SCARLET by Jessica Drew Part 8 Now reunited with Rivers, Sam learns more about the Agency's deceitful plan. But can he really trust his partner again after all that has happened? * * * * * * * * * *

Mike Rivers walked behind Sam as they climbed the two flights of stairs leading up to the hotel room, the old wooden steps creaking ominously as they ascended. He gently patted at his bruised eye with a handkerchief as he watched Sam’s white ruffled skirt swishing enticingly against his backside. From his lower angle he could almost see up to his panties.

“You know, you could have picked somewhere a little nicer.” Rivers’ eyes roamed the dark, narrow hallway as they made their way along to Sam’s room. Sam had checked himself into a cheap hotel room just across the street from the jazz club, though it left a lot to be desired.

Sam looked back at Rivers coldly as he wiggled the key against the rattling lock.

“Do you need some help with that?” Rivers stepped forwards.

“I’ve got it.” Sam quickly answered, his feminine voice sounding irritated.

The door shuddered in its frame as it opened. Rivers followed Sam through into a small, dimly lit room, a single lamp illuminating the corner by the bed and little else. The first thing he noticed was a laptop on the floor, its screen smashed. He turned, closing the door behind them before kneeling down to pick it up.

“Good to see you’re looking after your things…”

Rivers set the laptop back down onto the bed, noticing his own black briefcase which housed the Agency’s transference device. He looked back to Sam, his pretty blonde face looking distant as he sat himself down onto the bed, his skirt fanning beneath him.

Rivers rubbed at his head and exhaled. “Okay, I guess it’s time you knew.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam sat expectantly, toying absently with the ends of his blonde hair which draped down over his shoulders, following the curve of his breasts. The lamp light cast a long shadow of his feminine form across the bed.

Although he felt mostly sober now, Sam felt tired and wanted desperately to roll over and fall asleep, preferably not waking up until he had been swapped back into his own body. But he had to hear Rivers out. He had to know the truth about what the Agency had done.

Sam looked up, watching as Rivers slid out of his torn, damp jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. He began to pace, his shoes thudding loudly against the floorboards.

“Can you not do that?” Sam spoke up with his French accented voice, “You give me neck ache when you walk around like that.”

“Hmm? Oh, right.” Rivers grabbed the wooden chair, turning it around to sit opposite Sam. Sam watched his brown eyes darting, never quite looking him in the eye. Rivers slapped his hands down onto his thighs. “Right, okay… Let’s see… The beginning… “

Sam sat patiently, without interrupting, as Rivers spoke.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam sat with his head in his hands, rubbing at his tired eyes, his blonde hair draping down around him. His head felt like it was swimming, overloaded with more information than he could process. He replayed what Rivers had just told him, trying his best to make sense of it.

As he had suspected from the laptop footage, it had been Agency scientists, and not Scarlet, that had hit upon the scientific breakthrough of transference of consciousness between two individuals.

Rivers had told of how the Agency had been at once excited, and fearful, of what they now had in their hands. Excited that the world of espionage had opened up before them; like a curtain being lifted, beyond which lay a sea of new possibilities. Fearful, that the technology would not be contained, that their efforts would soon be duplicated or fall into enemy hands. It was like any other arms race that would soon escalate; whether it was knives, firearms or the atom; though rather than the impending threat of a nuclear winter, there would be a world in which no-one could be sure of who their neighbors really were; an intense paranoia that unchecked could be just as devastating.

In short, it had the potential for anarchy.

“And this research was legal? Government approved?” Sam spoke up at last, his voice small and quiet.

Rivers looked at Sam, rolling his eyes. “What do you think?”

Sam sighed, his breasts swelling beneath his figure hugging pink top. “Okay, so why me? And why wasn’t I told about any of this? And don’t give me any more of this ‘need to know’ bullshit, okay?”

Rivers’ eyes flickered downwards to Sam’s chest, then back up to meet his gaze. “The Agency scientists found out the hard way that not everyone can be swapped. As you can imagine the trauma on the mind and body is pretty intense. Only individuals of a certain psychological profile can survive it.”

“A certain profile?” Sam rubbed at his hands. He’d never considered himself particularly out of the ordinary.

“Let’s just say, you have to be a little crazy to start with. That’s the way the shrink explained it to me. It turns out… all that nervousness you carry with you? It makes you a perfect candidate. Your mind and body are used to dealing with the elevated levels of adrenalin and neurotransmitter chemicals that the swap induces.”

Sam thought back to the start of the mission in Monaco, how nervous he had been smuggling the equipment into the casino, how his life had flashed before his eyes when Antoinette had aimed her gun at him. He’d always known that his nerves had held him back as an agent.

“So what happens if you’re not…”

“Crazy?” Rivers smiled at Sam. “I don’t know. Brain aneurysm. Something like that. It wasn’t pretty.” Sam watched as Rivers gazed past him to the window, lost in his memories.

“I can’t believe this.” Sam absently stretched out his fingers, looking down at his faded pink fingernails. “Okay, so I’m crazy enough to be swapped. And Antoinette?”

“A perfect match.”

“So why not just bring me in on the plan?” Sam asked incredulously, “Surely that would have been better than all of this?”

“I wanted to. Believe me, I tried. The Agency had to test the technology in the field, and you were the only one on the Agency payroll who measured up. The only problem was you’re a Third-Class agent. The top brass could barely conceal their contempt when I was brought in on the plan, let alone you. There’s not a whole lot of people they trust with this sort of thing.”

“What did they think I was going to do? Start telling the whole world about it?”

“Maybe. And if you did, it would be better that you blamed Scarlet for it and not the Agency. Let’s not forget, you’re the same guy who failed to submit his relationship details to the Agency, and coded in his own security hole into the network. You haven’t exactly proven yourself in the trust-worthy stakes.”

Sam felt his anger rising. He stood up from the bed, pointing a finger down at Rivers, his voice shrill and strong with his French accent. “Don’t you turn this around on me! I’m not the bad guy here!”

Rivers smirked, “Actually you’re not even a guy anymore.”

“That’s it, I’ve heard enough.” Sam held up his hands, restraining himself from the strong urge to hit Rivers. His heels clicked as he strode indignantly towards the door, his bare legs brushing together, his breasts bobbing beneath his top. He pulled the door back open, the handle almost coming off in his hand. “Get out!”

“Sam, come on.” Rivers got up from his chair. “I’m sorry about what I did. I… I guess I’d just got too used to following Agency orders. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Sam stood by the open door, folding his arms impatiently across his chest. Rivers stood in a dark silhouette from the light of the lamp behind him. He stepped forward, his darkened face coming into focus once more, his eyes looking pleadingly down at Sam.

“When the Agency find out I’ve dropped off the grid to help you, my ass is gonna be busted down to Second-Class quicker than you can say “au revoir”. I came here to help you!”

“Oh, well I’m glad this has proven to be a career-ruining experience for you, as opposed to the life ruining experience it’s proving to be for me!”

Rivers reached out, placing his hands on Sam’s bare shoulders. Sam quickly shrugged away from his grip.

“Sam, it’s not over. We can still find Antoinette and get your body back. Then we can both tell the Agency where to stick it.”

“Well you’ve certainly changed your tune from earlier.” Sam remembered back to Gabriella’s house in Civitavecchia, how Rivers had been all ready to turn him over to the Agency. “Look, you said you knew the download location? A mansion? Just tell me where it is and get out of my life already!”

Rivers placed his hand on the door, slowly pushing it shut once more. “You’re not going there alone. If you want to know where the mansion is, you’re just gonna have to work with me on this.”

“I don’t need your help. I’m warning you Mike, don’t make me call someone up here. I imagine I can scream pretty damn good now.”

“Oh come one. Setting those bouncers on me was a pretty smart move, but that fat guy on reception? Just getting up the stairs would be enough to finish him off.”

“Fine, well I’m leaving then.” Sam turned from Rivers, his hair brushing over his shoulders and back.

“And where are you going to go exactly? You’ve got no money, no car. Not even a change of panties.”

Sam stopped and closed his eyes. He hated Rivers for being right. He sensed Rivers come up close behind him, not touching him this time, but speaking more softly now.

“The mansion is out in the country… Just north of Rome. Come on, what do you say? Let’s do this together, one last time.”

Sam opened his eyes, looking down at the floor, reaching down to brush at a mark on his white skirt. He felt frustratingly helpless. Like it or not, Rivers held the vital piece of information that he was missing — the location of the database theft, and with it, his body. He turned his head, speaking back to Rivers from over his shoulder.

“Alright, but we’re still not finished here okay?”

Rivers kept his face neutral, holding up his hands innocently. “Whatever you say, but… can we get out of here now? It’s like the Bates’ motel in here. We can get a cab from here to my hotel.”

“Fine.” Sam reached for the door, “But you can carry the cases.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam sat next to Rivers in the back of the cab, his throbbing head resting against the window, absently watching as the street lights flickered past. He could make out the ghost of his own feminine reflection staring back at him in the darkness beyond. He felt cold. Cold and alone. He could hear Rivers exhaling and drumming his fingers impatiently against the seat next to him.

Sam turned to Rivers, wiping a stray strand of blonde hair away from his cheek. “Do you know, you haven’t once asked me how I am. How I’m feeling…”

Sam had been through so much since the swap, and most of it Rivers still had no idea about, nor did he seem particularly interested. Not that Sam would want to divulge all of the details of what he had endured. But that wasn’t the point.

Rivers sighed, looking ahead to the Italian driver as he weaved in and out of the traffic, making sure he wasn’t listening too closely to their conversation.

“There’s just been too much going on. I haven’t had an easy time of things either you know.” He turned to look at Sam.

“You put me on that yacht, knowing full well what lay ahead of me. What would be expected of me. And still nothing? Not even a shred of concern?”

“Sam, you’re a big girl now. What do you want me to do? Put an arm around you and tell you “there, there”, and that things will get better?”

Sam shook his head as he turned back to the window.

“Forget it.”

He could feel a cold shiver working its through his body at Rivers’ use of the word ‘girl’. He looked down, his hair curtaining past his face, watching as his breasts shook with the motion of the car. Was it really so hard for Rivers to see past his body?

Sam rubbed at his bare shoulders.

Maybe he did just need to be told that things would be okay.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey, the Colleseum is coming up on the left.” Rivers repositioned himself in the back seat of the cab, peering out to catch a glimpse of one of his favorite European landmarks by night. He turned to look at Sam, who sat motionless, his arms folded, looking straight ahead. “Trust me, you’re gonna want to see this.”

Sam turned, his blue eyes casting a withering look at Rivers.

“You know, you have a really good pout,” Rivers sighed, leaning back again in his seat. He had to admit, he had probably pushed things too far with Sam. It was just that Sam had never been so damn emotional before, making it harder to gauge how he was going to react. He was going to have to come up with a different approach to win him back round.

As they drove, Rivers could not help but think back to Civitavecchia and the moment when Sam had stunned him by dressing in provocative lingerie. The same lingerie, Rivers noted, that Sam still wore under his pink top and white skirt. Sam had then seduced him, using every ounce of his French, blonde sex appeal to catch him off guard. He could still recall the feel of Sam’s panty-covered loins against his bulge, his breasts pressing into his chest. Even when he had realised that it had been a trick, Rivers had been left awestruck at Sam’s newfound confidence with his feminine body. It was certainly a far cry from the nervous girl he had kissed in the bar back at the casino.

The change in Sam had been partly responsible for Rivers’ deciding against turning him over to the Agency. Before, Rivers had considered it would be for Sam’s own good, to keep him out of the way, so that he would not be a danger to himself or the operation. But now, Rivers had witnessed first-hand a fierce drive and determination in Sam that he had never seen before. He had almost been convinced when Sam had said that he didn’t need any help. He could almost believe that Sam could go through with the whole thing on his own.

Of course, this difference in Sam also had the adverse effect of making him even more attractive to Rivers.

Rivers gave a lingering, side-long glance at Sam. His tits looked even larger from the side than they did from the front. His eyes drifted over Sam’s bare legs, down to the white high heeled sandals that he wore on his small feet. He could not help but also notice the fresh pink gloss that shone from his luscious lips with each passing street light. It was getting harder than ever to think of Sam as a man.

Maybe he was going about things all wrong with Sam. If Sam looked like a girl, talked like a girl, and acted like a girl, then Rivers needed to start treating him like one.

Women were, after all, Rivers’ specialist subject.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers stepped out of the cab, draping his torn suit jacket across one shoulder. He stopped, looking past the iron gates ahead of him, to the courtyard of the Hotel de Russie beyond, smiling to himself at the extravagance that he would charge direct to his Agency credit card.

“This is more like it, huh?” Rivers stepped around to the other side of the car to help Sam out, only to find him already teetering up the steps towards the entrance of the hotel. Rivers stopped, watching as his blonde partner strode through the open gates, oblivious to the wandering eyes of the immaculately dressed doorman that stood guard. His heels clicked noisily against the cobbled stone work, his hips jerking from side to side, his blonde hair swishing across his back.

“You a lucky man, you treat her good, yes?” The cab driver came up beside Rivers, looking with him towards Sam and the hotel’s entrance.

“I’ll try.” Rivers turned to the driver, producing his leather wallet from his back pocket, offering a generous tip.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam stepped through into the brightly lit hotel suite, his heels echoing on the marble flooring. Immediately he was drawn to the view which stretched out before him. Glass slide-doors led out to a terrace which overlooked the night-lit vista of Rome. He cupped his hands, peering out through the glass into the darkness beyond, before turning, marvelling at the grand paintings that lined the high walls. It was like a small, self-contained apartment with a separate lounge, bedroom and bathroom. No expense had been spared.

“I guess it’s a little nicer than my place,” Sam admitted, running his hand along a mahogany sideboard.

Rivers tipped the bellboy as he deposited their cases in the centre of the reception room, before escorting the young man back out.

“All courtesy of the Agency!” Rivers beamed as he closed the door, walking over to stand beside Sam.

Sam looked up at him. Maybe Rivers had actually meant what he’d said about “sticking it” to the Agency. “They’ll go mad when they get the bill.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Sam felt Rivers’ hand graze lightly at his lower back as he excused himself, walking over to a sideboard to discard his jacket.

“Hey, champagne!”

Sam jumped at the sound of the cork popping, bringing a hand to his chest as he caught his breath. Rivers walked back over, offering Sam a bubbling glass.

“What’s the occasion?” Sam’s long fingernails clicked against the crystal as he reached out to take the glass.

“Well, the card over there says “happy honeymoon”, but I’m not sure you’d be quite into that…”

“No.” Sam cut across him quickly. He looked down at the glass, the smell of the alcohol turning his stomach. His head was still sore from the red wine that he had consumed earlier and he was in no mood for Rivers’ joviality.

Sam stepped through into the lounge area and set the glass down onto a low table set between a pair of expensively upholstered couches. He straightened, turning to find Rivers standing in the entrance way, watching him. Sam could feel his cheeks blushing and tugged at the hem of his white skirt, wondering whether he had exposed himself when he had bent over. He quickly filled the awkward silence between them. “So tell me about Antoinette, why did the Agency want me to swap with her?”

“They didn’t. Not at first anyway.” Rivers took a gulp of his champagne. “Having you infiltrate Carlos Ramirez’s yacht was always the original plan. The Agency were thinking you would swap with either Gaul or Maria Ramirez.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief and smoothed his skirt, sitting himself down onto one of the plush couches. “I’m not sure which of those would be worse.” He kept his legs together, turning them to one side to reach down, beginning to unbuckle the ankle-straps of his white high-heeled sandals.

“Well, lucky for you then that it didn’t end there.” Rivers sat down opposite Sam, placing his champagne glass onto the table between them. “The Agency found out that Scarlet had a similar idea and were also in the process of slipping an agent into Carlos Ramirez’s operation.”

“Antoinette.” Sam discarded his heels and rubbed at the balls of his feet, before sliding his legs up beside him on the couch.

Rivers leant back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “They found out that she would be posing as a sex-slave. For the Agency it was too good an opportunity to miss. They could swap you with Antoinette and still infiltrate Ramirez’s yacht. It would be even better for you. As Antoinette you would be a newcomer, and not expected to be as familiar with Ramirez as you would have posing as Gaul or Maria. And, of course, there was the added bonus that we would get a confused, frightened Scarlet agent in return, trapped in your body, hopefully willing to spill all her secrets to get her own body back.”

“I take it that didn’t quite go to plan.” Sam slid a loose bra strap back over his shoulder, tucking it under the thin spaghetti strap of his pink vest-top. He noticed Rivers’ gaze drifting, and quickly brought his hand back to his lap.

“Looking back now, it was all too convenient,” Rivers continued, his eyes once again meeting Sam’s. “A Scarlet agent coming in at the same moment as us, a perfect candidate for the swap, her psyche profile checks out and everything... She was playing us. Right from the beginning.”

“So she knew about the device? That you planned to swap us?”

“Had to be. She was too confident, too in control for it to be anything else.” Rivers leant forwards, reaching for his glass to take another sip. “She wanted what you had up here.” Rivers tapped at his forehead with his free hand.

“My computer codes…” Sam’s heart sank.

“That’s how she got away from us. She’s good. Really good.” Rivers looked away, tapping at his glass.

“But how did she even know I had a back door to the network. Not even you guys knew that.”

“I don’t know, there’s still more to this that we haven’t figured out yet.”

Sam closed his eyes. “This whole thing is making my head hurt. All I know is that I don’t trust anyone right now.”

“The Agency is on the brink of being exposed to the world.” Rivers voice was grave. “I know you don’t give a shit about that anymore, but you should. Scarlet are anarchists, they want the United States to get caught with its pants down. When the world finds out that a low level, secretive organization like the Agency exists, that they’ve been using mind switching technology, it’s going to destabilize everything.”

Sam sighed, leaning his head against one hand, his long blonde hair falling to the side. “I just want my body back.”

“That’s fine. Either way we’re after the same man.” Rivers stood up, draining the last of the champagne from his glass.

“You mean ‘woman’,” Sam corrected.

Rivers ignored him, his eyes roaming across the length of Sam’s folded legs.

“Rivers?” Sam cleared his throat, directing Rivers’ attention upwards once more. “Why are you not turning me over to the Agency?”

Rivers looked down at the floor, thinking for a moment.

“I figured you deserve a shot at this asshole.”

Sam watched as Rivers turned, heading back out of the lounge, his footsteps slow and weary.

“We should get some rest,” Rivers called back, stretching his arms out beside him, “Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam idly wandered the apartment, his bare feet padding against the smooth flooring, his white skirt bouncing gently at his hips. In the main reception area, he found a touch-screen panel that seemed to control everything from the lighting to the TV. He found himself naturally drawn to the technology, and absently played with it, using it to remotely draw the curtains. Setting the device back down, he carried on, his curiosity leading him to an open door and the darkened room that lay beyond.

Sam pulled the cord, the bathroom suite brightly illuminating before him, causing him to bring a hand up to shield his sensitive eyes. He stepped forward, noticing immediately the generously sized hot tub, and a large walk-through shower off to the side. A large mirror stretched across the entire width of one wall, below which were a pair of matching white wash basins.

Despite all the luxury and extravagance surrounding him, Sam was drawn, as always, to his reflection. He stepped slowly forwards. His face looked young and vulnerable, his blue eyes wide and innocent. His blonde hair hung in unkempt waves across his shoulders and back.

Sam gripped the edge of one of the sinks with his feminine hands and leaned in closer to the mirror.

He was beginning to forget what he really looked like. Something so simple, that everyone took for granted. As a man, Sam didn’t even spend that much time in front of a mirror. A cursory glance before leaving the apartment, to make sure his hair looked okay. Nothing more. And yet, he was so intimately familiar with how he looked, a sense of self hat he carried with him wherever he went.

Instead, he was starting to become more used to the young woman that now stared back at him from the mirror, his own male identity seeming to slip away with each hour, like a fading photograph.

Sam looked down, noticing a large wicker hamper set beside the left-most sink. There was a card attached.

“Happy honeymoon,” Sam read aloud, unamused, turning the card over in his small hand.

He carefully unlatched the hamper, the wicker-work creaking upwards as it opened. It was full to the brim with men’s and women’s toiletries, cologne, perfumes, even make-up. Sam sorted through and pulled out a small hairbrush, bringing it to his tangled mess of hair. He had to do something with it before he went to bed, otherwise he’d run the risk of a bird setting up nest in there overnight. He began to brush through his long hair, wincing as a tangle caught.

Sam began to think of what Rivers had said earlier, how he had changed his mind about turning him over to the Agency, and that he thought he deserved a chance to find Antoinette. The truth was, Sam wasn’t even sure he was that angry with Antoinette anymore, despite his eagerness to find her and swap back to his own body. It had been Rivers and the Agency that had used Sam like a puppet for their unethical experiments. Why wasn’t he giving Rivers a harder time about that?

“Because he’s manipulating you,” Sam concluded at last. It was true — Rivers seemed to have a way with words, spinning everything with a wink and a grin. He’d never really noticed it before, but Rivers had a natural charm that was all too easy to get swept up in.

“Ow!” Sam felt his hair tugging sharply at his scalp. He set the hair brush down and used his fingernails to gently tease apart some matted blonde hair.

Sam decided he had let Rivers off too easily. He was still playing his cards close to his chest by withholding the location of the database theft, and he had been less than forthcoming about the details of Antoinette’s escape. Sam could feel his heart beating faster. He looked determinedly back at his feminine reflection, tossing his smooth hair back over his shoulders.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam could hear Rivers in the bedroom and strode through the short corridor from the bathroom, his bare feet silent against the plush carpet, his wide hips jerking beneath his short white skirt. He stopped when he reached the open door, a hand resting on the door frame, standing silent and unnoticed.

The room was tastefully lit and modern, with a silver-sheeted king-size bed positioned in the middle of the room and a matching sofa-bed off to one side. Rivers had his back to Sam and kicked off each of his muddied Italian leather shoes in turn. He unclasped his wrist watch and set it down onto the bedside table. Sam glimpsed Rivers’ face from the side, noticing that he seemed different. His usual energetic charisma seemed to have slipped, as if the weight of all of the world’s problems had suddenly landed upon his shoulders.

Sam could not help but feel a sudden empathy for his friend. Rivers had said that things hadn’t been easy for him either, and Sam realised that he hadn’t even thought to ask what he had been through. He had been too caught up in feeling sorry for himself.

Sam continued to silently watch as Rivers unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, slipping his arms out one by one. His broad bare shoulders and back flexed with his movements. Sam could clearly see the tight, toned muscles of his shoulders shifting beneath his flesh.

Rivers looked up towards the mirror that sat atop a mahogany vanity table. He immediately noticed Sam’s reflection in the doorway behind him.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t see you there,” Rivers turned back towards Sam. “Admiring the view were you?” Rivers’ expression changed in an instant, his eyes sparkling with mischief once more.

Sam felt his cheeks flush red as Rivers stepped forwards, still topless, his pectoral muscles flexing. Sam’s heart was beating fast and he struggled to keep his eyes looking up at Rivers’ face.

“…You wish,” Sam blustered in his feminine French accented voice, “I was just wondering where you were going to sleep, seeing as there’s only the one bed.” Sam perched his hands on his hips, silently cursing himself. Rivers had caught him off guard and yet again derailed his train of thought.

“Same as always,” Rivers pressed down on the bed causing his biceps to pump, the tight springs of the bed creaking. “One at either end?”

“I’m not sharing with you. Not like this.” Sam folded his arms across his chest as he looked up at Rivers. Without his high heels on, Rivers seemed taller than ever.

“Afraid I might try something?” Rivers grinned back down at him.

Sam looked away, his cheeks burning now.

Rivers lifted his chin gently upwards with a finger. “Hey, relax, okay? There’s a sofa-bed here. I’ll sleep on that if it makes you feel better.”

Rivers turned back towards the bed, reaching down to pick up a neatly folded bundle of clothing. “Here,” Rivers tossed the bundle to Sam. “Complimentary PJ’s!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he unfolded the garment. Knowing Rivers it was probably some see-through negligee designed to embarrass him further. He was instead pleasantly surprised to find a light blue t-shirt and matching boxer briefs.

Rivers unfolded a matching blue set for himself and set it down onto the bed, before grasping his belt buckle, unthreading the leather belt from around his waist.

“I… uh, I’ll get changed in the bathroom then.” Sam awkwardly held the pajamas to his chest and turned, keeping his head down as he hurried back out of the bedroom.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam stood once more in front of the bathroom sink, his tired blue eyes looking back at him from the mirror. His pink painted lips were hung slightly open as his gaze drifted downwards to his breasts which rose and fell beneath his figure hugging pink top. He crossed his arms one over the other and gripped the bottom of the garment, pulling it up and over his head in one fluid movement, being careful to pull his long blonde hair free.

What the hell was all that about? Why had he been unable to simply walk up to Rivers and say what was on his mind? Instead he had been left looking like a silly little school girl, sent off to bed by her father.

Sam irritably tossed his pink top to one side, his cleavage swelling within the revealing cups of his satin and lace brassiere. He reached behind, finding the clasp, unclipping it with ease. He sighed, feeling the pressure release on his chest as he peeled the bra from his shoulders. He watched in the mirror as his naked breasts jostled gently on his chest.

Sam’s breasts were full and round, with large aureole, his pink nipples standing to attention in the air conditioned room. He turned, looking sideways into the mirror, wondering if they sagged too much. It probably couldn’t be helped considering their size. Sam ran his hands down over his flat stomach. He had barely eaten over the last few days and felt like he had lost a little weight.

Sam breathed in and reached behind for the zipper of his skirt, using his long fingernails to his advantage now. He lowered the zip, feeling the ruffled skirt sliding down over his wide hips, finally landing in a puddle at his feet.

From the mirror he could now see the lacy waist band of his lilac thong, along with the small pink bow at its centre. He could feel the string of the thong between his buttocks, though he was by now starting to become more used to it. Sam hooked his thumbs into the waist band and slid the panties over his hips, lifting each leg in turn to pull them from his feminine feet.

Now naked, Sam laid out the t-shirt and briefs onto the side next to the sink. He would be glad to not have to wear something feminine for a change; to not to have his tits on show, or to have to worry about whether anyone could see up his skirt.

Sam held out the blue cotton briefs and stepped into them, sliding them up his long bare legs. As he pulled them up over his thighs, he realised that they were a tighter cut than he had realised, finding that they stretched snuggly around his wide hips and round backside. The leg openings were also cut short, leaving most of his legs exposed. Sam saw in the mirror that there was no give in the crotch. Instead they seemed to pinch inwards between his legs. Sam turned, looking over his shoulder into the mirror. He was at least relieved to find his backside fully covered by the briefs, though he was left in no doubt that they were designed specifically for a woman. Sam smoothed his hands over the curve of his buttocks, turning his attention now to the matching light blue top.

Sam bunched the t-shirt up and first threaded each of his slender arms through, before slipping it over his head. Once he had threaded his hair through, Sam tugged the shirt downwards over his body. He found to his dismay that the t-shirt was cut differently as well. It was wider at the top, following the curve of his breasts and pinched inwards at the waist. As if he needed any more attention to be drawn to that region, the hotel’s logo was now emblazoned in gold lettering across his chest. Sam could also make out the small bump of each of his nipples beneath the top.

The upside was that the pajamas felt snug and comfortable, the soft cotton feeling particularly nice against his bare skin. Sam looked back to his blonde reflection in the mirror, his hands resting on his hips. He looked like a teenage girl ready for a slumber party.

Sam reached into the hamper where he had found the hairbrush earlier, finding a navy blue elasticated band. He scooped his blonde hair backwards, threading it through the band, pulling it through into a ponytail once more.

It was then that he heard a knock at the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey Sam, can I come in?” Rivers called through the bathroom door. He waited, listening closely for Sam’s soft, French accented voice.

“Yes… It’s not locked.”

Rivers smiled to himself. Not locked? Sam couldn’t have been too worried about whether he would be walked in on. He turned the handle and pushed inwards, his eyes adjusting to the brighter lighting.

He saw Sam directly in front of him, bending forwards slightly in front of one of the sinks as he cupped running water with his hands, splashing it to his face. He was now dressed in the hotel’s pajamas which pleasingly hugged his feminine curves. His ass looked particularly delicious in the blue briefs from where he was leant over.

Rivers walked up to the sink beside Sam, leaning in to the mirror to check his still swollen eye. He himself now wore the men’s variant of the hotel’s pajama set; a loose fitting blue t-shirt with the Hotel de Russie logo, along with a matching baggy pair of briefs that ended mid-thigh.

He looked back to Sam from the mirror, noticing how the t-shirt moulded itself to his firm breasts, the outline of his nipples clearly visible.

“You look… comfortable,” Rivers remarked.

Sam pressed a white hand towel to his face, patting it dry, before looking over at Rivers through the reflection of the mirror.

“I think mine must have shrunk in the wash.”

Rivers smiled, then looked down, catching sight of the clothing that Sam had left strewn across the floor. “What did I say about looking after your things?” He crouched down, scooping up Sam’s pink top, his skirt…

His panties.

Rivers stood upright, Sam’s lilac thong hanging from his outstretched index finger.

“Give me that!” Sam quickly snatched the clothing from Rivers’ hands, setting the garments down onto the side next to the sink. He tucked his panties and bra underneath the small bundle of feminine clothing.

Rivers watched as Sam’s cheeks once again flushed bright red. It was getting almost too easy to embarrass his female partner.

* * * * * * * * * *

As they brushed their teeth together, Sam couldn’t help but be amazed at the sight before him in the mirror. It was a scene that had played out a hundred times before, in a hundred different hotel rooms, both of them lost in their own thoughts about the mission ahead.

Except this time it was different.

Sam looked up to Rivers, his masculine physique dwarfing Sam’s petite female body. It was amazing how something as simple as gender could bring about such a huge change in perspective. Everything from the way he walked and sat, to the clothes he wore, to the way he related to other people and the way they treated him.

Sam stared at Rivers’ stubble flecked face, his hazel colored eyes looking long and hard at his own reflection, as if he was having an inner conversation with himself.

Even his own partner seemed to barely acknowledge that he used to be a man.

Used to be…

Sam’s gaze returned to his own feminine face, pondering the significance.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers patted the pillow down onto the sofa bed and climbed beneath the silver patterned sheets. His body still ached from the hours he’d spent on the road, cooped up in the tight confines of the Lamborghini. He groaned and repositioned himself, the mattress feeling hard and uncomfortable beneath him.

Rivers looked over to Sam. He looked small, lying there alone in the king size bed, the silver sheets pulled tightly up under his chin.

“Comfortable?” Sam spoke, his pretty face smiling down at Rivers.

“It’s perfect. I never needed my spine anyway…”

Sam laughed. Rivers hadn’t heard that laugh in a long while, so lilting and feminine, bringing an endearing beauty to his feminine features.

“Well, I’m gonna have to turn out the light before I pass out.” Sam yawned, reaching for the lamp cord beside the bed.

“Sure. Goodnight Sam.” Rivers smiled back at Sam, fixing the image of the blonde beauty in his mind before it disappeared to the darkness.

“Goodnight,” Rivers heard Sam’s voice reply from out of the dark.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam rolled onto his side, pulling the covers tightly around him, his eyelids finally yielding to his tiredness. His ponytail lay across the pillow behind him, keeping his hair away from his face.

It was the first time that he’d gone to bed in days, and not felt petrified; whether it was from being locked in his room on the yacht by Gaul, or forced to sleep between the naked bodies of Carlos and Maria Ramirez.

His active mind still raced with worry about what lay ahead for them, but for now, he knew he was safe, with Rivers sleeping only a few feet away from him on the sofa bed.

He still had so much he wanted to say to Rivers, but he just didn’t have the strength of will to argue with him anymore. Not tonight anyway.

Sam brought his legs up towards him, curling into a fetal position. His figure-hugging pajamas stretched with his movement, the soft cotton sliding against his sensitive skin.

Perhaps some things were best left unsaid. After all, he just had to work with Rivers for a little longer to help him get his body back. There would be plenty of time afterwards to give Rivers a piece of his mind.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers lay on his back, staring up to the ceiling, his fingers laced behind his head. His eyes had begun to adjust to the dark a little, his vision bathing the room in a hazy black and white static.

It had been about fifteen minutes now since he’d said goodnight to Sam. He had listened out for Sam’s movements in the bed, his breathing. He had to be nearly asleep by now.

It was time for Rivers to make his move.

Despite all that he’d put Sam through already, Rivers couldn’t resist the urge to toy with his transgendered friend a little more. It was just in his nature. It was who he was.

“Sam?” Rivers called out quietly into the dark.

“Mmm?” A feminine groan came from the bed next to Rivers.

“Are you still awake?”

“No…”

“Good. I just wanted to let you know...”

“Huh?”

“I wanted to tell you… I’m sorry about what I said earlier… in the cab.”

Rivers listened, his eyes darting. There was a pause and he heard Sam reposition himself beneath the covers of the king size bed, turning towards Rivers’ sofa bed.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Sam’s voice was muffled and sounded achingly tired.

“I imagine you had to do some pretty awful things on the yacht…”

“I was just doing what I had to do…” Sam breathed a heavy sigh, his feminine voice barely audible now, “What any agent would…”

“What any female agent would, you mean.”

There was more silence. Rivers gently bit down on his lip, stifling a grin. It was true then. Sam had had sex with Carlos Ramirez in Antoinette’s body. Things were looking up. As far as Rivers could tell, his chances of bedding his sexy blonde partner had just gone up drastically.

“You’re coping really well, you know. The way you’re accepting and embracing your femininity. It’s definitely the right way to be going about things.”

“What?”

Rivers noticed the shadow of Sam’s head rise up from the pillow.

“It’s true. I mean, look at that stunt you pulled back in Civitevecchia. I could see the look in your eyes. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

A couple of minutes more silence.

“Mike? What you said back then. Did you mean it?” Sam’s feminine voice was clearer now.

“What?”

“You said you’d been…uh… thinking about it…”

Rivers smiled. At last he’d taken the bait. “Sam… There’s something you need to realise. Who you were a few days ago… That isn’t who you are now. You need to realise, you’re not a man anymore…”

He paused for emphasis.

“…You’re a woman.”

Rivers heard Sam quickly turn back over in his bed, away from Rivers, sweeping the covers up over his head. Rivers settled himself back into the sofa bed.

Mission accomplished.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam’s whole body shook with a shiver that ran from his shoulders down to the base of his spine. He couldn’t believe it. His own partner, his friend… had practically just admitted to…

To wanting to…

Sam pulled the covers tighter around himself, feeling his flesh goosebump, his nipples inadvertently hardening beneath the cotton of his t-shirt.

Of course, Rivers had said as much in Civitavecchia, though Sam had managed to convince himself that he’d just said it in the heat of the moment.

But no, it appeared that Rivers had no qualms about having sex with someone who used to be a guy.

Used to be…

The words came to Sam again, the shiver spreading deeper throughout his body now, vibrating down through his thighs and loins.

Sam closed his eyes, finally feeling himself slipping away into a troubled sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam was running.

Running from the masked man that had haunted his dreams ever since he had swapped into Antoinette’s female body. The figure was almost upon him now, emerging from the white smoke that billowed up around him.

Sam slipped.

Damn heels.

He fell forwards onto the floor, struggling to get back up, but his body felt too heavy. Too heavy to move. He tried to crawl, his feet skidding beneath him.

It was too late.

Sam rolled onto his back, watching as the masked man came into focus. He saw now that the man wore a heavy breathing mask and was dressed in black fatigues.

The Scarlet soldier from the yacht.

He had finally found him.

The soldier knelt down before Sam, looming up over him. Sam cried out, his female voice weak and barely heard in the void surrounding him. He could see a pair of eyes looking down at him through the window of the mask, his breath sounding mechanical through the breathing apparatus.

Sam futilely pushed at his chest as the man positioned himself above Sam, his gloved hands pushing Sam’s bare thighs open.

“No please!” Sam quivered, his breasts heaving on his chest.

The masked man looked down, fumbling with his belt. Sam struggled again with every ounce of strength, but was powerless to stop the man as he pulled Sam’s skirt upwards.

Sam stared deep into the unblinking eyes behind the mask as he felt a domed, blunt pressure against his vagina. It pressed forwards, Sam’s pink outer lips yielding, betraying him, taking the man deep inside of his body.

Sam’s back arched and he gasped as the man worked his way in. He slid back, then lunged forwards a second time, pressing in tight all the way. Sam’s whole body jerked upwards with his powerful thrust. He began slowly, his breath still wheezing beneath the mask as he silently began to fuck Sam, his gloved hands holding his legs apart.

Sam had to make it stop. He reached to the man’s mask, pulling at the straps that held it to his face, finally dislodging it, the attacker’s face revealed at last…

Carlos Ramirez!

Sam could smell the ash on his breath as his yellowed teeth grinned, his hips still rocking against Sam’s body, his cock burying deep into Sam’s defenceless pussy.

Sam closed his eyes.

He would endure it.

He was doing what he had to do. What any agent would…

Any female agent…

He opened his eyes again, his shrill voice gasping. The figure had now changed! Instead of Ramirez’s leering grimace, it was now Joseph’s warm disarming eyes looking down at him, his naked, muscular body beaded with sweat as he worked his cock harder into Sam’s body.

Sam gasped with relief, his pussy beginning to flood with lubrication now, allowing Joseph’s shaft to slide effortlessly between the tight lips of his vagina. His large hands groped at Sam’s heavy chest as Sam looked up into his eyes. Sam gripped Joseph’s strong arms, helpless to prevent the waves of arousal and pleasure spreading from his loins. He brought his legs up, wrapping them around Joseph’s waist, spurring him onwards.

Sam’s eyes rolled back and he began to rock his hips in time with each thrust, the sound of his own feminine moans piercing the air.

He was close.

So close.

Just a little more…

Sam opened his eyes, so that he could look into his lover’s eyes as they approached their climax together.

Only this time it wasn’t Joseph’s face that he saw.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was the early hours of the morning and sunlight had begun to filter in through the curtains of the bedroom. Mike Rivers rolled over on the sofa bed, his lower back aching.

“Mmm.”

The sound was quiet at first. Rivers raised his head from the pillow looking over to the bed where Sam lay.

“Uuh.”

There it was again! Small, feminine gasps were coming from Sam’s sleeping body! Rivers kept watching as Sam rolled over onto his back, the covers sliding off of the top half of his feminine body. Rivers could see his face now, his closed eyes, his cupid lips hung open, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his sky-blue pajama top.

“Mmmm.” Sam’s head rolled against the pillow, his arms now wide beside him on the bed.

Rivers couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. He immediately felt his cock stiffen beneath his briefs. He quietly watched, not daring to make a sound as Sam’s thighs scissored beneath the covers.

Rivers immediately thought back to last night. How he had waited until Sam had been on the edge of sleep before pressing him for details of what had happened on the yacht, guiding the conversation to their oh-so-nearly intimate moment in Civitavecchia. He had done it on purpose so that Sam would have some interesting thoughts to go to sleep with. He’d never in a million years imagined something like this happening!

Rivers carefully slid his right hand down beneath the covers of the sofa bed, his fingers slipping under the waist band of his briefs to grasp his hard penis, pulling it free.

“Uhhhh…” Sam’s moan was the loudest so far. Rivers had to be careful as Sam could wake himself up at any moment. He curled his hand around his hot thick shaft, beginning to quickly pump his dick.

“Uhhhhh….” One of Sam’s hands came up, resting against his right breast, as an enticing milky white thigh escaped from the protection of the covers.

Rivers worked his cock harder, squeezing tightly, watching as Sam’s thighs scissored inwards and outwards of their own accord.

Suddenly with a loud, shrill gasp, Sam woke, sitting bolt upright in the bed, his blonde ponytail whipping forwards, his breasts jumping under his pajama top. Rivers quickly closed his eyes, dropping his head back onto the pillow, but it was too late. He tensed his lower body, trying to restrain himself but he was too far gone. He rolled his body away from Sam, grimacing through clenched teeth as his cock began to pump hot wet semen into the bedsheets.

TO BE CONTINUED…

* * * * * * * * * *