Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Eight: Miranda The Bitch!

Cassie hadn’t worn an evening dress since her training at the FBI facility; she still wasn’t exactly sure where that was. Despite being her lover, Natalie still kept a lot of secrets.

Tonight Cassie was wearing a floor-length red satin sheath split to the waist on both sides, sequins glittered in the lamplight as did her emerald earrings, necklace, and bracelets. It was costume jewellery but expensive. A red push-up bra made the most of her pert breasts, giving her some decolletage, sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose ensured there was no pantyline and helped keep her tucked. Red heels completed the ensemble.

Her hair was coiffured, worn up, her makeup perfect.

She sat at the table across from Diego Martinez. Steve Monahan and Carlo Ramirez sat on either side of her. She drank champagne and made small talk, waiting for them to get down to business. Dale and Carlo hung off her every word. Carlo’s hand kept creeping onto her thigh and she politely removed it each time.

Cassie toyed with her lobster. She barely ate when she was expecting to be sexually active; a seldom spoke of reality for trans girls who practice regular anal sex is that the douche and Imodium are their best friends; heavy meals are not.

The night was warm and they were sitting outside of Carlo Ramirez’ split-level palatial house on his marble-tiled patio. An aqua-lit infinity pool with manicured lawns either side gave way to a magnificent tableau of the lights of Los Angeles spread out in the distance. The coal-black blanket of night surrounded them, providing a feeling of isolation.

Soft music played in the background and the house staff were almost invisible as they came and went, bringing dishes, clearing the table, and topping up glasses.

Despite the quiet and feeling of solitude Cassie knew that heavily armed guards patrolled the perimeter.

Cassie cast her mind back to how she had come to be here. It had come to pass because of the plan she and Natalie had concocted when Natalie had spent the weekend with Cassie at her ranch house; which was totally against FBI protocols for Agents who managed operatives in deep cover.

Between bouts of lovemaking Natalie and Cassie had devised a plan to put a sting on the Medici Cartel principals operating in the USA.

Dale Clifford had called Cassie incessantly over the weekend; each time a little angrier when Cassie turned down his invitations to go for a ride, to meet for drinks, or to have dinner; Cassie knew what Dale really wanted.

“How am I going to get Diego Martinez to trust me so soon after the fiasco with Miguel Rodriguez and the Devil Dogs? He’s going to be wary of working with the OMCs for a while I should think,” Cassie mused.

“I’ve been busy texting and emailing,” Natalie began.

“Diego is going to know very soon that the FBI humiliated and degraded you up at the clubhouse because they wanted to get you in the sting but couldn’t. That will allay any suspicions they might have that you are a snitch. He’s also going to be informed that Miguel was a rat working for the FBI and he’s going to know that the sacrificial prospect the Devil Dog’s set up with the brick of marijuana at the border shit his pants and gave away the ruse,” Natalie smiled knowingly.

Cassie frowned.

“You think you’re the only undercover operative we got working on this? The Medici’s have a mole in the Pasadena FBI field office. She’s a double-agent; we feed her anything we want them to know,” Natalie grinned.

“What about the Devil Dog probie? They’ll kill him,” Cassie said.

“Witsec; same as the probie who was supposed to bury you in the desert,” Natalie lit a cigarette.

“Anyway. You know a guy named Carlo Ramirez?” Natalie asked.

“I’ve heard Diego talk about him. He’s a Jefe with the Medici’s here in California I think,” Cassie replied.

“He’s our next target,” Natalie smiled and went on to outline her plan.

She leaned over her laptop and bought up a picture of Carlo. He was a Colombian citizen residing in California and he was in charge of distributing the drugs, the girls, and the firearms that the Medici Cartel smuggled into the USA.

“He likes to think he’s some kind of benefactor; a robber-baron who is on the wrong side of the law but helps the needy.”

“He likes to entertain, to throw big parties or intimate dinners. Carlo has a few high ranking local law enforcement officers and Immigration and Customs and Enforcement agents on his payroll.”

“He’s handsome I’ll give him that,” Cassie studied the picture on the laptop.

Carlo looked to be in his thirties with thick black hair, a pencil moustache, tanned complexion and a broad handsome face. A modern day Clarke Gable.

“Don’t let his charming looks fool you. In Central America he was the enforcer for the Medici’s and he was responsible for new levels of depravity. He beheaded victims, cut out their hearts, carved a letter ‘M’ into their bodies and hung them from bridges as an example. Even here in the USA he has been known to personally ‘taste’ the young girls smuggled in to be sold for prostitution; those who do not meet his expectations have been offered to his foot soldiers as pleasure toys or just simply disappear.”

“He’s one ruthless motherfucker,” Natalie tapped his picture on the screen.

“And… he likes it both ways,” Natalie raised an eyebrow and looked intently at Cassie.

“Our sources tell us he has a penchant for young men as well as ladies. He has the obligatory doting wife and well-behaved children, but they are only for show. He likes kinky sex,” Natalie turned her lips down.

“I bet if Diego Martinez was to propose a business meeting with members of the Beasts of Burden, one of whom just happens to be a stunning transsexual, he just won’t be able to resist,” Natalie’s smile was stern.

They played the ‘what if’ game and came up with an agreed course of action and on Monday Cassie met with Steve Monahan, Dale Clifford and the club’s office bearers and made her pitch.

“With the Devil Dogs gone the Medici’s need muscle this side of the border. Their own networks work fine in the shadows; but we can operate out in the open where they can’t,” Cassie explained.

“I’ve spoken to Diego Martinez and the Medici’s have a shipment of firearms coming in this week; they want an escort to their safe house,” Cassie looked around the table at the concerned faces.

“Jeez Cassie you move fast,” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“It’s good money boss. And it’s my chance to stick it to that FBI bitch,” the bitterness in Cassie’s voice was palpable.

“It’s too soon after the bust with the Devil Dogs,” Dale Clifford was obviously against the idea and challenged Cassie with his piercing glare.

“That’s why it’s perfect! The FBI won’t be expecting it and the Cartel have ICE on the payroll,” Cassie countered.

ICE was the acronym for Immigration and Customs and Enforcement.

“Also I’ve been invited to dinner with Carlo Ramirez to talk about expanding our relationship and doing more business together,” Cassie announced.

“Shouldn’t I go? I am the President after all,” Steve Monahan mused.

“Oh that’s the plan Steve. He wants to meet you to talk business but he wants me there too. I told you having a hot babe in your club would open doors and provide opportunities,” Cassie grinned.

“I don’t like it! I should at least provide security; I’m Sargent at Arms,” Dale Clifford banged the table.

“It’s an intimate dinner at his house; not a clandestine meeting of the brothers in the backroom of some bar!” Cassie countered.

Dale glared at her across the table.

“Cassie’s right. It’s a business meeting over dinner. She and I will attend and you will look after security on the gun smuggling job,” Steve had made his decision.

“Meeting’s adjourned. Cassie and Dale stay behind while we discuss the details; the rest of you keep a lid on this, I don’t want another bust,” Steve declared.

Cassie filled Steve and Dale in on the details she had received from Diego Martinez. Dale was surly but knew he couldn’t argue with the Club President.

They left the club’s conference room and Cassie got a beer from the bar and went outside in the night air to smoke and clear her head.

It was no surprise to her when Dale appeared at her elbow. He was furious and she could sense it. She had ignored him all weekend and she was going to dinner with Carlo, Diego, and Steve and he felt left out.

Dale turned her face to his and was about to say something angry when Cassie shut him down by kissing him passionately and moulding her body to his. He kissed her back and his hands roamed her body, searching for an opening in her tight denim jeans and her spandex top. He was impatient and Cassie could feel the heat of his erection through her jeans.

“Not here,” she gasped into his mouth as he kissed her ravenously.

“Where?” he huffed, pulling her hard against him.

Their motorcycle engines ticked and began to cool in the night air as Cassie and Dale burst through the door of Cassie’s ranch house.

They didn’t make the bedroom. Dale kissed Cassie and they tore at each other’s clothing in the doorway, kicking off boots, shimmying out of jeans, jackets and tops before falling on the couch. They had barely broken their kiss.

Dale tore at Cassie’s pantyhose, ripping them open and prodding at her buttocks with his erection.

“Are you ok? Are you lubed?” he grunted.

Cassie nodded fanatically and reached down to guide him to her opening. Dale thrust forward and Cassie rose to meet him and then wrapped her legs around his flanks and held on as he rode her.

They kissed and groped at each other while Dale fucked her savagely. He was spending his anger at her by fucking her as hard he could.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Cassie groaned as Dale’s throbbing cock invaded her anus.

She wrapped her arms around him and rose to meet his thrusts. Her own cock was hard, trapped between them and leaking precum.

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” Cassie writhed underneath him.

“Take it you fucking whore!” Dale screamed and ejaculated.

He gripped Cassie’s buttocks and pulled her too him, his fingers pierced the nylon of her pantyhose control-top as he ground against her, emptying himself deep inside her. His semen scalded her prostate and Cassie writhed and wriggled under him as she came with him; the pain and the pleasure, a paroxysm of lust.

Their teeth cracked as they kissed fervently, tongues probing and fingers raking flesh and tearing fabric. They both drew blood as their intense orgasms washed over them.

As their passions waned they became gentle with each other; kissing softly, stroking and caressing. Dale arose and lifted Cassie into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. This time they made love slowly and tenderly. It was true lovemaking rather than frenzied fucking.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore,” Dale felt a little sheepish now that their passion had subsided.

Cassie blew smoke at the ceiling. She was pragmatic; she knew what she was and felt no need to answer.

She looked at the bedside clock-radio. It was getting late and she wanted a good night’s sleep.

“You can’t stay the night,” Cassie reached over Dale to stub out her cigarette.

Dale put an arm around her and lifted her face to his. He looked into her deep green eyes and at her full red lips. He knew he shouldn’t for all sorts of reasons but he thought he might be falling in love with her.

“You don’t want to get close to anyone do you?” Dale held her gaze.

“No Dale I don’t. I need credibility in the MC and I can’t have that if I’m some guy’s fender fluff. And more importantly; I like being a free agent,” Cassie gave him a grim smile.

“So you are a whore,” Dale regretted it as soon as he said it.

Cassie registered the remorse on Dale’s face.

“I guess to some extent I am. But I have to live with myself Dale, you don’t,” Cassie extracted herself from his embrace.

She got up to use the bathroom and when she returned Dale was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed smoking.

“You be careful at the meet Cassie. I know that you have been friends with Diego for a long time but this Carlo Ramirez guy is a stone cold killer. Watch your back,” Dale dropped a gun on the bed.

It was Saturday night special. A little silver .22 automatic; a throwaway.

Cassie picked it up, ejected the magazine and jacked the action, deftly catching the cartridge as it ejected.

“What do I do with this? It’s got no stopping power,” Cassie studied the little pistol.

“You’re wearing that I take it?” Dale pointed to the red sheath evening gown hanging up outside her wardrobe.

“You’ve got nowhere to hide a piece wearing that dress and your Glock is too bulky to put in your purse. Take the throwaway,” Dale arose and walked to the door.

He looked back briefly, putting on his colours. Cassie made no move to go over and kiss him goodbye; she was over his mood swings.

She heard him close the front door then his Harley fired up.

“Fuck!” she tossed the gun on the nightstand and fell on the bed.

Cassie was too tired to deal with Dale’s crap and her ass hurt! Dale had given her a severe pounding; which she had enjoyed, but she was paying for it now.

And so Cassie sat sipping Champagne with Diego Martinez, Steve Monahan and Carlo Ramirez. They made small talk while Cassie tried in vain to keep Carlo’s hands off her legs.

With the table cleared and the house staff finished for the evening, talk turned to business.

“My guys are escorting your shipment of AKs and Barrettas to our safe house,” Steve looked at his phone as it beeped.

“And they’ve just arrived safely. That text was my Sargent at arms,” Steve smiled.

“That’s good work Mr Monahan. Now that your motorcycle club has proven they are once again reliable, I think we should discuss future commerce,” Carlo grinned and poured cognac for the three of them.

“And I’m going to use the ladies room while you men discuss business,” Carlo quickly rose and got her chair as Cassie stood.

He gave her directions to the guest bathroom and Cassie strode off towards the house, her heels click-clacking on the tiles. She could feel the men’s eyes glued to her ass and she smiled to herself.

“And she’s a full-patch member of your club?” Carlo raised an eyebrow at Steve.

“Don’t be fooled by her looks and her demeanour. She wears a Men of Mayhem patch and she didn’t get it for nothing. She’s killed men and punches well above her weight. That bitch can be dangerous,” Steve replied lifting his cognac to the candlelight.

“Se Carlo. I have seen what Ms Rivers is capable of. I wouldn’t fuck with her,” Diego added, nodding at Cassie’s silhouette as she entered the house.

“But you see; I would,” Carlo’s teeth glinted as he smiled.

When Cassie was inside the house she closed the sliding door behind her and then pulled the mesh curtain open a chink and saw that the three men were deep in conversation. She opened her purse and used the micro-camera hidden in her cigarette case to take footage of the interior of Carlo’s house and then planted a miniature, super-sensitive listening device under the coffee table.

She climbed the elegant staircase to the upper floor and planted a bug under his bedside table. She quickly made her way to the restroom and flushed the cistern, pretending she had used it in case someone else came inside. She opened her clutch and leaned against the vanity and stared into the large well-lit mirror and studied her face. Then she began to fix her lipstick.

She felt, rather than heard the door open and Carlo slid into the large restroom and softly closed the door behind himself. Cassie expected just such a thing and when Carlo moved behind her and pressed his groin into buttocks and put his hands on her breasts it came as no surprise.

“Should I bother finishing my lipstick?” Cassie smiled into mirror.

“I think you are wasting your time,” Carlo grinned and spun her around.

He was a lot stronger than he looked.

He kissed her fervidly, his lips smashed against hers and his hands pawed at her breasts. He was frustrated because he couldn’t get her tits free of the tight sheath so he changed his attack to her legs and ass. As his tongue ravaged her mouth, his hands slid inside her sheath dress and squeezed and raked her buttocks. Cassie winced at the pain. She felt his cock pulse when she cried out. He was a sadist and enjoyed hurting her.

Cassie was no stranger to being used by men like Carlo and her tradecraft had taught her that in situations like this it was better to get it over with, the quicker the better.

“Let’s do this,” she mumbled through crushed lips.

She pushed against him, placing her hands on his chest but he resisted.

“Let me give you oral pleasure,” she managed to utter, gasping with pain as Carlo squeezed her buttocks tighter.

He stopped and looked into her eyes and smiled wickedly.

“Yeah. Some head would be nice,” he grinned cruelly and pressed his hands down on her head.

Cassie fell to her knees on the cold tiled floor. Carlo unzipped and his long thick cock sprouted from his flies. He pushed her face into it and Cassie opened her mouth to accept his erect phallus.

She engulfed his penis with practiced ease, using her lips on the shaft and her tongue on his glans. Carlo put his hands on Cassie’s head and began to fuck her face; Cassie opened wider so she could deep throat him, unbuckling his pants and pulling them down so she had better access to his groin.

Carlo was at first disappointed when Cassie spat out his cock but moaned with pleasure when she took his scrotum into her mouth and sucked on his testicles. Cassie used her mouth expertly; suckling and slavering his balls and alternately sucking and licking his penis. She swallowed Carlo’s precum and revelled in her ability to turn the tables and take control.

“God you are one very sexy vixen,” Carlo chuckled as he held Cassie’s head and slid his cock in and out of her ruby-red lips.

Cassie was enjoying the sex, being on her knees fellating this powerful crimelord, she was simultaneously subservient and powerful. She was becoming erect and she slid a hand inside her dress and freed her hardening penis from under her groin and allowed her testes to drop. Her semi-tumescent penis pushed against the gusset of her pantyhose and she stroked it through the diaphanous nylon.

“Oh baby! Please don’t stop,” Carlo uttered his disappointment as Cassie eased her face from his groin.

She smiled up at him and then got to her feet and kissed him; this time she was the protagonist, driving her tongue into his mouth while she squeezed his penis.

Carlo groaned with lust and impatiently thrust back and forth as Cassie masturbated him.

“Ok…Now fuck me,” she whispered.

Cassie spun around and presented her buttocks to Carlo who took the initiative and lifted up the double-split gown, exposing her round, tight buttocks encased in her silky pantyhose. He rubbed his cock in the crevice of her ass while Cassie stroked her cock; leaning against the vanity with her free hand.

Cassie rotated her buttocks, stimulating Carlo; his hands went to her hips and pulled her ass back against his thrusting penis. He enjoyed the feel of her nylon-clad globes against his hard cock, he left silvery trains of precum on Cassie’s buttocks.

Carlo pulled down the rear of Cassie’s pantyhose then dipped his fingers into a jar of moisturiser on the vanity and generously lubricated his erection.

Cassie pushed back, inviting him to penetrate her which Carlo obligingly did. His long thick cock slid easily into her tight anus and Cassie purred with pleasure and squeezed her own cock harder.

“You like that pussycat?” Carlo purred as his groin pushed against her buttocks, fully impaling her on his cock.

Cassie wriggled her buttocks in response.

“Come on; fuck me,” she sighed.

Carlo gripped Cassie’s hips and began to fuck her gradually increasing the tempo and fucking her harder while Cassie pushed back against him and vigorously rubbed her cock.

They came together, Carlo slamming his cock deep inside Cassie’s ass and ejaculating and Cassie grinding back against him and filling her nylons with creamy semen.

Carlo and Cassie both moaned with pleasure and ground and rubbed against each other as they orgasmed until their intense pleasure slowly subsided. Carlo held Cassie still and extracted his penis. He leaned over and took a handful of tissues and wiped his cock dry and dabbed at Cassie’s ass. She took a handful herself and dabbed at the front of her pantyhose to soak up her semen.

“I’ll leave first. For propriety’s sake,” Carlo lifted her pantyhose back into place and pulled down her dress.

He spun Cassie around and stole one last lingering kiss. Cassie cleaned herself more attentively while Carlo left the bathroom, then she adjusted her hosiery, tucking herself securely and smoothing her sheath gown. She fixed her lipstick, fussed with her hair and then rejoined the men on the patio.

They were talking shop again but they stopped and rose politely when Cassie returned. Carlo refilled her glass and gave her a knowing look when he lit her cigarette.

“Steven and I have just come an agreement that the Beasts of Burden will provide security for all of the Medici Cartel’s future, shall we say, logistic interests in California,” Carlo smiled and raised his glass.

“You mean smuggling drugs, girls and weapons?” Cassie played the dumb coquette but she wanted Carlo to say it for her recording device.

“Yes everything,” Diego Martinez smiled and they all clinked glasses.

“To guns, girls and cocaine,” Cassie smiled seductively at Carlo, hoping for an incriminating response.

“To guns, girls and cocaine,” Carlo laughed and kissed Cassie on the cheek.

Diego Martinez and Steve Monahan looked at each other knowingly. Cassie had been gone from the table for a very long time for a girl supposedly powdering her nose and Carlo had returned flushed and emboldened; they both guessed Carlo and Cassie had had sex during their absence but what did they care?

The good thing for them all was that a deal had been struck. And for Cassie? She hoped she had the evidence that Natalie wanted to help build her RICO case.

Just as everyone at the table settled down, happy and content, there came a series of loud cries, and the sound of men crashing through the undergrowth and the crunching of boots on gravel.

“Fuck!” the four cried in unison as heavily armed men in blue law enforcement jackets with yellow lettering on the back came running out of the gloom.

“Thank fuck it’s just the Federales,” Carlo smiled and stood up and raised his hands.

He was relieved it was not a rival Cartel coming to assassinate him. Diego stood up and he too raised his hands. They were both wearing white linen suits and black shirts; they had been though this ritual many times, both south of the border and here in the USA, and were not unduly concerned. They had always walked.

The Cartel had lawyers and attorneys who were gifted in keeping their organised crime clientele out of prison and they also had high ranking law enforcement officers and judges in their pocket.

It was different for Cassie and Steve. Their club had attorneys too but not of the calibre of the Cartel. They looked at each other knowingly; silently invoking the OMC creed of silence as they stood and raised their hands.

Cassie was pissed. Natalie should have warned her about the FBI raid; it was way too premature. They had no where near enough evidence yet to convict Carlo.

The law enforcement officers closed in on them and a chill ran down Cassie’s spine as they got close enough for Cassie to see that the big yellow letters on the backs of their dark blue jackets was not FBI…it was ATF.

“Fuck!” Cassie hissed under her breath.

She would have no immunity with these guys and until the FBI became aware of her arrest she would be treated just like any other criminal.

“You know the drill!” a burly agent growled.

Members of his team handcuffed Cassie, Carlo, Diego and Steve; cuffing their hands behind their backs and frisking them down.

As she expected the agent patting down Cassie copped a feel of her tits and groin. She was relieved that she was tucked well enough that he didn’t yet realise she was a trans woman but she knew it wouldn’t take them long to do so if they took her into custody and gave a thorough body search.

Several agents disappeared inside the house while the burly agent read them their rights and threw a search warrant on the table. There was the sound of breaking glass and crashing furniture from inside the house and Carlo made a tut-tutting noise. He smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t worry. This is just a nuisance raid; they know I wouldn’t be stupid enough to have anything incriminating in my house,” Carlo grinned.

“Shut up!” the burly agent was obviously angry.

“Did you find anything?” he barked at the agents who had patted them down.

“Nothing,” an agent replied.

“Look in her handbag,” he snarled.

The agent upended Cassie’s clutch-purse and shook it. She bowed her head when the little silver Saturday night special clattered on the table.

“Well, well, well!” the burly agent grinned.

“Please tell me there is no carry permit in her purse,” he smirked.

The other agent shook his head with a self-satisfied grin.

Cassie heard Diego, Carlo and Steve exhale their dissatisfaction. They thought she was stupid for coming to the meeting armed and she knew they were right. She should never have listened to Dale.

“Miranda the bitch! Put her shit into evidence bags and lets take her down town,” the burly agent seemed very pleased with himself.

“Let these other dick-wads go and lets get the fuck out of here,” he ordered.

To be continued.