"This isn't a pity fuck Taylor. I'm nearly twice your age and I've reconciled what happened to me in the past; I've moved on. I'm a successful businesswoman," Veronique looked into Taylor's green eyes.

"I get it. You're a lot more experienced than I am in life and in business. Also I've never done this with a woman so you take the lead," Taylor began to shimmy out of her dress.

Veronique stopped her and rose off the couch, pulling Taylor up with her. She kissed Taylor softly, enveloping her in her arms and Taylor melted. This was so much different than being with Bradley, more sensual, more downright feminine. Veronique stroked Taylor's hair while she kissed her and slowly increased the intensity of the kiss, her tongue slipped into Taylor's mouth; just the tip.

Veronique finished what Taylor had started, slipping the cocktail dress over her shoulders, leaving her dressed only in bra, panties and the almost transparent Jonathan Aston 12 denier seamed holdup stockings. She caressed Taylor's breasts through the satin-and-lace bra, causing her nipples to engorge and then she freed the milky orbs from their cups and used her mouth. Veronique was slow and tactile, she suckled a nipple with her lips while her fingers stroked Taylor's other breast and then she swapped her mouth to the other teat.

Taylor gasped; she felt the tingling in her breasts spread through her body. Her lips felt like they were on fire and Veronique fanned the flames when she kissed her, this time using her tongue aggressively whilst tweaking Taylor's nipples and squeezing her breasts. Taylor tried to reciprocate and ease Veronique out of her Claudie Pierlot stretch-ponté mini dress but Veronique stopped her.

"Not yet. Let me show you how first," she whispered and Taylor understood.

She gave herself over to Veronique. The passion and desire radiating from Taylor's lips and her breasts spread down to her vagina and she felt her juices flow. She wanted Veronique to put her hand there but whenever she tried to prise Veronique's fingers from her breasts she wouldn't let go.

"Not yet. I know what you want but you can't have it," Veronique teased her.

Taylor's knees were beginning to shake and if Veronique didn't have her in a passionate embrace she would have slumped to the floor. The whole of Taylor's body was trembling with desire, every nerve seemed hypersensitive and raw, every sinew relaxed, her nipples were swollen as were her coral-pink labia and her clitoris.

Veronique suckled Taylor's nipples until Taylor thought the intensity of the pleasure would make her come and then Veronique abruptly stopped and fell to her knees. She slid her hands down the curves of Taylor's body whilst her tongue and lips slowly descended from Taylor's engorged nipples, down her belly, to the place where her pubis curved under her body.

Then Veronique put her tongue on Taylor's sex and Taylor moaned and her legs gave way. She fell onto the couch with her legs wide apart and Veronique seized the opportunity to bury her head between Taylor's thighs. She opened her up like a flower and the tip of tongue lapped at Taylor's clitoris.

Taylor screeched some vague obscenity and pressed Veronique's face to her quim. Veronique lapped at Taylor's cunt, letting the tip of her tongue lap across Taylor's clitoris only fleetingly. This drove Taylor wild with desire and frustration. Her nipples ached, her belly tingled and her cunt quivered, she wanted release so badly but still Veronique refused to use her mouth on Taylor's sensitive bud.

Taylor tangled her fingers in Veronique's hair and pushed as hard as she could, grinding her quim into Veronique's face. Veronique smiled and finally relented. She slipped two fingers inside Taylor's sodden vagina put her lips around her clitoral hood and used her tongue on Taylor's most sensitive part.

Ripples of delight radiated from Taylor's sex, amplifying the sensations Veronique had already ignited during her journey around Taylor's body. The ripples intensified and coalesced into a tumultuous orgasm that ripped through her very being.

"Oh god! Oh god!" Taylor screamed, driving her sex onto Veronique's lips and tongue.

Veronique used the pads of her fingers to massage Taylor's g-spot as her tongue lapped frenziedly on her clitoris. She rode Taylor's squirming body as her orgasm reached crescendo and slowly began to subside. Veronique removed her tongue from Taylor's tender clitoris knowing that it would be too intense; she lapped at her delicate cuntal lips instead and sipped the nectar trickling from Taylor's vagina.

Taylor rode her orgasm like a wave and as the intense sensations began to subside she slowly ceased quivering and shaking and lay sated with her legs spread wide, letting Veronique softly lap at her labia. Eventually Taylor eased Veronique's face away from her sex and Veronique smiled at up Taylor and leaned over her and kissed her. Taylor tasted her own secretions on Veronique's mouth.

Veronique broke the kiss and stood up. She stepped out of her dress, smiling down at Taylor as she did.

"Ok darling, my turn," she grinned down at her young lover lecherously.

*****

At nine in the following morning Taylor met with the law firm of Mulholland and Stamp. They were the small firm that specialised in commercial law that Veronique had recommended to her.

"I spent most of the night looking over the documents that Veronique sent over on your behalf. As it was explained to you at the meeting you had with FreeCom's legal counsel most of it is boilerplate and the gist of it is fair and equitable. You get to keep ownership of PostPay but it becomes a subsidiary of FreeCom and you split the profits equally," Terence Mulholland, a handsome young lawyer in a natty suit explained.

"I did find something in there that concerns me and should definitely be of concern to you. Buried in amongst some legalese is a clause that passes control of PostPay to Bradley Freeman in event that anything happens to you that prevents you from being able to adequately and competently operate the company," Terence pointed to a paragraph in one of the documents which Taylor tried to read but didn't really understand.

"Well here's what I want added to the contract. If for any reason I am unable to adequately operate PostPay or in my extended absence all of my propriety delegations and pecuniary interests in PostPay are to pass onto my paternal cousin Taylor Averille."

"Yes we have the same name but he is male, a coincidence that the whole family liked to tease us with when we were younger. He worked with me for a while when I was trying to get PostPay off the ground so I think it's only fair that he inherit if anything were to happen to me," Taylor explained.

"The easiest way to achieve that would be to make him a silent partner with the caveat that he takes control of the company in your absence or if for any reason you are incapacitated," Terence explained.

"Thank you," Taylor smiled.

"I can charge you piecemeal for reviewing and making changes to the contract or in the absence of you having your own legal counsel, you can engage us to be PostPay's law firm of record. Our costs are competitive and we are experts in the field," Terence smiled at Taylor.

"You come highly recommended by Veronique Pascal and although I haven't known her for very long I trust her. Let's say I engage you on a limited contract for one year and then we review proceedings and see how we stand," Taylor proposed.

"A fair and honest arrangement. I can have the changes you have proposed completed by this afternoon and also draw up a separate contract that engages your cousin Taylor Averille as a silent partner, which both you will need to sign."

"May I propose that I arrange a meeting with Bradley Freeman and Hugh Fleetwood this afternoon? You can swing by here on the way to the meeting and sign the contract engaging Mulholland and Stamp on as your legal counsel for a period of one year and I can accompany you to the meeting in that capacity," Terence said.

"Done," Taylor stood and offered her hand.

Terence Mulholland took her hand and shook it.

"See you at three o'clock?" Terence offered.

"Also done," Taylor said and smiled at Terence, aware that he seemed to be taken with her.

Taylor wore one of her newly purchased designer business suits to the meeting. She stopped at the offices of Mulholland and Stamp and was met by Terence Mulholland who escorted her to his office; she could feel his eyes on her ass but said nothing. It amused her how easily men could be distracted. She knew that her alter-ego would have been similarly taken with her ass and legs. She wondered when she transformed back into her male self if he would remember how women felt about being continually ogled.

They didn't stay long. Taylor scanned the changes that Terence had made to the contract with FreeCom and approved them. Next she signed a contract appointing Mulholland and Stamp as PostPay's attorneys of record. Finally she inspected the document appointing Taylor Averille, her male cousin Taylor, who no one but she knew was one and the same, as a silent partner in PostPay who would legally take control of the company in her absence or demise.

Terence Mulholland had solved Taylor's biggest problem without knowing it: how to get the company back into the hands of her male doppelganger. She put the document in her briefcase.

"All good work thank you. I'll have my cousin sign the partnership agreement and send it back to you to be notarised and filed," Taylor hoped she sounded sufficiently business-like.

"Good. I've sent the revised contract back to FreeCom and they have agreed to take the meeting this afternoon to finalise and sign the contract. I have a car waiting," Terence waved a hand at the door indicating that they were ready to go.

In the car on the way to the FreeCom offices Taylor was acutely aware that her skirt was sitting high on her thighs. She had crossed her ankles demurely but her long legs clad in seven-denier holdup stockings were a distraction for Terence and she took mild amusement in his efforts to not stare at them. She managed to extract herself from the car without showing her underwear; she was becoming quite adept at getting around in short skirts and high heels without surrendering her propriety or breaching etiquette.

It was obvious that Bradley was not happy when they entered the conference room at FreeCom. He seemed to be quietly seething and was flanked by Hugh Fleetwood on one side who appeared to be equally peeved and Veronique Pascal on the other. Veronique seemed to be smugly amused.

Terence assisted Taylor into her seat opposite Bradley and he took a seat beside her opposite Hugh Fleetwood. A printed copy of the contract lay in the centre of the table between them.

"Why the changes Taylor?" Bradley opened proceedings.

"Because if anything happens to me I want my company to pass onto a family member who was there when I first came up with the concept for PostPay," Taylor answered.

Bradley was a little taken aback. This was no longer the naïve young woman who had come into his office not that long ago in her cheap suit practically begging him to finance her project.

"But you said that he fell flat and lost interest in PostPay so you fired him and said that he has no ties or pecuniary interest in PostPay," Bradley countered.

"That's changed," Taylor said bluntly.

"If I may," Terence Mulholland interrupted.

"My client is well within her rights to determine who takes the controlling interest in her company in event of her absence. Nothing in the revised contract affects the business and profit sharing arrangements between PostPay and FreeCom. It's a win-win for you both," he patted the document on the table.

Bradley took a deep breath and then his demeanour changed.

"Veronica, you have clients and vendors ready to proceed and the app is available to be downloaded on all platforms?" Bradley asked.

"We have everything in place. The whole world is waiting for PostPay to go live. I've saturated the social media and conventional advertising markets, the interest in PostPay is phenomenal," she replied.

"All in such a short space of time," Bradley seemed surprised.

"You shouldn't be surprised Bradley; it's the world we live in and it's what I do for a living," Veronique countered.

"Fuck it! Let's get it signed and start making money," Bradley sighed.

He signed the document on the last page above his signature block and Taylor signed above hers. Bradley awkwardly tried to kiss Taylor on the cheek across the table so she stood up and walked around to his side of the table and hugged him and allowed him to kiss the side of her mouth. She hugged and air-kissed Veronique and shook hands with Hugh Fleetwood and Terence Mulholland. She could tell that Terence was hoping for a hug and a kiss too but Taylor was going to make him wait for that privilege.

Champagne was bought into the room and they all had a glass but Taylor was keen to get to back to work and Veronique could sense it. She too was keen to launch PostPay so they left the lawyers and Bradley to their man-talk and she and Taylor went around to the open plan office where the programmers and tech gurus were waiting anxiously.

"Let's make PostPay go live," Veronique announced and the office erupted in a cheer.

Then the staff began to pound keyboards and make and take calls.

PostPay was live. It was now almost a living breathing entity, selling products, arranging delivery, making transactions, transferring funds, extending credit to customers and making profits for the vendors, FreeCom and PostPay. Everyone was happy.

Taylor and Veronique went down to Taylor's new office which was next door to Veronique's. Taylor bought up a screen so they could watch the transactions in real-time. PostPay was having a phenomenal run. Taylor could already see where improvements could be made to the code to boost efficiency and she started tapping keys. Veronique paused at the door and looked back at Taylor locked in total concentration as she worked. She smiled to herself and left Taylor alone with her code, closing the door behind her.

Taylor declined an invitation to a celebratory dinner with Bradley, Veronique and some other key executives; she was busy writing and rewriting code. She wanted to be able to have version two of the software available for download to the app as soon as possible. The FreeCom offices became quiet as the employees left. She barely noticed that the lighting outside her office had become subdued and that she was the only one on the floor still working, she had no idea of the time.

When Bradley Freeman came into her office it was after midnight.

"Still beavering away," Bradley smiled at her from the doorway.

"Yeah, I lost track of time. I'm working on an update to improve PostPay's efficiency," Taylor stretched.

She had taken off her jacket to work and when she stretched her breasts pushed against her blouse. It was white silk and transparent, Bradley could see the lacy black brasserie she wore underneath it cupping her firm globes.

"That was quite a subterfuge you pulled, appointing your cousin as a partner in PostPay," Bradley took a step into the room and closed the door.

Taylor could see that he had been drinking.

"PostPay is my company Bradley. It is a subsidiary of FreeCom but a separate entity and I have to say I was a little miffed that you intended to take control of it in event of my absence," Taylor advocated.

"But I took all the risk. I provided the startup capital and advanced you a chunk of the projected profits," Bradley took a step closer and put his hand on the back of her chair.

"Come on Bradley, look at this," Taylor pointed to one of the screens which displayed PostPay's activity in real time.

"We are already well ahead of the projected profit margins. At this rate we will have recovered all of the startup capital by the end of the month and all of the income will be revenue, the operating costs are minimal," Taylor continued.

"You've become quite the little entrepreneurial financier haven't you? You're not just the pretty girl with the big intellect," Bradley put a hand on Taylor's shoulder.

"You've been drinking Bradley. Why don't we talk about this tomorrow?" Taylor made to remove his hand but he held on.

"You lured me into your bed and bewitched me," Bradley squeezed her shoulder tighter.

"I hardly think so Bradley. I would counter that you seduced me and that you already knew how much money PostPay would bring in," she tried harder to remove his hand from her shoulder.

"I think there is some truth in both our statements but now you keep declining to see me socially. Why is that?" Bradley would not remove his hand.

Taylor pushed herself out of the chair. It was on wheels so Bradley had to release her and step away to let her stand. She turned to face him, her back to the desk.

"Do you think that because you financed my startup and because I let you into my bed that one time that you now have use of my body whenever it suits you?" Taylor said angrily.

Even drunk and resentful Bradley was still a handsome man with his sun-bleached hair, dark eyes and full sensuous lips. She could smell his cologne over the booze.

"I was hoping it would be a mutual arrangement. In other words when it suits us both," Bradley stepped in close to her.

"I didn't see that in the contract," Taylor said sarcastically.

"I didn't think it needed to be," Bradley smiled and she could feel her heartbeat quicken.

"I think that's also something we can discuss tomorrow when you are sober. Please be a gentleman and hand me my jacket," Taylor said attempting to step aside.

Bradley closed into her and pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the desk. His lips chased hers as she tried to shy away but he held her still and closed his mouth on hers. She struggled but she was no match for him and his free hand slipped under her skirt. He found her sex. Because she was wearing stockings his fingers found the lacy satin panties clinging to her mound he was able to press his fingers into her cleft.

"Don't," Taylor gasped, struggling, his lips still crushing hers.

Bradley ignored her and began to work his fingers on her. He eased the gusset of her panties aside and circled a finger on her clitoris while another slipped into her vagina which he noticed she was becoming damp. He smiled and kissed her harder and slid his tongue into her mouth.

Taylor felt her body betraying her. She didn't want this man dominating her but she had to admit that his fingers expertly working her sex, his tongue insistently exploring her mouth, his tight muscled body pressed against her and his hard cock rubbing on her thigh were exciting her. She still fought him, even when he took her hand guided it to his erect penis straining at the fabric of his pants.

She instinctively clenched her fingers around it and squeezed. It would have been just as easy for her to squeeze his scrotum and make him squeal in pain and release her. Taylor didn't want Bradley to fuck her but she didn't want him not to fuck her either. Her mind wanted him to let her go and come back tomorrow and apologise to her for being so boorish but her body wanted him to put that steely hard cock of his inside her and fuck her until she screamed.

Taylor mustered all of her strength and put her palms on Bradley's shoulders and using the desk for leverage she was able to push him off her. If he was sober she would never had stood a chance.

"OK Bradley if this is what you want then get it over with. I've got things to do and places to be," Taylor gasped.

She spun on her heels and bent over the desk.

Bradley moved in behind her and lifted her skirt exposing the magnificent creamy globes clad in black satin and lace. He unzipped his fly and extracted his penis, a string of silver pre-ejaculate leaked from the eye. He eased aside the gusset of her panties and Taylor widened her stance and gripped the edge of the desk for support in anticipation.

"Go on; take what you think is yours then," she whispered.

"Oh my god," Taylor hissed when Bradley slid his cock inside her.

He filled her with his manhood and Taylor felt her secretions begin to flow. Bradley leaned over her, keeping her impaled on his cock as he reached around and unbuttoned her blouse. He extricated her breasts from the lacy brasserie and cupped them softly. Taylor squeaked like a little mouse when he used his thumbs on her hard nipples, circling the firm pink berries. Then he began to slowly fuck her and Taylor surrendered.

She pressed back against him and gyrated her hips like a slattern, wanting his cock deep inside her; wanting the base of his shaft pressing on her engorged clitoris.

Bradley tweaked her nipples and ground against her until she began to shake and stammer; her passionate cries incomprehensible as her orgasm began to slowly percolate. It began deep in her vagina where Bradley's glans pressed on her g-spot and melded with the intense tingling that was radiating from her clitoris.

Bradley moved his hands to Taylor's hips and he stood upright and began to plough his hard quivering phallus in and out of her tight, slick sheath. His pubis slammed into her buttocks causing them to quiver, filling the silent room with the 'thwok, thwok, thwok,' sound of their fucking. The fucking sounds harmonised with their little squeals and groans as their orgasms approached.

Bradly pulled Taylor's ass hard against his groin, driving his cock into her as far as it would go causing Taylor to gasp as she felt his phallus fill her and push deeper insider than she had ever felt before. His scalding semen erupted from his throbbing cock and her climax erupted and she began to shake, screaming obscenities into the night.

Bradley wasn't finished. As soon as he began to ejaculate he fucked her even harder, slamming his cock in and out of her tight channel. His semen blended with her vaginal secretion and began to ooze from her quim and run down her legs. Taylor felt like a whore and she wasn't sure if she liked it. As much as the pleasure she was feeling was indescribably wonderful, she felt like she had betrayed herself.

She lay bent over the desk panting heavily as Bradley slowly removed his penis from her bruised and swollen vagina. Another flood of milky viscous fluid trickled from her sex and ran down the inside of her thighs.

Bradley pushed himself off her and still breathing heavily he put himself away and zipped up.

"There's a good girl," he patted her bare ass and turned away from her.

Taylor was still bent over the desk trying to regain her composure when she heard his footsteps disappear down the corridor towards the lobby. She heard the ting of the elevator arriving as she gingerly pushed herself upright. She held her skirt out of the way and took a handful of tissues off the desk and wiped her sex and dabbed at the sticky dross on her upper thighs. The crotch of her panties was soaked and the tops of her stocking were dark and damp. She used some more tissues on those.

When she had her breathing under control she put her tender breasts back into the cups of her bra and buttoned her blouse. She picked up her purse and the used tissues. She took a risk and walked to the ladies room holding her skirt up out of the way of her thighs and used a warm soapy washcloth to better clean herself. She dried herself with a soft hand towel and dropped the sticky tissues she had used in her office into a toilet bowl and flushed them away. She dropped the washcloth and hand towel into the laundry bin and smoothed out her skirt, fixed her lipstick and brushed her hair.

Taylor studied her reflection in the mirror for a long beat and then she began to weep. She let it all come out and then she dried her eyes and fixed her makeup again.

As she walked back to her office, the patter of her high heels echoing in the quiet corridor seemed to accentuate her loneliness.

*****

Veronique answered the door to her apartment dressed in a cream silk nightgown. She was angry that Taylor had come to her in the early hours of the morning and would have turned her away if she hadn't sounded so distressed over the intercom.

"What? You couldn't call?" Veronique said sharply as Taylor burst into her apartment.

Veronique closed the door and locked it and turned to see Taylor standing in the middle of the floor shaking and crying.

"What's the matter?" Veronique went to her and enfolded her in her arms.

Taylor spewed out her story between crying jags, telling Veronique what had happened in her office.

"And I didn't know where else to turn so I came here," she finished her tale.

Veronique did not react how Taylor expected her to. She pushed Taylor away.

"Silly girl!" she slapped Taylor across the face.

Then she slapped her again.

Taylor just stood there stunned, her cheeks burning more with indignity than pain.

"I told you what happened to me in the forest when the trafficker dragged me into the clearing and then used me again up against the van. I told you how I set my resolve to use the tools I had to make a better life for myself."

"I told you how I was determined that it would never happen to me when I found Olga hanging from the ceiling with her panties full of shit," Veronique hissed.

"I warned you that Bradley would be unable to keep himself from taking advantage of you if you let him," Veronique went over to the bar and poured two tumblers of vodka.

"I didn't let him!" Taylor squealed indignantly.

"Didn't you?" Veronique handed Taylor the tumbler and she gulped at the contents.

"Easy. You have to work tomorrow," Veronique took the tumbler away from Taylor's mouth.

Taylor blushed.

"Well not at first but then I guess I couldn't help myself," Taylor admitted.

"Look. Everything you have up there is for sale to the right bidder. That's how you make your money," Veronique tapped Taylor on the side of the head.

"But this... this too is a commodity and you need to make sure you use it for own advantage," Veronique waved her hand at Taylor's body.

"You don't want to be a slut. That won't help you. But some strategic fucking can be used to your advantage. Don't worry I'll teach you. There are times to tease and times to please; these things are learned. The years I spent working in the brothels in Munich and Paris taught me many things. Men are easily manipulated if you know what you're doing," Veronique finished her drink and put the glass on the kitchen counter.

"Come. You can sleep here with me tonight, I have a negligee that will fit you and I'll give you some clean underwear tomorrow," Veronique began to dim the lights.

"I want to shower before I come to bed," Taylor said sulkily.

'No. I want to taste Bradley on your cunt. It will excite me," Veronique took Taylor's hand and led her to the bedroom.

*****

And Veronique did show Taylor how to use her sex appeal. She arranged a series of meetings and interviews with vendors and potential clients. Those that were already signed up to PostPay only required reassurance and wanted to meet the face of the company. A little flirting sufficed.

The big clients who were yet to commit required more attention. A dinner date, an intimate lunch, the more lucrative customers might get invited back to Taylor or Veronique's apartment for special treatment, but not before the deal was cinched.

After a month Taylor was comfortable with her role as both code writer and entrepreneur, PostPay's profits were exceeding all expectations. In fact Taylor was surprised at the influx of capital in her venture but too happy and content to question why her company's income far exceeded expectations.

She had tamed Bradley Freeman and set boundaries on their relationship. She would see him once a week for an intimate tête-à-tête. She enjoyed the coupling as much as he did and they established that the intimacy was only for mutual gratification, there were no implied or explicit pecuniary or propitious business implications.

She and Veronique worked closely together promoting PostPay and settled into a twice a week symbiotic sexual relationship.

Taylor also got to experience her first menstrual cycle and experience the joys of PMT and using tampons. She once again reflected on the trials and tribulations of being a woman. This was part becoming a woman that she would not miss when she returned to being her male self.

Two months after PostPay went live Taylor's life was turned upside down.

She was counting down the days until she would plug the USB into her old Sony Vaio and transform back into her male counterpart: the id, the life-force that was Taylor until he became a woman. Those memories and life experiences remained. It was impossible to wipe out twenty-five years living life as a man and replace them with a few months of living life as a woman, no matter how successful and exciting they have been. Taylor's core being was still that of the 'gamer in a suit', the longhaired Peter Panish skater boy with dreams of making it big with a 'shop now and pay later' app that benefited both the customer and the vendor.

Taylor took a break from the office and was sitting on the same bench in Grant Park near Buckingham Fountain where she found the USB. It seemed like a lifetime ago. A tall handsome man in a dark suit took a seat beside her, disturbing her thoughts. She was a little miffed; there were plenty of vacant benches in the park and she felt this man was invading her space.

She has become used to men hitting on her and she has also become a kind of minor celebrity amongst the technology geeks who think they have the next revolutionary app, game or online product. She's been hounded online and occasionally approached in person but this guy didn't look like a geek, he looked like a banker in his dark Brooks Brothers suit and loafers.

"You're Taylor Averille," the man turned to her and spoke without introducing himself.

He was handsome in a rugged kind of way, sort of like Sam Elliott in his forties and he had the same gritty Texas drawl blended with some California baritone that was kind of sexy.

"I'm not looking for the world's next best dating app or banking software," Taylor said dismissively.

"Well I hope not because I can't help you with that," the man smiled at her.

"Special Agent David Campbell," the man opened his jacket a little so that Taylor could see the ID clipped to the inside pocket.

Taylor felt her blood run cold but she remained calm.

"I can't see that properly, can you take it out please," she asked.

"No I can't. Not here. Please just behave like you are having a pleasant conversation with an acquaintance, it's possible that we are being watched," the Agent said, smiling like they were just engaged in a tête-à-tête.

Taylor felt lightheaded.

"Why? Who would be watching us?" she whispered.

"Never mind that for now. I'm going to stand up and walk away and you are going to wait five minutes and then take out your phone and pretend to make a call, just like you are ordering up a car. Wait another five minutes and then walk to South Columbus Drive and near the crosswalk you will see a black town car. Get in the back seat like it's the car you just ordered. Can you do that?" David Campbell said, all the time smiling like they were having a pleasant conversation.

"What if I say no," Taylor said defiantly.

"Then sometime soon when you least expect it, an FBI entry team is going to batter open the door to your apartment and you are going to be arrested by men wearing body armour, carrying high-powered weapons and they are going to cuff you and haul your ass away," he said, smiling sweetly.

Taylor began to shake.

"Try to behave naturally please. That scenario is unlikely because I know that you are a good person and that you are going to do as I ask," the agent continued to smile.

"I'm leaving now. See you in the car," he patted her knee like he was an old friend or an uncle or something.

Taylor sat still. She was stunned and all sorts of scenarios were playing out in her mind. Has FreeCom committed some Federal crime? What did the FBI investigate? Corporate fraud for sure, also intellectual property theft and embezzlement maybe? All she knew was that as far as she was concerned she had not committed a crime; unless being magically transforming from a man to a woman was a crime?

She took out her phone and saw that her hands were shaking. She fumbled, nearly dropping it but she recovered it and brought up her contact list. She scrolled through it and found her car company and pretended to call them. She knew that she was being ridiculous she could bring up any number but for some reason it was important to her that she was as authentic as possible.

Taylor took the phone from her ear after speaking to no one but pretended to order a car to pick her up. She waited five minutes and pretended that she had just received a text telling her that her car was here and she stood up and walked to South Columbus Drive. She felt like she was walking on a moving platform like the ones at the funfair where you take one step forward and two steps back, but she made it to the crosswalk and sure enough the town car was idling at the curb.

The traffic in the lane behind it was backed up and she heard an angry voice calling her a self-entitled bitch as the door opened and she climbed in. The car accelerated away so quickly that she was thrown back in her seat.

Sitting on the bench across from her was Agent Campbell trying hard to keep his eyes above her waist. Her coat was open and her legs were akimbo, her skirt had hitched up in her hurry to get into the car and the driver's expedited departure. She closed her legs, pulled down her skirt and closed her coat.

"Can I see that ID now?" Taylor said indignantly once she had gained her composure.

Agent Campbell produced a black wallet. He had put the ID card back into it and she could see the emblem of the FBI and text certifying that the signature and photograph belonged to Special Agent David Campbell. In the other compartment was a gold shield and a white card signed by the Director of the FBI charging Special Agent Campbell with the duty of investigating violations of the laws of the USA. She had never seen FBI ID before and she supposed it could easily be faked but she decided to accept that it was real for now.

"What do you want Agent Campbell? Am I under arrest?" Taylor asked.

"You are not under arrest but what I want from for you is to spend the afternoon with me while I show you something," Agent Campbell said.

"Why Agent Campbell... we have only just met," Taylor smiled salaciously.

"I'm sorry that didn't come out right," he blushed at the accidental double entendre.

Taylor felt a little more in control. She pulled out her phone and opened the calendar.

"I have a meeting with some sales executives from Nordstrom this afternoon," Taylor scrolled down through her appointment list.

"Veronique Pascal can handle that meeting. Soliciting clients is her forte anyway," Agent Campbell responded matter-of-factly.

Taylor's eyes narrowed. The FBI seemed to know a lot about her business.

"Call her and make an excuse. An old friend has arrived in Chicago unexpectedly and cold-called you on a hunch that you're in town. You haven't seen him for years and you are on your way to O'Hare to collect him and catch up; you trust her to take the meeting with Nordstrom," David Campbell smiled and once again she was reminded of Sam Elliott.

"You have this very well planned," Taylor commented.

"Of course we do; we're the FBI," David's smile widened.

"Also it will explain why you got into a town car if anyone was actually watching you."

"Don't you know?" Taylor asked.

David just shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal that he didn't.

Taylor made the call and talked about some other business with Veronique while the town car drove to O'Hare International Airport, stopping briefly at the passenger pickup point and then accelerated away. The car sped up, slowed down, changed lanes, and barely made it through changing traffic lights. It entered and left several parking garages by different entrances and exits and it was obvious to her that the driver was shaking any tail there may be.

"They probably wouldn't have had time to organise a tail but it pays to be careful," David said, anticipating Taylor's next question.

"Who are they?" Taylor was about done with the cloak and dagger routine and wanted him to get to the point.

"All in good time Taylor... is it ok if I call you Taylor?" he gave her the heartbreak smile.

"Sure, why not. We're old friends aren't we?" Taylor said smugly.

The car pulled into the underground car park of a two story nondescript concrete and steel building and Taylor and David alighted. He took her to an elevator and punched in a code that took them to the second floor. He escorted her along a dim passageway to a room that he opened using another passcode.

"So what was it you want to show me?" Taylor said.

She was invited to sit at a conference table where a laptop was plugged into an overhead projector. There was no one else in the room and there was jug of water but only two glasses in the centre of the table. Taylor figured that they were not going to be joined by anyone else.

"I'm going to show you some images, some of which will shock you but I think it's important that I put the purpose of this meeting into context," David said.

Taylor said nothing. She was apprehensive but had regained some of her composure. David took a seat and began to work the laptop.

An image appeared on a screen that had been lowered from the ceiling. It showed ten white girls standing next to a Toyota people-mover and two menacing looking, heavily tattooed white men handing a carry-bag to two smaller Hispanic men.

"This was taken outside of Nogales Arizona. The two Hispanic males have illegally transported the women across the border and are delivering the girls to two known Bratoks," David explained.

"A Bratok is a soldier in the Russian Mafia, known colloquially as the Bratva. The girls are Ukrainian nationals and arrived in Mexico on legitimate tourist visas arranged for them by an employment agency in the Ukraine and some of them think they are going to be united with family members living the US and the remainder, most of them, think they are going to find profitable employment. They know that they are entering the US illegally but at this stage they have no idea what awaits."

Taylor suddenly felt sick. She remembered the story that Veronique told her about her previous life as Katcha Kovalenko, being trafficked from the Ukraine into Germany.

"Here was an aerial picture of the Toyota Granvia stopped next to a warehouse in Phoenix. Note the line of men waiting to enter the warehouse. An FBI entry team busted into the warehouse but not until after the men had had loaded up the girls and hit the road. Inside they found that part of the warehouse had been partitioned into small cubicles containing mattresses and a bedsheets. There was evidence that the girls had been forced to entertain multiple sex partners during the two hour stopover. You see where this is going?" David said deliberately.

Taylor nodded.

"This was the girls final destination. It's a ranch just outside of Las Vegas. They had already been 'conditioned' as they call it, by the stream of men who paid to use them in the Phoenix warehouse. The girls lived in a big dormitory under the strict control of the Bratoks until they were farmed out to a string of brothels throughout Nevada and California. Some were shipped east to work in brothels there," a series of pictures showed the long barracks-style building surrounded by smaller farmhouses.

"We shut this one down but they pop up like mushrooms elsewhere across the US. As long as there are men willing to pay for sex with young pretty girls the trade will continue. Here look," a series of images of recently arrested young scantily dressed young women with soulless, dejected looks on their faces followed.

"What happens to the girls?" Taylor whispered.

"Unfortunately they are treated as illegal immigrants. The justice system grinds them up and they are deported. Some are so desperate that they go back to the employment agency and offer their services again, knowing they are going to be trafficked. The madams, usually hardened former prostitutes themselves go to jail, come out, and go back to work. The Bratoks are seldom caught," Agent Campbell sighed.

"But why are you showing me this? Why am I going to be arrested if I don't cooperate?" Taylor was close to tears.

"Look at this," David did something on the computer and a series of graphs and financial data filled the screen.

"On the left are the projected earnings of PostPay. In the middle are the reported earnings of PostPay and on the right are the unreported earnings," David pointed to each set of figures and the graphs with a laser pointer.

Taylor gasped. The unreported earnings were staggering.

"Can you guess why these figures look like they do?" David said with some finality.

Taylor was not an idiot.

"Money laundering," she sighed.

"Money laundering indeed," David patted Taylor's hand, a gesture she found strange given the circumstances.

He tapped the keyboard and the images changed.

Veronique Pascal and Bradley Freeman are dining with a very handsome man whose face was disfigured by a scar that runs down the left side of his face from forehead to chin. In another image they are standing at the bar of a swank restaurant drinking with the brute of a man. They are smiling. In another, Pascal is getting out of car and the big man is getting out the other side.

"Alexi Kamerov, Brigadier in the New York Bratva; came to the USA seven years ago. Veronique Pascal arrived one year later on a Green Card. Her permanent residency status allowed her to enter into business with Bradley Freeman. They are tied to several other subsidiaries of FreeCom that we suspect are also laundering money for the Bratva," David clicked the mouse and the screen went blank.

"But I didn't know," Taylor was crying now.

"I believe you Taylor but the prosecutor's office will have no problems proving to a judge and jury that your rags to riches story only transpired because you allowed your startup to be used for money laundering. Not only that but the worst kind. The money is the proceeds of human trafficking and sexual slavery," David said dryly.

Taylor took a packet of tissues from her purse and dabbed at her eyes.

"Ok David. I'm not stupid. What do I have to do to stay out of jail?" Taylor straightened up in her seat and looked directly at David.

To be continued