Balwyn PD’s SWAT team was only small: eight very well trained officers and they were all pissed off at Penelope Bishop. They’d hit the Beasts of Burden MC clubhouse at sunrise expecting the bikers to be armed and dangerous and instead they’d found the President Duane McAllister, the Vice President Bob Livingstone, and the remaining three fully-patched members, a couple of prospects and four scantily dressed skanky mommas asleep and strewn around the clubhouse in various stages of undress.

Duane and Bob were fast asleep on old leather sofas in the meeting room, both cuddled up to snoring mommas. The rest were sleeping on the beer-stained couches and in some cases on the floor of the barroom. None of them were armed and they were all in various states of drunkenness after a wild party the night before.

Penelope made her apologies and sent the SWAT team away telling them to get breakfast at The Longhorn and put it on her tab. She, Steve Edwards and Silvia Bickle sent the skanky women home along with the rest of the bikers and prospects and sat Duane McAllister and Bob Livingstone down in the club meeting room.

Duane McAllister lit a cigarette and looked up at Penelope through squinted eyes. His eyes travelled over her body, unashamedly leering at her tits, ass and legs and then he did the same to Silvia Bickle.

“They sent a tranny and a spook to roust us Bob,” he croaked to Bob Livingston through a broken-toothed smile.

“I got one word to say to you lady… lawyer,” Duane put his head down on table and began to snooze, leaving his cigarette burning in the ashtray.

“No need for lawyers. We just have a couple of questions is all,” Penelope replied.

Lawyer, Duane’s voice was muffled by his folded arms.

“All I want to know is… do you know either of these girls? This one rides with one of your members,” Penelope put the pictures of Olena Svetlana and Alina Kunis down on the polished wood table and pointed to the picture of Olena Svetlana.

Duane didn’t even take his head out of his arms and neither did Bob Livingstone.

“Hey boss come look at this,” Steve called from the barroom.

The walls of the barroom were decorated with neon beer signs, colours, patches, sigils, old number plates and other biker paraphernalia but also there were numerous framed pictures of the members partying, riding, attending rallies and just sitting around the clubhouse.

Steve pointed to a picture of Harlan Decker sitting on his Harley outside the clubhouse. Sitting beside him and smiling at the camera was Olena Svetlana wearing cut-off denim shorts and a t-shirt with her tits out, her long legs sheathed in glossy pantyhose, her feet shot in come-fuck-me heels. Steve climbed up on a bench and began to remove the picture off the wall.

This roused Duane McAllister and Bob Livingstone.

“Hey!” Duane called out and tried to get out of his seat.

Penelope pushed him back down in his chair and pointed to the search warrant she had placed on the table.

“Cunt!” Duane hissed and put his head back down on his forearms and pretended to snooze.

Steve brought the picture into the meeting room and held it up against the pictures on the wall next to the MC’s honour board listing the President, Vice President, Treasurer, Secretary, Road Captain, and Sergeant-at-Arms. There it was: ‘Harlan Decker - Sergeant at Arms’ right beside his picture. Steve took the picture out its frame much to the consternation of Duane McAllister.

Silvia Bickle took a call from Alice Leasingham right then and called Penelope into the clubhouse.

“Alice got a hit on the mystery bloodstain at Supergirls. It’s been matched to a Peter Decker who was recently released from Huntsville after serving seven years of a twelve year stretch for armed robbery,” Silvia whispered.

“So it was the two brothers, Harlan and Peter Decker. Let’s get the fuck out of here and find those fuckers,” Penelope was excited.

She went back into the meeting room and snatched the up warrant off the table.

“Thanks boys; you’ve been real helpful,” Penelope smirked at the two bikers who still sat with their heads in their hands.

“Fuck you,” Duane growled and feigned sleep until the police had left the clubhouse.

When Penelope, Steve and Silvia left the clubhouse Duane banged the table.

“Those fuckers did it! Check the armoury while I make some calls and check on a few things,” Duane said excitedly.

Bob Livingstone went outside to a cinderblock building at the back of the clubhouse located behind a beat-up lanai scattered with grungy outdoor furniture and a rundown bamboo tiki bar. He unlocked the steel door, turned on the lights and weaved his way through the detritus to a false wall at the back of the building which he was able to remove with a screwdriver. Behind the wall was a fireproof steel gun safe.

Half the contents of the safe were missing including two nine millimetre semi-automatic pistols fitted with suppressors and a couple of nine millimetre Parabellum Heckler & Koch MP5 that were capable of fully-automatic fire.

Bob went back into the clubhouse and found Duane McAllister finishing up a call.

“He fuckin’ took half of our weapons stash,” Bob growled.

“I shudda seen this comin’ when he came to us with that crazy plan to knock over the counting house and take the Russian money. He had his cooze workin’ inside,” Duane sat at the long table and tapped the polished wood with his fingertips.

“Not a bad piece of ass,” Bob reminisced.

Harlan had shared Olena with brothers in arms and she didn’t mind. She whored for a living so putting out for Harlan’s biker friends was no big deal.

“I bet he got his crazy brother in on the deal… Peter… yeah that’s his name, Pete,” Duane continued, ignoring the interruption.

“Look; the way I see it. Harlan and Pete Decker and the crazy Russian cooze killed those guys at Supergirls and took the money. The cops and the Russian mob will be looking for them. They already got pictures of the girls on the TV news and all the media. I just checked,” Duane’s brow was furrowed in thought.

“The cops pretty much gave us a pass so we’re not suspects; the crime is not related to our club,” Duane continued.

“Harlan said that if we pulled the job with him we could hide out on a farm until the heat was off,” Duane ran his fingers through his long greasy hair.

“The Harrison place! Harlan leased the old Harrison farm north of the city,” Bob Livingstone said excitedly and gave Duane McAllister a wicked grin.

“I got Benny comin’ over with the crash truck. We can’t fit all that cash in the panniers if we take our sleds,” Duane mused.

The club’s crash truck rode at the very end of the bikers riding in formation carrying spare gas, parts, and space to pick-up any broken down bikes

“We goin’ after them right now?” Bob was a little surprised.

“Fuck yeah right now! We don’t get that money soon the cops or the mob are goin’ to be all over them like a fat chick on a cupcake. Get the guns. It’s just goin’ to be just you me and Benny. We find those fuckers, take the cash and hide it away somewhere safe until the dust settles,” Duane rubbed his hands together.

“What about the Deckers?” Bob asked; but he knew the answer.

“They're collateral damage; the Russian chick too. The cops will think the Russians did it and the Russians will think someone else did it. The trick is that no one finds out that it’s us,” Duane speculated just as Benny Hopkiss arrived with the crash truck

*****

Harlan Decker and Olena Svetlana drove to Menard in the Raptor. There were no cops on the road north of Balwyn because the cops still figured that the guys that hit Supergirls would run south to Mexico. Olena had cut her blonde hair into a short bob and Harlan had shaved off his biker beard and Olena had trimmed his long hair up to his collar.

They found a shopping mall and parked the Raptor between an RV with Oregon plates and a beat up Volkswagen Kombi so it didn’t stand out in the parking lot. They split up with their respective shopping lists, Olena shopped for groceries, underwear and clothing for the two girls while Harlan got beer, vodka, cigarettes and two burner phones. Then he went to an outdoor and camping shop and purchased six waterproof backpacks. Olena also picked up toiletries including some hair dye for her and Alina. Harlan picked up a couple flannel checkered shirts and plain white t-shirts for himself and Pete; they would make do with the two pairs of jeans they each had with them.

They wheeled the two shopping trolleys back to the Raptor pushing the rickety trolleys across the broken blacktop when the unmistakeable smell of marijuana greeted them as they got closer to the car.

A man and woman in their sixties were sitting on the steps of the RV. They had the door open and Harlan could see two cans of Bud Light on the kitchenette table inside the RV. The man was wearing a Boho paisley shirt and raw cotton drawstring harem pants with sandals; his hair was tied in a ponytail that came down to the middle of his back. The woman was wearing a rainbow-coloured crochet miniskirt, a white cotton blouse worn open, tan nylons and flats. Her hair was sun-bleached and long and she wore little makeup except for red lipstick.

“Howdy folks,” the man sucked in a draw on the joint which was now little more than a roach and passed it to the woman.

Harlan just waved and lifted the canopy and started loading their purchases into the tray of the Raptor. Olena was putting the breakables on the back seat. She was bent over and her skirt was up showing off her pink nylon panties over her pantyhose. The man and the woman were checking out her ass.

“Don’t see many women wearing nylons nowadays. I wear em to keep the sand flies and midges from biting my legs plus Mitch likes me to wear em,” the woman winked at Olena.

“For me it’s just what I do. I started wearing at fourteen and always wear them. Legs look better and men like them. Don’t understand why American woman don’t wear them,” Olena said, her Ukrainian accent evident.

Harlan kept loading the Raptor, ignoring the old hippies.

“You look like you’re going to a party,” Mitch, the old hippie, pointed to the cases of beer and bottles of Vodka being loaded onto the Raptor.

Harlan just nodded.

“Justine and I don’t mind a party either,” he reached into the RV and collected the Buds and passed one to his wife.

They had finished the joint and moved onto the beer.

“Want one?” Mitch asked Olena and pointed to his Bud.

“Sure; why not. I’m Olena and my boyfriend is Harlan,” Olena smiled at the man.

He was tanned and handsome with white teeth and he seemed friendly.

“What about you cowboy?” Justine got up from the step and sidled up to Harlan.

Her open blouse displayed a nice firm set of breasts held in place by a crocheted bikini-top that matched her skirt. She had good tits for a woman her age and her open face with high cheekbones, although a little weathered by too much sun, was attractive.

“We really should be going?” Harlan replied, closing the canopy on the Raptor’s tray.

“Looks like your girlfriend is having one,” Justine smiled and waved her hand at Olena who had taken a cold one from Mitch.

“Don’t be a party-pooper,” Justine stepped into Harlan so that her face was inches from his and her breasts lightly touched his chest.

She smiled and her attractive face was suddenly beautiful.

“Mitch and I like to party,” she reached out and touched his shoulder gently.

“We’re grey nomads. Retirees who just cruise around enjoying life and you never know when and where a party might just break out,” Justine licked her lips provocatively and stroked his cheek.

“I guess one beer won’t hurt,” Harlan wheezed.

“Come in and have a look around,” Mitch said to Olena, helping her into the RV and Justine went in after them and then came back out of the RV out with an ice-cold Bud Light.

“There you go cowboy,” her fingertips stroked his hand when she handed him the beer.

“You two get around a bit huh? I see the Oregon plates on your rig,” Harlan took a sip of the beer, grateful for the cold liquid on his parched throat.

“We’re drinkin’, druggin’ and fuckin’ our way around the good old US of A,” Justine leaned in and squeezed Harlan’s dick through his jeans.

“Jesus lady!” Harlan howled.

“Oh come on cowboy. Mature pussy is good pussy. If Mitch hasn’t got your girlfriend's panties down around her ankles by now he’s losing his touch,” Justine laughed.

At that very moment the RV began to gently rock from side to side on its suspension.

“See! My old man is a quick worker. Come and join us and have some fun,” Justine hauled herself into the RV and Harlan could see that she wasn't wearing any panties and her pantyhose were crotchless and sheer-to-the-waist.

“Fuck! What the hell,” Harlan said and hauled himself up into the RV.

He could see down the narrow gangway to the bedroom at the rear of the RV where Mitch had Olena lying on her back on the bed with her legs in the air while he stood between them, slowly fucking her, leaning down between thrusts to kiss her. From the noises Olena was making she was not under any form of duress.

“Come on cowboy; give momma some lovin’” Justine bent over the table and lifted her skirt.

“Jesus!” Harlan griped but he moved in behind her and unzipped his flies and dropped his drawers.

“There’s a good boy,” Justine reached around behind her and guided Harlan's hard cock into the hole of her crotchless pantyhose and nestled it in her bush.

“Push baby,” Justine sighed and Harlan obliged.

It had been some time since Harlan had been with a woman who had a bush that wasn’t trimmed and Justine’s pubic hair tickled his crotch as his cock slid into her hot wet maw.

Justine’s vagina wasn’t as tight as Olena’s but it was warm, wet and she did something with her vaginal muscles that caused her cunt to squeeze his manhood with a ripple effect that was amazing.

“Not bad for an old gal hey?” Justine took Harlan's hands and put them inside the cups of her brassiere.

He freed her breasts and stroked them, her nipples hardening to his touch. They were long and thick and her tits felt like they might have had some work done but Harlan didn’t care. They felt nice and his cock was very comfortable right inside her creamy pussy.

Justine twisted her head so that Harlan could kiss her while he slowly thrust his cock in and out of her cunt which was doing that fluttery, quivery thing that drove him wild. He reached a hand around front and found her clitoris and began to softly circle it with his fingertips.

“That’s good boy, don’t forget to please momma while she’s pleasing you,” Justine smiled at him, craning her neck.

“Fuck this is just too uncomfortable as much as I like the way your dick gets right up inside me,” Justine grunted impatiently and pushed Harlan off her.

She jumped up and put her ass on the edge of the table and opened her legs and pulled Harlan between them and guided his cock back into her bushy cleft.

“Mmm! That’s what I like,” Justine purred as Harlan pushed his cock all the way inside her and she wrapped her legs around him and kissed him.

Her legs slid inside his unbuttoned shirt and the feel of her cool, silky nylons on his bare flesh was very pleasurable.

He began to fuck her harder, feeling his orgasm approaching. Both he and Justine turned to face the rear of the RV so they could see Mitch pounding away at Olena who was mewing like a harlot and encouraging Mitch to fuck her harder as he held her by the ankles and slammed his rather large appendage in and out of Olena’s vagina.

“Huh… oh my god!” Harlan cried as he emptied his load deep into Justine’s vagina while her cunt gripped his cock and did ripplely and juddery thing, milking his quivering cock of his seed.

“Mffll, oh god… fuck me!” Justine gave a muffled cry as she came along with him, grinding her crotch against him.

She pulled his face to hers and he kissed her passionately, tasting beer, pot and something spicy on her breath. His cock juddered and pulsed as he spunked her.

Justine let him bask in the afterglow for a minute or two before she pushed him away and put her tits back in her bra.

“Pass me some hand towel will ya,” she pointed her toe at the paper towel dispenser above the sink.

Harlan gave Justine a couple of sheets of paper towel and she wiped at her sopping cunt and then hopped down off the table. Olena came skipping down the gangway, a smile on her face.

“The old man fucks pretty good,” she smiled up at Harlan and kissed his cheek.

“How was grandma?” she teased.

“Hey! Enough with grandma! Your man just got the best fuck of his life,” Justine smiled at Olena’s joke.

“You guys wanna another beer?” Mitch asked, tying up his harem pants.

“Nah; we gotta get going,” Harlan began to push Olena towards the steps leading down from the RV.

He followed her down and turned to say goodbye but Mitch and Justine were in a hot and heavy embrace.

“It always gets him hot when he sees me getting’ fucked by a young buck and I aint wasting that Viagra,” Justine grinned down at Harlan.

She was squeezing her husband’s cock through his cotton pants.

“See ya on the road sometime,” Justine squealed as Mitch dragged her down the back of the RV towards the bedroom.

The RV began to rock on its axles again.

“Start the car. I got an idea,” Harlan tossed the keys to Olena and went round back of the Raptor.

He lifted the canopy and rummaged in the toolbox and came out with a screwdriver.

It took him only a few minutes to exchange plates with the RV then he and Olena hit the road and began to drive back to the farm.

*****

As soon as Harlan and Olena left for Menard, Pete chased Alina around the old farmhouse wanting to fuck. She let him chase her for a bit to tire him out and then she let him catch her and throw her over his shoulder and take her upstairs to their bedroom.

The novelty of having a pretty girl to fuck whenever he wanted to was starting to wear off and Pete was no longer an impatient fumbling lover. Alina took advantage of the situation and taught Pete a few things, like how to use his mouth on her sex, how to tinker with her clitoris just right while they fucked so that she enjoyed it as much as he did. How to kiss her and how to caress her breasts just the way she liked it.

Working at Supergirls she fucked between five to ten men a shift depending on the time of day and the day of the week. As well as the regular local customers Supergirls attracted the tourist trade, businessmen out of town looking to party and interstate truckers who could park their rigs out back. Most were ‘wham-bam-thank you-ma’am’ quickies but some of the clients liked to take their time and some liked to be a little rough but she seldom got off with clients. And that didn’t count the lap dances in the VIP rooms where she let the guy rub his cock on her pantied ass and blow his load or the quickie blowjobs where she hid the money down her panties rather than hand it over to that fuckwit Robert Sangster.

Alina figured that letting Pete fuck her a few times a day was easy work for the recompense she was hoping to receive and now that she was taming him it wasn’t unpleasant. There was something about Pete: his buffoonery and scruffy good looks were appealing. Pete’s awkward, fumbling fuckery had turned her on initially and after a night in the sack where she had taught him a few things he was getting even better.

She was going to have to hitch herself to Pete for as long as they were teamed with Harlan and Olena because she knew that Harlan and Olena were still of a mind that money split three ways was better than money split four, so she might as well tame Pete and keep him on a leash.

They fucked around on the bed for a while and then went about the chores that Harlan had left for them to do. Pete went out to the workshop out back and checked on Harlan’s bike. Harlan loved that bike and didn’t want to leave it behind and had bought dual-axle enclosed trailer so he could tow it behind the Raptor. The trailer had a false bottom where they could hide the money.

Pete had been a mechanic before he went into Huntsville and his task was to service the trailer and Harlan’s bike so that they were both in peak running condition and ready to roll. He got to work, first checking the suspension on the trailer; they would likely be going over some rough roads.

Alina’s task was to go up to the attic and take all the cash from the suitcases and go through it and make sure that’s all that was in there and then to inspect the lining and side pockets. They had all seen ‘No Country For Old Men’ and knew about radio beacon and GPS trackers. She was to repack the money back in the suitcases once she had determined that there was no tracking devices hidden amongst the cash or in the lining of the suitcases.

The attic was hot and dusty with just a small window overlooking the front of the farm but Alina liked working with the money. They knew that there was close to twelve million dollars in the suitcases because the Russians had finished counting the money when Harlan and Pete hit Supergirls. But with the Russians now dead nobody knew the exact amount. Alina couldn’t help herself and she put aside a bundle of one hundred dollar bills amounting to one million dollars and looked at it. It wasn’t that big. Just like in the movies it would fit in a large briefcase.

Alina sat on a dusty crate and considered her options. Pete Decker was a good thing and if she had to she would be happy to stay with him for a while. If they didn’t cut her in, which was more than likely, he would be generous with his money. While she kept Pete beguiled she was probably safe; Harlan and Olena were unlikely to kill her and Pete’s cut would be over three million dollars.

Once they got to Mexico Pete might figure that with all that money he could get all the pussy he wanted and once the women down there found out he was loaded he was likely to get hit on by women resembling supermodels. As Alina knew herself, some women would fuck any guy if he had enough money and while Pete might be a little rough around the edges, money had a way of sharpening a man up.

“Fuck it!” she said to herself.

She would be stupid not to plan for a contingency. She dug around the detritus of busted up old furniture, rotting steamer trunks and boxes of decaying books and magazines and found an old bowling ball bag. The zipper was corroded but she worked it for a while and freed it up. She tossed the old bowling ball into a half-full carton of newspapers and stuffed the one million dollars into the bag, zipped it up, and crawled all the way into the back corner of the roof space and pushed the bowling ball bag up against the roof trusses and then dragged a few old cartons around it to hide it.

She did the best she could to hide the drag marks, redistributing the dust and crud around the floor of the attic then she repacked the suitcases and locked them. She dragged the canvass carryall with the weapons cache that Harlan had stolen from the Beast of Burden motorcycle club armoury and looked inside. There were some sawn-off shotguns and few handguns but what caught her attention was the two nine millimetre Parabellum Heckler & Koch MP5s. The MP5s had been fitted with SAI quick fit silencers which added only one hundred and forty millimetres to the short barrel of the weapons.

She’d seen similar guns in the movies. The bad guys waved them around spraying bullets all over the place. They looked badass and she took one out of the bag and examined it. If Pete changed his mind and sided with Harlan and Olena something like this might come in handy. She doubted she’d need it but it was good to have insurance.

Pete’s second task was to check on their weapons cache and clean the guns. Alina was told to bring the canvass carryall down to the kitchen after she had finished with the money. She grabbed the carryall and climbed down the rickety ladder from the attic, lowering the carryall ahead of her. She stopped at the bedroom that she shared with Pete and put one of the MP5s under her side of the mattress.

She arrived in the kitchen just as Pete came through the door having completed his tasks in the workshop, his hands were covered in grease up to his elbows and he had a dirty streak on his left cheek. She dropped the canvass carryall on the kitchen table with a thunk.

“You’re very dirty Pete Decker,” Alina stood on her toes and kissed him quickly.

“You ain’t no oil painting yourself,” Pete chuckled.

Alina checked herself out in a flyspecked mirror on the back of the door and saw that her hair was filled with cobwebs, her face was dirty and her clothes were covered with dust.

“I’ll go and clean myself up,” Alina kissed him again.

“I’ll come up and scrub your back,” Pete grinned.

“No time for fucking around. Anyway you get dirty again when you clean guns. Finish your chores and we can fuck later,” she kissed his cheek, squeezed his cock and quickly skipped out of his reach.

Alina heard the rumble of the crash truck approaching the farmhouse while she was in the shower but mistook the sound for Harlan’s Raptor. She fixed her makeup and stepped into the nylons and panties that Olena had given her yesterday. Olena should have some new underwear and clothing for her but for now she put on her micro miniskirt, tube-top and black high heels.

Alina heard the growl of men's voices as she approached the kitchen and had she had her wits about her she would not have entered the room but she had a lot on her mind.

Duane McAllister and Bob Livingstone sat on two chairs turned backwards at the kitchen table and Pete Decker sat opposite them looking scared. An array of weaponry lay on the table in various states of disassembly. The components of a Hoppe’s gun cleaning kit were arranged on the table next to the gun parts and the kitchen smelled of solvent and gun oil.

Benny Hopkiss nervously prowled the wooden floor behind Pete Decker.

Pete Decker wasn’t the brightest tool in the chest and to call Pete Decker stupid was an insult to stupid people.

Even a novice criminal like Alina knew that you didn’t clean all of your weapons at the same time. You kept at least one weapon fully-functional and loaded in case the bad guys turned up. All of their weapons lay disassembled on the table.

Duane, Bob and Benny however were armed to the teeth.

“Well look at what we have here. Come over here and join us you sweet thing,” Duane McAllister gave Alina a crocodile smile and kicked back a chair away from the table and waved for Alina to sit in it.

“We were just explaining to Petey here that even though his asshole brother has broken every rule in the biker code and stolen from his brothers we don’t hold Pete accountable for that,” Duane grinned as Alina sat down and smoothed out her skirt as best she could.

“All Petey here has to do his hand over the money that he and Harlan took from Supergirls and we will let bygones be bygones,” Duane reached across and tapped Pete on the forehead with the muzzle of his pistol.

“And I just finished explaining to these gentlemen that Harlan and Olena took the money with them to another hideout and that they didn’t tell us where that hideout was,” Pete was a lousy liar.

“I don’t believe that for minute. That money is here somewhere but this farm is too big and fucked if we want to spend all week searching for it so you’re going to get the money for us and we’ll leave. Fuck we’ll even share it with you… we aint greedy,” Duane’s grin through dirty crooked teeth was fooling no one.

“I was thinking that we could reign down some hurt on you Petey until you begged us to stop and gave up the money but now we have this pretty little thing here I have a better idea,” Duane’s grin became maniacal and Bob and Benny began to yuck it up too.

“You know us bikers sometimes share our mommas. Harlan has spread Olena around the club plenty and this girly looks like she could be Olena’s sister. What’s your name sugar?” Duane lifted Alina’s chin using the barrel of his pistol.

“Don’t tell them anything…” Pete managed to blurt out before Benny hit him with a roundhouse punch that knocked him to the floor.

“My name is Alina and Pete is telling the truth. The money isn’t here, please don’t hurt him,” Alina went down on her hands and knees to help Pete.

“Alina. That’s very close to Olena. Maybe they’re sisters. Let’s fuck her and see if she fucks as good as her sister,” Benny Hopkiss roughly lifted Alina to her feet.

Bob Livingstone dragged Pete to his feet and threw him back in his chair.

“I tell you what we’re going to do here Petey. We’re going to take your little Russian girlfriend upstairs and take turns riding her until you give us the money. After we’re all had a go, if you haven’t given up the money we’re going to start cutting bits off her right here in the kitchen so you can watch. What do you say to that?” Duane lifted Pete’s head up by the scruff of his hair and screwed his face sideways.

“She doesn't know nuthin’,” Pete glared at Alina and she nodded subtly to let him know that she understood.

“I’ll be honest with you Petey. We are all going to fuck her anyway but at least now we have an excuse,” Duane chuckled and grabbed Alina by the hair dragged her towards the stairs.

“I love you Alina. Don’t tell then nuthin’!” Pete called after her and Benny hit him again.

Duane half-dragged Alina up the stairs to the second floor landing.

“No need to be rough with me. I fuck men for living. Come, I show you good time,” Alina surprised Duane McAllister by taking his hand and leading him to her bedroom.

“Well ok missy, but I was kinda looking forward to knocking you around a little,” Duane squeezed Alina’s ass hard.

“Can still knock me around a little. Just not too much. I fuck all you guys then we go to work on Pete. I don’t know where money is but Pete does. You give me some money for being a good girl,” Alina dropped her skirt to the floor and ripped off her tube-top and stepped into Duane and kissed him, rubbing her body against his denim, leather and chains.

She stepped back when he reached for her.

“Get undressed. We have plenty time,” Alina tugged at Duane’s belt buckle.

Duane put his pistol down on the nightstand, shucked out of his colours and unbuckled his jeans and unzipped his flies.

“I ain't getting’ undressed but I’ll pull down my pants. I want to feel those lips on my wang before I fuck you,” Duane growled.

Alina waited until Duane’s jeans were tangled around his calves and dropped to her knees beside the bed. Just as Duane put both his hands on her head and directed it towards his filthy crotch Alina reached out and put her hand under the mattress.

Duane closed his eyes as his long thick cock slid into Alina’s mouth and she began to suckle it.

Alina found the MP5 with her fingertips and struggled a little to find the trigger guard and safety catch but once she had the weapon firmly in her grip she flipped the safety and ripped it out from under the mattress.

She spat out Duane’s cock and fell on her back aiming the MP5 right up at Duane who never had time to even register what was happening before the eternal blackness swallowed him up.

The silencer wasn’t really a silencer as such. The gunfire sounded like a prolonged metallic burp.

“What was that?” Benny’s head came out of the fridge where he was getting himself and Bob Livingstone a beer.

“Just Duane pounding the mattress with that Russian bitch beneath him. She a good fuck Petey? No need to answer ‘cause I’m goin’ next so I’ll find out myself,” Bob Livingstone grinned at Pete Decker who was sporting a spilt lip and a mouse on his left eye.

None of the men heard Alina tiptoeing down the stairs on stockinged feet. The first one to see her was Benny Hopkiss who was closing the refrigerator door with his hip, holding a beer in each hand. The nine millimetre Parabellum rounds cut across his chest leaving a zigzag line of blossoming crimson flowerets on his shirt. He was dead before the beers hit the floor.

Bob Livingstone snatched up his pistol but never got time to aim it before Alina blew most of his face away. Pete Decker had dived to the floor, unsure who was shooting and wondering if he was next.

“Get up Pete. We need to clean up the mess before Harlan comes back otherwise he will be very angry,” Alina gently placed the smoking MP5 on the kitchen table.

“Who the fuck are you?” Pete looked at Alina with amazement.

“I’m Alina Kunis and I’m not Russian I’m Ukrainian and I don’t take shit from greasy, smelly biker men!” Alina barked.

Pete burst out laughing and got to his feet.

When Harlan Decker and Olena Svetlana returned from Menard they found Pete and Alina waiting for them in the yard out front of the house leaning on the Beasts of Burden crash truck. They were both covered with crud and blood having dragged the three biker’s bodies out back of the farmhouse and cleaned up as much of the blood and gore as they could in the kitchen and bedroom.

“What the fuck happened?” Harlan leapt from the Raptor holding his pistol by his side.

*****

Penelope, Steve and Silvia gathered in the Task Force briefing room and Alice Leasingham brought them up to date. She confirmed that she had matched the bloodstain in the counting room to Pete Decker and had done some research on him.

Pete had checked in regularly with his parole officer and had a job at a local garage changing tires for minimum wage. He hadn't been to work for the last three days and garage owner was pissed and was seriously thinking of contacting Pete’s PO but as he had been holding back a considerable percentage of Pete’s wages he was a little reluctant to deal with the justice system. He made good money employing ex-cons whose wages he milked.

“Pete’s address is a halfway house for ex-cons and druggies right out of rehab. I called the supervisor who advised me that Pete’s room has been cleaned out and he hasn’t been seen for three days. I sent a couple of uniforms over to look around but they found nothing,” Alice filled in the blanks.

Penelope pinned Pete Decker’s mug shot to her crime wall along with the picture of Harlan Decker they had taken from the clubhouse.

“What else you got for us Alice?” Penelope asked.

“Harlan Decker is unemployed and his address is listed as his mother’s house in Austin. I called his mother and after five minutes of language that would embarrass a sailor she told me she hasn’t seen either of her sons for over three years and has no interest in ever seeing them again,” Alice read from a report she had printed out.

“He holds a valid Class B licence with a motorcycle endorsement. He paid cash for a 2018 Ford F-150 Raptor a year ago. It’s black and has a towing hitch for a custom-built dual-axle enclosed motorcycle trailer also registered in his name. He also has a 2015 Harley-Davidson Softail Fat Boy Special registered in his name but there are no purchase details. I presume he purchased the bike through the MC,” Alice was proud of the work she had done while the others were out of the office.

Today she was wearing a short-skirted navy blue business suit and could have passed as a business professional or a lawyer.

“I’ve sent out the details and tags for the Raptor, the Harley and the trailer to all units. The Chief has pulled down the roadblocks because they were too manpower intensive but all units have been advised to keep a keen eye out for our guys. I’ve also passed a BOLO to Border Patrol and they gave me access to their database. There is no record of those vehicles crossing into Mexico,” Alice said.

What she didn’t say was that before briefing the team she had sent everything she had to Katya Kuznetsova who had passed it on to Jennifer Jones.

Penelope went to the coffee station and poured herself a cup of coffee from the Bun and thought about things while she added non-diary whitener.

“As far as we know they haven’t crossed into Mexico, at least not at any of the legitimate border crossings. But maybe we got that wrong. These guys are going to be worried about law enforcement coming after them but also they must be shit scared that the Russian’s or Odessa mafia are coming for them too,” Penelope stirred her coffee with a little red plastic coffee stirrer.

“Maybe they holed up? The easiest way not to get caught out on the highway is not to go out there. Or maybe they split up?” Penelope pondered.

“Hey Alice. Can you do a search of property rentals to see if any of the four have rented a domicile in either of their names? I doubt the girls would be able to rent without proper credentials but you never know. Anyway, first check out Harlan and Peter Decker,” Steve Edwards called out from his desk.

Alice rolled her eyes. She was already on it. After this case was closed she was taking some vacation time and was already dreaming of lying next to Katya on her big bed. Alice knew that she wasn’t Katya’s only lover but she didn’t mind. She idolised and adored Katya Kuznetsova and cherished every second they spent together.

“Anything else boss? I promised I’d meet up with Felicity for lunch if possible. She’s flying out tonight for a tour with a bunch of other Ru girls,” Steve called across the office.

Penelope was well aware that Felicity Goodnite was about to tour because Jaylene had been busy putting together a wardrobe for Felicity and hadn't had as much time to spend with her as she wanted. She would be glad when Felicity left town and her and Jaylene would have more time to spend together.

“Sure Steve, take a long lunch. Give my best to Felicity,” Penelope sat at her desk and sipped coffee wishing she could dunk a donut in it but knowing it would go straight to her hips or her ass if she did.

It was then she noticed a small package tied with pink ribbon on her desk and she pulled the ribbon and opened the box.

Inside was a pair of Lorna Jane convex compact full length leggings in soft violet. There was a note.

Don’t fuck in these tights, they are very expensive xxx Jennifer

Penelope blushed and dropped the leggings and the note into her desk drawer and looked around guiltily. Had anyone noticed? Then she smiled and got a little thick when she remembered Jennifer lying on top of her, rubbing her cock on her ass over her tights.

*****

Steve parked next to Felicity's BMW at Ride ‘em Cowgirl and went inside. The club had the familiar smell of stale liquor, floor cleaner and cigarette smoke overlaid with a pungent odour of perfume. Most of the drag queens were not trans and presented as men when not working but when they were in drag their femme personas enveloped them completely and they presented as feminine as possible right down to wearing expensive perfume.

With the overhead lights on Ride em' Cowgirl didn't look quite as glitzy and glamorous as it did under the mood lighting. Jill Graham had spent some money sprucing the place up. The furniture was new and the place had been given a new coat of paint but the fresco on the wall remained. An artist had painted a mural depicting a gaggle of drag queens with panicked looks on their faces scampering ahead of a cowboy on a horse swinging a lariat over his head. The caption read 'herd em up -- move em out'.

Felicity was on stage in drag with Panti Down and two other queens performing a rendition of I Do It So Much Better Than You; the queens singing their parts in pairs.

Jaylene Foster was taking notes on how the girl’s gowns looked under the stage lights and how the gowns moved when the girls danced. She didn’t have much time left to make last minute adjustments. Jill Graham, once the head bartender, was now the manager of the club. Mitch Freeman the previous manager had turned out to be a psychotic serial killer known as the Honey-Trap Killer, taken down by Penelope Bishop and Steve Edwards.

When Jill had worked the bar her uniform usually consisted of black hotpants with a white tank-tops and black high heels. The tank-top showed off her tattooed arms and shoulders and her tits. The hotpants showed a lot of leg encased in glossy flesh-toned pantyhose and Steve had a hard time keeping his eyes off her legs, tits and ass. Now she wore a business suit but it was cut to show off her best assets and Steve might have been distracted if not for Felicity's presence on stage.

Steve and Jill had developed a relationship based on playful banter, teasing and seductive one-liners over the years but they had managed to keep their relationship platonic mainly due to their love and respect for Felicity.

The girls on stage took a break and the sound and lighting guys headed to the bar for a burger and a coke while Panti Down, who’s legal name was William Russell gave the drag queens some notes on their performances.

Steve loved Felicity. She beguiled him. Her beauty aside, she exuded confidence, vitality and intelligence but under it was a hint of vulnerability. She was the type of woman he thought who although she said that she loved him; there was a sense that she was unattainable… that she was too good for him. Steve couldn’t believe it every morning when he woke up next to her. And then there was the consideration that she was almost certainly a murderer who had systematically assassinated the men who had gang-raped her in college.

Felicity saw Steve and she smiled which almost broke his heart. She was just so beautiful. Her features where hyper-feminised by the heavy drag makeup: full red lips, black eyeliner and big false eyelashes, her face painted perfectly. Her hair was platinum-blonde and shoulder-length, although underneath it was brunette with red highlights, her breasts were augmented and her waist cinched, to give her an hourglass figure. Her red satin, sequined and stoned gown was low cut and floor-length, split to the waist to display her long shapely legs encased in three pairs of pantyhose.

She wore a skin toned pair of pantyhose under a pair of glossy almost transparent tights with stoned fishnets worn over the top for visual effect under the stage lights. Her heels were so high that Steve had to help her down from the stage.

“You made it. I half expected you to renege,” Felicity led Steve to her office, treading carefully in her ultra-high heels.

“Of course I made it. You’re flying out tonight; this is my last chance to see you before you leave,” Steve replied.

“Then the dog will be off his leash,” Felicity grinned at Steve but his heart fell.

Felicity and Steve had an arrangement whereby they were allowed to fool around with other people while they were separated due to Felicity’s travel schedule. At first Steve loved the idea of being able to fuck whoever he wanted while Felicity was away but after a while he didn’t feel so good about it.

Steve closed the door behind them and Felicity went straight to her desk looking for her cigarettes.

“A quick smoke then I’ll de-drag, take a shower and I’m all yours,” Felicity smiled at him.

Being so close to this beautiful woman who was hyper-feminised and hyper-sexualised because of her drag was having an effect of Steve. He reached for Felicity and pulled her into his arms. She dropped her cigarette into the ashtray and let Steve hold her. He looked into her beautiful blue eyes and then pressed his lips to hers.

He could taste her thickly-applied lipstick and smell the heavy cosmetics she wore. Her perfume was heavy too, cloying but beguiling. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and Felicity felt him become erect against her body. She let him kiss her passionately, his hands squeezing her ass, caressing and stroking her buttocks. He fumbled with the clasp on her gown and Felicity eased him away from her and unclipped the dress and carefully allowed it to fall from her body and she caught it before it hit the floor and laid it on her desk. The gown was worth over a thousand dollars and she was not going to let Steve stomp on it.

Underneath she was wearing a nude illusion crystal and silver sequin accented dance body-stocking because the dress was designed to be a tearaway which would reveal her near naked body halfway through the act when the girls broke into a dance routine.

Steve pulled Felicity back against him, his hands stroking her breasts through the body-stocking and feeling her nipples harden. His hands travelled down her body and he cupped her buttocks and she sighed into his mouth. She tasted sweet except for the hint of tobacco. He had no chance of freeing Felicity’s penis from her tuck under three pairs of pantyhose but he stroked her there anyway and felt her cock swell along her perineum.

“You know I hate to fuck in drag,” Felicity broke the kiss and sighed.

“But you look so beautiful, so sexy,” Steve whined.

Felicity grinned at him and put her hands in the waistbands of her panties and pantyhose and shucked them down her hips and tore away her gaff. Her cock sprang free and her scrotum filled as she lowered her testes. Steve reached for her but Felicity stepped out of his reach and spun around and bent over the desk offering him her ass.

"I don’t want this if you don’t," Steve said a little regretfully.

"Shut up and fuck me," Felicity said a little testily.

Her milky-white buttocks looked inviting. The tights gathered under her buttocks and the bodysuit rucked up the small of her back reminded him of all the times before when he fucked her in drag bent over this desk; Felicity stooped over, beautiful and elegant, offering herself to him.

"I love you Felicity," Steve whispered as he unzipped and freed his rampant penis..

“I know you do, now fuck me,” Felicity reached behind her impatiently searching for his dick.

Steve snatched up the jar of Ponds Cold Cream that she used to remove her makeup. It wasn’t the first time he had used her moisturiser as lubricant.

Steve smoothed a dollop of the goop onto his shaft and allowed Felicity to guide his throbbing manhood to her anus. When she nestled his glans into her puckered bud he took her hips in his hands and pushed himself slowly into her.

Felicity sighed and wriggled her buttocks appreciatively and Steve didn’t feel so guilty about insisting on fucking her in drag. She pushed back against him as his big cock stretched her anus; the head pressing on her prostate causing her to dribble pre-ejaculate which Steve used to lubricate her penis as he reached around began to stroke her.

Felicity mewed and pressed her buttocks into Steve’s groin and delighted in the feel of his swollen cock filling her asshole while he stroked her throbbing cock. She had been a little reticent and indignant at first but now that Steve was fucking her she just wanted satisfaction.

Felicity's anus was tight and clasped his swollen cock as he thrust it in and out of her, pressing his thighs against hers so he could feel the silkiness of her pantyhose on his flesh. He was close and he knew that Felicity was too, reaching around her body stroking her penis, feeling the heat and meatiness of it as it throbbed in his hand.

"Fuck me Steve!" Felicity screamed as she pushed back against him and ground her buttocks into Steve's groin.

Steve filled her anus with his creamy load just as Felicity's cock ejaculated her hot issue into his hand. Her whole body shuddered and he rode her to extremis, driving his cock as deep inside her as he could, squeezing her cock, milking her creamy seed as she writhed on the desk, gasping with lust and passion.

As their orgasms began to subside Steve's cock began to deflate while he kissed and nuzzled her neck. Felicity was stooped over the desk her breathing laboured. She reached out and took a handful of tissues from the jewelled dispenser on her desk and caught a strand of semen dribbling from the eye of her cock.

Steve's cock slipped out of her anus and she frantically dabbed at the fluids that were dribbling from her sphincter before they could stain her tights. She wiped between her legs and the tops of her thighs. She hadn't yet douched and she didn't want to look at the mess in the crumpled Kleenexes. Another reason she didn't like to fuck in drag.

“Hope you’re satisfied. That should keep you happy for a day or two before you’re out dogging,” Felicity made no effort to conceal the resentment in her voice.

Steve knew that this wasn’t just about him wanting to fuck her in drag. It was time for him to speak his mind.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re in love with Felicity Benson or Felicity Goodnite,” Felicity said bitterly and a tear ran down her cheek.

Steve tried to pull her into his arms but she fought him. He finally managed to stop her struggling and he held her close like a rag doll in his embrace, her hands hanging limply at her side.

“I love you Felicity Benson. I love you with all my heart and I’m done with this arrangement. No more fucking other people… ever!” Steve held Felicity at arm’s length and looked deeply into her eyes.

“I want to marry you. I want us to be together forever, with no one to ever to come between us,” Steve said.

His eyes were filled with tears as he said the words he’d wanted to say for months. He fumbled in his jacket pocket and brought the little royal-blue box that held the diamond engagement ring. The box had been in the top drawer of his desk for weeks waiting for him to summon the courage to do what was right. He opened the box and took out the ring.

Felicity was crying; speechless. But she let Steve put the ring on her ring finger and then she kissed him like she had never kissed him before.

“Is that a yes?” Steve whispered when they broke the kiss.

“That’s yes. Now help me de-drag and take me out so I can bore everybody I meet, telling them that I’m engaged,” Felicity smiled.

Steve helped to unbuckle Felicity’s high heels and ease out of her bodysuit. She pulled off her lashes and her wig and wriggled out of her panties and the three pairs of tights, kicking the tangled pantyhose across the room. She wiped away most her makeup with the Ponds Cold Cream and tissues.

“Ok I’m taking a shower and getting changed now,” Felicity stood naked, her hair dishevelled and her face a ruin of mascara, eyeshadow and lipstick that the moisturiser had not yet removed.

To Steve she looked as beautiful as ever and he picked up her cigarettes intending to have a smoke while she showered.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Felicity growled and Steve looked alarmed.

Felicity grabbed his tie and dragged him with her to the ensuite bathroom.

“And you’re washing my back… and some other body parts,” Felicity giggled.

“Yes Ma’am,” Steve began to hurriedly undress.

*****

“We gotta get those bodies buried and look at getting’ the fuck outta here,” Harlan said, staring at the bullet-riddled bodies of Duane McAllister, Bob Livingstone and Benny Hopkiss piled together outside the back door of the farmhouse.

“I can’t believe it was you who did this!” he said for the umpteenth time to Alina who just shrugged her shoulders.

“How you figure they knew where we was at?” Pete asked his older, smarter brother.

“I offered the Beasts of Burden the Supergirls job first but Duane and Bob turned me down. Don’t have to be a Rhodes Scholar to figure out it was me that hit Supergirls. I told them that we would hide out on a farm until things cooled down. I guess they figured it was the Harrison place,” Harlan shook his head.

“Think they told the cops?” was Pete’s inevitable next question.

“No way! Bikers never talk to cops no matter what!” Harlan said through gritted teeth.

“You girls get cleaned up and fix your hair; Pete and I will take care of this mess,” Harlan was figuring out his options.

“I’ll get the Bobcat out of the equipment shed and bring it here. Pete, you park that crash truck in its place in the shed so it’s out of the way,” Harlan directed Pete towards the shed while Olena and Alina slunk off towards the house.

Harlan and Pete loaded the bodies into the skid steer loader and took them out to a dry creek bed where the soil was easy to dig. The dug a hole using the bucket on the Bobcat, dropped in the bikers bodies and filled in the hole. The whole operation took less than an hour and they didn’t even have to touch the bodies.

Olena and Alina went up to bathroom and Olena chopped Alina’s hair into a bob and took out the hair dye. The girls helped each other and in half an hour both women went from blonde and brunette to jet black.

“I like this hair; it suits me,” Alina appraised herself in the mirror.

“I hate it! As soon as I get to Mexico I’m growing it out and letting my blonde grow back,” Olena snipped.

Alina noted Olena had used I not we.

The girls showered and Olena grudgingly handed over the clothes she had bought for Alina who changed into clean panties, tan pantyhose, a denim miniskirt and red satin blouse. Olena had bought her some Nike training shoes but Alina put her heels back on. She wanted to look her best for the men to keep them interested. She fixed her makeup, put on perfume and went down to the kitchen, unpacked the groceries, and began cooking up chilli.

Harlan and Pete came inside and took a shower. They put on clean jeans, the new plain white t-shirts and flannel shirts which they left unbuttoned. The men sat in the kitchen drinking beer and Olena drank Vodka. Alina sipped a beer while she tended the stove, having to fight off Pete who kept getting under her feet wanting to squeeze and fondle bits of her body.

They sat at the table drinking beer and eating the chilli that Alina had made and considered their options. If they hadn't already, it wouldn’t take the cops long to figure out that it was the Deckers who had hit Supergirls and if the police figured it out then the Russians would too.

Mexico has an open border with the United States. In fact, Mexico has an open border with all of its neighbours. If you cross the border accidentally or intentionally nothing will happen, unless you were carrying contraband, either firearms or illegal drugs. Also extremely large amounts of stolen cash, especially the proceeds of organised crime might also be frowned on but if you knew the right people to grease it was no problem.

The Beasts of Burden had been smuggling contraband in and out of Mexico using the Acuña - Del Rio International Bridge port of entry for years. Using the I 10 west and then US 277 south to US 90 in Val Verde County it would take a little over three hours from where they were at the farm half an hour north of Balwyn. The more direct route using US 377 was maybe thirty minutes quicker but if they timed it right the two couples could reach the border crossing together.

This was the plan discussed over dinner. Harlan and Olena would take the Raptor with the bike trailer loaded with Harlan’s Harley with half the money concealed in the false bottom of the trailer and Pete and Alina would take the crash truck with the other half of the money hidden inside concealed cavities behind the panels. Both the trailer and the crash truck had been used to smuggle drugs and weapons across the border and into Texas before. The couples would take two separate routes but keep in contact with each other using the burners. If either encountered trouble at least one couple would get through.

Harlan broke out the burner phones and charged them up. He put the reciprocal numbers into the contact list in each phone and then he loaded the numbers for his contacts in Mexico and the US Customs into both phones.

“Give me your iPhone,” Harlan put out his hand and Pete reluctantly handed over his phone.

The two girls handed over their cheap mobile phones and Harlan threw his on the table with them.

“I should have thought of this before. Law enforcement can trace mobile phones once they know the numbers. Fucking Verizon and AT&T will hand that shit over quicker than you ladies can drop your drawers for a high roller at Supergirls,” Harlan and Pete laughed at Pete’s joke but the girls scowled.

Harlan took the sim cards out of the phones, got a hammer, and smashed the sim cards and the phones to pieces.

“You girls go get the money and count out exactly how much we have, I’m going outside to make a couple of calls,” Harlan took a beer and his burner and went outside to call his buddies in the Federales and US Customs and Border Protection.

Pete and the girls hauled the five suitcases full of cash out of the attic and sat in the kitchen and took the money out of the suitcases and divided it up by denomination.

At first Alina was a little antsy that the others might notice the missing million but there was so much money laid out on the table and bundled into the suitcases that it was impossible to know the exact amount until they counted it.

Ten million, eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars and some change was the final tally. Olena eyed the pile of cash greedily and tried to do the math if the money was divided three ways; as far as she was concerned Alina was just along for the ride. The figures boggled her but she figured over three and half million dollars each and decided that she could live comfortably on that.

They divided the money in half and repacked it into the six waterproof backpacks that Harlan had purchased at Menard.

“We go tomorrow early. How much did we get exactly?” Harlan eyed the backpacks.

“Close to eleven million,” Pete licked his lips at the prospect of all that cash.

“I’d heard rumours of twelve but I’ll take eleven,” Harlan grinned.

“Let’s get some shuteye, we’re out of here early tomorrow,” Harlan hauled Olena to her feet and she rubbed up against him, took his hand and led him upstairs.

Alina and Pete put the backpacks under the kitchen cabinets, checked that all the windows and doors were locked and headed upstairs themselves, Alina leading the way, Pete behind her with his hand under her skirt inside her panties feeling up her ass through her silky pantyhose.

Alina helped Pete out of his clothes and made him lie on the bed and then she lay on top of him fully-clothed and kissed him. She put his cock between her legs and squeezed her nylon-sheathed thighs closed and let him hump her legs a little. He opened her blouse and suckled on her breasts until she became bored with it and rose up and straddled his body, shucking up his torso until she got her pussy positioned over his mouth.

Pete pulled aside the gusset of Alina’s panties and bit through her pantyhose and lapped at her vulva. He worked his tongue inside her labia and found her little love button and used his tongue on it just like she’d shown him to do. Alina twisted her fingers in Pete’s hair and rode his face to a satisfying orgasm and then decided to return the favour.

She climbed off him and spun around so that she could take his engorged member in her mouth and suckle it using her lips on the shaft and her tongue on his fraenulum. Pete liked having his face under Alina’s skirt smelling her cunny and perfume all mixed together while she sucked his cock. He liked the feel of her pantyhosed thighs on his cheeks as he lapped at her swollen pubis.

Alina was still sensitive down there but Pete had been well trained and was careful to use his tongue and his lips only on her labia and to stay away from her clitoris until she was ready.

She felt his bloated organ begin to pulse in her mouth and she backed off much to Pete’s disappointment because he was close to extremis. His disappointment was short-lived when Alina rolled over and made Pete climb on top of her so that his cock was between her legs and his face was close to hers. Her legs were slammed shut denying him access to her velvety cunt and he was frantically rubbing his erection on her silken-shrouded thighs.

“You said ‘I love you’ this afternoon when the biker dragged me upstairs. Did you mean it?” Alina looked questioningly into Pete’s eyes.

Pete was rubbing his cock on her nylon panties and sheer pantyhose, trying to find the hole so he could put his cock inside her and would have told Alina anything right then but he had truly fallen in love with her.

“Of course I love you Alina. I love you more than anything in the world,” Pete sighed and kissed her passionately.

“I love you too Pete,” Alina sighed and opened her legs so that Pete could put his cock inside her warm buttery cunt.

‘Well I love you as much as I need too to get safely to Mexico and get my hands on some of that cash,’ she thought as she raised her hips a little so that Pete could get all of himself inside her.

Alina wrapped her legs around his torso and rubbed her silken-encased limbs on his flesh and dug her heels into his flanks, encouraging Pete to fuck her while she drove her tongue into his mouth and crushed her lips against him.

She squealed with delight as Pete’s cock began to convulse and tremble and his hot spunk filled her quivering cunt. She didn’t need to fake her orgasm as she ground her pubis against his so that her clitoris was fully stimulated. She scissored her legs knowing that Pete adored the feel of her soft, satiny pantyhose on his tender flesh.

They rode their orgasms to the zenith and slowly came down, clinging to each other, whispering sweet terms of endearment until it was too cold for Pete to lie naked above the covers.

Alina kicked off her heels and took off her skirt and blouse but left on her pantyhose and panties, knowing that Pete liked to snuggle up to her spooning with his cock in the crevice of her ass, rubbing it on the gossamer-like garments, which is exactly what he did as they canoodled under the covers in the dark room.

They both sniggered when they heard the bedsprings creaking and the old bedframe squeaking in the bedroom next door combined with the impassioned cries of Harlan and Olena fucking.

“Harlan. We don’t need Alina. She’s nothing to us. It was me that told you about the counting room and I unlocked the door; that ditz just blew and fucked a couple of Russians and hid under the bed when the shooting started,” Olena's muffled voice came through the wall.

“Yeah I know honey but Pete’s kinda sweet on her,” Harlan replied, his voice hushed but Alina would still hear it through the thin walls.

“Pete’s just pussy whipped. Once we get to Mexico I will find a nice Russian girl for him. I know plenty of girls who work down there,” Olena’s muted voice came through the wall.

“Well to be fair, she took care of Duane and those other bikers while Pete just sat bleeding in the kitchen,” Harlan countered.

“Harlan! We split the money three ways ok? Only three ways!” Olena hissed.

“Well that’s always been the plan and I see no need to change it. If Pete wants to share his portion with Alina that’s his business; now do that thing with your ass again,” Harlan’s voice sounded croaky through the wall.

The bed started to creak again.

“Don’t worry Alina. I love you and nothing is happening to you. You’re my girl and I will share everything I’ve got with you,” Pete snuggled up to Alina and whispered in her ear reassuringly while his hard cock nestled in the crack of her ass.

Alina obligingly moved her panties aside and helped Pete slip his cock into her sloppy sex. She was tired and fell asleep while Pete humped her. She didn’t mind; her pussy had always been her money-maker and if Pete wanted to use it, well let him.

*****

In her suite in the Balwyn Hilton Jennifer Jones lay on the big bed dressed only in flesh-toned sheer thigh-high stockings, white diaphanous silky white panties, matching satin and lace bra and a knee-length white satin robe.

Pavel Ivanoff lay naked on the bed sucking her cock.

Jennifer had seduced Pavel as a distraction while she waited for Katya to get back to her. He had been easy. Jennifer’s beauty beguiled him and she was so tiny that when she fell into his lap he automatically wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. He did all of the things women expect from men when they engage in foreplay but he became hesitant when he found her hard cock inside her panties.

He had no objections when Jennifer straddled him and guided his well-endowed engorged member into her pre-lubricated anus. Pavel had fucked women in the ass before and to him this was no different except that Jennifer’s front plumbing was different. Jennifer guided Pavel’s hand to her engorged phallus but he snatched it away.

Jennifer bit his lip and ground her ass into his crotch and squeezed his cock with the muscles of her anus and Pavel groaned as he expended himself inside her. When Jennifer felt his hot seed deep in her ass, she too ejaculated and her hot semen spattered on Pavel’s muscled tattooed belly.

He didn’t seem to mind that so much and Jennifer took him to bed and toyed with him using her beguiling ways to eventually coerce him into playing with her penis through her panties while he sucked her tits and she stroked his cock back to tumescence. She played the long game, taking Pavel close to orgasm and with her hands and her mouth and then backing off, even when he pleaded for release.

She smiled triumphantly when Pavel’s curiosity overcame his revulsion and he took her turgid tool in his mouth. He wasn’t that good at it and after a while Jennifer eased his face away from her crotch and slid underneath the big man and let him put that huge Russian cock deep inside her. Pavel might be a peasant but he knew how to fuck and he soon had Jennifer squealing with delight.

Her phone rang while Pavel, dressed in a hotel dressing gown, was making drinks and Jennifer snatched up a writing pad off the bedside table and began to scribble. Pavel sat down on the bed and tried to nuzzle Jennifer’s neck and she impatiently pushed him away and gave him a harsh look. She finished writing down the information provided by Alice Leasingham and relayed to her by Katya Kuznetsova.

“Thank you Katya. I’ll take it from here. Alice still doesn’t know that you are feeding me the information?” Jennifer asked.

“She’s visiting me soon. I’ll be nice to her and when the time is right I’ll let her know what she needs to know,” Katya’s husky voice sent little shivers down Jennifer’s back.

“Entrapment was always one of your better skills,” Jennifer whispered.

“You’d know Ms Jones,” Jennifer could sense Katya smiling on the other end of the line and she subconsciously stroked the scorpion tattoo above her left ankle.

In her well-appointed cottage in Southold on Long Island Katya also stroked her scorpion tattoo and then broke the connection.

“Go to your room and get dressed. Meet me in the car park in fifteen minutes. Be prepared to do a little wet work,” Jennifer said dismissively to Pavel who complied immediately.

“They are staying at a farm leased by one Harlan Decker, some sort of enforcer with a motorcycle gang. He is with Olena Svetlana, Alina Kunis and his brother Peter. The police will have the same information later today; Alice can only keep it from them for so long. We need to move quickly. We will take both cars,” Jennifer said brusquely to Pavel who nodded and climbed into a black BMW X5 identical to the one driven by Jennifer.

Jennifer was wearing the same Lorna Jane black spandex leggings over sheer pantyhose, matching long-sleeve sports top, hooded fleece-lined coat and black Nikes that she had worn to Supergirls only two days earlier..

She wore her Walther PPS M2 9mm and spare magazine in a shoulder rig under her coat. She pulled a black ballcap over her flaming red hair and started the car, punching the information she had been provided by Katya into the vehicle’s navigation system.

Jennifer pulled out of the underground car park with Pavel Ivanoff close behind her. She reached for the encrypted hand-held radio on the passenger seat and checked in with Pavel.

“Keep up tight. I’ll pull over near the entrance to the farm. The farmhouse is set back from the main road so they won’t see us. We’ll assess the situation when we get there. My main priority is to get my money so if we have to kill them we will but I’d like to rain down a little hurt on those fuckers before we put them out of their misery,” Jennifer hissed into the radio and then threw it back on the passenger seat.

“Fuckers!” Jennifer slammed her fist into the steering wheel.

Jennifer took a few controlled breaths to calm herself. She needed to curb her anger to get the job done right. Jennifer thought she had all the information that she needed… more information than Penelope’s Task Force presently had in fact but they were both missing one vital piece of information.

The Decker boys had automatic weapons.

*****

Alina cooked a big breakfast using most of the remaining groceries while Harlan and Pete loaded the money into the concealed spaces in the motorcycle trailer and the crash car and then hitched the trailer loaded with Harlan’s bike onto the Raptor. The boys came inside and laid out their weaponry on the table, inspected it and loaded it.

They each took a nine millimetre Parabellum Heckler & Koch MP5, a sawn-off twelve gauge shotgun and the nine millimetre semi-automatic pistols they had used in the hit on Supergirls. They left the remaining weapons in the carryall. They only needed the weapons to get them as far as the border then they would ditch them. They didn’t want to get stopped for carrying weapons into Mexico when their objective was to just get safely across the border with the money. They could buy as many guns as they wanted once they were across the border.

Olena did nothing other than preen, check and recheck her makeup. She was wearing a cute little low-cut red romper, tan pantyhose and red high heels. Her makeup was heavy and seductive and the black bob hairstyle she was sporting suited the look. She had been briefed to make a show of her tits and legs at the border crossing to keep the inspectors eyes busy.

Alina had been briefed correspondingly and wore the same heavy makeup, same hair style, a blue denim micro miniskirt, yellow tube-top, sheer pantyhose and blue high heels.

The boys were wearing blue jeans, plain white tees. Pete with a flannel checkered shirt over and Harlan with his Beast of Burden colours over, and scuffed boots. Harlan wore his colours because his contacts at the border thought he was still working for the OMC. If they knew he was conducting ‘private business’ they would want a bigger cut of what he was smuggling across the border.

Alina brought the food to the table and everyone tucked in. There would be no stopping once they hit the road. They ate silently, the resentment between Olena and Alina palpable; Olena pissed because Alina was coming with them to Mexico and Alina pissed because she knew that if Olena had her way she’d be left behind, preferably dead.

Harlan called Pete on the burner phone to make sure they were working then they loaded up their remaining belongings and the weapons into the vehicles. The four of them stood in the dust next to the vehicles and Harlan checked his watch then nodded at his brother who was walking nervously in circles.

“Keep to the speed limit and stay safe. I’ll call you every thirty minutes to let you know our progress, any calls outside the agreed times means trouble. I’ll see you in the car park of the Del Rio duty free store; we’ll cross the border together as planned at noon when our guys will wave us through,” Harlan said to Pete and they shook hands and clenched into a brief man-hug.

Olena kissed Pete on the cheek and glared at Alina and then Harlan and Olena climbed in the Raptor and drove away.

The farm was eerily quiet.

“We got time for a knee-trembler in the kitchen; we don’t leave for another half hour,” Pete grinned at Alina.

“You’re not fucking up my clothes and makeup; plenty of time to fuck when we get to Mexico. Come and sit in the kitchen and I’ll give you a blowjob,” Alina smiled at Pete.

Alina figured that providing Pete with fellatio would keep him occupied and calm his nerves and it would only take her a minute to reapply her lipstick after.

Penelope pulled into the dirt road that led up to the farmhouse. It crossed a cattle grid with weathered wooden fence posts either side with a battered mailbox that read Harrison. Pavel pulled in beside her and they both got out of their vehicles and checked their weapons. It was first light and they expected the Deckers to be snuggled up to their girls fast asleep, still on the lam and waiting for the law enforcement presence to quiet down.

“A simple plan is usually a good plan,” Jennifer brought up Google Earth on her tablet which she had placed on the hood of her SUV.

“The farmhouse is two stories with three bedrooms upstairs. You lead the way in and drive right up to the porch, kick in the door and… what the fuck!” Jennifer was interrupted by the roar of the Raptor heading towards them throwing out a plume of dust behind it.

Harlan saw the BMWs parked beside the entrance gate at the same time that Jennifer and Pavel saw the Raptor.

“Call Pete and tell him we got visitors,” Harlan threw the mobile phone to Olena and snatched up the MP5, stuck it out the window and started shooting.

Pavel Ivanoff was a Major in the Spetsnaz before he joined the Russian mob and came to America and he was steadfast under fire. He pushed Jennifer down between the two BMWs and reached into his car and produced a Steyr AUG assault rifle chambering 5.56×45mm NATO intermediate cartridges in an extended 42 round magazine.

While Harlan sprayed his 9mm H&K randomly in their direction from the speeding Raptor, Pavel trained the 1.5 magnification telescopic sight integrated into the receiver casting of the Steyr and trained the black ring reticle on the windscreen of the Raptor and opened fire in three round bursts.

His first three founds entered Harlan Decker’s neck and chest killing him instantly. The next three rounds took off most of Olena Svetlana’s face. The phone fell from her dead hand. The Raptor careened into the drainage ditch on the side of the road, the trailer slipping its hitch and rolling onto its side. The Raptor came to a halting stop at a crazy angle half in, half out of the ditch.

The silence was deafening after the sound of the high-powered weaponry.

Jennifer got to her feet a little pissed that Pavel had pushed her down but grateful that he had taken out the threat. She and Pavel approached the truck carefully with their weapons trained but soon ascertained that the occupants were dead.

“Two to go. Up at the farmhouse I bet,” Jennifer said brushing dust off her buttocks noticing that even in the current situation Pavel gave her spandex-clad ass an appreciative glance.

Jennifer ascertained that the Raptor was far enough away from the gate that it wouldn’t be immediately discernible from the main road. She tossed her tablet onto the back seat of her BMW and put her Walther on the front passenger seat.

“Well there goes the element of surprise. You lead the way and let’s go get the other two,” Jennifer slapped Pavel on the back and he climbed into his BMW and led the way up the road to the farmhouse.

Alina was on her knees sucking on Pete’s cock thinking about how great things were going to be once they got to their five star hotel later that day when they heard the unmistakeable sound of automatic gunfire in the distance.

Pete pushed Alina off him and ran to the door and saw a black BMW careening through the treeline, heading straight for the farmhouse. Then he saw the second one behind it. He raced outside and snatched up the MP5 and his pistol from the crash truck.

Pete may have been stupid but he was no coward and was itching for a gunfight. He figured that these guys had taken out his brother and were now coming for him and he was hot for revenge.

He gave rebel yell and levelled his weapon at the oncoming vehicle and flicked the safety.

Pete’s courage held true as he stood in the yard emptying the magazine of the MP5 into the lead vehicle which came to a sudden stop causing the vehicle behind it to swerve around it. The driver’s door flew open.

Pete dropped the Heckler and Koch and pointed his pistol at the other BMW. Jennifer’s diminutive body worked to her advantage as Pete began firing into the open driver’s side door at about the height where he thought the driver might be hiding.

Jennifer dropped prone into the dust, raised her Walther and fired six rounds, four of which were kill shots. She scrambled to her feet and raced towards the farmhouse putting two more rounds in Pete’s head as she ran past just to be sure.

Alina Kunis was kneeling on the floor in the kitchen with her hands in the air, trembling with fear.

Jennifer pistol whipped her and Alina fell in a heap. Jennifer searched her and then dragged her to her feet and outside to the scene of the carnage in the courtyard. She pushed Alina towards her BMW.

“Get in! Sit in the passenger seat, put on the seatbelt and keep your hands on the dashboard or I’ll kill you,” Jennifer snarled.

She went over to other BMW and found Pavel lying on his side, his face contorted with agony but he remained silent. He was bleeding from a stomach wound and his eyes looked at Jennifer beseechingly.

“Doctor,” he gasped through the pain.

“I don’t think so. You lost my counting house and you shouldn’t have been so disgusted by my cock,” Jennifer gave Pavel a withering look.

Pavel recalled the fable of the scorpion and the frog just as Jennifer raised her weapon and put three rounds into his big bald head.

Jennifer walked back to her car and stared at Alina.

“Where is my money?” she asked casually aiming her pistol at Alina.

Alina told her.

Jennifer recovered the money from the crash truck, threw it in her BMW and drove down to the wrecked Raptor and trailer near the gate. She had to fuck around a little to get to the money hidden in the trailer but she got it eventually. All the time Alina looked out the window of the BMW staring at Olena’s shattered face.

“Are you going to kill me?” Alina asked, staring straight ahead out of the windscreen of the BMW when Jennifer drove away from the farm.

“Tell me everything. Then I will decide. You have from now until I get to the airport to convince me not to,” Jennifer said.

She called ahead to the pilot of her private jet and then talked to the concierge of the Balwyn Hilton and arranged to have her belonging packed up and sent to the airport. Between phone calls she listened to Alina’s story.

*****

Jennifer Jones was crossing the flyover states by the time Penelope Bishop and her team arrived at the Harrison farm.

Alice Leasingham informed Penelope and her team that Harlan Decker had taken a lease on the old Harrison farm and a man and a woman fitting the description of Harlan Decker and Olena Svetlana had recently purchased groceries at shopping centre in Menard.

Mitch and Justine might be old hippies who didn’t have much time for law and order put they were pissed that Harlan and Olena had abused their hospitality by switching licence plates.

Penelope led the Balwyn PD SWAT and her Task Force out to the Harrison place and found the carnage. There was no sign of the alleged millions from the Supergirls counting house and Alina Kunis was nowhere to be found.

“Fucking Jennifer!” Penelope fumed, kicking the dust out front of the farmhouse.

Gary Rasmussen wasn’t that pissed. He had no real interest in the so-called missing millions. The money was proceeds of organised crime not money taken from a legitimate corporation. Balwyn PD got kudos for solving the murder of Sandy Spiffle and two men later identified as Russian businessmen but suspected of being heavily involved in organised crime.

When the bodies of Duane McAllister, Bob Livingstone and Benny Hopkiss were found buried in the creek bed another hornets nest was kicked over but it was soon ascertained by ballistics that they had been killed by one of the nine millimetre Parabellum Heckler & Koch MP5s found at the farm.

The CSIs processed the farm and found the bikers blood in one of the bedrooms and the kitchen. There was plenty of DNA on the sheets in the bedrooms and the parlour and kitchen. It didn’t take the Task Force long to figure out what had happened at the farm.

The body in the shot-to-pieces black BMW X5 was identified as Pavel Ivanoff and when questions were put to Jennifer Jones through her lawyers she claimed that Pavel had been sent to Balwyn to organise new management for Supergirls nightclub due to the demise of Sandy Spiffle. She had no idea what he might have been doing at the Harrison farm.

Try as she might Penelope couldn’t pin a thing on Jennifer Jones.

“Just let it go Penelope. You get credit for solving the Supergirls murders, the local chapter of the Beasts of Burden has been decimated, which isn’t a bad thing, and all the killers are dead so there is no need for the inconvenience of a trial,” Gary Rasmussen was drinking coffee from a paper cup outside in the smoking area.

“I know she did it or she was up to her neck in it,” Penelope hissed.

“Let it go Penelope. You're going to be the Chief of Detectives and I’m going down to lie on a white sandy beach where the waitresses wear tiny bikinis and put little umbrellas in my cocktails,” Gary dropped his cigarette in metal ashtray and Penelope flicked her cigarette butt in after it.

“That fucking bitch grinds my gears,” Penelope sighed.

“I bet she does… I bet she does,” Gary sighed along with her.

*****

Two years later...

Alina Kunis drove north along Route 83 through Menard County in a rented convertible with the top down. Katya Kuznetsova, her boss, had given her two weeks’ vacation and Alina had told Katya that she was going to drive across America and see the sights.

During the flight out of Balwyn, Alina had told Jennifer Jones everything that had happened or her. How she was unwittingly drawn into the robbery and the killings at Supergirls. As far as she was concerned she was there to entertain the men counting the money and nothing more. She knew nothing of Harlan and Olena’s plans to steal Jennifer’s money but when the robbery went down and the bullets started flying she hitched herself to Pete Decker as a matter of survival.

Jennifer was sceptical of Alina’s story but she had some sympathy and admiration for the girl who had used her wits and wiles to stay alive and had even taken out three bikers who were going to rape her.

Jennifer sent Alina to work for Katya who recognised Alina’s abilities and put her to work as her assistant and Alina eventually gained Katya's trust and friendship. Katya told Alina of her past and of Jennifer Jones’ rise to power in the Russian mob and Alina was impressed and held both women in awe and highly respected them both.

When Alina came to work one day with a scorpion tattoo on her left ankle Katya laughed at first but when she saw that Alina was serious and she gave her a hug. Katya told Jennifer about it and she was also amused.

Now, two years later, Alina was living comfortably, helping Katya lure girls to work in Jennifer’s brothels and managing Katya’s day to day affairs. This was her first holiday.

Alina turned off the road and crossed a cattle grid with weathered wooden fence posts either side with a battered mailbox that read Harrison.

No one had lived at the farm after the killings and it was up for sale but no one seemed interested in it.

Alina climbed up into the dusty attic and crawled all the way into the back corner of the roof space and pulled the bowling ball bag out of its resting place up against the roof trusses.

She opened the bag and stared at the bundles of currency. A girl could so a lot with one million dollars.

The end

Author’s Note: Thank you for taking the time to read my story now I’d like you to take a minute or two to leave a comment. It won’t take you long but will give me enormous joy as I love to know what people think of my stories, good or bad. Your loving sweet transvestite writer… Michele Nylons