivers sat in creaked as he leant back. The honeymoon room that he and Sam had been using as a base of operations was quiet, with only the soft purr of Sofia's breathing reminding him that he was not alone. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to the four-poster bed, where the Italian girl still slept soundly from beneath the bed sheets. The tranquillizer in her system would keep her out for a while yet, especially given her diminutive size.

The familiar, tinny clack of Sam’s high heels reverberated through the laptop speakers, drawing his attention back once more.

Rivers steepled his fingers together, watching intently at Sam’s viewpoint from the contact lens cameras. His female partner followed Gerard to the fireplace, taking a seat in a plush leather armchair when offered.

Sam appeared nervous and his view was downcast, rubbing at an unseen mark on his right thigh. At any other time Rivers would have relished the sight of his slender, stocking covered legs, the patterned lacy tops fully visible along with a hint of milky white bare thigh. But right now he needed to see Gerard. Rivers’ poker instincts told him that all was not as it appeared. He needed to read his facial expressions, his tone of voice, check the thermo-image view for any subtle changes.

Without prompting from Rivers, Sam looked back up, sweeping a stray strand of blonde hair from his eye. Gerard stepped into view, looming tall above Sam as he set the Champagne bottle and glasses down onto a small table between them. His eyes flicked up, fixing Sam with a steely gaze.

“Be careful,” Rivers whispered again.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam nervously tugged at the hem of his dress, trying to protect his modesty as best he could. He sat with his legs clamped tightly together, the large green leather armchair dwarfing him, making him feel like a small child sat in an adult’s seat. He watched as Gerard stoked the fireplace back into life, its flickering glow throwing shadows across the walls.

“There, that is better.” Gerard stepped back as flames licked the fireplace. Sam did not know quite why he had felt the need to dim the lights and start a fire. It was a balmy evening outside and Sam was quite warm enough already, despite his state of dress. Gerard pulled his own leather armchair in to sit opposite Sam.

“Antoinette Françoise Bellerose,” he began, settling back into the chair. His head tilted as he observed Sam’s feminine face. “I first came across her working in one of the more... exclusive bordellos in France."

Gerard paused and Sam drew a breath. He could not help but feel deeply, intimately connected to the woman whose body he had unwittingly borrowed.

"She, like most of the other women, had been working there since she was a child…” He paused again, looking deep into Sam’s eyes. “Do you know what happens when they start that young?”

Sam shook his head, his lips moving a little, though they produced no sound.

“It becomes their world,” Gerard continued, “their whole existence. As much as you want to save them, to take them away from that awful place… you can’t."

Sam watched as Gerard looked down, sighing, his arrogance and posturing slowly slipping away like a melting wax mask.

"Believe me I have tried before, on my travels, to help people like this, but each one…” Gerard raised a finger, “… each one had to be committed to a mental institute within the year.

“Now… Antoinette…” Gerard leaned forwards toward Sam, “Antoinette was different. She wasn’t completely broken. She still had fire and spirit! I took her with me… I told her of Scarlet and how she would be able to help us fight against the oppressions of this world.”

Sam found himself mesmerized by Gerard's piercing eyes as they reflected the flickering fire.

Fire and spirit.

The words seemed to resonate deeply within Sam. He had come so far, overcome so many obstacles to get to where he now was. He had done things that would have sent his old male-self running. Had he inherited those traits from Antoinette Bellerose as well? And if that were true, then just how much of the old Sam still remained?

Gerard cleared his throat, drawing Sam's attention back, sensing that he had begun to retreat into his own thoughts. “Antoinette was a keen student, learning everything she could, everything she’d been deprived of growing up. I became her mentor…" He paused looking long and hard at Sam. "And her lover..."

Sam felt his face flush hot and a wave of dizziness swept over him. He felt a sudden self-consciousness that Gerard had been intimate with the body that he now occupied. Sam crossed his right leg over his left, feeling his garters pull at his silk stockings, drawing a self-awareness once more to the emptiness between his thighs. His pelvic muscles seemed to tense of their own accord, as if his womanhood were reaching out and mocking him.

“But it wasn’t to be,” Gerard continued, turning his head, gazing long into the burning coals of the fireplace. “A great sadness came over her… She began to resent her womanhood, rejecting any kind of physical intimacy with men… with me…“

Sam rubbed at his thigh, watching as Gerard gazed sadly into the fire.

“So you see… I was wrong… I could not save her after all." Gerard glanced back to Sam, giving a flicker of a smile.

Sam cleared his throat. “I’m sorry…” He couldn’t help but feel saddened; not only at Antoinette’s story, but at the heartbreak that was so plainly written across Gerard’s face.

Gerard reached for the Champagne bottle that he had set down on the table between them. “When we discovered the existence of the Agency’s mind-transference technology, she became obsessed.” He turned the bottle over in his hands to read the label. “She was bent on acquiring the technology to improve her lot. I forbade her, of course.”

Sam shifted in his chair, seeming to find his voice once more. “I don’t understand, why would you not want to use it?”

Gerard’s shoulders jerked with amusement as he poured the Champagne out into the two crystal flutes.

“When man starts to play God, there is seldom a positive outcome. The technology would not be contained… there would be…”

“Anarchy?” Sam finished Gerard’s sentence. “But isn’t that exactly what Scarlet wants?”

“Anarchy?” Gerard laughed. “Is that what the Agency are telling you about us? My dear Miss Fields, have you really been so closely indoctrinated by your country that you do not even stop to question for yourself? I suppose words like freedom and liberation never came up did they?”

“No,” Sam answered quietly, lowering his head as he blushed.

“No, of course not.” Gerard offered one of the glasses to Sam.

“I don’t think there’s anything to celebrate here, do you?” Sam folded his arms across his chest.

“Why of course there is," Gerard smiled, the expression ill-suited to his angular face. "I’m going to give you your body back.”

Sam visibly shook, his head beginning to spin. He looked away from Gerard, gazing down into the roaring fire, its oppressive heat causing his forehead to bead with sweat.

He finally looked back up to Gerard, reaching forward with a slender hand to take the glass.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers stared at the thermo-image display depicting René Gerard’s image in a swirl of cool ambers and yellows. If he was hiding something, if he was being in any way untruthful, then he certainly had a talent for disguising it. Gerard’s pulse was steady as a rock, his face betraying none of the classic tell-tale signs of deception.

Even still, Rivers could feel that something was wrong. His gut instinct was seldom ever wrong and he had learned to trust it over the years, even when factual evidence might point to the contrary.

“Sam… Don’t listen to him… Something is way off here,” Rivers leant forwards, whispering into the laptop. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling trapped and useless by their reversed circumstances. “Sam? Tap your leg or something if you can hear me…”

A scream pierced the air.

Rivers span around, his chair clattering to one side as he stood. He watched as Sofia slid across the bed, trailing the bed sheet after her, her face contorted with a mixture of panic and confusion.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam winced, reaching to his ear as an uncomfortable squeal of feedback emanated from the concealed receiver that he wore.

“Is there a problem?” Gerard looked at Sam suspiciously as he sat back in his chair, sipping at his Champagne.

“No… it’s nothing.” Sam drank nervously from his own glass, idly reaching a hand up to brush hair from his face from where it had stuck to his cheek. His fingers hovered just below his right ear, then in a quick movement he scratched a long fingernail up, hooking out the micro audio receiver, which fell unseen over the back of the chair.

* * * * * * * * * *

“What… what happened to me? Where are my clothes?!"

Sofia's high pitched, Italian-accented voice echoed through the room as she swept the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around her body. Her dark eyes darted, searching the room for a way out.

“Sofia! Just relax… take it easy.” Rivers held up his hands, taking a careful step towards her.

“No! Get away from me you pervert!” Sofia began to back up, her long brunette hair whipping around her as she glanced behind to the glass door that led out to the balcony. With surprising speed she bolted, her stocking covered feet silent against the carpet.

Rivers reached into his jacket pocket for his tranquilizer gun, only to clutch in vain at a handful of disassembled parts.

“Damn it!”

Sofia was now at the door, swinging it wide open to step through onto the outside balcony. “Aiutatemi! Qualcuno, per favore mi aiuti!” She screamed into the night, still clutching the bed sheet tightly to her semi-naked body.

Rivers quickly slid up behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist, his other hand cupping her mouth to silence her. He dragged her backwards into the room, her legs kicking, hoping that the patrolling guards had not heard her. Though she struggled, Sofia was still weak from the sedative and he easily pushed her backwards onto the bed. Rivers quickly felt in his pocket for the magazine to his pistol as Sofia struggled to right herself. She took a long deep breath, her mouth opening to scream once more.

Rivers unclipped a tranquilizer cartridge, quickly jabbing it into Sofia’s left thigh. Her last cry never made it, her lungs exhaling in a long sigh as her eyes rolled backwards.

* * * * * * * * * *

René Gerard sipped at his glass of Champagne, watching Sam Fields closely.

His gaze swept upwards, drinking in the sight of the gender-swapped agent’s dainty feet and five-inch heels, her perfectly shaped calves, her legs wrapped in sheer black silk. He paused, lingering on the blackness under her short ruffled dress, before drawing his eyes across her waist, narrow and constricted by the corsetry of the uniform, forcing her large breasts up into a heaving swollen cleavage.

And yet, René Gerard did not feel his blood quicken. He did not feel the thump of his heartbeat in his chest, or the urgent swell of testosterone muddying his mind. He had learnt to have more control than that. More than anything, Gerard was amused at what he saw; a fine, upstanding and professional agent, reduced to an overtly sexual caricature of a woman.

Her face was like a painting - a dolls head - that had already begun to swoon slightly from a combination of the Champagne and the roaring heat from the fireplace. She drank deeply from her glass, making the classic mistake of attempting to quench her thirst with alcohol.

It was time.

Time for Gerard to press home his advantage.

Agent Fields' eyes were now glazed, her forehead dripping with sweat, causing loose strands of her blonde hair to stick to her face.

Soft... pliable... open to suggestion...

“Voulez-vous plus?” Gerard smiled, offering the Champagne bottle.

“Oui.” Fields nodded, adapting instantly to Gerard's use of French. She almost eagerly held out her glass with shaking hands.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam drained his second glass of Champagne, his throat feeling like it was on fire. He tugged at the low neck of his maid’s uniform, struggling to get air down into his lungs. He gazed listlessly at the Champagne bottle on the table between them, the light of the fire directly behind it causing it to sparkle hypnotically.

Why did he have to make it so hot in here?

"A fine drink wouldn't you say?"

Sam looked up as Gerard spoke, finding that he had to struggle fiercely to concentrate.

"One of Antoinette's vices, I'm afraid." Gerard smacked his lips, holding up his glass to swill and admire its contents. "Perhaps you have found that? Now that you are in her body?"

"I... maybe... yes..." Sam blinked rapidly, confused by Gerard's tangent, only dimly aware that they were both now speaking in French.

"You are so much like her, do you know that?"

Gerard narrowed his eyes, sipping once more at his drink. The fireplace seemed to roar behind him, casting him in a haze as he stood up.

"You said you would give me my body back." Sam demanded, struggling for focus.

"The way you talk… your mannerisms… It really is quite astounding," Gerard shook his head in bemusement as if Sam had not said anything at all. He walked casually over to a sideboard, pulling open a drawer, searching amongst its contents.

Sam turned in his seat, feeling sweat drip from his brow, running cold between the swell of his breasts.

"It really makes me miss her all the more." Sam watched as Gerard removed something from his pocket, setting it down onto the side. Sam quickly recognised it as the handheld video camera that Gerard had used out in the main hall.

"Then give me Antoinette!" Sam almost pleaded, frustrated at Gerard's stalling. "Then you can have her back, just as she was."

"No, not as she was." Gerard snapped back, glancing back to Sam from over his shoulder. "I told you, she has changed... become... cold... And she will hate me even more for forcing her womanhood back upon her." Sam could see the sadness return to Gerard's eyes and his shoulders visibly sank under the weight of his memories.

Sam pushed himself from the leather armchair, his heels scuffing beneath him as he struggled with his balance. His stocking covered legs felt almost wet with perspiration. He took faltering steps towards the Frenchman, more than anything to put some distance between himself and the oppressive heat of the fire. His head span, his vision momentarily blurring before snapping back into sharp focus. His palms felt clammy and he rubbed them against the hem of his maid's dress.

As Sam cautiously approached he craned his neck, just able to make out Gerard's fastidious hands as he swapped a small memory card into the video camera, clicking it firmly into place. He slid the drawer of the sideboard shut, pausing briefly to admire the well-worn books on the shelves in front of him.

“When she darkened… when she shut herself away from me… It broke my heart.”

Gerard's shoulders heaved with a long draw of breath. He turned around and Sam automatically stopped, taking one careful step backwards.

“The change in her was sudden… There was no warning…" Gerard looked down forlornly at the camera cradled in his hands. "I never really had a chance to say goodbye to that part of my life…"

The corner of Gerard's lips spread once more into an ill-fitting grin as he flicked the camera open, aiming it straight at Sam.

"Until now."

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sam, can you hear me?” Rivers spoke urgently into the laptop’s microphone. He watched helplessly from the contact lens feeds as René Gerard began a slow circle around Sam, stalking him like a tiger. All the while his video camera was trained on Sam, sweeping up and down the length of his feminine body.

Sam, meanwhile, appeared unsteady on his feet, his eyelids heavy and occasionally closing altogether for seconds at a time.

Rivers cursed and slammed a balled fist down into the table. From his outside perspective he could see it all so clearly; the heat and the alcohol, married with Gerard's pathetic attempts at garnering sympathy - it was all designed to confuse and disorientate. It was something a First-Class agent had been trained to recognise. But not Sam.

Rivers tugged at his upper lip, glancing back to the bed where Sofia, once more, slept soundly. He really didn’t want to have to give her another shot like that, as there could sometimes be complications, but she seemed to still be breathing normally. It wasn’t like he had much choice in the matter. With a scream like that she would have brought the whole of Scarlet down upon him. Rivers gazed at the still open balcony door, watching for a second as the cool breeze wafted through the netted curtain.

Rivers turned his attentions back to the laptop, watching as Sam slowly turned through a full circle, so as not to turn his back to the predatory Gerard. Probably a wise move.

It was bad enough that Sam could no longer hear him, but now that he and Gerard were both speaking in French it made it twice as hard for Rivers to follow what was going on. He checked the thermo-image view. There was still no apparent change in Gerard's emotional state. Rivers exhaled, stretching his knotted shoulders. He felt deaf, dumb and blind. His pulse steadily quickened as he came to realise that he could no longer just sit back and watch.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam turned, wobbling on his tall heels as Gerard circled around him. His breasts jumped on his chest with his awkward movements, which Gerard made sure to capture with his video camera, the zoom function whirring with a mechanical malice. A single point of light next to the camera's lens dazzled him, creating blurred after-images in his vision when he finally looked away. He brought one hand to his chest protectively, the other tugging at the hem of his short ruffled maid’s dress.

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Gerard’s face was silhouetted beside the camera as he took slow steps to pan around Sam. He stopped, directly in front of him now, gazing intently into the view screen of the handheld camera.

"What... what are you doing?" Sam felt himself swoon, one foot clacking forwards to keep from stumbling. His senses were fighting a punishing battle against the overwhelming heat from the fireplace and the uncomfortable brightness of the camera’s spot light - not to mention the two glasses of Champagne.

"I want to know what I am getting in return for my... generosity." Sam could make out the flash of bared, grinning teeth beside the camera.

"In return? But, you... you said so yourself... What Antoinette did was against your wishes... We're... we're just putting right what went wrong... for both of us." Sam gasped for breath, finding even a scant few sentences enough to send his chest heaving for air beneath his corseted uniform. He tugged even more firmly at the hem of his dress as Gerard swept the camera downwards towards his legs.

"Putting right what went wrong..." Gerard echoed, pondering the words. "An interesting choice of phrase of which I fully ascribe to." He stepped forward, the spot light from the video camera now uncomfortably bright, aimed straight at Sam's feminine face.

Sam could feel his body trembling at the man's proximity, close enough now to smell the alcohol on his breath. He turned his face away, his eyes closing, gasping as Gerard reached forward with an outstretched finger to catch a bead of sweat from his soft cheek.

"I ask you again, Miss Fields... Are you willing to put right where I was once so harshly wronged? To give me the closure I never had... with the woman I loved?"

Sam could feel his pelvic muscles twitch in rebellion at the realisation of what Gerard was suggesting. He shook as Gerard drew the flat of his hand along his neck, almost, but not quite making a grip around his throat, before sliding lower over his wet skin, coming to rest just above his breasts.

The light of the camera flickered upwards, illuminating his glistening skin.

* * * * * * * * * *

“That’s enough asshole. I’m coming for you now…” Rivers muttered, threatening the image of Gerard that filled his laptop screen. Still the thermo-image betrayed nothing of the web of sexual blackmail that he was so obviously spinning for Sam. Obvious, at least, to an outside observer.

Rivers tightened the barrel of his reassembled tranquilizer pistol as he started to pace the room, a plan of action beginning to unfurl before him.

He would march into the main hall, make his way down to the kitchens, following the same path that Sam had taken. It wasn’t guarded by soldiers and it would take time for the kitchen staff to raise the alarm amongst the initial confusion. Time enough to head up into the east wing of the mansion, through the maid’s entrance, to find Sam. As for how they would get away again after… Rivers would have to think about that en route.

Rivers reached for the door, his hand closing around the brass handle, just as an arm wrapped itself around his neck, tightening, wrenching him backwards into the room.

* * * * * * * * * *

“My… my body… just give me back my body...” Sam pleaded, almost delirious now, the room throwing strange shadows and tricks of light across his eyes as the blurred shape of Gerard continued to film him. He took a step back, his rounded backside bumping against the sideboard, his stocking covered legs trembling beneath him, threatening to give way at any moment.

Gerard’s voice seemed almost disembodied now, filling the whole room as he loomed forward from the shadows. "Patience, Miss Fields. You've nearly done it... You are so close to walking out of here a free woman... no, a free man! Free at last from your soul's imprisonment in this body."

Sam raised his heavy head, the spotlight from the video camera beaming straight into his blue eyes.

So close…

So bright…

Sam blinked as the camera swooped downwards, across the length of his feminine body. His trembling hands gripped the sideboard either side of him, his long painted fingernails scratching into its wooden surface. He looked past Gerard now, to the fireplace behind him, roaring like an inferno.

"Perhaps you need further... encouragement." Gerard's voice soothed from the shadows. He moved, like a spectre to the sideboard, reaching down to unlock the lower most cabinet with a key. With a heavy clunk, a familiar looking laptop was set down on the sideboard next to Sam.

For that moment, Sam seemed to rise out of his stupor, his mind racing as he stared down at the stolen Agency laptop beside him. He even reached out with a feminine hand, sliding his palm across the surface to check if it was real.

"You have my word that we have yet to take any of the data from it."

Sam looked back up into the ever present eye of the video camera.

"Think about it, you will return home a hero, having thwarted the plans of both the mighty Carlos Ramirez... and the dastardly René Gerard! And all it would have taken is... one moment."

* * * * * * * * * *

Mike Rivers slammed back into the wall with all his effort, winding his attacker, finally giving him the chance to break free from the choke hold.

Rivers gasped for breath as he spun around, his eyes darting, quickly assessing his opponent. It was one of the guards that he and Sam had spotted patrolling the grounds of the mansion earlier. He was dressed in black combat fatigues, a mask and night vision goggles concealing his face from view. He was at least as big as Rivers, maybe even a little taller. He wore a rifle slung around his back which he now reached for, aiming it towards Rivers.

Rivers vaulted forwards, grasping the barrel of the rifle, pushing it upwards. A shot fired off into the ceiling sending a shower of plaster down onto them. They remained locked together, wrestling for control of the weapon, Rivers looking deep into the night vision goggles that the Scarlet soldier wore, making out the slight flicker of his eyes beneath.

The soldier threw his head forwards, hitting Rivers full force in the face. He staggered backwards, releasing his grip on the rifle allowing the masked man to follow up with a punishing uppercut using the weighted butt of his rifle.

Rivers hit the carpeted floor hard, his back flaring with pain. He spat blood as the soldier took a step forward, renewing the aim of his rifle, ready to fire at point blank range.

Rivers kicked swiftly at the back of his knee, causing him to groan beneath his mask and fall backwards, the rifle cluttering at his side.

* * * * * * * * * *

One moment.

The words seemed to linger, penetrating deeply into Sam's sub-conscious. So that was what it would take? One moment?

It seemed as if all that had happened to Sam since the swap came to him in a sequence of such moments:

Awakening to find the image of Antoinette staring back at him from the mirror; Rivers' kiss at the lobby bar; stepping out onto the decking of Pier Nine, alone and afraid... Then aboard the Oro del Diablo, his weak-willed seduction at the hands of Maria Ramirez; submitting to the lecherous desires of Carlos Ramirez; the torment of Gaul; the attack on the yacht...

Then, the betrayal of Rivers and the Agency, hurting him deeper than any punishment of the flesh...

So many moments...

Just one more...

Then the hurting could stop.

* * * * * * * * * *

René Gerard watched from the view finder of the video camera as Agent Fields fingered the hem of her maid's dress, ringing it nervously with both hands.

"Do what you feel you must. Do what... you need to do..." Gerard beckoned, close enough now that he could whisper.

He could finally feel his heart beat thumping with vigour from within his chest, not with arousal, but with the heady feeling of power and control, a psychological cocktail that he found more heady and powerful than any flirtations with drugs from his youth.

All the same, he kept the camera trained on the hem of the French girl’s dress, for he knew there would be an audience for what would follow.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam could acutely remember the sensations he had felt in the shower that morning, a simmering undercurrent of sexual heat that had been with him since he had awoken. It had seemed stubbornly unwilling to leave him for the rest of the day, coalescing itself into the soft sensual caress of lace trimmed underwear and the frisson of stocking covered legs brushing together. He would have denied it, but it was there all the same. Then there had been Rivers and Sofia - their verbal foreplay teasing him, reigniting his kindling fire, his body responding, threatening almost to overpower his rational mind.

Even now, in the shadow of someone who could only ever be called his enemy, Sam felt a knotted tension deep in his lower body, as tightly sprung as the garters that held his stockings.

He knew that he wanted out. He wanted his ordeal to end, to finally find peace within his own body once more. Gerard stood vaporous and indistinct, blocking his exit.

Sam closed his eyes, sensing Rivers' presence, despite their physical separation, as if he were looking from over his shoulder. Rivers who had been largely responsible for what had happened to him. Who, in spite of this, had pursued him... teased him... humiliated him...

It was then that a part of Sam sought refuge in the thought of hurting Rivers... to finally get back at him for what he had done. After everything the man had put him through, would it not be fitting to let him sweat, to let him worry, to make him...

Jealous...

Sam opened his eyes again, his grip still tight on the hem of his dress as he slowly, carefully, raised it upwards, the lace trimmed ruffles rustling softly, reminding him of the soothing wash of the Mediterranean Sea.

He felt calm.

The glare of the video camera's spotlight was almost blinding.

One moment.

* * * * * * * * * *

René Gerard watched with rapt delight as Sam Fields finally revealed herself to him, submissive and obedient.

How easily he had bent her under his whim, her psyche already fractured from her ordeals, leaving her easy pickings for a master like him.

Of course, Gerard did not want her... not in that way. He had wanted to see how far she would go, what she would be willing to do, and had felt a terrific rush of endorphins when she had finally submitted herself to him. For Gerard, that had been enough.

It was for another that he kept filming...

Gerard knelt on one knee, angling the video camera closer, enough to pick out the detailed lace trim of her black thong, which seemed to tremble with either her fear, or her suppressed lust.

“Turn around.” Gerard instructed, knowing just what tone and nuance to put into his voice to have the greatest psychological impact on the vulnerable and confused woman.

Fields' high heels clicked as she turned herself around, facing the sideboard now, her little hands seeming to hold on for dear life.

Gerard's camera panned back, taking in the complete view of her derriá¨re, so perfectly smooth and white, bisected by the black string of her thong.

“Good girl... Lean forwards… a little more…” Gerard rose, pressing at her back, bending her over, making sure to capture the accompanying stretch of her garters as they tugged at the lace tops of her stockings.

Gerard zoomed the camera lens back out, taking in the full effect of her provocative attire now. She seemed blissfully unaware of her indecency and instead took to staring blankly ahead to the books that lined the back of the sideboard.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam gazed at the books arranged neatly before him. He was close enough to be able to read the French titles on their tattered spines - titles such as Smoke and Mirrors, Influence and Manipulation and A Chemical Map of the Human Brain - though he was not of any sort of mind to be able to comprehend their significance.

“You have no idea how this feels for me, seeing you like this ... Antoinette…“ Gerard began, beginning to run his hand over the soft swell of Sam’s backside. Sam was leant forward enough now that his breasts pressed into the wooden top of the sideboard, his arms resting limp beside him. “You see, I gave up my heart for you… I loved you as fully as any man could…”

Sam remained silent, the mechanical whir of the video camera hanging in the air between them as it shifted focus.

“Will you let me say goodbye, Antoinette? As it was meant to be all those years ago?

Sam closed his eyes.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers kicked the soldier’s rifle into a corner and launched himself onto his attacker. The masked assailant braced and took his blow as skilfully as any professional wrestler. They fell sideways onto the large four-poster bed, causing Sofia’s sleeping body to bounce beside them.

The solider was atop Rivers, reaching back to his leg to unsheathe a small knife. Rivers grasped his wrists with both hands as he brought the blade down, stopping it inches from his chest. He groaned with defiance, using every ounce of strength he had left to try and turn the blade, but the man was bigger.

And he had gravity on his side…

The knife slowly began to lower as Rivers struggled, sweat dripping from his brow. He turned his head to one side, seeing Sofia lying on her back beside him, sleeping serenely, so beautiful and innocent to the violence going on around her.

It made him think of Sam.

He moved one hand from the soldier’s wrist, reaching out to her, sealing his fate.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam found himself on the deck of the Oro del Diablo, looking out over the rear-most railing to the clear blue waters below. His long blonde hair lifted as a cool breeze played about his body, offering some respite from the sun as it beat down upon his fair skin. He reached up with a hand, holding it to one side as he turned to look behind him.

The deck was vast, stretching impossibly back to the horizon, but he could just make out an open door, a dark figure standing at its centre.

Sam turned back to the endless sea, feeling the figure approaching, his sandals clapping ominously against the wooden decking. He was close behind him now, breathing heavily, plumes of acrid cigar smoke roiling out over the side of the boat.

So much smoke...

Was there a fire?

Sam’s eyes darted, waiting for the figure to say something…

Anything…

Instead, he silently pressed at Sam’s bare back, guiding him, leaning him forward over the railing. Stubby, rough-edged fingers prodded at his hips, fumbling with the waist band of his pink bikini bottoms.

Sam gasped, quivering as he looked down to the sea below, seeing the shadow of his own feminine reflection broken by the chopping waters, becoming less and less distinct until it was washed away entirely.

Something wasn’t right…

Why was it happening again?

Sam’s fingers gripped the railing tightly, his chest beginning to heave as he took deep breaths. The cool air filled his lungs, invigorating him.

Not this time.

One moment...

* * * * * * * * * *

“NO!”

Sam screamed in his high pitched voice, his mind crashing back into the present. He turned, swiping backwards with his left hand, catching Gerard across the side of his face. Although he had barely given it a second thought, Sam still wore the imitation diamond ring that Rivers had made him wear when they first visited the mansion earlier in the day. The stone carved a deep gash into Gerard’s cheek.

“Ahhh!” Gerard staggered backwards, clutching his bleeding face, the video camera cluttering to the floor beside him. “My face! My face!” he wailed incredulously, looking down at the blood in his shaking hands.

Sam had expended his last ounce of energy and slid helplessly to the floor, gasping for breath, his hands on his small, cinched in waist.

Gerard looked down at Sam, his hawk-like face fuming with anger. His lips trembled as he searched for the right words, but none seemed to be sufficient for the rage that seethed within.

He leant down, snatching his camera back up, checking it for damage before slipping it back into his jacket pocket. He produced a white linen handkerchief in its place, pressing it to his face. He marched indignantly to the study door, unlocking it, staring back at Sam with disgust.

Sam lay slumped on his side, his cheeks stained with tears. He looked up as two armed guards filed into the room, their boots thudding on the carpeted floor, each of them brandishing a semi-automatic rifle. They easily brought him back to his feet, lifting him from under each of his slender arms. Sam gasped as one of the guards cruelly forced his hands behind his back, latching a pair of metal cuffs to his wrists.

“You just couldn’t let it be, could you?” Gerard finally spat, his whole body seeming to vibrate. "You come to my mansion… ruin my party… my…. my face…” He looked down at the blood in his handkerchief.

Sam breathed in, his cleavage swelling, his hair now hanging loose and matted across his shoulders. “It… was my pleasure.” Sam spoke in English, meeting Gerard’s gaze defiantly, his head clearing with a renewed certainty.

“You are a fool. You must know you will never get your body back.” Gerard beckoned one of the soldiers forward with a hand. Sam gasped, nearly choking as the man began to affix an uncomfortable iron collar to his neck. “You will live… and die… as a woman.” Gerard threatened, leaning in close to Sam’s feminine face. He turned, walking towards the door, addressing Sam dismissively from over his shoulder with a raised finger.

“And sooner than you may think.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam trotted down the corridor outside of the study, his hands bound behind his back. He was forced into a rapid cantor by the metal pole now attached to his collar, pushed onwards by the two soldiers behind him. His maid’s dress bounced at his hips, his bust threatening to spill free, though he was now beyond caring for his modesty.

“You… you think killing me will make a difference?” Sam spoke up with his French-accented voice as Gerard strode ahead of them. “I’m just one agent… The Agency will find you…” His newfound brazenness betrayed just how little he had left to loose.

“My dear Miss Fields… before long the Agency will not even exist…” Gerard spoke back to Sam, not even turning his head as he marched towards the heavy twin set of doors that led back out into the main hall.

Sam could hear the rumble of the guests begin to build, a throbbing that made his head hurt. He watched as Gerard stopped in front of the doors, turning back to face him at last. The deep gash in his cheek still dripped blood, making him appear ghoulish. The soldiers jerked harshly on Sam’s collar, causing his high heeled feet to clack to a sudden halt.

“May I present… your downfall!” Gerard threw open the doors as Sam felt himself pushed out into the light.

* * * * * * * * * *

The rush of the cheering crowd seemed to take an eternity to die down. Sam finally opened his eyes, the spotlight above him now reigned in enough for him to be able to see the writhing masses below. He found that he was now knelt, knees apart at Gerard's request, on the upper balcony of the main hall. He was held in place by the painful collar and pole, just as Carlos Ramirez had been earlier.

"Did I not promise you a spectacle this evening?" Gerard roared, throwing his hands up, his bloodied handkerchief still grasped tightly in his right hand. The crowd bayed back at him, reminding Sam of a pit of expensively dressed hyenas. He winced as the pole that held him was twisted a little too far back, causing him to splutter with a choking cough.

"But I sense that you have not yet had your fill..." Gerard stepped up beside Sam, lacing his fingers into his matted blonde hair. "Then how about something... sweet... for dessert..."

Sam looked up at his captor, his chest wheezing beneath his tight fitting dress.

"May I present to you… Agent Samuel Fields of the United States' Agency!"

There was much murmuring and confusion from below, even a ripple of laughter. Sam stared blankly ahead, scarcely believing what was now being revealed to the whole room full of people.

"Yes, that is right ladies and gentlemen. He was betrayed by the very organization that he works for, using illegal mind-switching technology to swap him with one of our very own agents..." Gerard stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, his natural theatrically quickly returning. "But please... do not feel bad for her. As you can see, she is settling in very well to her new life." Gerard turned, smirking down at Sam, standing directly in front of him to emphasize his dominance.

Sam's humiliation was now complete. Laughter mocked at him from the crowds below, but there was no more fight left in his tired female body. He could only endure the ritual as best he could, knelt submissively, his stockings now laddered and frayed, his thong panties plainly visible to the crowd that gazed up at him from below.

He had tried his best, but had spectacularly failed. Rivers had been right all along...

Rivers...

With effort, Sam raised his head, gazing across to the double-doors on the far side of the balcony. As if in answer to his silent call, the doors parted, the antique wood creaking outwards.

Only it wasn't Rivers...

The soldier stepped forwards, faceless, hidden behind night-vision goggles and a mask. He seemed to stare straight into Sam's soul with lifeless, mechanical eyes. He cast his head downwards, drawing Sam's attention to the stained knife in his right hand. He wiped the scarlet blade against his thigh, both sides, leaving an inky black wetness on his fatigues.

No...

All hope drained from Sam's body as he slumped into a defeated squat. That was it. He no longer cared for what would happen next. He just wanted it to end. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as his neck was forced upwards once more with a cruel twist.

The eyes of the crowd darted and flickered between that of his own degradation, and Gerard, their ringmaster, still addressing them, whipping them into a frenzy with his words and dramatic gestures, of which Sam had long since ceased to listen. His ringing ears dimly focused back in on Gerard's address as he looked back over to stare at the soldier opposite. He stood impassive, with his arms arrogantly folded across his chest.

"My dear ladies and gentlemen, there is of course someone who could not make it to the party tonight. Someone who I know will be... very interested... in the fate of our young Miss Fields."

The plasma screen that had hung above the crowd from the upper balcony flickered, its words of welcome disappearing into the black ether, only to be replaced with a figure, at first shrouded in static as satellites shifted into a new alignment.

The image soon cleared and the figure stepped forwards, his head downcast at first, looking up only when he was close enough so that he filled the screen entirely. His eyes were piercing and urgent, looking out into the gathered crowd.

* * * * * * * * * *

The time between the moment of seeing the man's face on the plasma screen, and the moment of recognition, seemed to hang in the air, stretching into an uncertain limbo. Perhaps it was his hair, cut shorter, and stylishly fashioned. Perhaps it was the day's worth of stubble that flecked his youthful face. Or perhaps it was the expensive suit that he wore, his white shirt crisp and opened casually at the neck.

Either way it took Sam Fields seconds... long, drawn out seconds... to comprehend and recognise his own face smiling at him from the screen opposite.

"Mon dieu..." Sam whispered to himself as he beheld the doppelgá¤nger.

"I’m glad you could join us!" Gerard clapped his hands together with joy, grinning devilishly like a sadistic chat show host. The doppelgá¤nger smiled, using Sam's face, the same smile that beamed from dozens of family photographs in his parent's house. "Tell me Antoinette, how is the flight?"

The doppelgá¤nger seemed to wince in response to his name, as if Gerard had just pricked him with a knife. "Comfortable René, comfortable.” He turned, looking back towards the rounded port window directly behind him. Though I will be glad when we finally reach New York." The doppelgá¤nger shrugged, turning back towards the camera. "I just have the feeling that America will suit me better... much as this body does."

There was a ripple of laughter from the dark sea of bodies below, briefly reminding Sam of their presence.

"But, what do we have here?" The doppelgá¤nger's large eyes flicked downwards from the screen, to where Sam was still slumped. He could feel Gerard's fingers snake into his mess of blonde hair, forcing his head upwards.

"This here is our young Miss Fields. She came to see me tonight."

Again the eyes... narrowing... widening... His mother's eyes.

"We meet again... Miss Fields!" The doppelgá¤nger laughed, using Sam's own voice, a care-free and genuine laugh, not often heard since Sam's college days.

Sam could not answer. His lipstick covered lips trembled, unable to make a sound, tasting only the saltiness of his tears. His vision began to narrow into a hazy tunnel, his hearing muffling as he struggled to stay conscious before the surrealism surrounding him.

"Forgive her... she is shy," Gerard spoke from beside him.

"Hmm? Are you sure?" The doppelgá¤nger's eyes drifted downwards, seeming to only just notice Sam's provocative state of dress. "She doesn't look it from where I’m standing." Again the laugh, though more forced this time.

"Yes, she does have some interesting... tendencies... of which I'm certain you will enjoy reviewing." Sam looked helplessly back at Gerard as he produced a small memory card from his pocket.

The video camera.

"It looks as though you were on the receiving end of one of those tendencies yourself, eh René?" The doppelgá¤nger turned his face to one side, running a finger against his stumbled-flecked cheek.

Gerard stepped back, his demeanour instantly darkening as he reached to the raw scar on his cheek.

"Yes, well... She will pay for that... Won't she ladies and gentlemen?" Gerard extended a hand, bathing in the cheers that followed, recovering quickly. "Which is why I have called you... to ask if you have any requests for her demise? It is your body after all..."

"No! Not my body!" The doppelgá¤nger seethed with his own rage now. "That whore there? She is nothing to me..." He looked down, disgusted, dismissive, causing Sam to tense with self-consciousness. "Send her to the barracks. Let her know what it truly is to be a woman at the mercy of men."

"As you wish Antoinette..." Gerard seemed to smile as he drew emphasis to the doppelgá¤nger’s name. He stroked his hand forcefully through Sam's hair, causing him to gasp as he broke painfully through a few matted strands. "You realise, of course, that she likely will not survive."

"Yes... But she will be remembered." The doppelgá¤nger turned from the screen, walking back, briefly granting Sam the unusual view of the back of his own head. He soon returned, brandishing an identical Agency laptop to that which Gerard had presented to Sam in the study. "When we expose this data to the world there will be a special mention for you. I really could never have done all this without your help." The doppelgá¤nger tapped at his forehead. "Now, I must bid you... hmm... How is it you French say? Adieu? Am I saying it right?" His voice was rich with Sam's own Philadelphian vowels.

"Non..." Sam whimpered with a fresh wave of tears, the screen fading to black before him, leaving only the sound of his own gentle sobbing. Even the crowd below stood in a mournful silence.

She was gone...

Antoinette.

He was left feeling numb, still in shock at seeing her using his own body, wearing it as comfortably as the new suit on her back.

Sam knelt at the court of Scarlet, having been framed, tried and sentenced. All that remained was his punishment. But had he not been punished enough? Sam looked across the room once more to the masked soldier and the blood that stained his thigh.

The noise from the crowd began to swell once more as Sam was pulled harshly back to his high-heeled feet. He coughed, his chest wheezing, wishing his hands were free so that he could pull the collar away from his windpipe. A guard approached, an open black sack-cloth raised to smother him.

It seemed almost welcoming.

The last thing that Sam Fields saw was the demented grin of René Gerard and the shard of red that now scarred his cheek.

TO BE CONTINUED...

* * * * * * * * * *