Executive Solutions
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Two – State Forest

The woman woke up late; a slither of light lanced through a chink in the curtain and fell across her face.

She was sore. Her body protested at being tossed around on the bed in the seedy hotel the night before, her anus ached and the tiny pinprick in the crook of her left elbow itched.

The effects of the drug she had been administered were wearing off and her mind was clearer but she was devoid of any memories prior to the previous night. She got out of bed and sat on the toilet and peed; it seemed natural to sit, even though she had a penis. She tried to void her bowels but there was nothing to void. She realised she was famished.

She ordered room service and unwrapped her purchases. She brushed her teeth and examined her face, although she guessed she was at least part male there was no facial hair to shave, her skin was smooth. She took a long hot shower, scrubbing hard at her genitals and buttocks, remembering that one of the men last night had ejaculated on her rump.

The woman applied makeup with a practiced ease that was obviously due to years of routine. She brushed her hair and sat on the toilet seat and pushed her testes up inside her and tucked her scrotum and penis between her legs used a slim panty-liner to hold them in place. She slipped into a fresh pair of satin panties and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She had what men derogatorily referred to as a ‘camel-toe’. You would never guess that she had male sex organs.

The skill was something she had evidently used daily in whatever life she had led before she was stricken with amnesia. She hoped her memory would return when the drug had completely left her system but for now she could recall nothing except for the previous night’s events.

She checked out her breasts. They were small but perky; she had bought a B-cup brassiere at Kmart in anticipation that it would fit. She lifted one of her breasts and saw the fine scar where an implant had been inserted. The noticed that she had a small ugly puckered scar just below her right breast. She rubbed it and an image suddenly sprang to mind: a man firing a gun at her as she struggled with him. The image disappeared as quickly as it had formed. Was it a memory or her imagination?

She studied herself. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties; she was slim, tall with long legs and supposed she was attractive. Her hair was obviously coloured, highlighted, and coiffured professionally. She surmised she could best be described as lithe and well looked after. Her skin was like alabaster, smooth and creamy.

She had so many questions and so few answers.

The door chimed and she pulled on the complimentary fleecy white dressing gown and padded to the door. She checked the peephole and saw a bellhop with a room service cart.

The young man set up her breakfast table with a minimum of fuss and few words. He declined a tip and did not offer her a room service charge docket to sign.

“So is breakfast charged to my room or is it inclusive?” she asked.

The bellhop looked at her quizzically and uttered one phrase.

“Executive Solutions ma’am,” he replied and left the room closing the door behind him.

She sat at the table and poured coffee and turned on the TV. It was tuned to CNN and the death of Mafioso Capo; Franco Delgado last night in the fleapit hotel was still a banner headline. A pretty newsreader with bright-red fellatrix lips, perky tits and long legs seemed delighted to inform viewers that it was suspected that Delgado had been shot by a prostitute in what appeared to be a robbery or blackmail sting gone wrong. Police were requesting that anyone in the area last night that might have seen a woman dressed in a red evening gown to contact them.

The hotel receptionist was assisting police with their enquires.

“Fuck!” the woman clicked off the TV.

She drank three cups of coffee but the food went cold. She had lost her appetite.

The woman curled up on the bed and wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. She fell asleep and was awoken some time later by a knock on the door. She checked the peephole but there was no one there. She looked down at her feet and strangely, for the first time, noticed that her toenails were painted red.

Someone had slipped a card under her door.

It was the same expensive card stock with blue raised font on a crisp white background. It read: ‘Executive Solutions’ but was otherwise blank. She turned it over and saw a single word written in ballpoint pen: ‘Run!’ Her heart began to pound and she deadlocked the door and put the security chain lock to use. Her fingers were trembling and it took her three attempts to thread the chain into the slot.

She scampered across the room and upturned her clutch purse on the coffee table and snatched up the card left in the seedy hotel room last night. The card was identical expect for the name Kelsey Reka and the phone number.

Her hand was still shaking as she dialled the number on the card using the hotel room handset.

She listened to the sound of her call being connected. The iphone on the coffee table vibrated. She slid her finger across the face of the phone to answer the call and picked it up. She heard her own breathing. She hung up the iphone and it was once again locked; without the code all she could do was answer calls.

“Fuck!” she whispered.

“Somehow I gotta find this Kelsey Rika guy!” she hissed.

She pulled on pantyhose, smoothing the garment up her legs and the gusset around her waist and then slipped into the leggings she had purchased at Kmart. She wriggled herself into the bra and the mauve longsleeved T-shirt she had also purchased, ripping off the price tags with her teeth.

She was throwing all of her meagre possessions into her newly purchased suitcase when the iphone rang again. The caller came up as ‘private number’ and she hesitated momentarily and then answered the call.

“Hello?” she whispered into the phone.

“You’re one lucky lady. How long do you think it will be until law enforcement or something worse comes for you?” the voice was emotionless and could have been either male or female.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“The question was rhetorical. The police are interviewing that Pakistani taxi driver as we speak. Better get your skates on sweetheart,” the line went dead.

She finished packing and slipped into her new flat shoes. She had packed everything except the red sheath gown and the underwear she had been wearing last night. The thought of taking the semen-stained garments repulsed her.

The suitcase had wheels and she dragged it behind her as she walked quickly down the corridor and turned the corner towards the elevator. Then she stopped. The elevator pinged and she quickly ducked into a linen closet that housekeeping had thankfully left open.

Two men exited the elevator and looked up and down the corridor.

“The bitch is in room 1204,” one of the men said.

“I’m taking out that fucking chemist straight after we pop the tranny bitch. That fucking elephant juice should have done for her last night. How the fuck did he get the toxicity wrong?” the other man grunted.

“Fucked if I know; we shot her up twice and she’s still walking and talking,” the other man replied.

“Not for long. Are you going to want to fuck her again before we tap her?”

“Nah. Let’s just do her and pay a visit to that useless fucking alchemist.”

The woman recognised the voices. They were the men from the fleapit hotel.

She held her breath until they passed the linen closet and turned the corner and then she bolted back down the corridor and opened the door to the stairwell and began to descend the twelve flights of stairs.

She bypassed the lobby exit and continued down two more flights to the carpark exit. She pushed the bar and the door opened to a bare concrete and steel carpark.

A man in a business suit was climbing into a black Mercedes sedan and she sprinted towards him dragging her suitcase. The man looked up surprised and then smiled when he saw the attractive woman coming his way.

“I need a ride. I can pay,” she panted, looking back over her shoulder.

The man’s smile widened.

“Ah! A damsel in distress; of course I can give you a ride,” the man said grinning.

The woman had no time for word games, she opened the back door of the sedan and threw in her suitcase and scampered around to the passenger-side door.

“Aha! We’re in a hurry,” the man was still smiling.

“Yes! Let’s go right now!” the woman said excitedly.

“Ok madam,” the man got behind the wheel, started the car and drove out of his parking spot.

“Where are we going?” the man still had the supercilious grin on his face.

“Just get me far away from here. Anywhere will do for now. Somewhere quiet where no one can see us from the road,” she looked out the back window but didn’t see anyone on the parking level.

“Ok sister. I’m at your service; we can discuss remuneration once we get out of here,” he looked at her and winked.

The woman swivelled her head repeatedly, looking for the two men and when the car settled into a lane on the street she kept looking back for a vehicle that might be following. She saw neither.

The woman looked at the man’s profile. He has handsome with chiselled features, professionally coiffed hair, and a tanned complexion. He seemed to have a permanent smile on his sensuous lips; his teeth looked like they had been whitened.

They left the city and the traffic thinned; the man pulled onto a side road leading to a state forest, drove through a deserted dusty car park and then onto a tree-lined camper trail. The man stopped the car.

The woman sighed with relief; they were well and truly out of the city.

“So what do we do next?” she asked the man.

“I thought this was your rodeo?” the man smiled back at her.

“But I have an idea for now,” the man grinned.

“Why don’t we begin by you sucking my cock,” the man pulled a pistol from beside his seat and pointed it at her.

He gave her that congenial smile but she could see the malice behind his crocodile grin.

A scintilla of a memory suddenly came to her. A large flat-screen TV projected an identikit drawing of a man, not dissimilar to the man in the car. A voiceover saying: ‘police are still searching for the man dubbed the ‘State Forest Sadist’ who is responsible for the rape and murder of at least five women, and the rape of one woman who escaped her ordeal…’

The man put the gun to her head and reached down and unzipped his fly.

“Come on sugar, we can do this easy or we can do this hard,” he smirked.

The woman lowered her face into the man’s lap and engulfed his swollen penis.

“That’s it sugar. Just don’t think of biting me down there or it will be that last thing you ever do,” the woman felt the gun on the side of her head.

If she tried anything her could blow her brains out without injuring himself.

The woman suckled the man’s penis. It was not exceptionally large and she was easily able to take the whole member into her mouth and work her lips on the shaft while she tickled her fraenulum with her tongue. She once again wondered how she had acquired these skills; was she really a prostitute?

The penis became harder and she felt the veins bulging and the glans leaking salty pre-seminal fluid, which she lapped up with her tongue.

“You’re pretty good at giving head sweetheart; you could be a pro,” he grunted, obviously enjoying himself.

“But that’s not how I roll baby; I wanna fuck you before I come,” she man sighed.

Two things became immediately apparent to the woman. One: the man was about to find out that she was transsexual and that might disgust him and so he might kill her. Two: even if he wasn’t disgusted he was going to kill right here after he fucked her. Maybe he would rape her some more; but he was going to get bored eventually and kill her.

The man pulled her face out of his groin and pushed the woman back in her seat.

“Ok honey; time to get in the back so I can fuck you,” he still had that arrogant smirk.

“Ok, ok, just one thing you should know. I’m not a woman as such; I’m a transsexual woman,” she whimpered.

The woman expected the man to get angry but instead his smile widened.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a tranny. Now get out of the car real slow, and get in the back. Lie down on the seat and stay still,” the man waved the pistol at her to get out of the car and kept it trained on her while she did what she was told.

The man quickly got out of the driver’s seat and opened the rear passenger door.

“Drop those tights you pretty little thing,” the man grinned, the pistol still pointing at her.

The woman pulled down her leggings, pantyhose and panties but they bunched together around her knees.

“That’s just fine honey. I can get what I need with you just like that and you ain’t gonna kick me or run away from me with your scanties wrapped around your legs,” the man chuckled.

“Hold out your hands,” the man waved the gun.

The woman did as she was told and the man slipped a cable-tie around her wrists and pulled it tight.

“Now scoot back,” the man took off his clothes.

He climbed into the car and lifted her legs up high and slipped between them, positioned himself awkwardly inside her bunched up tights. He put the gun down on the rear window shelf.

“Ok sugar; here comes the good bit. You be nice to me and I let you go after I’ve fucked you. You give me grief and you’re getting fucked anyway but the outcome won’t be so good for you,” he grinned.

The man spat on his erection and forced it between the woman’s legs. He found it difficult to get his cock near the woman’s anus but she obligingly lifted her buttocks for him, to help him find her sphincter.

“Good girl,” he grinned down into her face and kissed her.

Some instinct told the woman to ensure that he fuck her while she was on her back rather than have him roll her over face down where she would defenceless and also for her to participate willingly.

To the man’s surprise the woman kissed him back, opening her mouth to accept his tongue, she wriggled her buttocks as the man slid his cock slowly inside her. The woman stifled her scream and instead she put her cuffed wrists over the man’s head and around his neck and pulled him to her and kissed him wantonly. She writhed underneath the man as he thrust in and out of her anus.

The man began to grunt and groan as he savagely fucked her, driving his cock deep inside her and retracting it so that the glans just pierced her sphincter and then drove it deep in her again.

The woman groaned with pretend lust and kissed the man harder; she managed to wrap her legs around his as the elastin in her leggings stretched.

The man gasped and orgasmed and she felt his rancid semen fill her back passage. This was what she had been waiting for; the man was at his most vulnerable.

As the man pushed his phallus deep inside her and drove himself against her; the woman locked her legs around his and then pulled down on his neck as hard as she could, the cable-tie gouged into his neck.

The man began to struggle and gasp and the woman stretched him; holding him fast with her legs while her wrists worked at his neck. She could feel her flesh part as the cable-tie cut into her but she maintained the pressure as the man squirmed and writhed in agony on top of her.

It took a long time for the man to die. Probably five minutes; but eventually he took his last gasp. She kept the pressure on him for another five minutes and then she took her hands from around his neck and eased her legs free. Her whole body ached with the exertion.

She struggled to kick the man off her; but eventually she was able to slide from under him and open the door behind her and she spilled onto the pine-needle-matted forest floor, which mercifully softened her fall.

She pulled up her underwear and leggings as best she could and looked around and listened. The forest was silent except for the sound of birdcalls.

The woman sat on the ground and leaned her back against the car as she recovered her breath and took stock of the situation. Her mind was racing and running on instinct.

She scrambled to her feet and leaned in the back of the car and took the pistol off the rear shelf; she checked the safety and stuffed it in her waistband. She put her hand on the man’s neck; there was no pulse. She opened the trunk and as she suspected there was a large canvass carry-bag; what the cops referred to as ‘rape-kit’. There was a big knife, rope, more cable-ties, a bottle of clear liquid which she guessed was chloroform, some rags, a roll of duct tape and just what she needed, a box-cutter.

The had to be careful using the box-cutter because of the awkward angle due to her wrists being tied but she persevered and cut through the cable-tie. Her wrists were bloody but the wounds were superficial. The man also had a first aid kit in the trunk and she poured disinfectant on her wounds.

She searched the car and found an unopened bottle of still water in the driver’s door and she rinsed her mouth to rid herself of the taste of the man and then drank to slake her thirst.

“Where the fuck did I learn to do that?” she said to herself as she contemplated what she had just done; strangling the man like some sort of commando.

That evening at about eleven pm the woman sat in a McDonald’s restaurant, some three hundred plus miles from the place where she had been assaulted, eating a burger and fries and sipping on a shake. Just as she was bussing her tray a teenaged couple pulled off a side road that led to a State forest and into the deserted dusty car park. The boy was hoping that he was finally going to cross third base but the girl was determined that she was just going to let her boyfriend panty-pop her; if he wanted to stick it in her he better buy her a ring.

Neither got their wish.

Their evening was ruined when their headlights illuminated the body of a naked man duct-taped to a post with a cardboard sign taped to forehead, which read: ‘I am the State Forest Sadist’. His clothes were dumped beside him.

By the time the carpark was filled with police vehicles with their flashing blue, red and white lights, the woman had driven another hundred miles and ditched the black Mercedes sedan in a long-term parking lot having wiped it down for prints using watered-down chloroform and a rag.

She dragged her suitcase to a nearby motel and using her looks, her beguiling smile, and waving cash at the young male receptionist, she was able to convince him to check her in for three nights without producing ID.

She locked herself into her miserable but clean motel room and threw herself on the bed. She did not turn on the TV.

The woman slept soundly.

She woke early and made coffee using the cheap instant provided by the motel, poured in non-dairy creamer and went back to bed and settled under the covers with her knees up, sipping the hot drink. She reached for the clicker and found a news station on the TV.

Another pretty reporter with perky tits and long legs advised the audience that the body of a man suspected of being the State Park Sadist had been found tied to a post in a state forest car park. The reporter went on.

“The only previous surviving victim of his crimes has reportedly possessively identified the body as the man who had assaulted and tried to kill her. Police have sent DNA samples away for analysis and tentatively identified the man from items found in his wallet found at the scene. Police at this early stage are confident that the man is in fact the State Park Sadist.”

“Police are urgently requesting that the person or persons who tied the man to the post come forward; and they believe it is possible that a potential victim or a survivor may have killed the man whilst being attacked. State Trooper Nigel Johnson was overheard to say: ‘whoever that woman is; well, she deserves a medal’ before a supervisor told him to shut the bleep up.”

“Passions are running deep as it appears that not only is there another survivor of the State Park Sadist out there; but she might just well have turned the tables on the man responsible for…”

The woman clicked the TV off.

She figured it would take a while for the police to find the man’s car. She was four hundred and some miles from the scene of the crime so she would allow herself some time to recover from two days of being used and abused and to do some research and try to find out who the fuck she is and what the fuck she was doing and why.

First she took a long shower, dried herself off, brushed her teeth and slipped into a pair of fresh pantyhose and pulled a pair on nylon briefs over them. She rinsed the panties and nylons she had worn yesterday in the sink and hung them to dry over the shower curtain-rail. She did her makeup and slipped into the thin ratty robe provided by the motel; at least it was clean. She made more coffee and decided to take stock.

She counted out the roll of cash and to her delight realised she had given the black man at the hotel the smaller denomination bills in the roll, the remaining bills were all one hundred-dollar notes and she had just short of three thousand dollars. She put the money aside, she would need it to buy more clothes and some other purchases that she would make today.

She took the pad and pen off the bedside table and wrote ‘Executive Solutions?’ at the top. She put a line down the middle and across the bottom and wrote what she knew about herself on one side:

‘Transsexual, accomplished at sex, accomplished in lethal force, late thirties or early forties, attractive, is linked somehow to ES.’

Then only what she guessed or assumed on the other side:

‘prostitute? ex military? ex law enforcement? knows Kelsey Reka?’

Then under the line, the who’s and whys:

‘why was she in the hotel? why was she supposed to be blamed for the death of Franco Delgado? who is the black pimp? who are the two men who tried to kill her and who do they work for? why does just showing an Executive Solutions business card open so many doors?’

She was lost in thought when there came a soft rapping at her door. She became instantly alert and padded over to the door closing her robe around her. She realised that she had been given access to two guns and kept neither; another why. She looked in the peephole and saw the young man who had been on the desk the night before. She opened the door.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am but my daddy is riled at me,” the young man looked to be just shy of his twentieth birthday and he openly ogled the mature attractive woman dressed only in the tight housecoat and nylons.

The woman grinned; every young man’s dream was to fuck Mrs Robinson. She looked around and saw that there was no one in the proximity and she took the lad by the arm and pulled him into her room. The young man’s nostrils flared at the scent of soap, makeup, ladies deodorant and perfume. The room smelled feminine and the woman’s proximity to him was provocative. The bulge in his jeans was evident.

“Anyway daddy is pissed that I let you check in without any ID given that you paid cash and all,” the boy blushed and looked down at his shoe.

The woman summed up the problem and formulated the obvious solution intuitively.

She lifted the young man’s chin so that he looked at her.

“Yeah what I did was wrong,” the woman allowed her robe to fall open so that the man could see that she was dressed only in silky tan nylons and pink nylon panties.

The boy gasped and stared away.

She lifted his chin again so that she could look him in the eye.

“You know what a transsexual woman is?” she whispered and the boy looked at her ruby-red lips as she spoke.

The boy nodded tentatively.

The woman tilted her head and gave him an inquiring look.

“Chicks with dicks is what they call them on the Internet,” he sighed.

“And you look at them on the Internet? You ever wonder what it would be like to be with one?” she took a half step closer and the boy nodded and blushed.

This is too fucking easy, the woman thought to herself.

She bought a hand to the back of the boy’s head and pressed her face to his, kissing him softly at first and then she pressed her whole body against him and kissed him wantonly.

The boy began to shake and she guided him over to the bed before his knees gave way; she fell on top of him and bought his hand to her breast while she kissed him.

“Oh lordy!” he moaned.

She let him fumble with her breasts a while, eventually getting her nipples hard while she kissed him and stroked his hardon through his jeans but she didn’t think he would last much longer. She pried herself loose and unbuckled his pants and shucked them down his legs; he pulled off his t-shirt revealing a lean but well-muscled chest.

“You take off your jeans the rest of the way and I’ll right back,” she leapt off of him and she saw the look of disappointment on his face.

She raced into the bathroom and squirted a good splodge of motel-supplied body lotion into her hand and rubbed it inside and around her sphincter. She took the little vial with her and stopped briefly at the wardrobe to slip on the red high-heels she had kept and then she sauntered over to bed.

The gorgeous mature woman with the long legs clad in silky hose and pretty little pink slinky panties, pert titties, pretty face, black hair with red highlights, approaching the boy on those red high-heels was every adolescent’s dream.

The boy was naked and his cock stood up like a periscope. For a lanky young man he had a decent schlong. He was well tanned all over and his hair was sun-bleached.

The woman smiled at him as she approached the bed, swaying seductively.

“Hot damn!” she boy whooped.

“Hot damn indeed,” the woman grinned as she sat on the side of the bed and reached for his cock and lowered her face to his.

He showered her with sloppy kisses and bucked as she stroked his hot, throbbing cock, which was leaking copious amounts of precum.

“Ok cowboy; you ready for this?” she broke the kiss and stood on her heels.

“I wanna see it,” the boy gasped.

The woman slowly peeled down her panties and let them pool around her ankles. Her hard cock pressed against the gusset of her pantyhose. The boy was fascinated and his cock was quivering.

The woman didn’t bother with the little vial of moisturising lotion; she wouldn’t need it. The boy’s cock was leaking precum in copious amounts.

The woman was quite aroused herself, being appreciated by the young man. She rolled down the gusset of her nylons and her erect cock sprang free. The boy gasped.

“I wanna see it come!” he gulped.

The woman smiled and climbed on the bed and straddled the young man.

“Ok cowboy; here we go,” she slowly lowered herself onto the boys long thick cock.

She gasped. It filled her and pressed on all the right places. She threw back her head and slowly rode the boy while he held onto her hips.

It was a short ride.

“Oh my god!” the boy screamed after a dozen thrusts and he raised his groin off the bed and pulled the woman down, impaling her on his cock as he ejaculated.

The woman felt his cock quiver and felt his hot semen flood her anus; his glans pressed on her prostate, which gave her release.

Her own cock quivered and began to shoot jets of hot semen onto the boy’s chest and belly. The sight and feel of which amplified the sensation of his orgasm and he jackhammered his cock in and out of her anus to extract the last of his juices and she obligingly spent a little more herself.

When they had both finished coming the woman reached for the hotel towel and wiped away the mess on the boy’s body. She half expected post-coital regret but the boy pulled her face down to his, and with his cock still inside her, he kissed her long and hard.

“That was awesome. You’re so damn pretty and so damn sexy. My favourite movie is Casino and you look like Sharon Stone; cept with black hair of course,” the boy grinned up at her bashfully.

“That’s very nice of you to say so sugar; now you are going to do me a favour. You’re going to tell your daddy that you saw my ID and that my name is…Sharon Stone…just like the famous actress in fact, and tell him that I’m very nice and I value my privacy.”

“Then you’re going to run some errands for me; and if you’re a good boy you get to do this all over again,” she smirked down at the boy.

“I’m going to do all that Miz Stone only can I ask one favour?” the boy looked up at her sheepishly.

“Can I take an advance and do it again now,” he blushed.

The woman then realised that while they had been talking he had become fully erect inside her.

“Sure,” she said, grinning and climbing off him.

The boy looked bemused until she scooted him off the bed while she lay down on it and opened her legs for him.

“Only this time you’re doing all the work,” she smiled at him and opened her arms.

The boy climbed on her and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Hot damn!” he whooped and kissed her as his hard cock slid into her well-lubricated opening.

The woman chuckled and rose to meet his thrusts.

To be continued…