Chapter 38

"I have never seen a situation so dismal that a policeman couldn't make it worse." Brendan Behan

After leaving the doctor's office, Desiree was an emotional wreck. He sat in the passenger seat and cried. Phyllis handed him tissues as he tried to compose himself. The mere thought his body was producing milk like a breed mare was devastating to his male ego. The ride home was the world's biggest pity party, all that was missing were party favors.

The doctor's parting advice drove a dagger into his masculine self-esteem, she told Steve as he left her office to, "Stop fighting what is happening, it will only give you ulcers. Think of it like a roller-coaster ride. You've gotten to the top of the loop and are accelerating down the steep hill. There is nothing you can do but hang on. You should embrace your femininity and enjoy it."

Phyllis tried to lift his spirts with light hearted banter like, "Look on the bright side. We can always bottle your motherly excretions and save a boat load of money by never having to buy milk again."

He didn't know if he should cry or laugh at that one. My lord how his world had changed. He was so grateful for the loving support of his wife. Her driving left a lot to be desired though. She seem to hit every pothole on the highway. He caught her glancing at him, almost as if she were enjoying his misery. Every bump was incredibly painful as his animated airbags leaped wildly around like a tilt-a-whirl. He was afraid his boobs would burst like over inflated balloons.

Once they were home, Steve let out a sigh of relief. He gingerly made his way into their bedroom and got undressed. Phyllis ran him a nice hot bubble bath and handed him a glass of wine. He climbed in to soak away his troubles. As he lounged in the soapy water he began to relax, the buoyancy of his boobs, took the strain off his chest muscles. A mild euphoria replaced his feelings of hopelessness.

After a while, the water became tepid and he added a shot of hot water that worked for a time. Eventually it turned cold, a signal it was time to get out. Drying himself off, he went into the bedroom to get ready for bed. The lights were out, the house was deathly quiet. He called out for Phyllis and got no response. He threw himself on the bed face down and immediately regretted it. He rolled on his back and realized his nights of sleeping on his stomach were over, quite possibly forever. He lay there in the dark lamenting his current plight. Being viewed as a man with tits was bad enough. Being mistaken for a nursing mother was a more distressing issue.

He was just dropping off to sleep when the bright bedroom lights brought him back to full alertness. Phyllis bounced into the room with a bundle under one arm. She threw the package on the bed. Saying, "Here, this is for you."

Steve, still naked, skooched his way to the end of the bed. He sat up and dangled his legs over the edge. His little man showed no signs of life and lounged limply between his legs. In contrast, his boobs seamed to defy gravity with no sag whatsoever, as they stood out swollen and firm. More disturbingly from a masculine standpoint, they were topped with a pair of constantly erect hypersensitive engorged nipples that just seemed to plead for attention.

Phyllis licked her lips as she marveled at his dairy pillows and counted the minutes until she could get her playtime with them. She handed the box with the 'Babies R Us' wrapping to her busty hubby. He opened it to find an electric breast pump. Phyllis was very pleased with herself as she elaborated, "The salesman claimed you can use the pump in the hands-free configuration with most top-flap nursing bras. Isn't that marvelous?"

Steve swallowed hard and mumbled, "Yeah, it's fucking mind-blowing fantastic."

Phyllis's smile collapsed into a frown as she said, "Don't be such a Gloomy Gus, everything will be fine. I plan on doing whatever I can to raise your morale."

Steve perked up and asked, "Does that mean I get to drive later tonight?"

Phyllis tittered and said, "Don't be a Silly Sally. That ain't ever gonna happen again."

Phyllis sat next to her miserable husband and picked up the box and pointed to the container as she pronounced, "This was the most expensive model they had. But I wanted nothing but the best for my Mommy Desiree."

Steve flinched at her remark. If Phyllis noticed, she didn't show it.

Steve sat in a stupor. Phyllis was determined to drag her husband out of the doldrums; but she was completely oblivious to the fact that her behavior was not helping. She took him by the hand and pulled him to his feet where she could get a panoramic view. She circled him examining his body. Unsure of her intentions, he stood and trembled like a leaf in a strong breeze.

Phyllis stopped behind her husband and slowly with a feathery touch she ran her finger tips over his body paying particular attention to his firm hairless buttocks. She stopped and suddenly gave his rump a not so gentle slap, which stung and startled him. Then she laughed in his ear. Steve turned his head to look at her and inquired, "What's so funny?"

Her hands now firmly cupped and lifted his derriere. She chuckled again and said, "It's amusing how the cosmos works. Several months ago, I had a he-man government agent with big aspirations. Now I have a she-man Mata Hari with a big ass."

Steve craned his neck around trying unsuccessfully to see what she was talking about.

"You know when changes occur gradually over time it is hard to identify the magnitude of them. I've noticed for a while you fill out your clothes in all the right feminine places. However, all my attention has been fixated on your darling titties. Which prevented me from recognizing you've also developed other womanly curves. Like your slim waist and beautiful plump tushy. It appears as if four inches of fat off your tummy has repositioned itself to your backside. With these dimensions, how in the world to you keep your pants on?"

"I just tightened my belt when I wear slacks."

Then with a hangdog look he went on. "I've noticed how my body has changed. To be honest, I'm terrified it might also be a result of the witch's brew of hormones battling in my body. I was ashamed to tell you about it."

Phyllis gave him a mock pout and a love tap on his caboose. "You silly goose, I really am here for you. I'm sorry that I seem to be enjoying all of this. The thing is that I don't care if you look like a man, a woman, or my newest favorite, a blend of the two. We are a couple and I'm not letting you go."

She turned him around to face her and said, "Now tell me what other secrets are you keeping from me out of shame?"

Steve stared at the floor while Phyllis stood waiting patiently. "Alright, I'll tell you everything. I've been wearing your knickers to work and take them off as soon as I get home so you wouldn't know."

"For heaven's sake why?"

"It's a long story. As a man I always looked at underwear as a ubiquitous fact of life. That is until my tightie whities didn't fit anymore. They are loose in the waistband and too tight across the southern hemisphere. Looking in the mirror, I realized my back side had become more Ginger than Fred. I attributed it to the fact I haven't been working out and eating too much. So I started to watch my diet. I reasoned that losing a few pounds would slow or even reverse my posterior development. The only thing that got me was a continuous gnawing hunger. The other day on the bus, my tummy growled so loud the guy sitting next to asked if I was alright. I have lost 12 pounds but my trunk is still pulling up the rear. Nothing seems to work.

"How did this all start?"

"I arrived home before you one day and realized we are now about the same shape down there. So I did the trial and error thing with your stuff. After several attempts, I learned your collection of Boy Shorts fit me perfectly and still provided the support little Steve and the twins needed."

Phyllis's hand flew to her mouth in astonishment as she realized which panties he was talking about. "Oh my goodness, you mean you have been wearing my collection of lace brief panties, the ones from Victoria secret? I've wondered where they went.

Weren't you concerned about flashing your visible panty line?"

"I never thought about that. Do you think anyone noticed?"

Smiling broadly she said, "It would be remarkable if they hadn't. I hate to break the news to you, that style of panties are notorious for showing a VPL. That is why they are normally in the back of the panty drawer. Where have you been hiding them?"

"After you are asleep, I hand washed them and then hide them in my sock drawer. I'm sorry I didn't ask."

"I would have let you use them. In the future, you can use any of my things. All I ask is that you let me know. Why didn't you say anything?"

Steve blushed a deep red and responded with a high and squeaky voice. "Because I'm a freak caught between two realities."

The tears streamed down cheeks softening the effect of his flushed face.

"Are things really that bad for you?"

"That’s the terrifying thing. I am starting to enjoy this experience. As a man I know I shouldn’t; but I do. That makes me even more confused. I don't know what I am anymore. My God even when I dream it has been as Desiree."

Phyllis held his hands in a viselike grip and said, "Don't cry darling. I don't know what you are either; but I know who you are. Throughout my life, I have experimented with both guys and girls. Now when I look at you, I can check both boxes at the same time. I hope you're happy with the way things are because I sure am."

To make him feel better she pulled him toward the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist. In a loving tone she said, "I'll go out tomorrow and get you your own supply of pretty panties."

Steve smiled and said, "That would be lovely. Only dark colors please. I don't know about panty lines but from experience I know pink and white show through most of my outfits."

Phyllis' desire finally got the better of her and she wanted to be done with conversation. She moistened her lips and attached herself to his right breast. Flicking her tongue across the protruding sensitive nipple and around his areola which sent signals of pleasure to his brain. Steve let out a soft moan and he cradled her head pulling it tighter against his breast. Phyllis delighted at the response and began nursing in earnest. She dipped her fingers into her snatch capturing a large amount of her secretions. She thought that as long as she was there she would take a moment to pleasure herself while she continued to nurse her husband.

It took only a few minutes to reach her crescendo. After a mild orgasm, she used her wet lubricated hand to cradle her better half's manhood. She pumped him gently as she slurped the tiny droplets of milk oozing from his jugs. When she sucked harder his milk began to flow and Steve's legs turned to jelly, his stomach turned flip-flops. Butterflies arose in his tummy, his entire body began to tingle. He was turned on like never before in his life. Suddenly, he felt an electric jolt surge through his body followed by a series of pleasurable pulses, each better than its predecessor.

He swooned and began to sing an aria in a sweet falsetto. He remained standing only because Phyllis held him up.

Phyllis broke suction with his breast but continued to play with his pole and asked, "Do you know what just happened?"

"I've no idea. I never felt anything like that before."

Phyllis just smiled and said "I know what it was. Well done, you just had your first female orgasm."

"No way, why despite your best efforts down there I'm not even hard."

Phyllis was eyeball level with his protruding nipples and their dark areolas. She was mesmerized by their apparent stiffness so she reached up and pinched one testing for rigidity causing him to flinch. She answered, "Your little man may not be firm; but you can cut glass with these puppies.

"Let me prove to you what I said was the truth."

"Yeah, how are you going to do that?"

"Like this!" She pulled him down to where he was sitting on her lap. She attached her lips onto his left boob like an octopus and went to licking and sucking. With her off hand, she continued to toy with his other teat. Her combined efforts sent chills through him in places he had never felt before. The rush of pleasurable sensations was so intense it took his breath away. The slow sensual rhythm of her nursing quickly escalated as the euphoria built. He experienced a surge of physical delight unlike anything he had ever known. He never wanted her to stop so he hugged his wife with all his strength.

It took a little longer this time but it happened again. The outpourings of delights rapidly built one on another. The sensations started as a ground swell in his neither regions and just kept building, wave after wave. The feelings were so intense he was unable to keep them in, he cried out incomprehensibly as the ultimate rapture carried him beyond bearable limits.

When they finally stopped he tried to stand but his legs wouldn't support him, so, flushed and wobbly, he collapsed onto the bed, savoring the last of the magical moment.

Phyllis had a satisfied grin on her face as she sat beside her prostrate hubby and smugly said, "I told you so. Congratulations, it appears you have experienced your first multiple orgasm. You are now truly one of us!"

Steve looked adoringly at his wife and probed, "Does every woman have orgasms like that?"

"No! Only those with vibrators."

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and realized his inner Rambo was probably gone forever. Replaced by a fairy princess. All in all, not a bad trade.

Steve was ready for bed but Phyllis was too wound up to sleep. Her night was just beginning. For the first time ever, they maneuvered into the classic 69 position. Steve on the bottom and Phyllis on top of course. She suckled on his man meat until it was firm and ready to go. Steve did his thing, worshipping at her pubic patch. With his talented mouth she came first. To prove he wasn't just a one-trick pony he rolled her on to her back and spread her legs and climbed on board. For the first time in weeks, they made love using the standard missionary position. As he pumped in and out of her, Steve was overjoyed that since Desiree's coming out party Phyllis had stop insisting on him using protection. His rubbers remained safely in the bedside drawer. Steve was working his thing with a slow steady pace not trying to rush things. When Phyllis raised her head and latched onto a sensitive nipple, it was like a fighter pilot that had hit the afterburners. He went into overdrive with quick deep thrusts that had the bed rocking. They both came together in an earth shattering climax.

@ @ @ @

They fell onto the bed and cuddled against each other, Phyllis cupping a breast but not trying to tease him or arouse him. She could tell Steve's breasts were engorged so Phyllis again tried to convince her husband to use the breast pump.

She picked up the breast pump box and proudly announced, "Look at all the extras it has."

She read aloud from the product highlights section. "The kit features Personal Fit breast cups for massaging comfort. The convenient carrying bag contains everything needed by the nursing mother. This module guarantees to capture more milk in less time while pumping at the Maximum Comfort Vacuum level thus freeing mommy for other more important chores."

Her concluding remark was the death knell to his male pride, "From the size of your girlie melons it's obvious we will need to get extra bottles, I'm sure two will never be enough."

Phyllis was like a kid at her birthday party wanting to try out her newest toy. She insisted they give the pump a try, "Just to make sure it works", she said.

Steve resisted until he felt the pressure build to almost unbearable levels in his chest. He finally relented and Phyllis literally leapt into action. She assembled the kit. Pushed him onto his back and sat astride his hips. She centered the flanges over his nipples. Then pressed them gingerly against his breasts to make an air seal. Without getting off, she adjusted the pump suction and turned the machine to high. It took several minutes of rhythmic sucking but eventually the milk began flowing freely. Steve let out an audible gasp as the pressure diminished. Aside from feeling ridiculous, it proved to be the right solution for his hyper inflated boobs.

After about 20 minutes, both bottles were full and the flow of milk stopped. Phyllis rushed the milk off to the refrigerator. While his wife was taking care of his dairy products. He found the suction was not at all unpleasant. He managed to conceal it from his wife as embarrassingly enough he found himself aroused. Steve gathered his things and headed into the bathroom for a degree of privacy to relieve all of his pressure points and pump himself. With the aid of a little baby oil he relieved one problem, threw on his nightgown, washed his hands, and he returned to the bed ready for a long winters nap.

Morning came all too quickly. After last night's bedroom activities he was still felling frisky. Now that he had his wife's tacit permission he decided to try something new and decadently sexy. Going through Phyllis's drawers, he selected a black lace thong bikini panty. He had never worn a thong before but decided to try it on. To his amazement, it fit his slim waist and expanding hips perfectly. Even the strap up his intimate crack was different yet not uncomfortable.

He tucked his boy parts back out of the way. Next came its matching seamless lace bra. He had worn it occasionally unbeknown to his wife. Of all her bras this was his favorite because, in addition to its sexy appearance, it had breathable lace cups which proved beneficial in the Florida heat and humidity.

The racy lingerie made him feel womanly, an emotion he was coming to relish. He minced his way over to the full length mirror mounted behind the bedroom door. He faced front, turned right then left and appreciated the way his lingerie made his coconuts appear, the virgin white flesh showed provocatively threw the dark lace. Best yet, when he arched his back, the cups tried valiantly to retain the swellings of womanly flesh on his chest.

Phyllis walked into the room from the bathroom naked right from her morning shower and caught her husband admiring himself. She let out a wolf whistle. She was astonished to recognize he was wearing her brassiere and from her position it appeared too small for him. Then she rationalized it was because he was lactating, his size was probably temporary. To test her observation, she walked up behind him pulled on his bra strap and felt it was in fact taut so she snapped his bra strap and playfully inquired, "What's the occasion? Isn't that awful sexy for a day at the office?"

He turned to face her and came literally tit to tit. He took a small step back and said, "The other ladies at work invited Desiree to go to out for a drink after work so I decided to dress for the occasion. Is that alright?"

Phyllis closed the distance between them so her nipples lightly crazed his. "Only if I can join you. I have to protect my investment. There are too many beach bums out there looking to score. Take my car, I'll catch a cab and met you at the nightclub. I'll be your chaperone and the designated driver."

"Sure that sounds great. I'll text you the address. Say about 5:00, if we can get away we plan to leave work early."

"Now let me help you finish getting dressed. If you don't hurry you're going to be late. While you were in the bathroom playing with yourself I made the coffee. Your coffee mug is on the kitchen counter."

Phyllis went through their closet and selected an outfit to compliment his lingerie, a dark burgundy button up blouse and a black snug high-waist pencil skirt for her husband. She suggested panty hose while handing him his 3-inch open toe pumps to finish his outfit.

After pulling on his hose and adjusting them, Steve decided today that, rather than carry his weapon in his purse, he would use his thigh holster, a comfortable and functional alternative. He attached it and slid his pistol into place, closing its Velcro strap.

Felling mischievous he left the top two buttons of the blouse undone. For makeup he created a sultry effect with black eyeliner and white shimmery eyeshadow. Three minutes with a curling iron on his wig, and a quick coat of pink lipstick he was ready to go.

He put on his blinged-out watch and located his designer purse on the dresser. As a man, he had never realized the advantages a purse provided. He thought back to those times when he could only carry those items that would fit his pockets and wallet. Now as a woman he could carry everything he needed or might need and do so with style.

He opened the snap and sorted through the contents to make sure he had all his essentials. There on the bottom he found his an extra ammo clip, his Swiss Army knife, and his federal badge, office security card and the damn sanitary napkin and tampon Phyllis made sure he had at all times. Next level up were his iPhone, tablet, pen and paper notebook, wallet, change purse, nail file and clippers. He located his hair products: aerosol hair spray, comb, brush, bobby pins and hair ties. Check. The top level held his makeup repair kit, with its compact/mirror, moisturizer, extra lipsticks, and eyeshadow, mascara, and travel size perfume atomizer. Check. Then came his personal items: House keys, lighter, sunglasses and tissues, breath mints. Unbeknown to his wife, or so he thought, he also had a Cuban cigar and a pack of condoms hidden in a side pouch.

As he turned to leave, Phyllis yelled, "Don't forget this." She threw him a small tube. He caught it and read the label 'Astroglide.' He glared at his wife. "Really Phyl, the tube of vaginal lubricant the doctor gave you?"

She mischievously taunted, "She gave you, not me! I produce all the lubricant naturally that I need. You on the other hand must always be prepared for any contingency.

"By the way, I found your condoms in your purse, sweetie. That really pissed me off. I could only assume they are there for your protection, not for some nefarious carnal rendezvous with some tart. If you intend on using them make sure your pussy is well lubricated, until some guy gets you properly stretched out there is always the possibility of damaging something."

"Phyllis you know I'm not into guys."

"I have a friend in my nightstand that can prepare you. Whenever you feel the need to become a true woman."

Steve stomped his foot and said, "Knock it off. I don't find that funny."

"Mon Cherie, I doth think you protest too much." Phyllis smiled impishly.

All he could do was shake his head slowly with a long-suffering expression on his face. "Where are your car keys?"

"Hanging on the hook by the back door." There was the unspoken: 'Where they always are, silly.'

He picked up his coffee in its travel mug, grabbed the keys and walked through the breezeway to the garage. He unlocked the door put his coffee in the cup holder and threw his purse on the passenger seat and slithered gracefully into the driver's seat of Phyllis's silver MG sports car. The tight pencil skirt he was wearing today restricted some of his movement, but it actually helped him in this case. The car was something he had recently picked up during an impound lot auction. It was a thank-you present to his sexy paramour. Still steaming at his wife's small joke, he opened the garage door, slipped the car in gear and drove off into the bright Florida sunshine looking forward to his time at work.

Ten minutes into his commute his day continued to get worse as he was pulled over for speeding by the highway patrol. One hand casually resting on the butt of his service revolver, the patrolman moved immediately to the driver's side window. Not waiting to be asked, Steve handed him his driver's license, registration and proof of insurance. Smokey removed his reflective sunglasses but never looked at the documentation. Rather, being a stereotypical man, he blatantly glowered down Desiree's open blouse and ogled the cleavage on display. Once Steve realized what was happening he felt terribly violated and as casually as possible did up the two open buttons.

With the peep show over, the patrolman eventually examined the documentation. The registration and insurance were in Phyllis's name, when he got to the driver's license his jaw dropped. "Miss, there must be some mistake, I need your license not your husband's."

Steve frantically searched through his purse to locate his badge that had slipped its way under his sanitary napkin. He showed his badge as he replied, "Officer, that is my license, I'm on the job undercover in drag."

The cop snickered and took the ID's and went back to his car. He returned after about 15 minutes and handed Steve back his paperwork. "Agent Garibaldi, you check out. As a curtesy to a fellow lawman, I'll let you off this time, just watch the speeding in the future."

Then as he adjusted his Smoky the Bear hat, with emphasis on the first word he said, "SIR, what have we learned today?"

Steve unsure of what was expected he shrugged as an answer, so the cop laughed to himself flippantly and lectured, "In the future I, recommend you don't drag and drive."

@ @ @ @

As Steve walked in the front door of the building, his smartphone went off. He frantically rummaged through his purse to find the thing. After a successful mining operation, he brought it to the surface. He stepped into the elevator where he would have some privacy and read his text message. Suddenly his world turned to shit. Daisy was missing!

HLS knew for a fact Ivan had been double checking Jack's cover story. If there was a hole in it, Jack was a dead man. Ivan's past indicated he would personally see to it that Jack suffered terribly before being finished off. The thought sent shivers down his spine. Reaching his cubicle he sat at his desk. Luckily the anger and fear only served to focus his mind. He quickly put together a contingency plan to first find and then rescue as needed. His mantra was hope for the best; but plan for the worst. Therefore the plan was based on the worst case scenario, which had Ivan holding Daisy prisoner.

The first call went out to alert his contact at the Miami Hostage Rescue Team (HRT). Daisy's cover would be maintained until the rescue team needed to take action. The second was to the local law enforcement officers (LEOs) as they were called to put out a missing persons bulletin on Daisy. Then he drafted a classified message and called for a runner to take it to the message center. It was a warning order to Seal Team Eighteen, a local Reserve unit that was on standby for use in this mission.

In no time at all, he had an outline of a plan ready to go. However, he couldn't get over the feeling that he was forgetting something. Between trips to the copier and fax machine, he paced his cubicle like a caged tigress as deep frown lines creased his forehead. His spray on antiperspirant was failing miserably.

He tried to think what else he could do. He had been raised with the adage that in a crisis, if you're not doing something, you are probably screwing up. A fire burned in his belly and he so wanted to do something audacious.

He finished his second Red Bull of the morning and threw the can into his wastebasket where it landed with a thud. He fought valiantly against the impulse to light up a big fat cigar. It was a habit he had been trying to break, as his wife pointed out it was so unladylike to puff on them. He desperately searched for the Cuban Montecristo he kept hidden in a side compartment of his purse, just for emergencies. Today when he really needed it, he found in its place a pack of girly menthol lights Virginia Slims.

"Phyllis, damn her hide!" he muttered out loud. He continued to pace and realized if the morning continued as it had begun, he would be forced to smoke the damned things. To take his mind off the nasty habit, he reached for the cup of black coffee sitting on his desk. He took one sip of bitter drink and discovered it was now lukewarm. He started to buzz for one on the secretary's to fetch him a fresh cup. Then he felt ashamed of his thought. He would make do with what he had.

Fred waltzed in late for work his tie askew with his suitcoat over his arm. He threw the coat onto his desk and plopped in his chair and said, "Wuss happenin?

Steve turned toward his partner pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and growled, "Well good afternoon. Nice of you to grace us with your presence!"

"Who put a bur up your saddle? What is it your time of the month?"

Glancing at his Timex watch he said, "For Pete sake it's only 8:34. I told you I had a dental exam."

Steve slammed his coffee cup down on his desk so hard it spilled the brown liquid across the desktop and dripped onto his seat. Steve swore, "We are having a code red emergency and you are worried about your pearly whites. Where are your priorities?"

"Partner get a grip. I'm not clairvoyant how was I to know we have an emergency?"

While his crossdressing partner searched for something to clean off his desktop, Fred mumbled under his breath 'Asshole!'

Seeing Fred's gym bag in the corner, Steve grabbed an old sweatshirt off the top. Despite his partner's belated objections, Steve wiped the coffee from his desk and chair and tested it with his hand. Satisfied it was dry, he sat on the corner as daintily as he could muster. Fred, watched with detached indifference. Steve threw the nasty, smelly thing at his partner.

Fred looked at him with a frown. "So what is this so called emergency that has you so worked up?"

"We lost Daisy!"

Fred sat bolt upright. "What the hell do you mean lost?"

"As in can't find, have no idea where she's at."

Fred jokingly replied "Have you tried the ladies room?"

Exasperated that Fred failed to grasp the gravity of the situation, Steve quietly seethed and resisted the urge to bitch slap his partner into next Tuesday.

Getting his emotions under control he went on. "This is serious Fred. Linda called the duty officer and reported she sent Daisy off to work at 7:30 like usual. She said that at 8 a concerned Phil called when Daisy never showed up for work. I had the LEOs put out an APB for both Daisy and Jack Sokolov. As we speak, Miami's finest is looking for Daisy. So far nothing and, with a figure like her's, it's hard to imagine not being noticed. She has vanished off the face of the earth."

Fred spoke up, "You realize if we lose him, this entire operation goes down the shitter?"

"Asshole, I'm no longer concerned about that. We, you and I, are responsible for getting her into this situation. If something happens to Daisy I will never forgive myself."

"Cool it man. She probably came across a dress sale and dropped in to check it out."

Fred was starting to get dizzy with the switching back and forth from he, she, him, and her. He tried to focus and move on.

"Damn it Fred, if something bad happens to Daisy. You're going to be the one to make the notification to his wife."

"Don't tell me, you're afraid of 110 pounds of fluff."

"Fluff my ass! She is more like a pit viper with foot long fangs. There's no way I'm getting in the same room with that wildcat. So the ball's in your court."

"Alright, nuff said. There ain't a woman alive I'm afraid of. I'll take care of that if it comes to it. What's she going to do to me?"

Steve adjusted a bra strap and chuckled to himself, 'We'll see about that.'

Steve picked up a large pile of folders from his inbox and walked to Fred's desk. He stood in his heels towering over his partner. He pushed Fred's coat on the floor and dumped the files in its place. "I will be gone most of the morning. After I get final approve on the rescue operation I will need to make final coordination with the Seals and Miami SWAT. Do something useful and go through these counter-intel reports to see if you can find our mole. If that son of a bitch is the cause of Daisy's demise, he or she will wish they had never been born. After I kick their ass I'll have them in chains and on the way to Gitmo before the sun sets."

Fred immediately buried his head in the pile of reports, and started to take notes on his tablet.

Steve retrieved his purse from its resting place beside his desk. Straightening his skirt, he flicked a piece of lint off his sleeve and headed out of the cubicle. With a flourish he announced, "I have to go get Bob's final okay before we storm Ivan's boat."

Fred's head shot up from examining the files and he challenged his partner, "Hold on Steve, Ivan is no amateur. Surely he has procedures in place to destroy all evidence in case of a police raid. Besides we can't proceed without a court order and a search warrant."

"Fred, if Daisy doesn't show up and we have even a hint she is being held on that boat. I'll be damned if I am going to concern myself with niceties like a search warrant. Besides it easier to seek forgiveness than beg for permission. We'll storm that place like Santa Ana taking the Alamo."

Fred worried at that analogy. If he remembered correctly, General Santa Anna said the battle would involve no quarter, meaning he would take no prisoners. He hoped that wasn't Steve's intentions.

Fred replied "That would cost you your job and your pension."

Steve sneered at that remark and said "So what's your point. Jack is worth way more than a lousy pension."

@ @ @ @

Steve stood at Hampton's door and knocked lightly. He didn't get and answer so he knocked again a little firmer this time, careful not to break a nail. He heard a strange noise he couldn't identify coming from inside the office, so he carefully pushed the door open to keep the hinges from squeaking.

He cautiously peeked his head around the corner to clandestinely observe what was creating the sound. A lock of hair blocked his vision so he hooked it behind his ear and looked again. Steve was stunned at what he saw. Papers littered the floor, a trash can was overturned, spilling candy wrappers on the carpet. Commandant Bob sat at his desk slumped over in his chair. He was repeatedly thumping his head against the table top.

Concerned, Steve walked in and took his customary position three paces in front of Bob's desk. He asked, "Boss are you alright, what's going on?"

Bob sat up and leaned back in his chair, showing small welts on his forehead and red bloodshot eyes. His white dress shirt had the buttons misaligned, like he had hurriedly gotten dressed. The bigger issue was what could be seen through the shirt. A dark hue showed in a circular pattern where his shirt was pushed out from his chest. He motioned for Steve to take a seat. Desiree sat on the stuffed chair across from his boss as demurely as he could crossed his legs at the ankles and listened.

"You ask what is wrong. Tell me what you see."

"I'm not sure how to answer that Mr. Hampton."

Bob started sobbing and rubbing his eyes with his hands. Steve opened his purse and handed Bob several tissues. He took them, wiped his eyes and blew his nose before callously discarding them onto the floor. Then said, "Thanks that has been happening with regularity recently. I can't figure out what is wrong with me. My emotions have been all over the place.

"Look more closely. Can't you tell that I'm wearing a bra?"

"Why would you do that?"

"I need to talk to someone. Since you are my resident crossdresser you are the best candidate, so here goes. My personal assistant Naomi came in first thing this morning with a sob story. It seems on her way home from work yesterday she stopped by the lingerie shop across from the federal court house. Evidently they have a bargain table with underwear just thrown in a pile grab-bag style. She claims she picked up a handful of bras and panties. It wasn't until she got home she discovered among them was a satin black training bra. You are aware she is a well-endowed large boned African American woman and could never squeeze into an A cup bra."

Confused, Steve wondered how that involved his boss. He maintained his silence and hoped that things would make sense.

Pulling up a bra strap that had slide down his arm Bob went on. "Anyway she came in this morning and presented it to me as a present, since she can't return underwear bought on sale."

"I accused her of being crazy. In her defense, she pointed out that everyone in the building has noticed I was constantly fiddling with my upper body. According to her, my man boobs had recently become rather pronounced and a subject of much speculation around the water cooler. She told me a bra would be a viable solution. I told her to get back to work. She dropped the bra into my in box and stomped out.

"It sat there for the longest time. As I worked my nipples were being rubbed raw by the starch in my shirt. So I thought what the hell and tried the damn thing on."

Steve looked questionably at his boss and waited for more.

Bob sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "The damnedest thing happened, it felt exquisite. For the first time in weeks, I'm comfortable. When I walk I no longer jiggle. I made a command decision to keep it on. Then I looked at my reflection in the window. It was devastating. I may be asking the wrong person. But how can a real man wear a bra? No matter how good it feels. It's just not normal."

Steve rankled at the backhand insult. Still he needed Hampton's approval for his plans, so he swallowed his bitterness and scooted his ass to the edge of his chair to get closer to his emotionally distraught supervisor. "Boss, I wouldn't be too concerned with normal. It's all a matter of perspective. After all, what's normal for the spider is catastrophic for the fly."

Bob smiled at the joke. Steve slid back in the chair and had a long and intimate tête-à-tête with Bob. He felt the need to treat Bob like a friend and not his superior. Once that bridge was crossed a strange thing happened he found himself listening to Bob to discover how he was feeling rather than trying to solve his problem. He found himself wanting to share, a trait he had developed from his frequent chitchats with the girls in the office. So he told him about the drug reaction that produced his boobs. He went on to discuss his experiences with his first bra and how humiliated he was on his initial outing wearing it. Steve reached across the desk and took Bob's hands in his and confessed he once felt the same as him. However, over time, he had come to love the way his feminine undergarments felt. Sitting back in his chair, Steve told his boss, "Think of wearing a bra like a perpetual hug."

Bob took a minute to digest what he had been told and asked, "Do you think what is happening to me is an allergic reaction?"

Steve smiled inwardly when he realized what the ladies were doing to Bob had produced a changed man. So to soften the blow, he agreed that Bob's condition was probably a temporary reaction. And would eventually go away.

Bob had another brief snivel and lamented that his wife would blow a gasket when she saw him with tits and a bra.

Steve reassured him by telling a small white lie, "Don't jump to conclusions. My wife has been totally supportive once she got over the initial shock. In fact, I think she likes the idea of us having that in common."

Taking a chance, he said, "Of course you can expect her to be initially upset. Once she calms down have her call my wife. That might help."

Bob thought that was a dandy idea and got back to the issue of why Steve was there. It took some negotiating; but Desiree left with a blessing on the hostage rescue mission. The one caveat was that they would only go forward when there was some evidence Daisy was actually on the boat. Leaving behind a still distraught boss, Steve did the unthinkable and he walked around the desk to give Bob a big hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. The hug was enthusiastically returned, not so the kiss.

Steve stopped by the powder room on the way back to his cubicle for a quick repair job on his lips. Kissing Bob goodbye on the cheek probably wasn't professional but it just seemed like the right thing to do.

@ @ @ @

He found an animated cubemate. As he walked in Fred asked. "How'd it go with Mr. Hampton?"

Steve gave him a thumbs up. Fred threw a file on Steve's desk gloating, "I've found our rat."

Pushing the pile of reports off his desk into the trash can, he smirked and said, "Those reports are worthless. Lucky for us I decided to check the security videos of our parking lot. I saw that one of our night janitors has recently begun driving a new Mercedes. I checked all his financials, and found no possible explanation for his newfound wealth. So I reviewed all our security tapes and monitored his movements and found that when he went to empty the trash, he threw the bags into his car rather than the dumpster. My assumption is he has been going through our trash and picking up bits and pieces of information. There is no record of him contacting Ivan. I have security on their way to his house right now. I'm sure once we get our hands on his cellphone and computer we'll find the proof we need."

"That's great work Fredericka!"

"Now hold on a minute! I hope you aren't saying what I think you are."

"Afraid so girlfriend. I have to go over to the joint operations command center and brief the team on the rescue mission unless Daisy has turned up."

Fred dashed his hopes as he shook his head and said, "Fraid not. She's still a ghost."

"That only leaves us with one stone unturned. We're monitoring Daisy's phone. The communication section tells me it's turned off so that's a dead end. We've checked with all the local hospitals and even the morgue. I dispatched agents to his and Rose's home, and to his old place of work. We also have eyes on the ship, but no joy there either. That only leaves the club. We have to know what's happened to Daisy. Someone must go to the Pussycat Club and snoop around for information. You've been there before so you're familiar with the general layout. That makes you the best option."

"Okay, I understand that; but why must I go in drag? Those damn stilettos are a killer on my toes."

"Ivan's security is on high alert so anyone entering the club will be subjected to his facial recognition program. To defeat that you need to be as unmanly as possible. I ordered a Veronica Lake wig for you. If you're lucky the long hair and heavy bangs will distort the computer software."

Fred fell to his knees and grabbed his partner's manicured hand and pleaded, "What if I'm not lucky. Please anything but that."

"Resistance is futile Fredericka, get off your knees. Sorry old friend they are waiting for you in wardrobe right now. By the way in addition to the wig, to assist in your disguise I ordered a corset, 5-inch heels and a set of DD's for you. Keep me informed about what you find out."

@ @ @ @

Steve adjusted his skirt, placed all his papers in his briefcase. He gathered the briefcase and his purse before heading out of his cube. Plucking his ID badge off his blouse, he tossed it into his cute clutch purse. He waved goodbye to the girls and took the elevator to the garage where a car and driver were waiting to run him to the command center that had been set up in an abandoned warehouse near the docks.

During the drive he was uneasy about having to appear in front of that crowd in a dress and high heels. He wished he had time to run home and change into a pair of slacks. But it just wasn't meant to be. At the gate to the warehouse, he presented his credentials to a guard dressed as a rent-a-cop. The sentry searched his purse and briefcase and then he was shown to a glassed-in room at the end of the warehouse. Steve could see a haze of blue cigarette smoke hanging head high in the room.

As he walked into a room crowed with Seals, SWAT teams, and burly cops he could feel the testosterone level which was so thick you could cut it was a knife. The machismo was almost suffocating and here he stood in a skirt, heels and makeup carrying a girlie purse.

He was introduced by a young ensign wearing a SEAL Trident. "Guys, here is our HLS contact, Ms. Garibaldi to brief us on today's operation. Let's show her all the respect befitting her billet."

As Steve moved to the lectern there was a stir in the room, a shuffling of feet as those present straightened up in their chairs. He saw skepticism and curiosity in some faces, and contempt in others. As he laid out a stack of papers, he could feel the anticipation leap through the room like a flame. Steve was perspiring profusely, the room's ventilation was not designed to handle 40 plus bodies and was stifling. It did not help that he looked like a woman. He regretted the decision to wear pantyhose instead of stockings as his nuts were swimming in his sweat.

He handed out photographs of Daisy, Ivan and all his key lieutenants, emphasizing that he needed Ivan taken alive. Then Steve wandered through the crowd distributing overhead satellite imagery of the marina, with red X's showing the known sentry locations. As he passed among the warriors he received more than one pinch on his back side. Lastly, he distributed schematics of the ship's interior gotten from the builder of the yacht.

Returning to the front, he bent over to retrieve a tissue from his purse to dab his brow, which allowed his blouse to fall away exposing his lacy brassiere. Looking up he noticed the front row staring down his top at his décolletage. Self-consciously, he stood and pointed to his eyes and commented to the guys in the front, "Up here guys." He pushed a stray strand of hair back and patted it in place. The wig was hot and itchy, for the first time he wished his hair was long enough where he could retire the wig.

These guys were all adrenaline junkies who lived for action. Using his command voice to be heard over the room's din, he spoke up to ask for quiet. He was betrayed by his deep tone. Someone in the rear shouted out, "What the fuck she's a he! I'm not taking orders from any queer."

Pandemonium broke out, the gathering divided into three camps, those that agreed agent Garibaldi was a drag queen, those that insisted that no way she was a man, and the third and largest contingent was undecided.

Steve needed to get their attention he took a moment to compose himself then he picked up the microphone and he reverted to his soft feminine voice, obviously too late, as he asked for quiet promising to answer all their concerns.

He was suddenly pensive and unsure of himself. He stood ramrod straight and addressed his audience, "Gentleman, a dress is just a piece of cloth and not a determinant of competence. Yes I am a man. It's true I stand before you today masquerading as a woman. The why is not important! If you can't accept that then we probably don't need you. Anyone is free to leave; but do so now before I reveal the actual plan. I will point out I have a degree in Criminal Justice. I also have over 19 years of law enforcement experience. I joined Home Land Security right after 9-11. I have been the lead agent on bringing down Comrade Vladimir. Ivan is an ex KGB agent so he is no novice at the spy business."

At that point, a grizzled old navy Captain strode to the front of the room, "Listen up you egg heads, stop using testosterone to think with and try using your brain cells. This agent ain't leading nuttin! He is merely the person who put this plan together. He'll monitor the operation from the command center and act as an advisor once we get the go ahead. Miami SWAT will be the lead for the actual assault and take out the sentries. They will be backed up by Miami PD, which will secure any prisoners and collect anything of intelligence value.

"Unfortunately, as you guys know, the law specifically prohibits the military from participating in law enforcement actions within the US. Therefore the SEALs will only act in a support role. We will secure the seaward approaches around the yacht to ensure there is no outside interference."

Steve thanked the Captain and proceeded to give a quick intelligence update. He started by saying that long range surveillance had two separate sightings of Ivan wandering above decks within the last few hours. He also mentioned that three panel vans had stopped by apparently making food and booze deliveries to the ship during the morning.

A local cop asked, "Are you sure that was all they were delivering?"

Steve checked his notes, "Our vantage point only provides limited observation. So to answer your question no we don't know. I can only say we've checked out the companies, they are legit."

He gave each of the separate organizations their mission statements. Another question from the side was asked by a stern looking police officer. "What do we know about his security detail?"

"We don't have a lot of intelligence on that issue. The bad news is that the one's we have identified are Spetsnaz, ex-Russian Special Forces. Therefore they are well trained and equipped, to include night vision devices. The good news is they are only hired help. We don't anticipate any fanatical resistance. Ivan is not a charismatic leader. He controls by fear and intimidation. It is unlikely they will put up a stiff resistance when faced with overwhelming force. So the key is to resurrect the shock and awe campaign, to hit them hard and fast before they have a chance to react."

"That said, the Captain here will cover your rules of engagement after I have finished my presentation."

After answering several other questions he reminded them, "This is first and foremost a hostage rescue. The detainee is not a trained agent and his reactions could be unpredictable. So if deadly force must be used, make sure of your targets."

He released the groups to plan their part of the combined operation. The Navy Captain announced that each sub-element only had three hours before they were required to give a briefing back on their part. There was a mad rush to get out of the room, they had been trapped there for over two hours. The guys were backed up nuts to butts waiting to get to the head.

Satisfied everything was in good hands, Steve was ready to return to his office. He waited for the room to clear, picked up his purse and walked out of the room into lovely fresh air. He was escorted back to his car by a shy young policeman who opened the door and offered Steve his hand as he assisted him into the back seat. Steve thanked him with a smile and a wink.

@ @ @ @

As they pulled into traffic, Steve's phone rang, he glanced at caller ID and saw it was from Fred. His heart raced fearing the worst.

"Yeah, Fred what's the news?"

"I'm on my break and only have a few minute. So let's make this quick."

"On break what the hell are you talking about?"

"When I arrived, they were just opening up for business. There was no way I could blend in being the only customer. So I told the receptionist I was looking for a job. I was led to the manager, who said I was in luck. They were two servers short. Daisy and one called Donna are AWOL. I was hired on a trial bases, making minimum wage plus tips. So since 11:30, I have been working my pantie clad ass off."

"I've checked every nook and cranny in this dump. From the store room, bath rooms, locker rooms, even the recreational rooms that you are familiar with. No sign of either girl. No one appears to have any idea where they are at. Everyone is very concerned. From what I have ascertained those two are the most popular girls working here."

"Oh, by the way a girl named Trixie recognized me and said to say hello to Steff."

Steve snickered and told his partner, "Okay, come on back to the office."

"I can't. I have four more hours before my shift is over. If I leave early I'll forfeit all my tips. I've worked too hard to do that. Besides there is this really nice guy in my section who is a big spender. If I play my cards right I think I'm in line for a huge payday."

"Alright you asshole be careful and don't get complacent. Stay there and keep your eyes and ears open and watch your back."

Steve was caught in a quandary. Daisy was unaccounted for. He had his Dobermans straining on their leases waiting to attack. He was out of ideas. He undid the top buttons on his blouse and relaxed in the cool of the air-conditioned car waiting for inspiration.

The car pulled up at the front doors of his office building. He hurried though security and rushed to his office. As he stepped out of the elevator, he was met by Gladys, a recent hire. She handed him a message that had just come in. He got his hopes up only to read that Jack's house and old place of employed had been cleared. Daisy wasn't there.

He went back to his empty cubicle to wait and wait. The afternoon dragged by. He about wore a path in the carpet making bathroom breaks to empty his nervous bladder. The urge to step out for a quick smoke was almost overwhelming. He fought off the urge afraid he would miss a phone call. Despite all his worrying and planning the feeling he had forgotten something haunted him. But for the life of him couldn't figure out what it was.

Then around 4 o'clock his phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID Steve let out a sigh. It was Fred again.

"Steve we just heard from Daisy. She's been at Miami General Hospital all this time."

"What we checked there twice!"

"It turns out she wasn't a patient just visiting a sick friend. She is well and on her way back here to the club as soon as she can catch a cab."

"Hold her there I'm on my way. We need to have a long talk."

Steve literally skipped out of the office, telling the girls he would be at the Pink Pussy Cat club.
Going through security he noticed the guard had his eyes locked on Desiree's jiggle. He reached up and undid a third button on his blouse. Assured he had the guard's undivided attention he gave the guard a wink and blew him a kiss. Poor old George about had an eruption in his shorts.

@ @ @ @

Desiree drove his sports car to the club, at one stoplight a man in the next car waved at him. He had to circle the block twice to find a parking spot. During the short walk to the club, he had two guys flirt with him. Desiree suspected sadly that these were all signs of things to come.

When Rose and later Phyllis, pushed him out en femme, he had felt more like Ricard Simmons in a dress than a true woman. Now things were changing deep down inside. He had never felt so radiant or so femininely self-confident. Why now a new shade of lipstick seemed to flood his brain with Dopamine's and a new pair of shoes was almost orgasmic.

He sauntered into the club like he owned the place, his skirt swirled about his legs as he picked his way past the tables. He settled on a two person table off to the side where he could keep an eye on the entire floor. Steve sat as ladylike as he could and leaned over to put his purse on the floor when a pair of shiny black impossibly high heels glided in to view. Steve looked up and said, "Fredericka, how's it hanging?"

Fred reflexively reached down and tugged up his pantyhose. "Damn your eyes Steve. I tucked like wardrobe suggested so my guys are not hanging at all, in fact they are squished and killing me. I just can't get comfortable down there. Can I sit? We need to talk."

Steve despite himself stood and pulled out a chair for his feminized partner. Fred sat rather gingerly and adjusted his skirt.

Steve scanned the room for any sign of a potential threat but he detected nothing threatening. So he questioned. "Any word on Daisy?"

"No not yet. He had to take a taxi, being afternoon rush hour there is no telling how long it took to catch one.

"Let me tell you about my day. I was given a cubbyhole to keep my stuff in and then shown what tables I was responsible for. A number of the hostesses offered to show me the tricks of the trade. During my orientation, I was reminded the size of my tips were proportion to how cooperative I was with my clients. At first, I thought they were shining me on. I now think I was being over sensitive because they have all welcomed me as one of them."

Fred adjusted his breast forms that had slipped to the left and went on, "My disguise isn't as good as I thought. My first few customers were rude and condescending. I mentioned it to Georgette. She looked me over and thought I was feminine enough but suggested I try some perfume. I told her I didn't bring any. She led me back to the dressing room and went to Daisy's cabinet. She handed me a spare bottle Daisy keeps in her locker."

Steve thought, 'Oh no, not her pheromone spiked perfume! That could get old Freddy boy into deep kimchi.'

Fred went on with his story. "I put some on my wrists and a double dab between my double D's and went back out to my section. My lord it was like a magic elixir. My male clients were suddenly falling all over themselves being nice. Now I visit the locker room during every break to reapply the stuff. It's funny that the more I use the nicer the gentlemen are to me."

"Nicer how?" asked Steve out of curiosity.

Fred reached into his bra and pulled out a business card and laid it on the table. "One man. Wearing what looked like a $1,000 suit offered me a job as his personal assistant and travel companion. He said the base pay wasn't much but I would make up for it with lots of overtime. He also promised that I would enjoy his large compensation package."

Steve bit his tongue to control his laughter. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I would consider his offer. I'm no dummy, I asked around to the girls about him. It seems he's a regular. He prefers all his woman with something extra. I was told he is an investment banker and very rich."

Giggling Fred went on, "And, according to Sally, his pants contain more than a fat wallet."

With a knowing smile on his face, Steve realized exactly what Fred was implying. "Fred you can't seriously be considering that offer."

Fred fluffed his wig, then checked to make sure his clip-on earring was still there and answered, "I know this isn't real; but I have to look out for number one. If this Daisy thing goes bad. I could be without I job. It won't be my first choice. I'm just keeping my options open."

"Well option me a scotch on the rocks. I'm thirsty. No Wait! I've changed my mind, make that a white wine. It's more ladylike."

Fred stood and gave Steve a small curtsy and said, "Oh yessa massa I be a good girl."

Fred returned with the drink, placed it in front of Steve stood back and said, "That'll be $3.99"

"You have to be shitting me. You're going to charge me?"

"Yes ma'am. You either pay it or it comes out of my paycheck. That ain't happening. Now pony up."

Fred stood there until Steve had found four one dollar bills in his purse. He handed the bills to Fred and said sarcastically, "Keep the change."

About that time there was a commotion in the rear of the club. All eye's turned toward the jubilant celebration. Steve could just make out the figure of Daisy in the middle of it all. He ordered Fred to go tell her to report to him immediately.

By the time Daisy arrived at his table, he had finished his wine and was ready for another.

Daisy said politely, "I was told you wanted to see me. What can I do for you?"

"First get me a refill on my wine than sit down we need to have a talk."

"Certainly, is this cash or are you running a tab?"

"Just get the damn wine. You'll get your money."

As he left Steve checked his wallet and realized he would have to use his Steve's credit card as he was out of cash. He briefly wondered what it would take to get a credit card in Desiree's name. Pushing that aside he next made a mental note to ask for receipts so he could put the drinks on his expense account.

Daisy returned and set the long stem glass in front of the pushy person in a smock. He looked closer and wondered if it was a guy or just a butch female because they got both kinds in here. She wasn't sure which category this individual fell into.

In a distinctly masculine voice, Steve said, "SIT!"

Daisy's respiration accelerated. Had his cover been blown?

"I'm sorry I can't do that I'm working."

"Listen Miss Daisy that wasn't a request it was an order. Don't you know who I am?"

Daisy shook her head. "Sorry, I haven't a clue."

"Daisy I can't decide if I want to strangle you or kiss you. You had me scared to death."

Now Jack was really confused.

The dude in a dress gestured toward a waitress that Daisy didn't recognize. Looking closely she was vaguely familiar and more resembled a fashion model than a man in a miniskirt.

Steve said, "Fred over there and I have been looking all over for you."

The name Fred triggered something. A veil lifted and Jack remembered back to that horrific day when two government agents paid him a visit. Daisy looked at Steve and said, "No way you're that Steve!"

A smug Steve simply replied, "Way!"

Looking at his cleavage Daisy stuttered, "Bu…but you've got boo...boobs. They look so real, are they?"

Steve squirmed in his seat and replied, "Yes very real and all home grown. It's a long story. But we're not here to talk about me.

"Where in the hell were you this morning? Everyone was looking for you. I even planned a hostage rescue mission figuring Ivan might have snatched you up."

"Ivan? Why would he do that?

"Oh, I don't know. Because he is a sadistic murderer. Now I'll ask again. Where were you and why?"

"I was at the hospital. Donna, a friend and one of my fellow waitresses, went in for elective surgery. He got a feminizing brow lift and tracheal shave. He wanted to surprise his wife so he listed me as his emergency contact. The poor guy had a reaction to the anesthesia and his airway partially swelled shut. The hospital called me when I was on my way to work. I rushed right there and have been sitting with him all day."

"Why didn't you call anyone?"

"With my best friend's life at risk, it didn't seem important. Besides, there are signs all over the emergency room saying to turn off your cell phone."

"Don't you realize you put this entire operation in jeopardy? I was about to break procedure and raid Ivan's yacht to rescue you. If you weren't there it would have exposed you as an agent."

"I'm sorry for not calling in. But my friend needed me. He could have died."

Steve scoffed at the idea and said "Your friend's life is just collateral damage. We must keep the big picture in mind."

Even Steve, the government agent, realized that his words rung a little hollow.

Daisy pursed his lips in frustration and said, "I know I'm the central figure in this ruse. I have become disenchanted with the whole thing, patriotism only carries you so far. I can't count the times I was ready to call it quits. Without question, I've sacrificed more than anyone. When I think about what I have given up, it just didn't compare to my friend's well-being. I was prepared to forego all that because he needed me. That was my place of duty today. I think you have the wrong impression of Ivan. He may be a little gruff; but he is really a lovable guy."

Steve almost came up out of his chair, Ivan had been called a lot of things, but never loveable. "Daisy, open your eyes Ivan is the master of duplicity."

Daisy got red in the face and gave Steve a withering look. She bit off each word as if it had a caustic taste and said, "You don't know what you're talking about. Ivan is just a businessman. Once I get the data from his computer it will prove it."

Trying to make peace Steve said, "Daisy, just make sure your Prince Charming doesn't turn into a Frog."

"Let me worry about that. You do your James Bond thing. I'll take care of my personal life."

Steve realized he was on thin ice. His agent obviously had a strong man crush on Ivan or he was seeing Stockholm syndrome beginning to take hold of Daisy. So rather than attack Ivan's character he decided to change tacks.

"In all seriousness, we need to step back and look at this objectively. A person's true character is defined by his actions rather than his words. Let's look at the things we know Ivan has done recently. Tortured and murdered an undercover agent. Butchered his own men for perceived misconduct."

Daisy shook her head, obviously discarding Steve's statements. "Alright, let's agree to disagree about Ivan's character. I want to get this over with so I can prove he isn't the monster you think he is. I refuse to betray him just because you think he has done something wrong. What ever happened to presumed innocence?"

Steve took a sip of wine. He placed the long-stemmed glass off to the side, and drummed his longish nails on the table top. "But dagnabbit this is a matter of national security, we're dealing with terrorism. We are not in a court of law."

Daisy ran a thought through her brain and was unhappy at the conclusion. "Steve, if you believe Ivan is a terrorist, does that mean you want to send him to Gitmo, or does he get his day in court?"

This was not Steve's arena of responsibility and he did not want to discuss what might happen to Ivan. "That depends more on him than me."

"You must give me your word he'll be taken alive and unhurt, given a lawyer and a chance to defend himself in a courtroom and not made to disappear into a cage in Cuba. If you are so convinced he's guilty, arrest him now. You don't need those damned computer files."

Steve looked across the table in wide eyed astonishment and said, "Just what would we charge him with?"

"I'm not a lawyer; but how about kidnapping me, unlawful imprisonment, performing surgery on me without my permission and illegally injecting me with drugs."

"You're right Daisy, you are not a lawyer. There is no proof he kidnapped you. His lawyer will argue you willingly entered his boat. When the yacht returned from the Mexican cruise, he let you leave. As to the surgery, he will just say it was you that asked for the feminization surgery."

"But that isn't true."

Steve realized a number of those accusations could be brought against him. "Daisy, remember we are talking about our legal system. What we know as being true and what we can prove are entirely different. I'm afraid we may have done too good of a job convincing your associates that you are a transsexual. Ivan could march in at least a dozen people who would swear you outed yourself as a crossdresser. It is my opinion that they honestly think you are what you appear to be. Even when this is over, I don't know how you will convince them you are a man."

"Why you will tell them, I was acting on your orders."

"I'm sorry but that will never happen. This is a classified operation. Under penalty of law, no one can ever talk about it. That includes even you."

Daisy let out a monosyllabic growl. Anger flared in his belly. Directed not at Ivan but surprisingly at his own government. "Why didn't you tell me that when you recruited me?"

"Would you have agreed, if I had?"

"Of course not!"

"Well there's your answer."

That answer prompted Daisy to do something he never envisioned, he would do. He let fly a round house slap that struck Desiree across the cheek so hard he saw stars. Steve did something he never expected too. He held his cheek and started to cry. Needless to say their conduct attracted a lot of attention. Phil came running over and stopped before their table, "Ladies, do we have a problem here?"

Both answered together, "No everything is fine."

Once alone, Steve apologized for his actions, as did Daisy.

Steve asked, "Where do you want to go from here?"

Daisy lifted her chin and had a resolute expression on her face. "I intend to go on my dinner date and spend a lovely evening with my friend. If I get the chance to tap into his hard drive I'll take it. But it will be on my terms."

"Can't you understand you are in great danger? Ivan is on high alert? Let me review the situation. We recently found out that he had a mole working in our office. We don't know exactly what information he passed along to your terrorist friend. Email Intercepts and bank records recently uncovered show some hajji has been funneling a boat load of money to Ivan. I can only guess that has something to do with your involvement with Comrade Vladimir. From his reputation, he will do anything to keep that pipeline open. We just got word that he sent investigators to Ohio State, the school we dummied your degree from. They have been to the registrar's office and are looking for students that would have been there during your time there. People in your office have been questioned again. There have been a number of checks on your credit record. That amount of scrutiny cannot be good for your health. We can't protect you if are off playing nursemaid. We are on the verge of cracking this case. It's imperative we finish this thing today before he breaks your cover story."

Daisy's thought back to all the terrible things she had heard about Ivan and drifted off into a complete daze. Her fingers began to tremble. Steve recognized a loss of fine motor skills that was a manifestation of terror.

He tried to reassure his agent. He reached out and touched his hands. An action that evoked a wince. "Daisy you'll be fine. Just stick to the plan. I think it is poetic justice we are using those gigantic tits as a way to bring him down. Linda has the chemicals and other paraphernalia you'll need. Just so you know, I'll keep the rescue operation on standby. You won't be in any additional danger."

The one thing Daisy insisted upon was that no one would intercede and enter the boat until they get a signal from Daisy. Daisy stood her ground and made it plain that, without Steve's word, there would be no Operation Daisy. Desiree brought his manicured hands to the side of his head and rubbed his temples as he knitted his thin brows. It was a mistake and he knew it, but he agreed to Daisy's demands. Steve held out his hands palms up in surrender and agreed to Daisy's ultimatum.

They joined hands and leaned in close over the table so on one would overhear. They quickly became lost in deep discussion on the best was for Daisy to retrieve the information off Ivan's hard drive and most importantly how to get away without getting caught.

It was while they were talking that Phyllis walked into the club, checking her phone one more time for the anticipated text from her husband. She had bought a new dress and spent hours at the hair dresser in anticipation of a night out with Steve and his girlfriends.

Not having heard anything, she called his office. The secretary who answered the phone told her where to find Desiree. She took a quick look around the place and saw her husband holding hands with a blonde floozy. She marched straight there, knocking aside any hapless chairs that were unfortunate enough to get in her path.

Fury was in her heart and she promised herself that, if he was cheating on her, this would be the very last time. She had her cuticle scissors in her purse that would be good enough to make him a eunuch on the spot. Her spiked heels resonated loudly off the titled floor. She stopped directly behind Desiree. He sensed her presence and tried to stand. Phyllis put a hand on each shoulder and forcefully push him back into his chair.

Steve looked over his shoulder and asked, "Honey, what are you doing here?"

She kept he hands on his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his shoulders and spoke in a menacing tone, "Dear who is this busty blonde bimbo you are with?"

Daisy looked up with fear and looked for a way to escape and started to stand. Phyllis glared at her and said, "Sit down Sister! I'm not through with you."

She continued to dig her newly elongated nails into Desiree's shoulders. "Dear did we forget something? Or is your phone broken. I have been waiting all day for your text."

"Oh shit, that's what I was forgetting. Sorry, I have been under a lot of pressure today, things got crazy at work."

Phyllis took a look around and saw a group of scantily clad waitresses scurrying away from the domestic dispute like a bunch of cockroaches. "I can see that, so instead of spending time with your wife you decided an adulterous affair with this tramp would relieve those built up pressures."

"No dear, it's not like that." His tone of voice was calm, not like a man who had just been caught cheating on his wife.

She released the death grip on his right shoulder and instead moved her hand to his ear. She dug her nail into the earlobe and pinched. "Silly me. When a man makes a date with me. I expect him to call, not find him having a drink in a sleazy bar with a hooker."

"No you have it all wrong. Please let me explain!" Steve was working hard to maintain his composure in the light of Phyllis' nails digging into his ear.

At this stage, Phyllis was trying her best to unscrew her husband's ear. "Alright you have two minutes and it better be good."

"Phyllis this is work related. Let me introduce you to my friend. Phyllis, this is Jack Sokolov, Rose's husband."

Jack extended his hand and said, "Call me Daisy. Jack just doesn't seem appropriate anymore, I'm glad to meet you."

Phyllis pulled her husband up out of his chair by his ear and took his place across from Daisy. She handed Steve his wine glass and said, "Be a good girl and get both of us a drink, make it the good stuff we don't want that cheap rotgut you drink."

"Phyllis she is the waitress not me."

Phyllis glared at her husband who stood there with the empty glass in his hand. "I know I didn't stutter. Now be on your way."

Steve was back in a flash, having cut in line at the bar to fulfill his mission. He placed the glasses on the table and waited.

Daisy started to stand saying, "It’s nice to meet you but I have to get back to my section."

Phyllis gave her husband an impish smile but said to Daisy, "Do you have your order pad?"

"Sure right here."

"Give it to Desiree he is going to take care of your customers while we talk."

"But Phil, I can't…"

Phyllis glared at her husband, "I know you weren't about to defy me and say what I think you were!"

A flustered Steve in trepidation took a couple if tiny steps backward and meekly said, "No of course not. I was just going to point out I don't know what section Daisy is responsible for."

Daisy smiled at the fledgling waitress, "Those eight tables over by the bar are mine."

Steve took the pad and turned, suddenly he stopped and faced his wife. Briefly it looked like he was going to make a stand. Instead he asked, "Do either of you ladies have a pen?"

Daisy, handed him hers and he trotted over to his section and left the two of them alone.

Daisy leaned her elbows on the table and said, "What happened to him? That's not the same guy I remember."

Smiling over at an amazed Daisy, she said, "Oh how the mighty have fallen. No the self-confident, authoritative Steve has grown into Desiree my loving helpmate."

"Is he still a man, down there? I only ask because I’ve seen his impressive cleavage."

Phyllis leered at Daisy’s impressive cleavage and fought for the right words. "As to his boobs, they are very real. During our marriage he was always an authoritative tyrant. It’s wonderful how the cosmos works because he has gone from being a boob to having them. He’s still a man where it counts, just his chase grillwork's been upgraded. In 12 weeks he has gone from a 40 year-old with flabby man boobs to a full chested guy capable of nourishing our baby. He has just started to lactate. If you listen carefully you can hear him slosh when he walks. I owe it mostly to your wife. She's the one that got the ball rolling. I owe her a ton of gratitude."

A confused Daisy asked, "How did she help?"

"She sent him home to me in a heels a skirt and wearing enough makeup to be a streetwalker. She turned him from a drab looking man into real eye candy in one afternoon. At first I thought it was just a great way to bring him down a peg or two. Then I noticed his dress affected his domineering personality. I couldn’t let your wife’s work go to waste. I decided to see how far I could push it."

"Rose did that? How would she get an authoritative he-man like Steve into a dress?"

"She got you into one. Why not my stud of a husband. You're as much of a man as he was."

Jack put his head into his hands and wept thinking of how her treachery had tricked him into giving up his manhood.

Phyllis sat at the table and toyed with the charm bracelet on her left wrist. "Jack, I'm not judging you. Just pointing out that a determined woman can do seemingly impossible things. Steve insists that he was drugged. I'm not so sure he wasn't a willing participant."

Daisy said, "He seems docile."

"Yes, I know. Isn't that wonderful? When we were first married he was the one issuing all the demands. He never suffered from self-doubt. Except maybe in the bedroom. Now the high heel pump is on the other foot. I'm the one giving the orders and he jumps. As Desiree, he has blossomed as a lover whose niche is pussy licking. Just between us girls, being the lord of the manner gives me a deliciously naughty high."

Jack could see so many parallels between the two dominated men. He vividly remembered the way Rose made him suffer for displeasing her. "How? Have you physically abused him?"

"Oh, heavens no. He was ill-mannered but never physically abusive, so there is no way I would cause him physical pain. He has assumed the submissive partner role solely because he wants to please me. I love him too much to resort to violence, just like Rose loves you."

"Rose loves me?" Jack gave her a crooked smile. "You must be kidding. She is nothing but a black widow spider in stilettos. Why in almost a year, I haven't heard a word from her."

"Daisy, that is impossible. Rose told me she has been sending you messages though my husband almost every week."

"I don't know anything about that."

An infuriated Phyllis stuck her hand in the air and snapped her fingers to get her husband's attention. At that moment, he was balancing eight beers on his serving tray, terrified he would spill them on the customers lap. He quickly placed them down. Leaving his tip on the table he hurried to his wife's side.

"What can I do for you ma’am?"

"I want an answer. Rose thinks you have been passing her messages to her husband. But Daisy tells me he hasn’t heard anything. I want to know why!"

Steve sheepishly answered, "We decided it was a matter of operational security."

Phyllis reached up and grabbed the front of his bra and pulled his head down close to the table. Which left his ass fully exposed in the air, not the wisest thing in this club. "Dear don't lie to me. It makes me unhappy."

"Alright! It was Linda's idea. She was afraid that if Jack retained his attachment with Rose it would weaken her hold on him. I went along with her on this."

A pissed off Phyllis glared at her husband. "I must be getting soft. I should use my hairbrush to turn your plump derriere cherry red. We'll talk more about this at home."

Daisy looked at his watch and noticed he had to get home. It would take time to get ready for his dinner date. He excused himself and ran home as fast as his stilettos would allow.

There's only two people in your life you should lie to...the police and your girlfriend. Jack Nicholson