Mission Impossible?

by Amber Lynn Kain

The yellow, convertible Mustang cruised along the straight stretch of highway, eating the miles. The 302 hummed quietly; its owner took very good care of the car. While not mechanically inclined, he appreciated a fine tuned machine. Arron made sure his "stang" was cared for. He smiled, turned up the CD player louder and pushed down on the gas pedal.

A little later Arron reached down and flipped on the lights. Twin beams shot from the nose of the car and brightened the twilight. Up ahead he saw what he was searching for, a Holiday Inn was only few miles further down the road. In a few minutes, the yellow sports car pulled into the hotel's parking lot. Arron raised the roof and locked it into place. Getting one of his bags and a shopping bag from the trunk of the car, Arron turned, locked the car and set the alarm.

After checking in, Arron opted for the elevator to the second floor instead of the stairs. Paying attention to the signs, he soon found the suite. Opening the door, Arron dragged his bag into the room and heaved it on the bed. It wasn't really heavy; he just wasn't that strong. Being 5'4" and weighting only 135 lbs did not give him a build that would make it easy to lift any heavy object. However, his size did provide him with lots of dressing options.

Arron went into the bathroom and started the shower. The shower took a little longer than usual; he lathered his very short hair and shaved what little beard he had. He stepped from the shower and dried himself off slowly, watching himself in the mirror. Reaching for the shopping bag he left on the counter, he pulled out the bottle of scented lotion and began to rub it into his skin, paying extra attention to his feet and elbows. He ran his hands up and down his legs; they felt so smooth. He was glad he spent the money on a professional waxing. The girl was a little rude when she found out what he wanted, but she did a great job in removing all his body hair.

He turned on the console lights over the large mirror. He washed his face and began the transformation he had not done since he joined the Army two years earlier. Now that he was discharged, he felt safe to do so. He reached into the shopping bag and took out all of its contents: mascara, foundation, concealer, several lipsticks, more cosmetics, and set them on the bathroom vanity. Arron stepped out of the restroom and went to his bag on the bed. There he emptied out the items he had specially ordered from a catalog.

A small beige gaff, black lace panties and a matching bra lay on the bedspread. As he touched the gaff, his breath deepened. Slowly, Arron stepped into the small garment and pulled it up his legs. When it reached his thighs, he pushed his balls up deep inside and pulled back his small penis between his hairless legs. He held his penis with one hand and pulled the gaff tight against his crotch. The panties slid up easily and lay flat against the gaff. No sign of the gaff or his maleness was visible under the black lace.

Arron went back to into the bathroom. He knew from practice what to do next even though he had not transformed himself for a great while. But hey, he thought, I would never forget how to do this. Besides, he did study every beauty magazine he could find. He shrugged his shoulders and turned on the portable radio he brought with him. Some pop princess belted out her latest tune, while Arron picked up the tube of concealer.

He dotted his face to hide the few blemishes he had. Many of his roommates' girlfriends complimented him on his great skin and his nice tan. Although he did not dress while serving, he continued to use moisturizer and tanning lotion through his enlistment. Next, using a cosmetic pad, he applied a light coat of foundation. Steadily, he traced the eyeliner around his blue eyes to give them a dramatic effect, followed by brown eye shadow brushed onto his folds of his eyelids. He then applied several coats of mascara to his eyelashes to lengthen and finish his eyes. Arron opened the lid to the blush and brushed a faint trace of rose powder over his cheekbones. After he smoothed his look with face powder, he smiled as he snapped the compact shut.

He walked back over to the bed. Arron reached down and picked up the box that had only come days before his discharge papers. He went into the bathroom and opened the box. Nervously, he took out the size 4 breast forms and held them to his small, flat chest. He nodded at the effect the teardrop silicone forms gave him. He applied the adhesive to the back and placed one, then the other on his chest. As if in a trance, he watched his buxom chest rise and fall.

Biting his lower lip, he brought out the wig he purchased. The color was jet black and was cut into a pageboy that fell to just below his chin. Arron held the wig upside down, then ducked his head into it and pulled it on to his head. He tossed his hair and pushed the strands from his face. He then picked his wig smooth.

His hands shook slightly as he reached for the lip liner. Skillfully, he outlined his lips with the pencil. Arron tried to stay with latest fashion when he dressed. The current trend was to trace the lips but not fill them in. Once he completed the outline, he tossed the pencil on the vanity, fluffed his hair and took a step back.

The effect was startling. No longer did a skinny boy stand in front of the mirror, but an attractive, stacked young woman. The attractive girl pushed the stray hairs from her face and walked out into the bedroom. She picked up the black lace bra and hooked it around her slim waist. She started to slide the lacey bra around but stopped, unhooked it and tossed it on the bed. She reached into the bag and brought out the top she intended to wear. The girl pulled the top over her head and the sheer, black material clung to every part of her body. The blouse's material stretched over the breast forms and accented the brown nipples on them. Pleased with the effect, she reached in the bag and took out the black spandex mini skirt that matched the top and stepped into it. She pulled the skirt up over her long smooth legs and pushed the sheer top's material down into the waistband.

Her hands smoothed the short skirt as she sat down on the bed and began to put on her high heels she had brought with her. They were black sandals that laced up her ankles with a slim 4 inch heels. She fastened the little silver buckles around her ankles and stood up slowly. She hadn't walked in heels for a long time, but after she took a few practice steps, she quickly adjusted to walking in them. She stepped in front of the mirror and gazed at her reflection...she turned right, then left, then around and looked over her shoulder at her image. She was hot...and she knew it.

A wail pierced, the evening and snapped her from her self-admiration. It was her Mustang's car alarm. Quickly, she grabbed her car keys from her pants pocket that she had thrown onto the top of the clothes drawer and bolted for the door. Thinking she had forgotten something, she stopped and turned back to retrieve her key card. She frantically flipped through the cards in the wallet and at last located the one she sought. She raced as quickly as her high heels let her down the hallway and out to the stairs, then down to the parking lot. She cursed when she heard the wide tires squeal and the motor gun. She flung open the side door in time to see her car speed from the lot and onto the highway. She stood there, her hands out to her side...she wanted to cry. Then she became angry. No way is that ass gonna take my rod, she thought. She turned and ran back inside to her room. Dialing the lobby, she asked for the police after she told the desk clerk what had happened.

Chapter 2

Amber waited for about 20 minutes when a knock on the door came. She answered the door and two police officers stood there. They smiled, took off their hats and inquired if she was the person who had reported a vehicle stolen. She nodded and asked them to come in. They followed her into the hotel room and took out their notebooks. She looked out the window and began to tell them about the incident when she turned and caught them looking at her. Hungrily, they scanned her up and down, one cop paying attention to her long legs, while the other openly stared at her ample chest. Angrily, she told them about the auto theft and described her car in great detail to them. Going to her single bag, she brought out a picture of her car and gave it to them to help identify it. They nodded politely and said they would try but that there was a good chance the car would not be found. They told her of an auto theft ring in the area and many high profile cars that had been taken. Then asked her for her name and address.

She froze only for a second and thought about her car. Silently, she went over to the chest of drawers for her male clothes and took out her wallet. Walking back to the pair of cops she handed her driver's license to them and folded her arms. The cop looked down at the driver's license and looked up at her. Then down again and handed the license to his partner, who did a double take also.

"Arron Kain?" he read the name aloud. "This is you?"

"Yes, officer. I'm Arron Kain."

"Listen...ah...Ms. Kain, we will do our best." He noted the name and address down in his notebook.

"Thank you. That is all I can ask." She noted their change in attitude when they read his name and gender on the license.

They handed her back the driver's license and gave her a copy of the policy report. Arron smiled and thanked them again as they turned and left the room. Pushing back her hair, she went over to the phone and dialed the number on her insurance card. Filling the report only took minutes and the girl on the other end was empathetic, but not hopeful. She stated an adjuster would call her back within 24 hours to get a complete statement.
She sighed and sat down in the hotel room's easy chair. What was she going to do? Damn it. Stuck here in the middle of nowhere. She felt as is she could cry; her beloved Mustang was gone.

Arron wiped a single tear away and went over to the mirror. Fixing her makeup took only a second. Then she turned to the bedside stand where she pushed aside the Bible and grabbed the phone book. She scanned the Yellow Pages until she found what she was looking for. The pretty young man picked up the phone, dialed the reception desk and asked they call her a cab. Finding her purse Arron shoved her wallet, room key card, and a few other essentials into it and slung it on her shoulder. She stepped from her room and went to the hotel's front door to wait for her cab.

Arron watched out a lobby window for the Yellow Cab to pull into the parking lot. She glanced over her shoulders at the noise from behind her. A group of three teenage boys stood near the hotel's pool door whispering and obviously checking her out. She watched them for only a second, when they saw she had noticed them. She smiled quickly at them and all three bolted through the door in embarrassment. Watching the boys, only a few years younger, flee from her gaze made her smile. She fished in her purse, pulled out a set of sunglasses and decided to wait for her cab outside.

Standing under the hotel's awning, a slight breeze blew Arron's hair from her face and her skirt flapped across her legs. A car pulled up in the parking space several feet away. She glanced at the car barely noticing the occupants. Bored, she looked down the street for her cab. The slamming doors of the recently arrived car caused her to look back toward the late model Chevy and its occupants. A tall man approached her in blue jeans and a torn and dirty wife beater. He loomed over her as if she was a child. A mass of wavy dark hair framed his tanned face, while his t-shirt did nothing to hide his muscular chest and huge biceps. He reeked with male virility. Unconsciously, she pulled her sunglasses down to see him better. He looked at her briefly and smiled with flashing white teeth.

"Randy! Why did we stop here? I hate the Holiday Inn," a screeched called from behind the tanned Adonis. A woman followed behind him. The woman was shorter than Arron and extremely overweight with glasses and a pudgy face, dressed in a white top and faded blue shorts carrying a very ugly bag. "We should have gone somewhere else," the harpy continued whining.

She stepped aside to let the pair pass and glanced briefly at the stud and the woman that followed. The woman stared at her for a moment, then said, "My god did you see that Randy? It was a guy dressed up like a hooker. This is why we shouldn't have come here. It's disgusting."

Randy shrugged his broad shoulders, raised his hands up in an imploring gesture, and opened the door for his fat companion. His brilliant, white teeth shone again as he looked over at Arron and smiled softly. Arron lowered his eyes and bit his lip. She suddenly felt very self-conscious. Arron turned back and saw the cab pull up to the door.

Settling back in the seat of the cab, she tossed her hair and told the cabbie the address of the shop. The cabbie was an overweight, balding man of about 45, who reminded her of her high school English teacher, did a double take in the mirror and pulled out into the traffic. The trip was uneventful, the cabbie did try to engage her in some small talk, but she did not notice. Pulling up to the Doc's Adult Novelty and Bookstore, she stepped out and told the cabbie to pick her up in half an hour. One quick look at her sheer blouse and her long tanned legs sliding out from the black spandex mini skirt convinced the cabbie to return for her.

Flipping her hair, she walked as sexily as she dared into the adult bookstore. The bell gave a light tinkle as the door opened and the familiar smell of cleaning solution greeted her. She scanned the sex toys lining the walls and looked over at the bookshelves filled with photos of beautiful women and men on the covers of soft and hard-core porn magazines. The three men in the store looked down quickly trying to hide as if they were not there. Arron moved around one to see the TG/TV section where she eyed the magazines in stock. She had most of the "support" mags and better porn that could be found on the internet. She took a few steps over to the gay porn to peek at the hot young studs on the covers. Finding nothing to her taste (unlike the hottie she saw at the hotel), she headed back toward the movie stalls only to hear someone call to her.

"Honey, you will need to purchase $3.00 in tokens to go back there," the clerk lisped in a flamboyant manner.

Arron flashed a smile, strutted up to the counter and took a $5 bill out from her purse. The clerk behind the counter counted out the tokens and handed them to the young CD. "You look great. Have fun, sis." Arron kissed the air toward the clerk and went into the dark hallway that led to the movie stalls.

She moved slowly but confidently through the hallway, lit with tiny lights so you could barely read the movie playbills on the stall doors. Going toward the back, she passed several men pretending to read the playbills. Glancing quickly at a playbill, she opened a stall door and closed it behind her. Sitting down she slid the tokens into the slot and the movie came to life.

A very busty blonde was bent over kissing and stroking the monster cock of a well-built man with a thick mustache. She cooed and moaned loudly as she kissed and sucked, while he fondled her enormous tits and stroked her shapely ass. Arron took in the scene with some interest. He hoped he would be able to join in the action soon and directed his attention to the stall's left wall. A hole had been drilled about three inches in diameter and about three feet off the floor.

She watched the hole only for a few seconds when an index finger came through and began to rub the bottom of the hole back and forth. She waited and the finger started to push in and out of the hole. Quickly she knelt, placed her finger in the hole and rubbed the bottom. She waited only for a few seconds when slowly a cock appeared from the hole. It was 6 to 7 inches long, hard, covered with veins, and had a thick red, mushroom shaped head. She placed one hand on the wall and leaned forward, her tongue began to lick the tip of the cock, wetting it. She bathed the swollen member with her saliva, working up and down its length. Off screen moans could be heard from the other side of the wall while she labored. She stopped briefly and she slipped her mouth on the mushroom head and pushed her lips over it and down the shaft's length. Arron felt the cock slide over her tongue and down her throat. She started to bob her head on the cock and took breaths when the rhythm was right. More moans came from the wall when suddenly spurts of cum shot from the tip of the dick into her mouth. Surprised, she snapped her head back and jizm blew onto her face. Quickly she leaned forward, sucking and licking the man juice from the cock.

She followed the cock as it retreated into the wall wanting more but heard a zipper and the door open from the behind the wall. She wiped the cream from her face with a single finger. Not wanting to waste any, she sucked it slowly off and sat back down on the small bench seat. The movie had stopped playing so she dug into her purse and slid in two more tokens. Again, the screen on the door's stall lit up with the busty blonde still sucking and playing with the large cock. Arron watched the pair on the door for a short while longer, when she heard the door close from the booth next door. She put in another token and slid to her knees.

She pushed her hair from her eyes as she waited in the parking lot for the cab. She only had to wait a few minutes when the Yellow Cab pulled up next to her. Once in the cab, she crossed her long legs and told the cabbie to return to the hotel. Again, the cabbie leered at her in the rearview mirror and pulled onto the street. Arron licked her lips and thought for a second, she then said she was thirsty. She asked the cabbie to stop at a liquor store first. The cabbie nodded and said something about the brand of whiskey he drank. She giggled and took out her lipstick and mirror. She always wondered how big of a rod her English teacher had.

Chapter 3

Arron opened his eyes and looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was already noon. He pulled the covers over his head and groaned slightly. He didn't have a hangover or feel any of the after effects of last night's partying. He just didn't want to get up yet. He sighed, stretched his thin frame, threw the covers back and swung his hairless legs out of bed. He stripped his panties off and tossed them onto the bed. He went into the bathroom and began his routine.

After his daily bathing/shaving ritual, Arron carefully put on her daytime makeup and then pushed his small penis back between his legs and pulled up the beige gaff. The constricting material gave his front a smooth facade. He then pulled from his bag a white thong and slipped it over the gaff, hiding it completely. A pair of white shorts covered the thong, followed by a hot pink polo shirt and a pair of white Keds tennis shoes completed her outfit. She then ducked her head into her dark wig and was ready for the day.

Arron walked out of the Inn and down the street to a small strip mall, anchored by a well-known department store. Going into the store, she tried on several outfits and shoes. She finally purchased three tops and two skirts, several sets of bras and matching panties. She even bought a red and white floral bikini swimsuit. The next destination of her shopping spree led her to a drug store where she picked out several different shades of lipstick and matching nail polish.

Arron was in a great mood now. The anticipation of wearing her new clothes had lifted the clouds of the past 24 hours and promised a fun afternoon. She walked across the parking lot toward her hotel when a familiar voice shouted at her.

"There he is again! Look at him. God he makes me sick!"

Arron looked up and recognized the fat harpy followed by the tanned companion. She looked for a way to avoid their path but realized it was too late. She held her head up, continued on her course and did not look at either of the pair.

"Randy, look at that faggot. He thinks he can pretend to be a real woman." The short, gross women pointed at her. Embarrassed, the man took his wife by the arm and unsuccessfully tried to quiet her. "He makes me sick. Doesn't he bother you? I mean, just look at him!"

Suddenly, without provocation the woman leapt with surprising quickness at Arron. She swung a vicious blow at the small cross-dresser, who barely dodged the strike. Just as quick, her muscular husband positioned himself between the two. Arron dropped her bags and fled behind the big man, who held his wife at bay with one strong arm. She bit her lip and peeked around the man's muscular back and arms at his enraged spouse.

"Lisa, get a hold of yourself. What did she do? Leave her alone. Do you want to get into trouble?"

"God, Randy...he…he…" Lisa frothed at the mouth. The woman leapt again at the pretty transvestite, but was held safely in check by her husband.

Arron clutched the man's arm in fear; the woman obviously was in a rage over her. She searched her memory of the recent past for any reason to cause this reaction. Another lunge by the woman forced her to tighten her grip on the rock hard bicep. Despite the situation, she glanced at the broad shoulders and huge arms that protected her. Her breath quickened and felt an increase pressure against her gaff. Randy turned and looked down at her.

"You better go," he said in a quiet tone.

Nodding, she picked up her bags and fled from the parking lot and back to her hotel room.

Once in her room, Arron fell to the floor and sobbed. What went wrong, she thought. What did I do to her? Tears fell across her cheeks. What was going on? Sitting there, she realized she had done nothing wrong. Yet her car had been stolen and a stranger had tried to attack her. She rose to her feet and put away the things she bought, except for the swimsuit, which she laid on the bed.

She slipped out of her top, shorts and panties and left on the flesh colored gaff. She then slipped into the bikini bottom and hooked the top around her slim waist. She put her arms through the shoulder straps and brought the bra up and around her breast forms. She looked at herself in the mirror and was happy with the result. The breast forms filled out the swimsuit top, while the boy leg bottom showed no signs of her small cock.

She grabbed her large "I luv the ARMY" bag, tossed some baby oil, towel, manicure kit and some polish in it. Then she slipped on her tennis shoes. Going to the lobby, she stopped at the desk and asked that any calls for her room be transferred to the pool phone. The young man at the desk smiled and said he would be happy to do so. When she stepped into the sunlight, she slipped on her sunglasses she purchased that morning and headed for a lounge chair by the pool.

The sunshine felt good on her skin. Perspiration gathered in a pool on her flat stomach as she lay there. A splash of cold water snapped her out of her daze. Giggles followed the shower.

She sat up and in the pool at her feet were two little girls, in matching teal one-piece outfits. They laughed and giggled at each other, not paying attention to anyone else.

"Oh Miss, I am so sorry." A lady about 50 in a big orange hat and very dark glasses came up to her and sat at the end of her lounge chair. "My granddaughters didn't mean it. Girls, be careful!" The two giggled and swam toward the end of the pool.

"That's fine. No harm done."

"I am Emily Hastons from Fort Wayne, Indiana. I am traveling with my granddaughters to my daughter's house in Arizona," the woman explained.

"I am...uh...Amber. I am just traveling about."

"Oh that is nice. Going anywhere in particular?" the grandmother probed.

"No. Just traveling."

"Honey, let me tell you. You are the cutest thing. I mean you certainly fill out that swimsuit. I bet you were a cheerleader. Am I right?"

"Well, I was a cheerleader," Amber replied and thought of times she lead the boys cheer block in high school as Arron.

"I knew it! You seem the type. I was too in 1965. That is were I met Mr...."

"Randy. Did you bring the towels? What about the sunscreen? You know how I burn." The obnoxiously loud voice interrupted the lady.

Both Amber and Emily leaned backward and looked toward the voice. Through the fence, the two saw the overweight woman and her husband approach. Amber bit her lip and looked around desperately. Not thinking, she leaned forward, put her head onto Mrs. Haston's shoulder to hide from the pair.

"Dear, are you okay?"

"Emily, that woman was so mean to me today. I think she hates me or something. Don't let her see me."

"Alright dear, just hang on," Emily replied as she put her arms around Amber and patted her back.

She watched as the pair passed and took seats on the opposite side. "Amber, they've set down now."

"I've got to go. I'll talk to you later Emily," Amber said as she got up with her towel and left.

Going into the lobby, she stopped by the desk and had them forward her calls to her room, when she realized she had forgotten her bag. Damn it, she thought and turned to the door that led back to the pool. In the doorway stood Randy with her bag in his hand.

"The lady said you forgot this," he explained handing her the large canvas bag.
Amber stared up at him. His chest and abdomen muscles seemed to be carved from stone, hidden only by small fine hairs. His bright white teeth gave off light of their own. She was in awe.

"Are you okay?" the living Greek statue asked.

"Uh...yeah," she mumbled.

"I am sorry about Lisa. She thinks you look like my ex," he said apologetically. "You really are a knockout." He flashed his smile again.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Amber thought for a moment. "I didn't mean..."

"It's cool. See ya around." He turned and went back to the pool.

"Oh my god," Amber said as she stood there, the large canvas bag clutched to her chest.

"Tell me about it. Mmm-mmm", a housekeeper said and pushed her cleaning cart down the hall, head turned toward the man.

A telephone message was waiting for Amber when she returned to the room. She called the number and spoke to the adjuster. She explained what happened and said she would fax the police report to him. He thanked her and asked if she was staying at the hotel a few more days. She said yes she had planned on it. He then told her he would be contacting her.

Sitting on the bed, she turned on the TV and flipped through the channels until she came to Jerry Springer. Two men were fighting over an overweight, trailer park girl, who didn't know which one was the father of her baby. Amber shook her head and continued to watch. The show was like a train wreck–you couldn't take your eyes from it. She nodded off and started dreaming of Randy.

When Amber awoke, she looked around sleepy eyed and noticed the clock. She had slept most of the late afternoon and it was well in to dusk. She stood up, stripped out of her bikini and with the aid of adhesive remover took off her faux breasts. She then stepped into the shower to begin preparing for the night.

Mission Impossible?

Chapter 4

The Major gave the CID officer a harsh look and stood up. She tossed her blonde hair back and walked toward the hotel door. Amber and the CID officer walked behind her out the door and to the black government sedan in the parking lot. The Intelligence officer opened a rear door and Amber was pushed into the back seat. Amber's head dropped to her hands and she began to cry. The man slammed the door shut and turned to face his partner.

The cab pulled up to the front entrance of the nightclub, where a large Heaven neon sign greeted Amber. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she fished in her purse and handed the cabbie a $20 bill. While Amber walked toward the end of the queue, she attracted some attention from the other club patrons.

Amber turned and primped in the mirrored window of the nightclub. She flipped her hair from her eyes and examined herself, with a critical eye. Her golden blonde hair, which was parted down the middle, framed her face and fell just above her bare shoulders. Dramatic eyes shaded with subtle hues of brown and outlined with kohl looked back at her, while her lips were traced in a bright pink. Amber followed her reflection down to the hot pink dress she wore. A thin spaghetti strap, tied behind her neck, held the pink spandex knit dress up; the dress clung to her breasts emphasizing them and hugged the tiny curves of her belly and hips. Her hands moved across her belly and down to mid thigh where the dress stopped. Amber's long, bare, tanned legs made the dress look much shorter than designed. The dress's thin material prevented her from wearing hose or even undergarments with the exception of the invisible gaff. Her toes peeked from pink sandals with 4-inch heels; several of them adorned with gold rings, while her French manicured toenails gleamed in a pink shade that matched her long feminine fingernails.

Amber continued to admire herself in the window when a heavy hand touched her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder and looked up at a huge black man wearing a tuxedo. With his free hand, he motioned her past the other waiting patrons. She flashed a smile up at him as he escorted her to the club's entrance followed by catcalls from the males in line and sneers from the women with them. A pounding Euro beat met her at the door and she made her way deep into the club. She snuggled up to one of the many bars, ordered a Gibson martini, and examined the crowd. Mostly young and well dressed, the crowd was attractive. Couples of mixed and same gender danced or sat at tables along the wall. She couldn't see if they drank or talked since the lights were very low. She sipped on her martini, listened to the music and began to relax when someone next to her spoke.

"My aren't you pretty in pink," a low voice said.

Amber turned and looked for the person who gave her the complement. Next to her stood a tall, older man wearing a long dark curly wig and a red wrap-around dress. Dark red lipstick colored his lips and blue eye shadow highlighted sagging mascara lined eyes.

She flashed a smile and introduced herself, "Hiya. I am Amber."

"Bethany. Glad to meet you, honey. First time here?" The older TV stirred her drink with a straw.

"Yes."

"Oh, then let me tell you about the place. Most are straight here; they like to think they are open-minded because they party with some gays. What they want is just a novel experience they can tell their friends about on Monday."

Amber smiled, nodded, and examined the crowd. Several guys smiled at her when her eyes met theirs.

Bethany saw the looks and noted, "Well, be careful. Half of the guys in here are about to cream their pants over you and many of them are not very nice." The older TV started to drift away.

"I will. Thanks for the tip."

A heavyset, balding man dressed in an expensive double-breasted sport coat came to the bar and ordered a Gibson. He glanced over at her and said, "Be careful dear, they become addictive." He pointed at her drink. "I should know. I've been drinking them for thirty-five years."

"I started a couple of years ago and can't stop." She smiled back. "You seem to have adjusted to them."

He chuckled and looked at her. "Good crowd tonight. But Fridays usually are." The bartender came up with his drink and pushed it to him. The balding man asked Amber, "Care for another? Tony, please take care of the lady tonight." With that he turned and moved slowly through the crowd away from Amber.

Amber accepted the drink when Tony pushed it to her and looked toward her benefactor, but had lost him in the crowd. She sipped the drink quietly and she caught the eye of one of the good-looking yuppies.

The evening went by quickly. She danced frequently with several different partners, including several women. However, there was no chemistry. Amber pushed her hair from her face and headed toward the door. She glanced to the side and saw Bethany at one of the tables with a very drunk man. Amber waved at the older TV who returned the gesture and patted her tablemate's leg. Amber tossed her head and headed out the door and into the warm night air. She searched the street for a cab and saw the man who bought all of her drinks tonight walking toward the rear of the building. Amber looked back to the street for a cab when she noticed two big men who began to follow the man. Sensing danger, Amber decided to follow the pair around the corner. In the back parking lot, she saw that they had pinned the balding man up against the building and were threatening him.

Amber didn't think but reacted. She reached down and picked up a beer bottle from the pavement and raced over. She brought the empty bottle down on the head of the attacker nearest to her, smashing the glass. The large thug's knees buckled and he fell limp to the ground. The second mugger spun to face her.

"Bitch!" the big mugger spat as he charged toward her. She looked up at him and saw his angry eyes and he quickly reached for her throat with one hand.

Muscle memory activated in Amber and her hand shot out and gripped her attacker's hand. A simple quick twist of her wrist and a push of the thug's elbow with her other hand placed the man in a painful arm lock. She did not stop. Amber kicked the side of the mugger's knee and he fell to the pavement in agony.

"You okay?" She looked over at the balding man still up against the wall.

"Yeah, I am....uh," he stammered and was interrupted by moans from the first attacker who had gotten to his hands and knees. "Come on dear, let's go." The overweight man moved to his BMW and opened its door. Amber ran to the vehicle's other side and slid into the seat. The car's engine turned over and moments later the BMW pulled out into the street.

Amber looked behind at the parking lot and saw the two men struggle to their feet. She blew out a sigh and leaned back into the soft leather seat. The man clutched a cell phone as he drove the BMW sedan and hurriedly punched at its numbers.

"Hello. Josh, this is Rienholt. I was just attacked in the parking lot. Yes, just now....no, I am fine. No thanks to you. What am I paying you for? Get your ass out there and see if those two men are still there. What...? There was two of them...I didn't get a real good look," he yelled into the cell phone.

"Two white men, mid thirties, both about 6 feet tall, between 210 and 230 pounds," Amber said. "Both had dark hair, one had brown eyes. One wearing black leather jacket, blue jeans and tan cowboy boots; the other, a Yankees baseball jacket and jeans." Amber closed her eyes.

"Here, tell him." He handed the cell phone to her.

Rienholt turned the car smoothly around a corner and picked up speed. The engine gave no sign of acceleration or the turn. The buttery leather caressed her skin as the increase in speed pushed her back into the seat. Amber ran her fingers along the car's trim, took the phone from him, and repeated the descriptions to Josh. She noted the cell was also high-end model and handed it back to her driver.

"Yes...yes...She was the one doing your job. We'll talk in the morning." He put the cell phone back into his suit coat. "Thanks for the help back there," he said calmly. "I would have been in alot of trouble if you hadn't shown up. You have some great moves."

"I spent 4 years in Army Intelligence. Hand to hand combat training was mandatory," she explained.

"Army, uh? You? I would have thought taebo or something," he chuckled. After a few seconds, he asked, "What are you doing now?"

"I haven't really thought about that yet. I plan to have some fun, maybe go to New York, Chicago, maybe L.A. Find a job...you know."

"Not much prospect in Intelligence work is there? You plan to join the CIA or something?" He smiled.

"No...nothing like that. I don't know. I will find something. I know how to use a PC, file, office work...clerical stuff probably." She shrugged her shoulders.

"I see. Well...uh...?"

"Amber."

"Amber, where do you need to be dropped off? It is the least I can do for my hero."

"I am staying at the Holiday Inn on Highway 45. Know where it's at?"

"Yes." He nodded and continued to drive.

Amber walked through the lobby and placed the card in her purse without looking at it. She passed the small lounge and headed toward the stairs, when she stopped. She stepped into the small refreshment alcove and took out some change from her clutch. She popped six quarters into the Coke machine and listened while it rattled and dropped the soda into the basket. She reached down and tried to pick up her soda but it slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. Amber watched the can roll across the tiles and stop at a pair of hushpuppies.

Randy reached down, picked up the diet soda, and handed it to her. He flashed that sexy smile at her and Amber felt her knees begin to give. Catching herself, she took the soda, mumbled thanks, and tried to duck around him but found that she couldn't in the small space. Suddenly, a small boy ducked into the area chased by another and pushed her into his arms, then just as quickly they disappeared from the room.

"You okay?" he asked her.

She nodded and pushed back from him slightly, his large hands about her slim shoulders. She stepped backward and cleared her throat. Amber pushed past him and went into the hall.

"Amber? Did I say something wrong?"

She turned and looked up at him. "Uh no, Randy...I mean...you didn't say anything wrong."

"Okay...I am going to watch the game. You want to join me for a drink in the lounge?" he asked.

"I wouldn't want to get you into any trouble, Randy. I don't think your wife would like seeing me with you."

"Oh, don't worry about that. She hates sports. She made me come down here to watch the game. She says the TV keeps her up."

"I...ah...why don't you come and watch the game with me in my room. It would be better than sitting in a bar alone." She smiled. "Plus, my beer is free and the popcorn will be hot. What do you like? Lite, red, or dark beer?

"Sure...okay...I'll start with a lite."

"Cool. My room is upstairs." She motioned toward the stairway.

Amber laughed and led the way to her room. When she handed the key card to him, he smiled, opened and held the door for her. She thanked him and ducked into the room quickly. She motioned him towards a chair near the TV and headed for the wet bar. He stretched once, eased into the chair, picked up the remote and turned on the television set. The baseball game was well into the third inning with the score a lopsided 6 to 0. He groaned slightly.

"What's wrong?" Amber asked.

"The Red Sox...they are losing again." Randy moaned.

"What do you expect? They always start their slide in late August." She grinned as she walked toward him, a lite beer in one hand and a red in the other. She handed him the lite and sat on the floor at his feet.

"Thanks. You into baseball?" He cocked his head in disbelief.

"Yes. I loved playing when I was young. I'm not so much into it now, but I love going to the games."

Randy gulped down his beer and set the bottle down. He flashed his smile at her again. Amber sat her beer down, rose to her knees and moved between his legs. She raised her eyes slowly up to meet his and leaned forward. Randy cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Amber moaned and melted as she felt his lips against hers. Her fingers began to unbutton his shirt. She pushed back the shirt over his broad shoulders and looked at him. She purred and kissed his chest. He let her place delicate kisses over his hard chest and watched her move toward his nipple. Her white teeth bit playfully at one of his nipples, then began to suck it. Randy moaned as he felt her hot mouth on him. His hand began to stroke and play over her body; they slipped on the spandex dress as the caressed her.

Amber did not wait, she moved from his nipple down his flat stomach to his pants where she felt his large member had responded to her touch. She squeezed it hard and he moaned. She reached up, undid his pants, and found he was not constrained by shorts. Randy slid down in the chair and allowed her more access to him. His monstrous cock sprang out to its full 9 inches. The head was purple and the thick shaft was veined. Amber cooed at the sight of the large cock and licked her pink lips.

"Come on baby....please," Randy said in a low tone.

"Oh yes...."

Amber's pink tongue snaked out and lightly slid across the slit of his huge dick. She pursed her lips and pushed in down the mushroom shaped head, her mouth stretched wide as she tried to take all of him. Not able to, she pulled back slowly, her tongue stroking the underside of his cock as she went, only to slide forward again. She began to set up a rhythm, her head bobbed up and down, alternatively sucking and licking.

"Damn babe," he said as he convulsed in pleasure.

When she pulled her mouth off his dick, a long strand of precum and saliva trailed from the tip of his shaft to her mouth. She placed both hands around his huge cock and washed its head with her whip like tongue, while she jacked him off. She then stretched her lips around him again and forced his entire rod down her mouth until she snuggled her nose in his dark pubic hair. He reached down, grasped her head and began to slam his hips forward, consumed by lust. She squealed softly and tried not to gag as he face fucked her. He did not stop when he heard her cries but continued to hump her faster, fucking her mouth and throat. He felt his balls begin to tighten and Amber felt his dick become harder in her mouth. Suddenly Amber couldn't breathe. Enormous shots of cum leapt from his cock and forced their way down into her mouth and throat. The release of his seed did not slow his rhythm; Randy continued to assault her mouth with his cock. Amber moaned slightly as his cum dribbled from the sides of her aching mouth. Slowly, he pulled his cock from her mouth and leaned back further in the chair. She licked her lips and tasted his cum again. It wasn't sweet, but pungent.

"Damn girl, that was hot."

Amber giggled and stood up. She slid her pink clingy dress up to her belly and reached for his hand. Randy let Amber guide his hand to her taupe colored gaff and he slipped his fingers under the elastic band. Randy pulled the tight gaff down and tossed it on the floor. Amber small hairless cock and balls fell between her legs. She slipped a leg over his and stood there above his member, which showed signs of becoming hard again.

Amber reached down and stroked his large cock to life. It sprang up to attention almost immediately. Amber reached over to the dresser and brought out a tube of KY jelly. Quickly, she squirted some onto Randy's hard dick. Amber pushed out a large amount onto his fingers and guided his hand under her to her hole. Randy slowly slid one finger into her ass, stretching the muscle there, and then slipped in another. Amber tossed her head back and forth, feeling her knees become weak as he played in her rectum. He then pulled his fingers out and pointed his cock at her ass. She moved down onto it and felt the large mushroom head on her asshole. He grabbed her hips and shoved his cock deep into her with one fluid motion. Amber screamed in pain/pleasure. The thick monster cock was deep into her rectum, even though he stretched her muscles his cock barely fit. Lust quickly took Randy over. His powerful grip tightened on her hips that would leave bruises the next day as he began to fuck her. Tears began to fall from Amber's blue eyes.

"Yeah take it you bitch," he said and rammed his big pole deep into her tiny ass. "Take that big dick."

"Oh baby...please..ahg...god..help!" she cried.

Amber's tiny hard dick bobbed up and down; it slapped Randy's tight abs and bounced off her flat tummy. Tears continued to well up as her balls grew tighter over the fuck she was getting. Her dick’s head grew red, then purple. Her breath quickened and she dug her nails deep into her palms. White, thick cum began to pump from her dick in globs and hit her hairless crotch.

Randy promised himself to treat this bitch right. He wasn't going to stop until he came again. Randy punished Amber's ass again and again with hard thrusts, forcing his cock up deep inside her. When he felt his release, he flexed his muscles and plunged even deeper into her. Hot jets of his cum squirted up into her bowels.

Randy pulled out of her and lifted the small TV off him. She tried to muffle her crying as he carried her over to the bed and laid her down. Her mouth and body ached from the treatment she had received, while her own cum slid down her belly onto the sheets.

Randy kissed her softly on the lips, turned and got dressed.

Chapter 5

Amber entered the hallway from the stairs. She had been tanning poolside and daydreaming about her night with Randy. He certainly made her feel like a woman. Turning the corner, a woman and man stood in front of her room, knocking on the door. The woman was attractive, about 5 feet 6 inches, long blonde hair and wore a blue blazer and matching slacks with a white silk blouse and high heels. The man was well over 6 feet, trim, short dark hair and wore a black suit, with a black tie and a white shirt.

"Can I help you?" Amber asked and wrapped her beach towel around her slim waist.

The man and woman turned as one to look at her. They glanced up and down her quickly and Amber knew they were evaluating her. She cocked her hip, folded her arms, and looked at them quietly.

"Yes," the man said and held out a picture to her. "We are looking for Arron Kain. Would you know where he is?"

Amber glanced at the picture quickly and recognized it as his official Army photo. They used those types of photos for badges, press releases, and security clearance files. "Yes. I do. It's me."

The woman smirked and nodded her head, while the man seemed surprised but quickly recovered. "Well, Arron, we would like to have a word with you."

"Sure." Amber shrugged stepped in front of them and opened the door. "Come on in while I get dressed," she said and tossed the towel into the bathroom.

She walked slowly to the dresser knowing their eyes were on her. She gathered a pair of white bikini panties, a matching bra, tan shorts, and a blue tank top in her arms and walked to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a sec," she said and shut the bathroom door.

As fast as she could she changed from her bikini into the outfit she chose, keeping her gaff and the sandals she wore to the pool on, then she applied foundation and mascara. She fluffed her dark wig out, grabbed a lipstick from the vanity and applied a coat on her pouty lips. She didn't understand why two obvious feds were asking for her, so she calmed herself down and opened the door.

"Okay. I'm ready. Want to go to the lounge?" Amber asked. "It will be more comfortable there."

"That will be fine," the woman said as she opened the door for Amber and followed her down the hallway with her companion.

The lounge was empty except for a bartender washing glasses and cleaning up from the lunch time crowd. Amber made her way through the maze of wicker tables and took a seat at one against the wall while the pair sat opposite of her. She smiled pleasantly, crossed her legs and waited for one of them to speak. Both the man and the woman reached into their coats to draw out their black notebooks. Amber noted both were carrying government issued side arms.

"Arron, my name is Captain Logan and I am with CID. This is Major Brewer who is with Army Intelligence," he said with practiced repetition as he produced his identification and badge. "CID is..."

"Criminal Investigation Division." Amber completed the sentence. "I know what CID is, Sir. I was in the Army until recently."

"Yes, we are fully aware you are a Sergeant in the U.S. Army, Arron." The CID officer nodded curtly and continued. "The CID is also aware of your activities and we are..."

Amber caught the change of verb tense and rose up a manicured finger. "Excuse me Sir. I am no longer in the Army. I was honorably discharged several days ago. I am a civilian now."

"Arron," the attractive blonde cut in, "we have known about your compul...ah..interests for some time and we..." The Intelligence officer stopped mid-sentence and looked at her. "I am sure you don't go by Arron? What should we call you?"

"Amber, Ma'am. Amber Lynn Kain."

"A pretty name." Major Brewer smiled and continued. "Amber, we reviewed your records and we were impressed. You qualified Expert with the M16 and 9mm in Basic training and kept the qualifications for 4 years. You graduated from the Army Intelligence School with honors, made E-5 within 3 years, were awarded several commendations, attended night courses at the local university, and speak fluent Spanish. As I was saying before, the Army also has known about your interests for some time now and we want to talk to you about an op we are part of." The intelligence officer motioned to herself and her CID counterpart.

"Op? What kind of an operation?"

"That is classified, for now. We can't tell you more now until you agree to be part of it but it is important." The blonde leaned closer.

Amber sat back in the chair with her arms folded in front of her and studied both officers for a minute. She didn't have to think long, "No. No thanks, Ma'am. I'm really not interested. It was nice meeting both of you." She began to rise from her chair.

"Sit down, Sergeant," the CID agent commanded and Amber obeyed in Pavlovian response. "Listen to me. You have not been discharged yet. You are on leave. Your discharge date is in five days. You are still in the Army and subject to all its regulations. Your current dress and actions of the last several days have violated several regulations concerning conduct for NCOs." The man's tone became threatening.

"Uh, no. I am out. And I can do what I want," Amber stammered out through dry lips and mouth.

"No, Amber. He is correct. Your discharge is not for another 5 days," the Intelligence officer explained. "You are still in the Army and subject to the U.C.M.J. and court martial."

"Oh my god, no. Listen, I thought I was out. I never did or said a word about this while I was in. Honest. You've got to believe me. I never did anything while I was in. I thought I was out." Amber quickly tried to explain to the pair.

"You will come with us. Do not resist." The CID agent stood up, walked behind Amber and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Major, are you ready to go?

The Major gave the CID officer a harsh look and stood up. She tossed her blonde hair back and walked toward the hotel door. Amber and the CID officer walked behind her out the door and to the black government sedan in the parking lot. The Intelligence officer opened a rear door and Amber was pushed into the back seat. Amber's head dropped to her hands and she began to cry. The man slammed the door shut and turned to face his partner.

"I could have gotten her to go with us. You didn't have to do that."

"Listen Janice, I am not going to spend any more effort on some little fag than I have to," he stated flatly. "And just to set the record straight...it is a 'him' not a 'her'. Let's get started back to the Post; it's a long drive."

The drive to Fort Smith was long and quiet. Amber spent the first part of the trip sobbing into her hands. She knew what the Army could and would do to her. How could this have happened? Amber then sunk into despair and spent the remainder of the trip looking out of the window at the scenery, not thinking–just looking. They stopped only once for gas. When Captain Logan stopped the car, Major Brewer asked Amber if she needed to go to the restroom. The restroom was surprisingly clean and Amber went into one of the stalls. Once finished Amber went to the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. Most of her makeup was gone and her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She brushed the hair from her face and splashed some cold water on herself.

"You are very pretty."

"Yeah, thanks Major. I don't feel pretty right now."

"Maybe this will help." She handed Amber a plain black purse.

"Is this mine? When did you get it?" The young TV smiled and quickly unzipped the bag.

"Never mind about that. Hurry up."

"Yes Ma'am," Amber said as she dug out her makeup.

The Army officer evaluated Amber's technique as she quickly applied her makeup. In a matter of minutes, the tear stained boy-girl was replaced by a beautiful young woman. "Listen Amber, everything is going to be alright. Captain Logan had to make sure you would come with us."

"Major, you got to believe me...I didn't dress or act like this when I was on active duty."

"Even when you were on leave in Denver?"

Amber bit her lip and looked down. Major Brewer reached out and took her hand. "Amber, we knew what you were doing. We have been watching you for almost two years. You're going to have to trust me. Come on, let's go back to the car."

Amber felt better the rest of the trip. She was still very scared but the dark cloud of hopelessness had lifted. She did become more nervous as they approached the gates to the army post. She felt the guard's stare on her as they passed, as if he knew she was not a girl but a boy pretending to be.

The post was typical, brick buildings marked headquarters of different units while rows of wooden two story buildings served as dormitories for the enlisted men. Her nervousness increased as the black government sedan pulled into a parking lot next to a 2-story brick building. Amber almost fainted when Major Brewer opened the door and asked her to step out. Slowly Amber crept from the car and looked around to see if anyone was near. Major Brewer began to walk to the door and Amber leapt after her. She tried her best to stay next to the Major as much as possible and away from Captain Logan. She did, however say thank you to him when he opened the door for the Major and her.

Once inside the door, they stopped at the front desk and made Amber sign in. At the front desk, a young desk sergeant looked at the officers' badges, then at Amber. He had her sign a register, smiled and handed Amber a plastic card with big red letters proclaiming her VISITOR. She slipped the card's cord around her neck and clutched her purse with both hands to keep from shaking. She walked down the hall with the pair of officers and entered an elevator where Captain Logan hit the "3" button and Amber felt the elevator start to descend.

The doors opened to a long gray hallway with a large black "3" painted on the left wall. Major Logan stepped out of the elevator followed by Captain Logan and Amber. The trio passed other officers who nodded at the pair and occasionally glanced at Amber. They turned into a pair of glass doors that proclaimed "45th Special Intelligence Operations Division".

"Brewer, Logan...I see you have our subject," a voice called from behind them.

"Yes, Dan. This is Sergeant Kain," the CID agent said and nodded toward Amber.

The man looked to be about 50 years old, 6 feet tall, and 175 pounds of pure muscle that his dark suit could not hide. He was an attractive man with dark hair and large hands. His piercing blue eyes scanned over Amber quickly; up, down, left to right, right to left then into her eyes. Amber knew what he was looking for: first, weapons; second, fighting ability; and third, intelligence. He examined her as an enemy.

"Good." Satisfied with his examination, Dan asked, "Major did you want to use the interrogation room?"

"No. I think we may use the Colonel’s office. We will all be more comfortable in there."

Dan nodded. "Makes sense."

The Major turned and walked past another desk clerk down a hallway. The female soldier looked up, smiled and nodded at the Major and made a note in her logbook. The clerk checked the IDs of each member as the group passed and followed Major Brewer down the hall. She smiled and said "hi" at the Captain who ignored her completely and continued.

"Sean, I think that Specialist has the hots for you," the dark haired man said.

"Yeah. I know," the Captain replied.

Major Brewer stopped at a door and turned, "I'm going to tell the Colonel, we are back. Amber take a seat here."

Chapter 6

Amber waited quietly, hands folded between her knees, and looked down at the light brown carpet covering the floor. She was too numb to consider any options that she might have. All she could think about was being court martialed and the humiliation if the press would find out. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. She did not want to cry in front of these people; she wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

The door opened and a tall, slim African-American woman walked in followed by Major Brewer. Immediately, Captain Logan, the other agent named Dan, and Amber stood as one.

"Major, close the door please," the Colonel asked as she walked behind the large executive desk and sat down. Thank you," she said hearing the door close, not looking up from the file she perused on her desk.

Amber could not see what the file contained because she was focused straight ahead at the wood paneled wall, her hands pinned against her bare thighs standing at attention. She glanced briefly at the Colonel's nameplate at the front of her desk. The gold plate read "Col. Iris Washington". Amber stood motionless but used her peripheral vision to see the three officers standing also at attention, Major Brewer and the agent they called Dan to her left and Captain Logan to her right. Usually, being this close to two attractive men would excite Amber, but now she was scared.

"At ease, people," the Colonel said reaching into her desk and pulling out a note pad and pen. As one, the four standing shifted their feet apart and placed their hands behind them on the small of their back. Amber was suddenly conscious of the fact her breast forms jutted out far in front of her but did not want to break position and draw unwanted attention to her. Amber looked over at Major Brewer who caught her glance and slightly nodded her head in encouragement.

The four stood in silence while the Colonel glanced over the file and made some notes. Colonel Washington shut the file, looked up and took off her glasses. She glanced over Amber quickly, and then looked to Major Brewer.

"Major, is this Sergeant Kain?"

"Yes Ma'am. We found her in a motel outside of St. Louis. She was on terminal leave."

"Yes, the files state it lasts for another 5 days," she said, glancing back and forth at the four people. "Why don't you sit down? All of you."

Amber stepped back and slid into the wooden chair. She put her knees together, bit her lower lip, and looked at the Colonel. The Colonel stared back at her and evaluated her.

"Sergeant, have the Major and Captain explained what we want you to do?"

"I wasn't really told, Ma'am. I understand I might be facing a court martial," Sergeant Kain explained.

"A court martial? Were you told anything else?

"Just that I met some qualifications they were looking for and that I have been watched for a while."

"Sergeant, please step outside and have a seat."

"Yes Ma'am." The trained response was activated and Amber stood up, walked quietly out the door, and sat in the lone chair in the hallway. Major Brewer had stood up and shut the door behind her.

Amber sat there only a short while, when the door opened and Major Brewer motioned her to come in. Tentatively she returned to her chair in the room.

"Sergeant, I think there has been some miscommunication. First, no one will be charged with any offense against the UCMJ. Second, you are needed as a volunteer. And after I tell you more specifics of the operation, I think you will volunteer. Should I continue or do you wish to return to your motel?" asked Colonel Washington.

Amber was taken back by the Colonel's honesty looked at the officers around the room and nodded yes.

"Good. Let me give you some background details. As you know cocaine is a major problem in the U.S. Most of the cocaine or crack in the U.S. comes from the country of Columbia. If you read the papers, you must realize that our government is working closely with the Columbian government to stop the flow of the drugs to the U.S.

"What you may not know is that the Army aids the CIA and the DEA in their war on the Columbian drug cartel. We along with the Air Force and the Navy provide support. The Air Force provides AWACs planes to watch for air traffic, the Navy and Coast Guard lend ships for interdiction runs. The Army usually provides 'muscle' to take out drug manufacturing sites in the form of Special Forces troops.

"Our problem is lack of reliable intelligence. Major Brewer has come up with a plan to get something we all need to be more efficient. That is where you come in. Still interested?"

Amber quickly tried to see the connection between herself and any type of intelligence gathering. Being a low-level analyst, she couldn't come up with anything special but it did spark her curiosity. "Yes, please continue Ma'am."

Colonel Washington flashed a brief dazzling smile and continued. "Before I go any further, whether you decide to join the team or not, what you are about to hear is classified Top Secret, code word level. You will not talk about it even if you do not join the team. Is that understood?" The Colonel waited until Amber nodded then continued, "Good. The Cartel is divided up into divisions each with a specific role responsibility, much like the military. There are divisions for manufacturing, security, administration and finance, transportation, and distribution. Gathering intelligence on the transportation division, its members, operations, and schedules will be the operation's focus.

Both the DEA and the CIA have tried to infiltrate the Cartel with limited success." She nodded at the agent named Dan. "The vast majority of the agents are usually discovered and killed. We have tried to co-op some of the Cartel's own people. However, their loyalty is firmly to the Cartel."

"What we need is an insider. Someone who can provide us with information. We believe you could be that someone."

Amber was stunned. She looked to each of the officers with disbelief. "I don't understand. What do you mean, why me?"

"You meet the profile of the individual we believe will be able to infiltrate the Cartel's transportation division. You are young, attractive, you have the necessary language skills, and most importantly, you have the compulsion for dressing as a woman. The individual in charge of the transportation division prefers the company of transgendered men."

For the next six months, you will be trained in espionage techniques and other skills to help you in your mission. Your appearance will also be physically altered. Sergeant Kain if you accept a role in this operation it may be for several years."

Colonel Washington stood up and walked in front to the desk. She leaned back on it and continued, "We are going to put you up in a local hotel off the Post. I want you to think about this overnight. I will need your answer in the morning. Remember, what I said about telling no one. This is Top Secret. I hope you will join our team." She reached out and offered her hand to Amber.

Amber stood up and shook the Colonel's hand. She then looked to Major Brewer who led her out the door and into the large office. Major Brewer and Captain Logan escorted her to their car and took her to a local motel, the Rondun, outside of the Post's gate. Major Brewer went into the motel office to rent a room.

"Listen, I had to get you to come with us. That is why I brought up the court martial," Captain Logan said looking out the window.

"Yeah, right. Sure Captain."

Major Brewer came out of the motel office with a key in her hand and stepped into the car. "Around back, room 22, second floor," the attractive blonde said. "You know, I've been at this Post for almost four years now, and I never took notice of this motel."

"Oh, it's okay, nothing special. Just some local flea bag," Captain Logan said driving into the parking space by the door leading to the stairway.

"You've stayed here?" the Major looked at him with a sly grin.

"My folks did when they came to see me last summer. We went fishing out at Big Bear Lake," he replied. "The Rondun, they nicknamed it the Rundown."

The trio got out of the car and Amber followed Major Brewer up the stairs and down the hall. The motel was clean and well kept. Major Brewer stopped at the door with a painted gold "22" on it. She unlocked it and stepped in. Two beds in front of a TV, lone chair and a dresser filled the room, while to the right of the door was the small bathroom. Major Brewer walked over to one of the beds and bounced down on it feeling to see how firm it was. She patted the bed and motioned Amber over. Amber obeyed and sat down next to the officer.

"I told you everything was going to be okay," she said pushing the hair out of Amber's eyes.

"Major, I am so scared and confused I don't know what to do."

"Don't think about it right now; go take a shower and relax for a while."

There was a knock at the door and Major Brewer opened it. Captain Logan entered with two bags and looked around at the room. He then tossed Amber's green duffle on the nearest bed and handed a small overnight bag to the Major.

"Hey, my stuff." Amber went to the green duffle. "When did you...I don't remember you getting it."

Captain Logan ignored her and said, "I'll be back at 8:00 am tomorrow to pick you up. Do you need anything else?"

"No, we will be fine," Major Brewer said. "Thanks Sean."

Captain Logan left the room and closed the door behind him. Amber glanced over at Major Brewer, who took off her navy jacket and tossed it on the small chair.

"You're staying?"

The Major turned and nodded, "Just for tonight."

"Major? Can you tell me something?"

"What's that?" The Major was running her fingers through her hair.

"Why me? Why not just get a transsexual? I mean there are a lot of beautiful Latin transsexuals. I mean they are all over the internet."

"We thought about that, however you have one qualification they don't. You have a Top Secret security clearance. They don't. It is very important we can trust the person we send in," she explained, taking off her high heels. "And believe it or not, out of the entire U.S. armed forces you are the only one to fit that piece of the profile."

"You mean I am the only cross-dresser in the entire Army?"

Major Brewer laughed and said, "Hell no, we found two on this Post alone. It is amazing what you can find out through the internet. You are the only cross-dresser with a security clearance who is young, Spanish speaking, and attractive when dressed as a girl." She stood up and began to unbutton her silk blouse.

Amber stammered and quickly dug in her bag trying not to notice the nice white lace bra the Major wore. She brought out her sea green baby doll nightie with matching panties and headed toward the bathroom averting her eyes from the attractive blonde woman.

"Amber, am I embarrassing you?" she asked while removing her pants showing lacy tap panties matching her bra.

"No Ma'am. I mean I don't mind if you don't."

Major Brewer flexed one of her shapely leg slightly and stretched hands locked behind her bending forward, "Do you like girls? I mean after seeing what you did this week, I thought you were gay."

Amber cocked her head and thought about her answer. "No, I like girls and had girlfriends, but when I am dressed as a girl...ah...I seem to be attracted to guys, Major." Her eyes dropped to her feet.

"Amber, its okay. My brother is gay. And one more thing."

"Yes Major?"

"Call me Janice. Okay?"

Mission Impossible?

Chapter 7

Amber sat back, closed her eyes, and hoped it would be over soon. A technician with spiked hair quickly and expertly plucked Amber's eyebrows into two feminine arches. She stood back and looked at Major Brewer, for approval.

"Great job. Very nice," Major Brewer said.

"Let me see. Oh Clare, you always leave a little too much on the end. Clean it up here and here," the makeup artist said.

"Yes, Bobbi," the girl said.

"After that prepare her for the laser treatment."

"Honey, you have shaved recently haven't you?" she asked Amber.

"Ah...yes. Just yesterday," Amber replied.

"Good, you know the treatments works better on smooth skin. We are going to start on your legs today, since we finished your face yesterday," the makeup artist explained.

Amber groaned and sunk lower in the chair with her bottom lip pushed out.

"Sit up, Amber and let Clare finish your brows," Janice Brewer scolded her.

"It hurts and I'm tired. I mean, the facials, laser treatments, teeth bleaching, pedicures, manicures...everything."

"Now you listen young lady," Bobbi cut in and looked her patient in the eye with her fists on her hips and placing heavy emphasis on the two words - young lady, "your Mom has paid a lot of money to get you to look this good. So you better be appreciative, otherwise it may be back out of the dresses and back to shop class for you." The spa's owner turned and winked at Major Brewer and walked away.

Amber's eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the woman's speech, then a mischievous grin grew out of her surprise. "Oh MOM...I am appreciative of what you're doing for me...really, I am." Amber giggled at the Major, whose jaw tightened and eyes narrowed.

Amber sat back and closed her eyes trying to ignore the pain that spiked hair Clare was inflicting on her. She was back in Colonel Washington's office again with the tall black woman explaining what Amber would do.

"I am glad you are part of the team. You will report directly to the Major. Captain Logan and Dan Parsons will be the liaisons to the CID and the CIA. I am the Project Coordinator. I have Project Oversight.

You are going to be sent in under deep cover. The intelligence we have gathered points that the transportation division of the Cartel may be our best opportunity to interdict shipments of cocaine going to the U.S. A man named Angel Corazon is the Cartel deputy in charge of seeing the cocaine is shipped to the distributors. He rose through the Cartel to become one of the favored deputies and he's extremely intelligent. He has found many infiltrators, in his division and other divisions.

However, we plan to appeal to his weak point to gain access the Cartel. It seems he has an appetite for transgendered men. He can be seen occasionally in Bogota, Columbia, where he frequents a local club that has female impersonator shows. He usually seeks out the headliner of the show or the most attractive transvestite."

The Colonel stopped briefly and poured herself a cup of coffee from a carafe. She offered a cup to Amber, who shook her head no, then to the others. Only the CIA liaison accepted a steaming mug but declined the offer for powdered cream and sugar. She then walked behind her desk, sat down and waited.

Amber thought about what she had been told and then spoke, "I'm not a performer, Ma'am."

"Major Brewer and Captain Logan believe differently. They've seen you at the club in St. Louis the other night and say you dance very well." Colonel Washington ignored Amber's shocked look and continued. "We will make sure your act will have a great impact on Mr. Corazon. While you make a pretty girl, we are also going to help you refine your look with the help of some professionals."

Amber sat atop the examining table in the doctor's office. The paper gown crinkled as she shifted uncomfortably on the cold table. She crossed and uncrossed her slim ankles, then lifted her legs straight out to admire her brightly colored toenails.

"It's cold in here," she spoke, then sighed from boredom.

"You're just nervous. Most people are when they visit a doctor." Janice smiled, crossed her legs and tugged down the hem of her black skirt.

Amber noted that Janice Brewer was always immaculately dressed, whether in or out of uniform. Today, she wore a black mini skirt and a matching jacket over a red silk top. Expensive gold earrings dangled from her underneath her styled hair, while matching bracelets were worn on a slender wrist. Nude hose, black pumps, matching her clutch finished her outfit. Amber smiled at her mentor and shifted again, aware she wore only an ugly, white, and thin paper gown.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No, not at the moment."

"What about Captain Logan?" Amber asked timidly, pretending to look at her fingernails.

At the name of the Army CID liaison, Major Brewer raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and replied, "We dated a couple of times but nothing serious. We are just friends now." The woman then glanced up at the young TV and commented, "He is very attractive."

"Yeah, I guess so." Amber answered and continued to look at her newly polished fingernails. "Did you ever think of getting married?"

"Yes," the woman said, "but I haven't found the right guy. I have a goal. I want to be the first female full bird colonel in Army Intelligence. A serious relationship could interfere with my goal."

Amber glanced up at the woman quizzically for a moment then nodded and moved again on the examining table. The army major tilted her head to the left and placed two fingers on her lips in thought. She was about to question her young charge when the door opened and a petite, dark skinned woman in a white lab coat entered the room.

"Good morning," the woman said in perfect English and extended a hand to Amber, then to Janice. "I am Doctor Liki Shinhashi." The small Indian woman sat on the stool and picked up Amber's medical files on the clipboard. "Wonderful weather we are having, isn't it? Let's see what your chart says." She then sat quietly and scanned the pages in the file. Closing the file, she turned to the Major and asked, "Ms. Brewer, would you mind leaving us for a moment? I need to speak to Amber alone."

"Certainly, Doctor." Janice nodded.

When the door closed, Doctor Shinhasi placed the file on a table, folded her hands and looked at Amber. "Amber, do you understand what you are doing? You will be modifying your body by taking these hormones. What you have done so far is only cosmetic and can be reversed." The Doctor held up a small cylinder in her hand and explained, "When we insert this packet, low level estrogen will be released and start to change your body. While the levels will not give you breasts or atrophy your penis, your skin will be softer, you will not be as strong or muscular and in certain situations, you may find yourself more emotional. This will last about 5-7 years unless the packet is removed."

Amber looked into the Doctor's brown eyes and nodded. "Yes Doctor, I know and I want to do this."

One studio wall was lined with mirrors, while the side walls had handrails at hip level. Amber stood alone in the room waiting for the instructor. She was wearing a pale blue leotard and black dancing slippers. Her makeup was perfect for midday and a young girl. Her skin had become clearer and softer. The hormones and vitamins had caused her hair to grow quick and thick. It was now past her ears but not yet long enough to pull back in a ponytail.
The door behind her opened up and a slim man in a black leotard walked into the room and toward her.

"Hello. You must be Amber. I am Tad Cox, your instructor. Have you had any dance instruction before? No? Then we will start slowly but you must promise to work at it, promise? Good...let's start."

The questions and answers rapid fired at her. Amber nodded at the bundle of energy, took a deep breath and followed Tad's instructions on stretching and limbering up.

"Don't worry honey; you're going to be great. You've been fantastic in rehearsal all week." Tony reassured.

Amber did not reply but stared out past the stage curtains toward the crowded club floor and bit her bottom lip nervously.

"Honey? Amber?"

"What…oh yeah…Tony, I'll be fine." She glanced over her shoulder at the slim performer standing behind her.

Tony smiled and patted the petite TV's shoulder, then gave her a hug. "You look stunning. I'm jealous you know. You could be her."

Amber flashed a big smile at the compliment. “Thanks, it took a lot of work. I had lots of help."

"Amber, one minute till curtain," the stage manager announced.

"Better get to your mark. I've got to get dressed. Knock 'em dead, honey." Tony wished running toward the dressing room.

"30 seconds, Amber." The stage manager pointed toward the stage.

Amber let out a deep breath. She nodded at him and walked onto the stage, where she checked her makeup in the polished fender. She stepped onto the shiny footrest and moved into the position dictated by her coach and Major Brewer.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and waited for her cue and the curtain to rise. Instantly, she was transported back a month to a small club near St. Louis and to her first time on stage when Major Brewer had to push her onto the stage. A former family restaurant on the south side now catered to the alternative crowd from a small local college. The interior of the club was minimal in its decor. A few mirror balls dropped from the ceiling danced lights off their surface onto decorative mirrors that lined the walls of the club. The furniture was cheaply made conference hall chairs and tables. The owner originally served drinks in glassware but switched to plastic cups weeks later after he found the college clientele cared less about stemware than the alcohol served in them.

The club's stage was tiny, barely more than a raised platform eight by ten feet. While a single singer or lone comedian would have no issue and four piece bands could squeeze onto the dais, a performer who was a dancer was limited. Amber found this to be quickly true at her first rehearsal; however, her performance team devised a way around the space issue in time for her debut.

When her premiere set came, Amber froze when she heard her cue for the first time. Major Brewer pushed her from behind the wings onto the stage. Fortunately, when she heard the music Pavlovian training overrode her fears and she began her act. She strutted out in a platinum blonde wig, faux diamonds, and a black leather costume consisting of a bandeau bra, low-rise mini shorts, and over the knee boots. She lip-synced Christina Aguilera and danced to the song “Dirrty” as rehearsed and the crowd politely clapped when she finished. She began the second song “Beautiful” to her set and then she began to improvise. She identified the audience members who were having fun and stepped off the stage to flirt with them. She discovered the crowd loved being part of the act. She waved, winked, squeezed shoulders, and blew kisses while she performed. The audience shouted suggestively at her and she pretended to be shocked. Her set ended with loud applause and shouts. She bowed and waved several times and rushed off stage into Major Brewer's arms where she began to cry.

The cooling sensation of dry ice fog as it billowed across the stage pulled Amber back to the present. She took a deep breath and waited for the curtain to rise and her cue. She shifted in her position slightly and heard the stage manager's announcement.

"Tonight the Peacock proudly presents to South Beach for the first time, Amber Kain, as Shania Twain."

The curtain rose and the spot light illuminated a black Harley-Davidson 1200, a larger than normal bike, custom made and outfitted with chrome accessories. Fog encircled the bike, while Amber lay sexily on the super-sized twin gas tanks with her high-heeled boots on the black leather seat. She leaned on one elbow with her long black curls over one shoulder and draped across her lower breast. When the music started she slowly rose, swung her legs to the front and slid off the chromed out motorcycled and strutted to the end of the runway. Amber was dressed in a black lace cat suit tailored to aid her illusion, with over the knee black patent leather boots. The petite TV hit her mark and began to lip-sync to the song "That Don't Impress Me Much".

She was half way through the first stanza when a younger guy from the audience walked to the stage with a dollar between his fingers. Amber waited a few seconds and playfully skipped over to him. She winked at him, took his bill and kissed him lightly on the lips. Watching him turn around, she flipped one hand by her wrist and perfectly lip-synced "that don't impress me much". Laughter and snickers erupted from the audience and the young man turned quickly around only to find Amber looking innocent but with a bright twinkle in her eye.

She danced down the catwalk where she spied an older man sitting with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, next to a woman who was obviously his wife. The pretty TV waved coquettishly at him but the man remained stoic. Amber broke character, stopped mid stride put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, knowing the tailored cat suit created the illusion of large cleavage. With a sultry look, she put her painted lips together and blew a kiss at him. The man blinked and only shifted in his seat. Amber snapped back up and looked to stage right, then stage left in mock disbelief. Several shouts from the audience members asked her to repeat the kiss to them. She looked to the man's wife and asked if he was this way at home. The woman next to the man stopped giggling and replied to the illusionist that the reaction was more than she got out of him in the past year. Amber joined in the audience's laughter and twirled away to the song's instrumental stanza.

After the song's brief instrumental, Amber continued to lip-sync and flirt with the audience until she spotted a statuesque blonde at the far end of the stage. After she made eye contact with the platinum goddess, the entertainer carefully stalked over to her prey. The dancer motioned for her to come to the stage. The woman rose and walked to the stage. The woman was very tall, tanned, dressed in a floral print mini dress and wore high heels. She looked Amber in the eye even though she was on the stage and the silver haired goddess stood on the floor. She moved forward a bit and tilted her head to the left. The muse smiled, placed her hands on Amber's face and kissed the TV performer. The crowd oohed and ahhed at the erotic scene. She watched the goddess return to her table and friends, Amber then returned to character, stepped back and made a phone gesture with her fingers and asked the blonde to call. She joined the chorus and ended the song at her expected mark. The audience applauded loudly while several catcalls and offers were shouted out. Amber bowed her head in acceptance, waved and blew kisses back at the crowd.

The stage lights blinked out and stage was in darkness. Amber listened to the fading applause, while she flipped the hair out of her eyes, caught her breath and waited expectantly for Major Brewer. She heard the footsteps approach and felt the jacket pushed into her hands and immediately slipped it on. The song started and she closed her eyes and counted the beats. At the fourth beat, the stage lights exploded on and Amber began the final part of her set now wearing a patent leather jacket that matched her boots. She hooked the first line of "I'm Gonna Getcha Good" perfectly and danced to stage left where she flirted with a set of cute guys in a corner table and asked for their help off the stage. Egged on by his friends, one of the men stood and picked her easily off the stage and set her on the floor. Amber slid up against him and gave him a tight hug, suppressed a giggle and rose on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. She then squeezed his huge bicep, turned to the audience and fanned herself in mock sexual heat. Claps and laughter answered her faux frustration.

Amber skipped through the audience touching a shoulder here and there, pushing away a hand or two and waving, while she sang. She came across an older couple who was having fun and leapt onto the silver haired man's lap. She proceeded to nestle into his arms and purred cat like. The man simply laughed, hugged her and patted her ass. Amber kissed him on the cheek and winked at his wife who stared in disbelief at her husband with another man. The crowd shouted catcalls and offers for her to sit on their laps.

The TV illusionist spied off to the right an attractive couple who stood to watch her perform. The woman moved to the beat of the song, while her mate stood behind her, his hands on her slim hips. Amber quickly stepped over to the pair and began to draw the woman out and away from her partner, where she stepped behind her and replaced him. Amber hands moved up and down the woman's hips, while she danced to the song's beat enjoying the attention. Amber knew the audience liked the scene but was aware of the short time she had left in her set. She squeezed the woman's hips one last time and turned toward the end of the stage when she reached out and took the woman's partner up the stairs. Once on the stage Amber stripped off the leather jacket and danced around the handsome man letting him and the audience know what she wanted. As the song came to its conclusion, she led her captive to the motorcycle where she exaggerated another fake swoon after watching him mount the Harley and climbed on behind him. Amber raised her arms in triumph timed with the song's finale.

The audience erupted in applause and shouts. Amber jumped off the bike and led her partner to the edge of the stage. There they bowed and she stepped back and clapped with the crowd for him. She walked him to the stairs and applauded him again, waved to the audience, blew a kiss and bowed again. The curtain closed and she excitedly jumped into Major Brewer's arms.

"That was Amber Lynn Kain as Shania Twain. Give her another big hand."

Backstage Marilyn Monroe teetered over to Amber, dressed in a copy of the famous white, rhinestone dress the American public knew so well and hugged her then congratulated her, "Great set honey."

"Thanks Tony…ah…Marilyn. Break a leg," Amber said.

Marilyn batted an eye sexily, blew her a kiss and strutted onto the stage.

Twice per night Amber slinked off her polished chromed crotch rocket and amazed the audience with her sexuality and innocent teasing. Amber continued to captivate and excite every audience she met for the next two weeks, when following the Saturday night performance she found a dozen roses in the communal dressing room for her.

"Looks like Amber's made it." Leona commented smelling the aroma of the red flowers.

"What will your 'aunt' think of those, baby?" Cindy Fella asked getting dressed into her Janet Jackson outfit, complete with malfunctioning bustier.

"Mmm…I don't know. But they're beautiful, aren't they?" Amber beamed.

The next day, Amber and Major Brewer were lounging around the apartment complex's pool.

"Was there a note with the roses?" Major Brewer asked.

"Not that I saw. I asked the girls if they noticed one when the flowers were delivered and they said no."

The blonde Army Major paused to think. "Then we will assume you just have a fan." She smiled at her protégé and commented, "I am sure you have more than one, especially after your performance last night. You were very good."

Amber beamed with the thought of having many admirers around her and realized, "You were there last night?"

"Yes, I saw both shows."

"But I didn't see you in either audience."

"I was at the far end of the bar."

"And you liked both sets?"

Janice Brewer adjusted the strap of her bikini top as she turned around to face her subordinate and lay on her stomach. "Yes and so did everyone else. The men around me seemed fascinated by you. Your illusion came off well. The hair extensions worked much better than the wig and the costume is great. I am glad we went with the lace, instead of the black leather outfit. You've much improved since St. Louis."

"I've worked very hard Major." Amber stretched in her deck chair, reached down and poured buttered color tanning oil along her legs. She rubbed the oil in her legs and hips, her fingers worked the oil under her thong's strap. Part of Amber's Miami ritual was to tan daily for two to three hours daily. She had purchased several swimsuits to avoid tan lines, only to wear the black thong bikini. She moved the straps around to prevent the lines forming but her success was limited and lines were becoming noticeable. She would have to figure a way to sunbathe nude a few days. She rubbed the lotion onto her arms and flat belly, then lay back on the beach chair and closed her eyes.

"Amber," the Major's brows furrowed, "you've not been approached by anyone at the club or here have you?"

"No, Major." She opened one eye, "Something wrong?"

The Major casually looked past the pool and chain link fence to the apartment's parking lot, where two Latinos sat in a blue, low-slung sports car. The two men had watched them for a several minutes since she had noticed them. There was nothing unusual about men noticing her or Amber; it was just training and her own natural paranoia. She filed the faces and the car away in her memory and turned to ask, "No. Hand me the oil."

Angel watched Amber fawn over the dancers on the floor below a few moments; his fingers stroked his thin moustache and then he cocked his head to the right slightly. His eyes flowed up Amber’s legs to her mini skirt’s hem and continued up her thighs as she leaned farther out to look at the crowd. Angel’s eyes traveled up her slim body to where her t-shirt fitted tightly over her pert breasts. He took another long sip of his beer.

Chapter 8

Amber lifted a slim leg to the little bench in front of her and unzipped the high-heeled boot that came past her knee to mid-thigh. She repeated the process and placed the sexy black vinyl cuissardes under her makeup table. She reached behind her and unbuttoned the sheer bodysuit, pushed it off her arms and down to her tiny waist. She hooked her thumbs on the material and pushed the form-fitting suit down her legs to the floor, leaving on her skin colored gaff to conceal and cover her. Amber stepped out of the black lace puddle when she heard a familiar voice.

“Amber you were great tonight. I’ve got some…”

“Thanks Janice. Could you please put them over there with the rest of the flowers?” the petite female impersonator asked. Bending to pick up her costume, she turned to face her mentor.

Amber cried out in embarrassment and covered her budding breasts with her dance costume.

Along with Amber’s face, her entire body flushed red as she stood in front of her friend/mentor and the stern Captain Logan. The tall Army Captain’s eyes traveled up and down the dancer’s body appraisingly and said nothing.

Major Brewer apologized for catching Amber by surprise. Quickly she took a short, red kimono robe hanging on a nearby hook and handed it to the humiliated boy-girl.

The Major ordered and helped the Captain to spin around to allow Amber to get dressed. Self-consciously Amber hurriedly put on the silk robe and stepped into a pair of high heels and kept watch to see that Captain Logan did not look.

The hormones implanted in Amber's arm several months ago were supposed to release slowly over a period of five years giving her softer skin and thicker hair. The doctor had explained that Amber’s nipples would likely be tender and her breasts might become a source of slight discomfort. But she shouldn't expect any growth. However, the implant malfunctioned and was releasing a higher hormone dosage than planned and Amber’s body was responding. Her hips widened slightly, her nipples enlarged, and her breasts started to develop.

“Okay, you can turn around now,” Amber said in a low embarrassed tone as she finished tying the kimono’s sash. She flipped her hair from her face and busied herself at her dressing table but the young performer snuck a peek at the handsome Army officer’s reflection in the table’s mirror to see if he was watching her. She noted how the Captain's muscular body seemed to stretch his polo shirt and dark slacks.

“I brought someone to see you. You remember Captain Logan. We wanted to check on you and to see if you’ve been contacted yet by your admirer,” Janice explained.

“Yes, I remember the Captain. No, no one has tried to contact me as of yet. Do you think tonight's flower basket is from Corazon?”

The Major looked at her CID counterpart and replied “No, it is not in his usual MO. He usually makes face-to-face contact with the performer after the show and…” The officer was interrupted by her cell phone’s ring, held up a finger and spoke. “Hello…what? No, I can’t hear you. I am not getting a good reception…just a sec.” Turning to the pair, she said, “I am going outside to take this call. It is Colonel Washington.”

After the Major stepped outside, Amber turned to the table and began to remove the heavy stage makeup. Captain Logan nonchalantly examined the dressing room paraphernalia and his eyes eventually drifted back to the boy-girl in front of him. He traveled up her smooth, tanned legs, over her slim body, and across her shoulders with a man’s eye and caught her looking at him in the mirror. She lowered her eyes, raised them slowly, and offered the rugged officer a smoky stare.

Clearing his throat, he nodded and said, “Well, you’ve changed a bit since we’ve last seen each other. You look very nice.”

“Thanks. Janice…uh…Major Brewer said I haven’t changed that much except around the breasts and hips a little.” Wiping off the last of her makeup, she turned around to face Captain Logan. Her kimono sash had accidentally loosened, revealing her flat tummy and a beginning bit of cleavage.

When the distinctive click announced the turning of the doorknob, Amber turned and retied her robe. Major Brewer stepped into the room and said, “The Colonel stated CIA has confirmed Corazon is in the States and probably here. Amber you need to be ready from now on. If he has seen the show, he may approach you.” She looked at Amber with genuine concern and asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

The blonde officer hugged her protégé. “Be Careful. You have your cell phone? Is my number programmed?”

“Yes, right here.” Amber reached in her purse and showed it to the Major.

“Okay, we'll see you at the apartment. Logan, let’s go and leave her alone. Bye hon.”

“Bye,” said the female impersonator and waived at the pair, biting her bottom lip.

Two hours later, Amber stepped from under the pastel purple awning emblazoned with “Club Peacock” in sparkling silver and walked down the sidewalk. Well into the early morning, the South Beach strip was crowded with tourists and hard-bodied locals. She passed through the crowd, made her way between the parked cars and into the streets’ slow traffic.

While she wove through the upscale cruisers, inebriated frat boys shouted offers from a Saab convertible. She smiled, blew a kiss and waved which launched them into howls of laughter. She and the car’s occupants knew neither was really interested, only that it was Saturday night and the festive mood was infectious. Amber reached the far side of the street without further incident and headed toward the brightly lit lot where her car was parked. Just before she reached her car, a voice with a heavy Latino accent called to her. She ignored the comment and reached into her purse for her keys. She turned to face the man who called to her.

“Chica, Chica!”

The petite impersonator quickly examined the two Latino men walking towards her. The first was short, no taller than she was, 5 foot 4 inches; a little overweight - around 175 pounds; coal black hair cropped short, dark brown eyes, and of Latin American Indian descent. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, cowboy boots and a white button down shirt opened to display a large, expensive gold chain. The second Latino had the same dark eyes, hair, but had a long mustache and was nearly 6 feet tall and weighed as much as his companion and Amber combined. “Moustache”, as Amber named him, stopped several feet behind and off to the left of the first Latino and scanned the area.

“Yeah?”

“Que pasa chica?” the first said in Spanish with a South American accent.

“Nada. Y tu?” Amber replied in Spanish as she placed a hand on one hip, readjusted her purse strap with the other and kept “Moustache” in her peripheral vision.

“Good. I saw you in the show. You were very good.”

“Thanks. I am glad you liked it. I’ve got to go. See ya.” She said with a flick of her hand and started toward her car.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Nowhere special. Home, then to bed.” She shrugged her shoulders and opened the car door.

“Care for some company tonight?”

Amber tossed her purse on the front seat of the car and faced the Latino with a hesitant look. She pushed her dark hair over her ears and leaned against the car in what she hoped was a sexy pose. She scanned the Latino up and down, laughed lightly and bit her lower lip. “Oh Chico, you’re being bad. We just met.”

He hooked his thumbs in his jeans and stared Amber in the eyes. “Let’s start with drinks.”

“Okay. We’ll start with drinks. Where do you want to go? I will follow you in my car.”

“I have a nice car. Manuel can drive us to a good nightclub,” he said holding out one hand that had a large diamond ring.

Amber smiled at the effort of gallantry, reached in her car, grabbed her purse and shut the door. She reached out to take the Latino’s hand and stopped. “Just a sec…I need to call my roommate to let her know I may not be home tonight,” she said and winked.

The boy-girl took out her cell phone and dialed the preset number. The phone rang once, twice, and then it picked up. Before anyone could answer, Amber said aloud, “Drat, I got her answering machine.” After she announced the code phrase, she continued. “Hiya Janice. It’s me Amber. I met a real nice guy and I am gonna go out for a drink or two. I’ll give you a call later and let you know I am okay. I will leave my cell on if you want to call me.”

She snapped her cell phone shut and stepped up to her date and took his hand. They followed Moustache around the building and to a blue Lotus sports car. Moustache walked to the driver’s side while her date sat in the passenger seat and motioned for her to sit on his lap. She grinned and sat down lightly on his lap, her mini skirt riding up her thighs. The car pulled out into the traffic and sped quickly away.

“I know his name,” Amber pointed to Manuel “but what is yours?”

“You can call me Angel.”

Amber smiled at the South American Indian and wiggled deeper into his lap, feeling his rock hard cock in his jeans.

The big Latino Amber nicknamed “Moustache” drove the Lotus expertly through the busy South Beach late night traffic and in minutes the trio arrived at a club that throbbed with a hot salsa beat. Club Fiesta was the hottest salsa club in Miami where celebrities and the wealthy partied Manuel handed over the Lotus’ keys to a valet and they stepped around the crowd of paparazzi trying to get photos of a drunken TV star. Angel waved and spoke to the doorman, who nodded in recognition and their group was ushered into the club at once. The red and blue neon lit dance floor was alive with sexily dressed women and handsome men who moved quickly and expertly to loud Latin music. Angel took Amber by the hand and wove his way to the back of the club and to the stairway that led into the VIP area, followed by Manuel. At the bottom of the stairs, a blonde haired bouncer in a shirt that read “Club Fiesta STAFF” held up his hand and announced the area was reserved for a private party. Angel smiled, nodded and explained, “I know seá±or, I am the private party.”

The bouncer glanced at the dress of the two, smiled politely and nodded, “Sure amigo. I am sorry, but this section is closed.”

“You do not understand. I held…reserved this for me and the senorita.” He nodded at Amber. “I am Angel Corazon.”

The bouncer nodded at the short Latin Indian and didn’t hide the fact he wasn’t impressed. The blonde giant held up a finger. “Just a moment, senor.”

Amber estimated the bouncer to be about 25 years old six foot six and 190 lbs of hard muscle. He wore a silver watch on his left hand and a Bluetooth in his right ear, which probably meant he was right handed. He kept his feet shoulder width apart and his eyes on all them, with special attention to Manuel. The bouncer held up two fingers to the earpiece and spoke quickly to an unseen party. He nodded several times and then spoke, “My apologies, Seá±or Corazon. I only recently joined the staff at Club Fiesta and didn’t recognize you. Your party is expected.” He stepped aside to let them up the stairs.

Manuel touched Angel on the arm and went ahead up the stairs into the section. He stopped and scanned the VIP section, once, twice, three times. Satisfied no danger was present, the big Latino turned and motioned for Angel and Amber to come up. A long, plush leather bench lined the wall with tables spaced every few feet. Opposite the bench and tables was a balcony with a brass railing overlooking the dance floor, while bright, multi colored neon lights ran across the ceiling. Angel led Amber to the couch and sat down, pulling her down next to him.

“So your name is Am-ber?” He asked in broken English, his brown eyes looking directly into her blue eyes.

“Yes.” She smiled and leaned closely to him to be heard over the music. “Amber Kain.”

“How much…you been dancing…at the club?” he asked haltingly. “I don’t…ah…remember you from my last visit there.”

Switching to Spanish, Amber said, “Not long, two weeks. I was working up in the Midwest but I got a call to come down here and perform. This is my first time in South Beach.”

“Midwest? Is that another club?”

Amber giggled and shook her head no. “Oh no, it is the states in the middle of the country. You know… Illinois, Kansas, Missouri, that area.”

“Oh…” He nodded. “I am not good with all the United States. I mostly come to Florida and sometimes to California or Arizona. Have you been to either?”

“Not yet. Someday, I want to see California. Do you…”

Amber was interrupted by a pretty but pudgy Latina, who asked Angel what he would like to drink. “Dos XX for me and Am-ber will have…” He looked over to Amber.

“A Gibson.” She smiled at him. The waitress nodded, placed two napkins on the table, turned and left.

“What is a Gib-son?” The Latino asked.

“It is a Martini with an onion, instead of an olive. The onion takes out some of the bite. If you want, I will let you have a taste of mine.”

“You are going to eat the onion?”

Amber laughed lightly, flipped her hair with a free hand and shook her head no. She said she wasn’t going to eat the onion. Moving closer to him, she smiled as she placed a hand on his thigh. Then she pointed at Manuel, next to the stairway, and asked why the waitress didn’t get his drink order. Angel glanced at the big South American and shrugged his shoulders.

“You go to California often? Do you have family there?”

“No. I do not have any family there or in Columbia.”

“You are from Columbia?” She found herself shouting since the music ended abruptly. “Sorry.” She glanced down embarrassed, rose from the couch and walked to the balcony.

“Yes, Bogotá¡.”

While Amber admired the pulsing lights, the beautiful people and the salsa rhythms from the balcony, she didn’t see the waitress appear again with their drinks. Angel walked over and handed Amber the Gibson. Amber mouthed "gracias" just before her glass and his bottle clinked together. Angel took a long sip of beer, set the bottle down on the table and then leaned forward against the brass railing. Amber winked at him and took a sip of her cocktail.

“This is a great place. I love the music,” she shouted en espaá±ol. She turned to look across the crowd and watched the couples move on the dance floor. Most of the men dressed darkly but the women wore brightly colored dresses. The pairs clung against each other, then parted, spun, and slipped smoothly back into each other’s arms to the music’s rhythm. “They can really Salsa!” Amber leaned over the rail to look at the dancers, when a woman in the corner caught her eye. Tall and dusky, the woman wore a dress that swirled like liquid gold around her and she moved as though the music was alive in her. She was amazing.

Angel watched Amber fawn over the dancers on the floor below a few moments; his fingers stroked his thin moustache and then he cocked his head to the right slightly. His eyes flowed up Amber’s legs to her mini skirt’s hem and continued up her thighs as she leaned farther out to look at the crowd. Angel’s eyes traveled up her slim body to where her t-shirt fitted tightly over her pert breasts. He took another long sip of his beer.

Amber turned and asked. “Do you Salsa?”

“No. I do not dance.”

“Oh, I bet you do.” She smiled and held her hands out.

“No.”

“All Colombians know how to Salsa.”

Her tongue snaked out and touched the side of her upper lip. She sauntered over to him, took the beer bottle from him and pulled the Latin Indian from the second floor railing to the center of the room. She placed his left hand on the small of her back and held the other up, then pushed her slim body against his. She looked into his brown eyes and stepped slightly back twice and he followed; she moved forward twice and he quickly retreated. She raised their hands and spun once underneath them then moved back into his arms. She grinned and repeated the steps. Amber saw Angel smile for the first time that night. They danced to the pounding Latin rhythm. He stepped between her legs and they spun as a couple. He improvised slightly and moved them around the room. The song ended much too quickly and she found herself out of breath.

The music began again but had changed tempo and a much slower and sexier song now played. His left hand slid down from the small of her back onto her ass, and he brought her closer to him. She thought her small breasts would come out of her white tank top as he crushed them against his chest. She tried to catch her breath as she felt his strong arms holding her. Amber’s lips parted and gasped as he began to move his hips to the music. It was unmistakable…she could feel his hard cock against her. Angel stopped and looked at her. Amber closed her eyes, and let him kiss her. The kiss lasted for seconds, while Amber’s heart pounded in her chest. She felt like the room began to spin about her. She stepped back and he led her by the hand to the couch. He sat down and pulled her down to sit across his lap. He kissed her again and again; his strong arms pressed her body against his. Her breath quickened and her heart beat wildly.

“I need you, chica.”

“I…ah…I…don’t…ah know…ah…you…”

“I have to have you…you can’t leave me…not like this!” He continued to kiss and grind against Amber.

“No…we just met…I mean…” She tried to pull away.

“Yes…you want it as bad…” His eyes bore into her as he reached between her thighs.

“No.” She pushed off from his lap as she tried to stand up, frantically shoving his hands away from her. Struggling to free herself, her entire body was flushed with heat.

“Come here…girl.” He grabbed her hand and a bare thigh.

“No!” She slapped him across the face with her free hand and pulled away from his grasp. She turned and sprinted toward the steps. “Moustache” stood at the top of the stairs and watched her, his arms at his side. “Move!” Amber shouted and pushed against Manuel; he sidestepped and let her by. She stumbled down the steps and pushed her way through the crowd, out into the street. Amber broke into a sweat. It was hotter outside than earlier this evening. A Diamond cab was just dropping off a group of partiers at the club; she fell into it and told the driver her address. She found it hard to focus on the club’s doors to see if anyone followed but was reassured when no one did. After the cab had driven a few blocks, she sighed, placed her hands over her eyes, and tried to stifle a cry.

“Everything okay?” the driver asked.

“Yeah…great.” She sniffed and wiped a few tears away.

“Well, it will be better in the morning…What the hell!” The driver braked the cab hard, veered to the right, and screeched to a halt.

Amber slammed into the front seat from the sudden stop. Dazed, she reached for the mace in her purse before she realized she had left her purse in the club. The rear floor of the cab opened and a large hand pulled her out and into the street. The streetlights momentarily blinded her. She tensed and tried to ball her fists, waiting for an opportunity.

“Easy cabbie. Here’s your fare.” Amber heard a familiar voice somewhere.

“Listen, I don’t want no trouble and neither does the girl.” The cab driver mumbled and opened his door.

“It’s alright. Get back in the cab,” the voice said.

“Oh…I see. Sorry. Okay…” the cabbie said.

Amber, still dazed from the sudden stop and blinded from the bright streetlights, heard the car’s door slam and the cab’s engine fade down the street.

“Come on get into the car.”

“I…don’t…what…are you…doing…” She stammered, feeling weak and nauseous.

“Are you alright?”

Amber looked at the voice but couldn’t focus her eyes. “Yes, I am fine…No..I think I am…going to…” She said haltingly and began to collapse. She tried to focus on the streetlights but they swam about her. She knew she was being dumped into the passenger seat of a car and being driven away. The car seat was rough. She could feel each of the fibers on her legs. While the door she leaned against was cool and smooth against her arms, Amber felt simultaneously hot and cold. She could feel her nipples push against her white tank top’s material, but she was sweating also.

“What…no…where…are we going?” She struggled incoherently.

“To my apartment for the night.”

“I left my purse…got to go back for it…my phone…wallet…keys…are in it.” She flipped her head back against the headrest and looked over at him.

“Don’t worry, I…”

Amber didn’t hear the rest and sank into forgetfulness.

Mission Impossible?

Chapter 9

Amber woke slowly; her mouth felt like an aspirin bottle–dry and stuffed with cotton. She moaned, sat up, and pushed her hair out of her face. She wanted to retch. She moved to the edge of the bed, forced herself to stand and stumbled her way into the bathroom where she splashed cold water on her face to help her focus.

“What happened?” Amber wondered. “I only had half of a Gibson.” She looked in the mirror to see her hair messed, eyes bloodshot, and dressed in a white oxford shirt, its hem almost hitting her knees. She grasped the shirt’s collar and peered down into the shirt to find she only wore her panties underneath. “Oh…crap.”

Amber felt for the bathroom door and leaned out to look into the bedroom and examine its contents. It was stereotypical Miami hotel décor: white walls, floral bedspread, inexpensive furniture, non-offensive pastel artwork on the walls and white vertical shades over the sliding glass doors. Cautiously, she moved through the darkened bedroom and down the hallway of the strange apartment to a living room that matched the bedroom’s décor and was connected to a sterile kitchenette. She marched immediately to the front door and opened it. The hall was empty, except for a fire extinguisher standing guard at its post. She glanced at the door’s gold numbers…208. She closed the door, locked the bolt, and slid the chain into its groove. She bit her lip and thought.

Moving to the desk, she quickly went through the few items in the drawer and on top, then proceeded to check the other furniture in the room. As she searched, she tried to piece the night together. She went to the Latin club with Corazon and “Moustache” …and…they talked…danced? She couldn’t remember. Amber continued to examine the room’s contents; she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, just something to help identify its occupant(s). After her search of the living room came up empty, she started toward the kitchenette and picked up a “Guns and Ammo” magazine on the counter. She shook it by the spine. Then she flipped the magazine over and sighed in relief after she saw the mailing label.

Amber tossed the magazine on the counter and walked back to the bedroom. Her search for her clothing was unsuccessful. However, she did locate her strappy high heels next to a nightstand. Pleased with that minor achievement, she realized she was brought here for a reason and wouldn't have to try to escape while wearing only an over-sized man's shirt, panties and high heels.

Proceeding to the bathroom, she pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the water. After testing the water temperature, she stepped under the spray of warm water. She turned her face directly to the showerhead. The gentle cascade splashed over her forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth and chin. It helped clear the cobwebs from her brain. Not finding her usual soap and shampoo, she wondered how hotels managed to find brands she had never heard of and would never see again–at least until her next visit.

As Amber slid the mini-bar of soap over her smooth back and over her budding breasts, she marveled at the sensations she was experiencing. Did real women find self-examination in the shower as pleasurable as she did? Pure, almost orgasmic bliss? Perhaps her increased sensitivity had something to do with the female hormones she was taking. Unfortunately, her self-delight was marred by the feel of pubic hair stubble under her arms and above her penis. Her mood was dampened further as she spread the lather over her long, lithe legs, where she could feel stubble on her calves and thighs as well.

Stepping out of the bathtub and onto the cold tile floor, she reached over to the sink for a man's razor and shaving cream. It would have to do. She was sure he wouldn’t have waxing kits or Nair in his apartment.

After shaking up the Gillette Foamy can, she spread the shaving cream over her lower legs, her thighs, all over her crotch and onto her armpits. With traces of foam on her fingers, she grasped her penis then cupped her balls for a moment. They were no longer as sore as they once were. She had grown accustomed on every night she performed to shove her testicles into a heretofore-unknown body cavity, pull back her penis and hold her private parts in tucked position with her gaff.

Amber decided to start with her legs. Sitting on the cold toilet seat, she slid the razor over her calves, then with even more care, her knees. She did not want to cut herself shaving. Washing off the foam from the razor in the sink, Amber managed to complete the calves and thighs within a few minutes.

Amber took great care on her sensitive armpit skin, but was extra careful as she approached the short hairs above her penis. She wondered if the owner of the razor would notice if it was suddenly in need of replacement. Pubic hair in between the multiple blades would be a dead giveaway that somebody had been messing with his Schick. Amber preferred the “bald beaver” look. Each stroke of the razor was applied with equal pressure. Careful caresses–no sudden jerks.

When Amber stepped under the shower again to wash away all traces of hair and shaving cream, she exulted in the super smooth feel of her skin. Her hands traveled up, down and across her smooth, lithe body. She couldn't help but wonder how much bigger of a stick Captain Logan had than little Arron. She longed for the touch of a strong male lover rather than this autoerotic stimulation.

Amber stepped back into her panties but took a clean shirt from one of the many in the closet, slipped it on, snatched her high heels up and walked to the living room. She left her shoes on the counter, checked the refrigerator for something edible and found only a bottle of orange juice, ketchup, and half-full tub of Maxwell House coffee. She smiled and said, “I bet he drinks it black too.” While the coffee brewed, she slipped on her heels and flipped through the magazine on the counter.

She finished pouring herself a cup of coffee when the lock on the door turned and the door began to open, but the chain caught the door and stopped it. Captain Logan hit the door and grunted. “What the…Kain? Amber? You there? It’s me, Logan. Open up.”

With coffee in her hand, the boy-girl walked over to the door, undid the chain and let the CID agent in. He thanked her and shut the door behind him. It was immediately apparent to Amber where the Captain had been. Captain Logan was soaked in sweat and wore an armless black t-shirt and black running shorts, with ARMY in gold lettering on both, along with well-worn running shoes. He walked over to the kitchenette, knelt and removed his ankle wallet, then laid his keys, cell phone, and wallet on the counter.

“How do you feel?” he asked Amber.

“Okay, weak and a bit queasy.” Without cream or sugar, her coffee tasted bitter. “I didn’t realize I drank so much last night,” she said sheepishly.

“You didn’t,” Logan stated flatly. He went to the nearly empty refrigerator, took out the bottle of orange juice and drank deeply. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “You were drugged.” He took another drink. “They gave you Rohypnol.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the actual name for Roofies…Rope…Mexican Valium.” He deduced by Amber’s blank stare she didn’t recognize any of the terms and stated, “A date rape drug.”

“Oh crap.” She bit her lower lip, folded her arms under her chest and looked down at the off-white carpet. “Uh, did I…or I mean…was I uh…”

“Not that we know. You remember going into the club?” he asked and waited until she nodded before he continued. “Do you remember leaving the club?”

“Not really…I remember some bright lights and a car.” Amber shook her head, climbed onto one of the bar stools along the counter and looked into her coffee.

“One of the effects of Rohypnol is that it causes memory loss.”

Amber nodded in agreement.

The CID agent took another drink of juice and sat the half-empty bottle down. He leaned on the counter with one elbow. “I was in the parking lot. When I saw you get in the cab and leave, I followed you thinking something was wrong. Once away from the club, I stopped the cab and took you out.” He reached over and snapped a striped dishtowel from the rack on the stove. Then he wiped the sweat from his face. “After that, I brought you back here. I didn’t want you to go back to your apartment. It may not have been safe.”

“I guess I passed out, huh?” she asked.

He nodded, “Yup.” He opened the refrigerator and placed the juice container on the top shelf. “Dead to the world.”

She tugged on the collar of the shirt she wore. “Did you…”

“Oh, yeah. You vomited several times as we drove here.” He walked from the kitchenette. “I cleaned you up and put you in my bed last night. Sorry, but your clothes were ruined.” His voice trailed down the hall. “I put them in a bag and threw them down the garbage chute.”

Amber poured herself a second cup of coffee and tried to remember the previous night, then she slipped off the bar stool and went to the bedroom. She stopped at the open bedroom door, when she heard water running and realized Captain Logan was not in the bedroom but in the bathroom taking a shower. She entered the bedroom and leaned against the wall next to the bathroom’s open door.

“I’m sorry I was so much trouble.” She apologized to him over the noise of the running water.

“It’s fine,” he said loudly. “I’m glad you were alright. I was worried for awhile but you just slept it off.”

“Slept it off? How long did I sleep?” she asked.

“There’s a clock over on the nightstand.”

Amber walked around the bed and picked up the small travel sized clock. The red digital numbers read 7:37 PM. She thought for a moment then asked, “What time did we get here?”

“We got here about 2:45 this morning.”

She turned at the sound of his voice to find him standing in the bathroom door with a towel wrapped around his waist and tied at the side. She coughed and pushed her hair behind one ear and stepped to the bedroom door, where she turned and leaned against the door’s frame. The CID agent had walked over to the closet and was searching the top shelf in the closet. Her eyes traveled up his strong legs to his slim waist and then she caught herself lingering on his muscular back and arms. She watched the agent as he examined several small boxes on the closet shelf before taking one. Stepping over to the closet, he picked up a black plastic case and laid the items on the dresser.

Captain Logan was about to ask her to come over next to him but stopped as he glanced at her. She stood silhouetted in the hallway light. She was poised with her right hand on the door frame above her head, the other on her hip; one knee bent forward. Her slim but girlish form was outlined against the opaque material of his shirt. Her long hair, full of ringlets, fell in dark waves across her shoulders and down the front of his shirt, seductively covering what the shirt failed to. She was no longer the boy he first met at the hotel.

He cleared his throat. “These are yours,” he said and motioned her over to the items he earlier laid on the dresser. He opened the small case to reveal a small, flat black pistol. He picked up the hand gun, released the magazine and checked to see if it was empty, then pushed it back into the grip. He pushed back the slide to verify no round was in the chamber. Satisfied the weapon was empty, he handed the sleek pistol to Amber.

“This is a Sig Sauer P232. It is a .380ACP with a double action/single action trigger; 10 lb/4.4 lb pull respectively. It holds 7 rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. The slide is Nitron coated and it has a black hard anodized frame. The hand grips are polymer plastic.” The CID agent continued his lesson. “It is ergonomically designed. All of its edges are rounded and is snag free for a smooth pull. This weapon is designed for concealment.”

Amber held the pistol towards the floor in her right hand, her index finger along the slide and away from the trigger. The grip was smooth and fitted her hand well. She looked through the weapon’s sights and noted they glowed florescent in the low light. With her left hand she pushed back on the slide and then guided the slide forward to its normal position. She thumbed the decocking lever. Next, she pushed the magazine release on the heel and it popped out. There were holes in the magazine which told the user how many rounds were in the weapon. Mimicking the Captain’s earlier procedure, she slid the magazine back in the weapon, and opened the weapon’s chamber. She handed it back to the pleased Captain.

“Good. No, keep it.” He pushed the weapon back into her hand. “Let me see your stance.”

Amber stood with feet planted shoulder width apart, holding the pistol in her right hand, right elbow slightly bent; her left hand supported the pistol underneath the weapon’s heel. With both eyes open, she looked down the sights into the bathroom.

“Amber, I know you were trained that way but for now do not stand like that. Remember, you will not be wearing body armor. Stand at a profile, left leg forward, right arm extended, left hand supporting, left elbow down more.” He slipped behind her and guided her into position.

Amber’s skin burned as he touched her arms and hands. One of his hands pressed against her thigh, moving it into the correct position; the other touched her lightly on the hip and sent waves through her body. She fought to maintain her breathing…slow and steady but her heart betrayed her and thumped so loud she was sure he could hear it. She concentrated on her sight picture, but blinked in frustration.

“Should I come back?” Major Brewer asked her arms folded across her chest.

Captain Logan let go of Amber immediately. “Janice, we were going over the P232,” he stated, and then coughed as he comprehended the situation.

“Uh huh,” the Major said with a perfectly tweezed raised eyebrow. “Amber, how are you? Are you alright?” She hugged the small girl-boy tightly, careful not to let the Sig Sauer poke her in the ribs. “I went into the club behind you but was unable to follow you upstairs. You ran out so quickly, I couldn’t get to you in time.”

“I don’t remember much. Just lights and a car.”

“That’s fine. The important thing is you’re okay. Let’s go in the living room and let Logan get dressed.” She led Amber out the door and gave the Captain a “we’ll talk later” stare.

While Captain Logan dressed, Major Brewer escorted Amber across the complex’s parking lot to their shared apartment, where the two women changed clothes. The convenience of a team staying in the same apartment complex was obvious but the practice was unusual and not done in most covert operations. Since this was a stateside operation and the unlikely event of being discovered was minimal, convenience outweighed any risk.

Since the night was hot, Amber chose a mono strap pink top, white boy shorts, and to show off her French manicured toenails, a pair of cork wedge sandals with multi-colored t-straps. Thanks to multiple U.S. government financed make-over and cosmetology lessons, Amber applied her makeup with a skilled artist's touch. She slipped leaf shaped gold earrings on and a placed a matching bracelet on her left arm. She sprayed the air with perfume then stepped forward to let the mist drift down on her. Thinking twice, she dabbed the eau de cologne behind each her of knees. One last inspection in the full-length door mirror met her approval before she walked out in the hallway. She was half way to the living room, when she rushed back into her bedroom and grabbed the borrowed shirt off the bed, then retraced her steps down the hallway.

Janice came out of her room also dressed for the warm southern night. She wore an off the shoulder white peasant blouse with eyelets, a multi-colored flared mini skirt, which showed off her long tanned legs and platform wedge sandals with brown leather cross straps. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a neat ponytail while her makeup was perfect as usual. She stepped over to the counter to pick up a pair of small hoop earrings, which she inserted into her lobes.

“What a pretty skirt,” Amber said to her mentor.

“Well, thank you. Macy’s was having a sale and I couldn’t resist. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, let me get my purse…oh…I don’t, I mean, I left it at the club last…” Amber’s voice trailed off.

“Don’t you have another?”

“No.”

The older woman smiled and said, “We can go shopping tomorrow. A girl has to have more than one purse.”

Amber raised her eyebrows as if to ask “why.”

“A girl needs to accessorize. Co-ordinate your outfits with handbags, shoes and jewelry.”

“Aaron only needed one wallet.”

Janice nodded. “How many shoes do you have? One pair? You should have at least half as many purses as shoes. They are a necessity.”

“How many do purses do you have?”

“Mmm….mmm…about 25 or 30, I think…”

Amber looked a bit shocked at the number. Over the last 6 months, she had acquired several new pairs of shoes, but she still used the same purse–a little black leather hobo style she picked up in the mall one day.

The tall blonde opened the door and led the way down the hall hoping to find their teammate at their rented car. The government no longer used the “black sedans” made famous by Hollywood. Budgets were carefully watched, renting a midsize Ford Fusion was much more economic than having an entire fleet of vehicles to maintain. The two women scanned the parking lot for their team member or their car, when a white Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows pulled up beside them. The driver's side window lowered slowly to reveal a grinning Captain Logan in dark sunglasses.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his right wrist lay casually over the leather encased steering wheel.

Once the women were in the large SUV, Logan raised his window and smoothly accelerated away from the apartment complex. For the next several miles, the Major interrogated the CID agent about the new vehicle and why it was necessary. His only defense was to say it was necessary. Hearing this did not satisfy the Major. Logan tactfully shifted the topic to where to go for dinner. Everyone offered an opinion about the local cuisine and what would be best. However, the trio mutually agreed on Mexican, when the Captain said the magic words, “I will buy the Margaritas!”

Dinner was enjoyable but went far too quickly. After the dishes were cleared away by a busboy and each had a full frozen Margarita in front of them, Amber brought up Corazon. “What should we do about Angel?”

“We will do nothing,” Major Brewer said. “It is his move. I am sure he will contact you again.”

“He’ll be back,” the Captain agreed. “Amber, just make sure you are careful about what you drink or eat around him from now on. We didn’t realize using ‘Rope’ was part of his MO.”

“Yes, you must be careful from now on. We knew he was dangerous but not a rapist,” Janice said. “Logan and I agreed this afternoon, you should carry a weapon. That is why he gave you the SIG. Starting tomorrow, you will need to carry it on you whenever you go out.”

“Alright,” Amber nodded.

“There was an unexpected windfall to what happened last night. You knew we tracked you to the club with the GPS on your cell phone but when Corazon took your cell, we were able to track him. We ran a triangulation on your cell phone’s signal this afternoon and now we know his location,” Logan said grinning. “The DEA will put a surveillance team on him tomorrow.”

“Is that smart? What if he finds out that he is being watched?” Amber wondered out loud.

“I would be surprised if he didn’t find out. The Cartel has its own sources,” Logan admitted.

“There is no need to worry about that for now,” Janice said. “I have other news. Tomorrow you start rehearsing your new act for next Saturday. The Peacock’s owner reminded me last night Amber is contracted to provide new material on a timely basis.”

The performer perked up at the thought of the new act. “Oh cool! Do you know what Tad has picked out? Don’t let him give me any of that lame stuff the other girls do…please…how many times do we have to see Lady Gaga? And no boas…I am not gonna have feathers all over the stage.”

The attractive Army officer raised an eyebrow, “You are not ‘gonna’ have what? You…” she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at her protégé, “will do exactly what you’re told to do. I also prefer for you to use proper English.” Then she smiled and said, “I think you might have fun with the next act.”

Amber leaned forward, “Tell me, what’s it going to be?”

“You will find out tomorrow afternoon.” Major Brewer smiled as she stood up. “You will have to excuse me for a few minutes. Will you settle up with the waitress?” She touched Logan on the shoulder and walked toward the restrooms.

Amber took a long drink of her frozen Margarita, while Logan waved at the waitress, who nodded and came over with their check. He paid the bill and collected the receipt. While he led Amber out toward the door, she daydreamed about being the tall, handsome Captain’s date. The pair stopped outside the restaurant and waited for Major Brewer to join them.

As the surrounding palm trees swayed in a warm Miami night breeze, Amber wondered if Captain Logan ever really relaxed. “Why are you wearing your shirt tucked in on such a hot night?”

Logan simply looked at her with a grin and shrugged his broad shoulders. The petite girl-boy stepped up to him, gripped the sides of his shirt and pulled it up out of his pants. Once the edge of his light blue polo was freed, she smoothed it down over his khaki shorts with her hands. She stepped back to admire her work.

“That’s much better. You looked like an old man. Next thing you know, you will be wearing your pants up around your armpits.” She laughed as she thought of Steve Urkel in Family Matters.

“I am not that bad, am I?”

Amber tilted her head with a mischievous smile at the agent who grinned in return, when Janice stepped out the door. The warm breeze caught her unprepared and her skirt flew up, showing much more of her lovely legs than she intended. Instinctively she threw her arms across her wild skirt in order to tame it. Laughing, the trio headed for the SUV.

Chapter 10

“We are waiting, princess,” Tad shouted from a table in the center of the deserted nightclub.

A very un-lady like retort came to mind; Amber bit her lip. She simply tugged at her mini skirt’s hem once more then she jogged from the dressing room out to center stage. Her crimson crop top with white piping proudly displayed the team name Cavaliers in bold white script across her chest while the low-rise matching skirt barely covered her red spandex undies. Red laces tied her white tennis shoes and a blonde wig fell in waves similar to Carrie Underwood.

“Where are your pom poms?” her choreographer asked.

“Right here.” She grabbed her breasts with both hands.

“Those mosquito bites? Pu-lease,” he lisped throwing up a hand.

Amber bit her lip again and put a clenched fist on her hip. The pair turned toward Janice who stood quietly to the side in thought. With two fingers on her lips, she studied her young protégé appearance.

“No. It’s not right. This is not the right effect.” Janice Brewer shook her head.

“Thank you!” Amber said turning on a heel toward the dressing room.

“Just one second,” Tad Wilcox said with a dramatic snap of his fingers. The dancer froze mid-stride. He stepped toward Janice and spoke in a low voice so his pupil would not hear. “You told me you wanted something sexy to go with the music. If you put her on stage in this outfit every straight man in the place will be whacking his weasel over her in the shower the next day.”

“Amber, you may go ahead and change,” her control officer said.

“Ms. Brewer, that uniform cost us a $300 donation to the local high school.”

The major and the dance instructor watched the performer enter the wing at stage left. Major Brewer smiled at him while she touched him on the shoulder. “You are right. Every red blooded American male would be thinking about her. However, that outfit will not reach OUR target audience.”

“Then, what is our target audience?”

“It’s not an American male.”

Tad shrugged his shoulders. “You might have mentioned that before we bought the cheerleader’s outfit.”

The Major ignored the complaint. “Our man is a Latino–from Bogotá¡’ to be precise. Do you think you could come up with something suitable?”

“No problemo. I've worked in both Florida and California. I think I know what the Latinos like.”

After Major Brewer approved the new wardrobe and routine, the next several days were busy for Amber. She practiced six to eight hours daily then performed her current two sets each night at the Peacock.

It seemed Amber was never alone, either she was with her “manager” Major Brewer, or under the watchful eye of her choreographer. Amber began to regard her slim dance instructor as “Tad the Cruel,” since he forced her through hours of torturous, repetitive dance steps.

She told Major Brewer in private, “I think he is a closet sadist,” Amber said. “He is worse than a drill instructor. He shouts at me constantly, I can never please him.”

The young performer sensed she was being constantly watched by her companions and soon began to feel claustrophobic. She wanted, no needed to be alone. Her chance came late Thursday afternoon.

Tad the Cruel had lived in Miami previously and when his friends discovered he had returned to town, they surprised him by coming to the Peacock Thursday afternoon. They dragged him from rehearsal out the doors into a waiting car. Amber waved delightedly at the group as they drove away. Whipping off her long blonde wig, she dashed into the dressing room to change clothes. She pulled her long dark hair into a pony tail, slipped into a tight white crop, cut off jeans, and sandals. She then raced from the club out into the bright Florida sun.

Amber walked north on Washington Avenue, past one of the many famous Miami art deco styled buildings. As Amber understood, buildings are considered art deco when they have bold colors, stark lines and zigzag architectural features. Major Brewer explained to her that art deco was in vogue during the 1920s when Miami Beach developers turned the island into a tourist destination. After Amber crossed 5th Street, she stopped and flipped open her new phone to take several pictures of a building she believed to be in the art deco style. The base was made of rectangular blocks of beige and burnt orange, while the tower on the north side of the building was encircled by a series of “steps.” The tower’s “steps” separated the burnt orange on the bottom from the metallic silver on top.

She continued down the busy street past a bank, payday loan office, and several stores until she reached 6th Street, where she crossed the busy thoroughfare and headed down the one-way street. Once beyond Collins Court, she paused to window shop at Zara’s department store. Amber pined for a beautiful blouse and skirt displayed on a mannequin in the window but knew her budget based on her sergeant’s pay would not allow it. Feeling bold, she jaywalked the empty street to the Arden B store, where she casually browsed the items in their windows.

Amber made her way to the corner, traversed Collins Avenue then continued on. She walked briskly down the side street between the large hotels and shops, passing by many people. She reached the corner of 6th and Beach Drive, marked by the blue awnings of the Beach Paradise Hotel. Amber, along with a small crowd, waited patiently for the light to change and en masse crossed the street to Lummus Beach.

Feeling the heat of the Florida sun, Amber stopped to buy ice cream from a street vendor. As she stood beneath a multi-colored umbrella, she asked for a strawberry gelato in a waffle cup. The vendor, who had a very thick gray moustache, asked Amber in a thicker Cuban accent where she was from. She explained she was originally from Missouri but was working here temporarily and was having a great time in Miami. The Cuban vendor smiled then suggested she should stay, since Miami always needed beautiful girls. Amber beamed at the compliment, paid for her gelato, and thanked the man.

Amber strolled along the palm tree lined sidewalk toward the beach, enjoying her cool treat. Mindful of the calories in the Italian dessert, she sadly tossed the remainder into a trash bin. She sat down on one of the many park benches and looked out at the expanse of white sand and the beautiful blue ocean. The sunlight was warm on her smooth tanned skin; she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, slipped off her sandals and felt the sand sift through her toes. The sound of voices from a group of young men caused her to look up. Apparently, the three were college students were returning from the beach to their hotel. After they passed, she glanced backward at them to catch one of them admiring her as they walked away. She grinned widely at the thought of cute guys noticing her and turned to see if they were still there.

Unfortunately, she discovered they had moved on. However, this did not diminish her mood. She sat in the Florida sun and thought about the circumstances that brought her here.

“Well, hello,” a feminine voice said from behind.

“Uh, oh…busted!” Amber turned and smiled.

The attractive blonde slipped around the park bench to take a seat next to her young protégé, where she too lounged in the warmth. Neither of the pair spoke but looked toward the ocean and the endless horizon in front of them. The surf’s crash sounded like rhythmic thunder to Amber, although she was not afraid of storms, she wondered if she could even sleep near the beach with this continual din.

“Janice, you don’t have to worry, I am ready for Friday night’s performance.”

“I know you are.”

“I just wanted to be alone,” Amber said.

“I know, but you didn’t tell me where you were going,” Major Brewer said in a firm tone, her hard eyes not leaving the horizon. “You are an essential part of this mission and team. I am your control officer. I have to be made aware of your movements. If you are going to be an operative for us, you need to follow procedures.”

“Major, I understand.”

“No, you obviously do not. Corazon is dangerous. The man is a murderer and a drug dealer. He was going to rape you while you were at the club.” The Army officer continued to stare at the ocean.

“Major, I know how dangerous…” Amber turned her head slightly so her boss would not see the tears forming in her eyes

“You didn’t even see me follow you from rehearsal. What if he followed you from the club like I did? Would we be able to find you?”

“But…I did see you follow me.” She handed her phone to the Major, a picture showing her along Washington Avenue displayed on the screen. “I also saw you in the window at Zara’s. I even saw you cross Beach Drive.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Amber didn’t understand why she was crying.

The blonde woman put a protective arm around the girl-boy and hugged her tight. Amber cried softly as Janice held her. The intelligence officer lightly kissed Amber’s forehead. Janice reached into her purse pulling out a tissue to hold it up to Amber, who nodded her thanks, took the tissue then wiped the tears from her eyes. The two sat on the bench a few more moments.

“Let’s go.” Janice stood up, smoothed her blouse and turned to face the city.

“Where?”

“To Zara’s. I saw a blouse there too that I liked. Plus, I am sure we can find you a purse there.”

***

Amber's fingers danced across her legs with nervous energy while she waited on Say La Vie’s act to end. She stood in the Peacock’s stage wings and watched the female illusionist dance and lip sync. Say was doing a better than average impersonation of Gaga, in Amber’s opinion. Most of the girls she had seen just didn’t have the singer’s flair. However, Say’s act was good.

“Great set!” Amber exclaimed to the drag queen as she teetered off the stage in eight-inch wedge heels, wearing a metallic bra with matching panties, and a heart shaped headdress.

“Ooh, thanks baby! I think the crowd seemed to like it.” The tall, thin performer answered, obviously elated.

“Thank you, that was the one and only Say La Vie performing to Poker Face by Lady Gaga!” The announcer spoke loudly over clapping and shouts.

When the house lights dimmed the applause lessened, Amber walked out onto the darkened stage towards the stand up microphone a stage hand had set in place. She flashed big smiles and gave tiny waves to several regulars in the audience she knew; she paused briefly at the stage’s edge when she recognized the owner of the club in St. Louis, who she rescued several months ago. Amber mouthed “Hello!” then “What are you doing here?” to him and he replied something she couldn’t hear. She tapped her ear while lifting her slim shoulders to indicate a lack of understanding. He nodded in reply. Making her way to center stage, she grasped the chrome mike stand with both hands waiting for her cue. She suddenly felt nervous when she looked out over the large crowd. Her stomach tightened as it did in high school.

“Arron, what are you going to do after graduation?”

“I’ve enlisted in the Army.” Arron looked out at the students in his government class.

Mrs. Ulmer ignored the snickers in the back of the class and continued with the interview “Why do you want to join the Army?”

“I want to serve my country.”

More snickers.

"Evan or Taylor, did you have something to say?" Mrs. Ulmer asked.

Afraid of possible consequences, the two students shook their heads.

"Let me remind you that your interviews are coming up this week."

U.S. Government was a required course at Neil Armstrong High School. All seniors took Mrs. Ulmer’s class and since part of the course was the senior interview, every senior was interviewed. She would ask questions to the students about their past and about their future plans. Speaking in front of the class was stressful. Arron always enjoyed Mrs. Ulmer’s other classes and looked forward to taking the government course but he dreaded the inquisition.

She turned her attention back to the boy standing in front of his fellow seniors. “Why?” Mrs. Ulmer questioned. The question wasn’t asked negatively or positively but probingly.

He thought for a moment then said, “It’s the right thing to do. We’ve been given so much in this country; we should give back and help protect it.”

“His gun will be bigger than him. How’s he even going to pick it up to protect us?”

“Evan, not another word,” Mrs. Ulmer said in a firm tone. “Arron, what will you be doing in the Army?”

“I’ve enlisted as a 35F. That’s my MOS.”

“What is an MOS?” Mrs. Ulmer asked.

“MOS stands for Military Occupational Specialty. The Army has acronyms for everything.”

“So what is a 35F? What does it do?”

“It is an Intelligence Analyst,” Arron said. “My job will be to combine the information from signal intelligence, ground intelligence, and interrogations. I will then put the pieces together and give them to the commander to make decisions.”

“He thinks he’s 007,” Taylor blurted out, causing several of the girls in class to giggle. Arron felt his stomach tighten.

Mrs. Ulmer, intrigued by Arron's response, ignored the interruption. “Where will you be stationed? Will you go overseas?”

“After basic training at Fort Knox, I will be sent to Fort Huachuca in Arizona for my AIT, that’s advanced individual training. After that, I’m not sure.”

“How long did you enlist for?”

“My enlistment is for four years. If I reenlist, I will get a large bonus.”

The social studies teacher nodded. “It sounds interesting.” The bell signaling the end of class rang loudly, the students rose from their seats to move en masse to the door. Mrs. Ulmer stepped forward and took Arron by the arm, holding him back until all the students left.

“Do you really want to join the Army?”

Arron nodded his head. “Yes.”

“Arron, you don’t have anything to prove. You are an excellent student with good grades. You could go to college if you want.” She looked down at her diminutive student. Arron was bright but he was also smaller than most everyone in the class, including the girls. He was thin with fine features and she thought him to be sensitive. Mrs. Ulmer, along with most of the staff, believed him to be gay even if he did not realize it himself.

“I know, but I want to do this.”

“And now Club Peacock presents the dynamic sex kitten Amberlynn Kain.” The announcement snapped her back to the present.

The South Beach club’s mix of regulars and tourists clapped its appreciation for the relative newcomer. A single spotlight bathed Amber in dazzling white light as the music came to life. Due to the outfit she wore, she appeared to shine and reflect the light back towards the audience with equal intensity. The young artist was dressed in rhinestone studded spiked sandals, low-rise red sequined shorts, plus a skimpy white t-shirt with the word “dream” in red sequined letters. Bright red lipstick and a shoulder length curly golden blonde wig completed her outfit. She held the microphone stand and lip-synched the first two lines of the soft beginning of Teenage Dream by Katy Perry. Before the song’s tempo increased, Amber moved from the microphone to the front of the stage where several young men and a woman stood with bills in their hand.

Amber approached each man smiling, leaned down to take the bill, kissing the generous fan on the cheek to say thanks. When the young woman’s turn came, the performer knelt with knees wide on the stage; Amber slipped her fingers under the elastic waistband of her sequined shorts to create an inviting space for the woman to tuck her dollar. The woman looked back at her friends, laughing in embarrassment, then with Amber’s help placed the money into the impersonator’s hot pants. She nuzzled the woman’s cheek with a thank you, stood up and spun to center stage.

Amber hit her mark as the stage lights exploded at the start of the chorus. The dancer “snapped and popped” to the music with the audience’s applause. The song slowed again and she slipped down the stairs stage left into the crowd. She danced from table to table with the song, teasing the male occupants, occasionally accepting a proffered bill and granting a kiss. She passed Mr. Reinholt, the club owner from St. Louis, who was enjoying her act so she slipped behind his chair to hug him tightly around the neck. He softly patted her arm; Amber replied with a kiss and continued on.

Amber scanned the audience. The normal blend of people: locals, tourists, couples, and a bachelorette party made up the crowd. An attractive yuppie couple watched her with interest as she crossed the floor to the young women celebrating their friend’s upcoming marriage. Amber pulled the bride-to-be away from her group and proceeded to give her a brief but sexy lap dance. To the presumed virgin’s mortification, Amber’s erotic gymnastics ended only when the young woman was forced to spank the petite impersonator’s sequined bottom. The crowd howled with laughter at Amber while she rubbed her red ass in mock pain; her bottom lip extended in an extreme pout. Amber allowed the wedding party to tuck several dollars into her hot pants, then to take photos before heading to the stairs leading to the stage. It was then she saw “Moustache.”

The big Latin Indian bodyguard stood beside Angel Corazon with one hand on the bar, the other in a back pocket; his eyes searching the nightclub. The Cartel deputy sat at the left end of the bar along the back of the club drinking a longneck beer. She met Corazon’s eyes and teased her way to the bar in the back. Amber danced along the line of sitting men collecting a few dollars before reaching the Latino. She provocatively nuzzled his ear then brushed against him with her bare belly when he reached out placing a $100 bill into the elastic band of her red shorts. Saying “gracias” she kissed his ear. The song having ended, Amber made her way to center stage amid the whistles and applause of the audience.

The stage lights dropped, applause mixed with whistles came from the audience. Amber caught her breath, dropped the money she collected into an old Chock Full of Nuts can perched on a stool, then reached out to Luke, the stage hand. After the lights dropped low, he had darted out onto the stage to give her a wooden baseball bat plus another prop she requested. Unseen by the audience, Amber held the small prop behind her in her right hand while the performer took the bat by the handle in her left hand. Quietly, she tapped the bat against her calf and waited for her next song.

When the spotlight came up again she stood alone on the stage. Behind her hanging on the curtain were two large mirrored panels surrounding a nude anatomically correct male mannequin. The entertainer held up her bat pointing it at the good-looking yuppie couple in the center of the audience, her lips matching the vocals of the song.

Right now he's probably slow dancing
With a bleached-blond tramp
And she's probably getting frisky

She glanced down at the other couples near the stage, her eyes hard and her white teeth clenched; she pointed the bat menacingly toward the men at each table, her other hand still behind her. The women good-naturedly continued to tease their tablemates.

Right now, he's probably buying
Her some fruity little drink
'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

The artist stepped closer to the stage’s edge, lifting the bat towards the back of the room, shaking her head negatively.

Right now, he's probably up behind her
With a pool stick
Showing her how to shoot a combo
And he don't know

Amber brought her hand from behind her and pressed the switch on the handle.
A wicked looking blade leapt from the handle catching the spotlight.

I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped-up 4-wheel drive

Suddenly she spun around. With a quick snap of the wrist, she hurled the switchblade through the air and sunk the knife's tip deep into the mannequin‘s testicles. Amber heard exclamations of surprise ripple through the audience.

Carved my name into his leather seat
I took a Louisville Slugger to both head lights
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires
And maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

The Slugger still in her hand, Amber continued to lip sync as she sauntered across the stage, down the stairs to stop at the first table with a man and woman.

Right now, she's probably up singing some
White-trash version of Shania karaoke

The entertainer leaned across the table and pushed the bat into the man’s chest. Laughing, the man held up both hands and shook his head no.

Right now, she's probably saying, "I'm drunk"
And he's a thinking that he's gonna get lucky

Next Amber turned to a group of women and men. They appeared to be co-workers out for a night of fun. She sat down on the lap of the gentleman whom she presumed to be the boss, grinding her slim ass into him, stroking his chin with her fingers.

Right now, he's probably dabbing on 3 dollars
Worth of that bathroom Polo
Oh and he don't know

She nodded to each of the ladies who were laughing and nodding back. With her free hand, she flipped up the boss’s tie with her fingers, pushed off him, then moved on towards the center and the yuppies.

That I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped-up 4-wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seat

The man was tall, broad shoulders and handsome. A green polo shirt stretched across his chiseled chest and powerful arms, while khakis hid his muscular legs. His companion was stylishly dressed in a Day-Glo pink satin blouse, black mini skirt, expensive sandals with a matching purse. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

I took a Louisville Slugger to both head lights
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires
And maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

Amber placed her foot on the big man’s chair in between his legs. The petite girl-boy pressed the Louisville Slugger on his chest with both hands, moving her red lips inches from his. Whistles and cat calls came from the back of the night club.

I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl
'Cause the next time that he cheats
Oh, you know it won't be on me!
No, not on me

Oblivious to the bat pushing against him, the man stared into her eyes, reaching down to tuck a $50 bill into her tight red shorts. His beautiful partner lifted an eyebrow at the two. The performer closed her eyes, tilted her head, and pursed her wet lips. The man slid forward.

'Cause I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped-up 4-wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seat

Shoving him back, Amber twirled on one spiked sandal then strutted to the stairs. Laughter taunted the man who raised his hands up in disbelief. The woman shook her head and she rolled her eyes.

I took a Louisville Slugger to both head lights
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Oh, maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Oh, before he cheats

Arriving on stage Amber, shook the bat at the audience and stomped one foot. She marched over to a mirrored panel at the back of the stage and swung the bat hard. The mirror shattered. The young entertainer continued her assault on a twin panel to her left. That mirror was also blasted into millions of pieces.

'Cause I dug my key into the side
Of his pretty little souped-up 4-wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seat
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires

The performer tossed the bat to the floor then swaggered to the stage’s edge. Her chest rising and falling she pointed at the yuppie man.

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Oh, maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Oh, before he cheats

The song ended. Amber bowed to the applause, waved as she ran off stage only to reappear, take a second bow and duck back into the wings. The forward curtain closed. Quickly, Amber and the stage hand swept up the broken mirrors made of coated safety glass.

“That was Amberlynn Kain performing to Carrie Underwoord’s Before He Cheats. Give the bat wielding bitch another round of applause.”

Laughs, snickers, hoots and hollers mixed together with enthusiastic applause.

Amber changed after her act into a form fitting, blue mini dress but kept her blonde wig on. The dress had been altered to give help her illusion of much greater cleavage than the wearer had. After the other performers finished, all of the female illusionists went out to mingle with the crowd, stopping to talk, take photos with fans and even flirt with a few admirers. Amber spoke to several in the audience. She paused to congratulate the bride to be, next to thank the “boss” for being a good sport, and after that she went to Mr. Rienholt’s table.

“Hiya!” she gave the St. Louis club owner a big hug. “What brings you to Miami?”

“Well, I was thinking of expanding my club to include a drag show, when I heard about this new performer in Miami. I visited the Peacock’s website and guess who I saw?” He stopped to take a sip of his neat Scotch.

“Who?” She winked at him.

“My bodyguard…you, my dear! Your act is wonderful!” He complimented her. “Do you have time to join me in a drink?”

“Am-ber.” A voice called from behind.

The girl-boy looked back toward the voice. The short Latin Indian waved for her to come to the bar.

“A friend of yours?”

“Kinda of, yes,” she replied. “Do you have a pen?”

Rienholt reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a pen handing it to the entertainer. She quickly jotted down her number on a cocktail napkin.

“Here is my number. Call me tomorrow. I would like to see you,” she said, handing him the napkin and giving him a parting hug.

“I would like that.” He smiled and turned back to his Scotch.

Amber strolled over to the bar, sat on an empty stool next to Angel, crossed her slim legs and smoothed her dress out. Angel motioned for Manuel to step away from them. Amber watched “Moustache” walk toward the club’s restroom, then looked at the South American’s brown eyes briefly. She smiled politely at him and twirled her hair with one finger.

“Hiya. How are you tonight?” she asked. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes. You were muy bueno.”

“Thanks. I hope I didn’t frighten you too much. I am not that tough a girl.” She laughed lightly.

“No, I don’t think you are too tough at all.” His eyes followed up her legs, passed her hemline to linger on her pushed up breasts.

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” she began in Spanish. “I wanted to tell you, I’m sorry for the way I acted. I guess I wasn’t feeling well. I got sick on my way home in the cab.”

Angel cocked his head unsure of what to say.

Amber continued. “I had a good time at the club…but I became hot, disoriented, and nauseous.”

The Cartel deputy nodded. “It is okay. I would like to see you again. Are you busy later tonight?”

“No. Not at all. Did you want to go somewhere after the next performance?”

“I would like that.”

The crowd at the late show also liked the performance. The drag spectacle followed the same format, although Amber did not attempt to include an audience member in her act as she did with Captain Logan. More importantly, Angel stayed to watch the finale.

Amber removed the last of her stage makeup, stepped into a black tank top, white button up shirt, which she tied around her waist, and short shorts. She slipped on some cork wedge heels, grabbed her new purse, a large leather bag with three gold buckles, checking the interior pocket to verify the P232 was there before slinging the strap over her shoulder. She exited the club and stepped out onto Washington Street.

As on most weekend nights, there were still people milling about even at this late hour. Amber scanned the street scene quickly. Across the two lanes of traffic, she saw Corazon and Moustache leaning against their Lotus. She waited for a break in the stream of cars, crossed mid street over to where they stood. She smiled when they saw her and gave a small wave.

“You came,” Angel said.

“Yes. You didn’t think I would?”

“No, I knew you would. Manuel had his doubts.” Angel flipped his thumb indicating the big man.

“Oh, really?” Amber looked at the big Latino. “Why is that Manuel?”

“Es nada, chica. Nothing.” His tone was surly.

“What would you like to do tonight?” Angel asked.

“I don’t know. Hey, I got an idea. Manuel, will you drive us over to Beach Drive?”

He nodded. As they did before, the three got into the car and soon were driving north on Beach Drive. Amber indicated to Manuel to pull the car into a nearby parking lot. Manuel waited in the car as Angel and Amber got out of the sports car and began to walk along the path to the beach. After a few minutes they stopped to look along the shoreline.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked the Latino. The silvery moon, low in the sky, reflected off the still waters.

“Yes but not as beautiful as you.”

She laughed gaily. “Thanks.” She suddenly felt very girlish.

“No, I am serious.” He stopped and took her hands. “You are so pretty. So feminine.”

Amber looked at him. She stepped forward and kissed his cheek then turned to continue down the path. Angel arrested her momentum. He pulled her back to him and kissed her. He probed her gently with his tongue; she allowed him to go deeper into her mouth. The Latino pressed his body up against hers; he pushed her easily back against a nearby tree. The two stood in the shadows locked in an embrace. His body against her, Amber knew what this man wanted. Did she want it too? No, well…yes, but not with him she thought. She continued to kiss and let herself be kissed. His strong arms encircled her and his large hands explored her body. Lust grew in her. Well…maybe with him she persuaded herself. When Angel slipped a hand between her thighs, she opened them without hesitation. Her breath quickened as he rubbed her, she started to become excited. Amber’s own hand traveled down to Angel’s hard manhood. She gripped it, stroking him through his jeans.

Their kisses grew longer and deeper. Amber unzipped his jeans and inserted her hand immediately touching his hot skin with her hand. She wrestled his cock from his pants. It was uncut, about 6 or 7 inches, and hard. She moaned softly when it touched her leg. It had been almost 6 months since her last sexual episode at the motel with Randy. Unlike her previous encounter with Angel, she wasn’t being forced this time. She wanted him.

Yes, and he wants me! That was very clear to her. She broke off from kissing Angel to reach into her purse and pull out a condom. Quickly, she tore it open. With one hand she covered his cock’s thick head and pushed it down his shaft with her fingers. Amber fell to her knees in front of him. She guided his hard cock past her lips, the head stretching her lips, followed by the swollen shaft. His cock burned her tongue through the latex; he was aflame with passion.

She felt Angel’s fingers in her hair, massaging her, forcing his cock further down into her. Amber heard him moan, she felt him try to pull back and out of her mouth. Her fingers tightened on his hips not letting him move. She held him captive in her warm, wet mouth. She knew he was ready. His body began to shake. His movements became erratic.

While Amber continued to suck and knead his cock with her tongue, her own hand drifted down between her legs. Her hand slipped into her shorts and she began to rub herself. Angel encouraged her to pleasure herself as he bucked into her mouth. She quickly unzipped her shorts pushing them down to her knees. She shoved the black thong, actually a gaff, to one side letting her dick grow immediately to its full 4  ½ inch size. With her index finger and thumb she pumped her dick.

Watching Amber jerk off, Angel could no longer hold back. With a single thrust he drove into her mouth shooting squirts of his cum into the condom filling its tip. Again he tried to pull away from her but she would not let him; she kept his cock in her mouth. Amber mewed in ecstasy jacking her small cock faster. She exploded over herself in seconds.

Mission Impossible?

Chapter 11

Amber smiled pleasantly at the neat but slightly overweight woman behind the desk noticing her name tag read Monica. The front desk clerk quickly typed on the keyboard to retrieve the information from her workstation.

“I see Mr. Rienholt is poolside with the Birds. Are you familiar with the hotel?” The front desk clerk asked.

“No, this my first visit.”

“Diego will escort you. Diego, please escort the lady to cabana 15. Have a pleasant day Miss.”

“Thank you, Monica.”

Amber followed the middle aged Latino in the crisp white uniform from the front desk through the Delano’s lobby to the rear of the hotel. The heels of her white peep toe pumps clicked on the hardwood floor as she walked down a corridor of alcoves created by a series of white sheers towards a row of glass doors leading poolside. Her escort opened one of the doors for Amber then preceded her down a flight of stairs and along the side of a luxurious Olympic sized pool. Numbered cabanas stood behind a long row of deck chairs on the side they walked, while opposite them sat bungalows with large diaphanous curtains over louvered doors.

Cabana 15 was located at the pool’s far end, where she saw Rienholt engaged a couple in conversation. The cabana was opulent. It was lined with white louver panels and gossamer drapes, while one wall held a flat panel TV. A glass vase with fresh cut lilies stood on an end table while on an overstuffed white couch decorated with several accent pillows sat the trio. Diego presented the cabana with one hand. Amber thanked him, he turned and left. Noticing her arrival, the portly club owner rose, took Amber’s hands kissing the performer on one cheek.

“I am glad you called Saturday,” Amber said, “I was so surprised to see you at the club Friday night.”

“I am happy you could make it today. I have some friends to introduce you to. This is the young lady I spoke to you about, Amberlynn Kain,” Rienholt said. “Amber, this is Rita and Jonathan Bird.”

The man rose from the couch shook her hand lightly while Amber stepped forward and leaned over the coffee table to shake the woman’s offered fingers. Introductions completed, Amber fell back to the protection of Rienholt’s side her hands clasping her new white clutch in front of her.

“Amber,” Mrs. Bird commented, “that is a lovely dress. Turn about and let us see you.”

Rienholt stepped to the side to let Amber shyly pirouette, causing the turquoise dress knee length skirt to slightly flare. Facing the woman, she held out the skirt with one hand. The woman scrutinized her with a practiced eye then motioned to the girl to repeat the turn. The young t-girl complied with the request, however, she completed the spin much more slowly, aware of the close inspection. Amber felt her stomach tightened. Her heart raced in her chest as fast as the questions raced in her mind. What did she see? Did she know? Did Rienholt tell them?

“I love how the halter’s straps braid in the back. Is that a convertible dress?”

“Yes,” I purchased it from Venus on-line.”

“It’s lovely,” Mrs. Bird commented.

“You should see her in costume,” Rienholt said.

“William told us you are a performer at a local night club,” Mr. Bird said, “and are a real firecracker.”

Amber glanced over at her short, overweight friend who simply grinned at her. She blushed at the comment then accepted the chair Rienholt held and and sat opposite Mrs. Bird. Both men returned to their seats, Rienholt next to her, while Mr. Bird on the couch next to his wife. Mr. Bird was a tall, stocky, bald man in his mid fifties Amber guessed, dressed in a bright floral shirt with white slacks and loafers. Mrs. Bird was slim, tanned with dark short hair, tastefully dressed in a white, sleeveless maxi dress belted at the waist and wore sandals. Amber judged her to be in her late forties.

“Amber, do you like working in Miami?” Mrs. Bird asked

“Oh yes. I love working at The Peacock. The audiences are always fun. Most of the other girls are nice and the stage hands are really helpful.”

“You sound very happy,” Mrs. Bird commented.

“I am sure she is very good,” Mr. Bird said, “She has a dancer’s body, fit and lean.”

“Jonathan, don’t embarrass the girl.”

Mr. Bird winked at Amber, chuckled then took a sip of his orange juice. Mrs. Bird simply sighed at her husband. Rienholt reached over to take his friend’s hand in his and nodded his head with reassurance at her.

“Do you have a show tonight?” Mr. Bird asked.

“No, The Peacock is closed on Sundays and I am off tomorrow.”

“Well, that means we can kidnap you for the day,” Mr. Bird announced as he removed the fruit basket from the table.

“Jonathan, please hand me an orange,” requested Mrs. Bird. “Do you read much, Amber? I love American literature. Have you read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House” series?

Amber shook her head no.

What about Mark Twain?”

Before Amber could answer, Mrs. Bird flipped the orange quickly towards her lap. The petite t-girl barely had time to react. With one hand she caught the orange mid flight.

“Whoa, nice catch girl!” Mr. Bird remarked.

“I’ve read many of Twain’s stories, including The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I’ve also read Tom Sawyer ,” Amber answered.

“Ah…What about James Clavell’s King Rat?”

“I thought he was British? No, I am afraid not.”

“You should, I think you would find parts of it fascinating. Jonathan doesn’t like to read,” smiled Mrs. Bird.

“Not true, I read ESPN,” Mr. Bird declared defensively.

“That is a magazine.”

“I still read it.”

“Of course, you do,” his wife agreed.

She patted his knee then slipped her hand down and caressed his inner thigh. Amber watched as an intimate moment passed between the two. Mr. Bird leaned over the table and kissed his wife.

“Ok kids, we have still have time to kill before lunch. Amber do you play cards?” Mr. Bird asked clapping his hands. He reached into the cabinet under the coffee table and brought out a deck of cards followed by a pen and paper.

“Uh…yes,” she answered puzzled, “I’ve played Poker, Spades, Hearts, and Euchre.”

“What about Whist?”

“Whist? Mmm...no.”

“Whist will not be a problem, if you know those other games. You will pick it up in a few hands,” Rienholt assured.

“William’s right. Whist is easy. Rita taught it to me when we were first married,” Mr. Bird explained.

The two men were correct. After she was taught the basics, Amber picked up the card game quickly. With Rienholt as her willing partner, they trumped and finessed their way through several successful series of hands. After the last rubber, the foursome noticed it was past noon. Rienholt called the hotel’s staff for a light lunch.

The foursome was able to play another rubber of whist before the waiter brought their lunch to them. The men ordered hearty sandwiches; Rienholt ate a croissant stuffed with ham and cheese while Mr. Bird wolfed down a Monte Cristo. Both ladies settled for half salads; Mrs. Bird the small Caesar salad and Amber had a part of a Delano Cobb salad containing crab, mango, avocado, sprinkled with blue cheese and bacon. The meal was excellent.

After lunch, Mrs. Bird suggested they stroll along the beach to work off the large meal. All agreed to the plan, however, Mrs. Bird asked Amber to accompany her to the restroom before their walk. Amber politely nodded then followed the older woman to the lavatory inside the hotel.

After Amber checked her makeup in the mirror, she reapplied her lipstick along with a fresh coat of mascara. Mrs. Bird exited the stall, washed her hands while watching the girl in the mirror.

“William is very fond of you. He speaks of you well.”

“Rienholt is very sweet,” Amber said.

“You seem to like him very much. I’m sure he appreciates having a friend during this time.”

“Time? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“During his treatment…for… prostate cancer,” the woman said, “that is why he came to Miami. There is a leading cancer treatment center here.”

“Oh, yes. I see what you mean.”

“He told us how you met. How you rescued him from two muggers.”

“I did no more than what anyone would do,” Amber admitted.

“That is not what he says. William said you stepped in knocked one unconscious and felled the other with judo or something,” the woman stated leaning against the marble vanity, “He said you were in the Army.”

Amber replaced the mascara in her clutch and turned from the mirror to look at the older woman. Mrs. Bird smoothed the front of her skirt then crossed her arms over her chest.

“Later, when he and I were alone, William told me The Peacock is a gay bar. That you are in a drag review,” Mrs. Bird stated.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You don’t look like a drag queen.”

“I’m not. I’m not gay,” Amber continued, “Most drag queens are gay men who perform their act dressed as women but are men. I’m transgendered.”

“Transgendered?”

“Yes, I consider myself to be a woman.”

“But you’re still a man?” Mrs. Bird probed.

“I’m taking estrogen hormones. My breasts are developing but I still have my male genitals. One day I will have reassignment surgery.”

“It’s a little confusing,” the woman admitted.

“Yeah, most people are confused by it. I know I was,” Amber laughed nervously.

Mrs. Bird smiled, “Well, we better get back or Jonathan will be chasing the girls in their thongs and bikinis.”

The two women joined the men waiting at the edge of the beach. Mr. and Mrs. Bird led them from the hotel toward the surf. Amber had stepped out of her pumps and carried them in one hand walking closely beside Rienholt. The taller married couple walked a bit faster than their diminutive companions and was soon several yards away.

“Were you going to tell me?” Amber asked.

“Tell you what, dear?”

“That you are sick. That you have cancer.”

“Oh, that. No. I wasn’t.”

“When did you find out?” she questioned.

“About a month ago. I went for some other tests and they discovered I have a large cancerous growth on my prostate,” he explained.

“Are you going to have surgery?”

“The doctors don’t advise it. They say it is to far advanced. I am going to start chemotherapy tomorrow.”

“Would you like me to be with you?”

“No. I don’t need anyone. I have a car coming from the hospital to pick me up.”

She stopped and looked at him. “I didn’t ask if you needed someone,” she said, “I asked if you wanted me to be there with you.”

“That would be nice.”

Amber slipped her free hand into one of his and they began to walk toward the other couple now far down the beach.

Amber left Rienholt and the Birds late in the afternoon after thanking them for a wonderful Sunday. She told Rienholt to expect her Monday morning at 8 a.m., gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek before getting into the taxi and leaving for her apartment.

On the way there her cell phone chimed with a call from Major Brewer. She stated Corazon had called and left a message on their machine that he would pick Amber up for dinner at 9 p.m. The major confirmed with her protégé to be back at the apartment in time to get ready then go over some items with herself and Captain Logan.

++++++++++++++++++++

The Tropic was an arch type of an upscale Miami restaurant. Low ambient light reflected off soft pastel walls, white linen covered dark tables and smooth Latin music played in the background. From Amber’s booth against a window the ocean could be seen clearly since only a few clouds shared the sky with the moon. The waves rolled slowly against the shore.

Amber sat in the middle of the booth between the two Colombians. They had been seated and were having drinks when Angel began to tell her what a beautiful modern city Bogotá¡’ was. He explained Bogotá¡ was divided into basically four districts. The North, where he now lived in an expensive apartment building, was newer with malls, restaurants, and nightclubs. El Centro or the old city center was where the banks, corporations, along with the government buildings were located.

Angel’s face brightened when he told her about attending many exciting futbol matches at the Bogotá¡ Futbol Club’s stadium in El Occidente area. Although he realized they were currently in 10th place or the middle of their league, he believed the Lions would win more. He barely mentioned the poorer South district where he grew up. Angel finished his second beer and ordered another Dos XX.

“Manuel comes from a tiny village east of Bogotá¡. It is so small it doesn’t have a name. It is barely a crossroad,” Angel said between sips of his new beer. “He had to leave to find a girl that wasn’t his cousin or a nun…and a virgin.”

“Angel!” Amber said. “Don’t say that.”

Angel laughed at the big Latino who turned his head toward the drug lord, his eyes darting toward Amber. The body guard grunted, shrugged his shoulders and returned to scanning the restaurant. Angel snickered again and took a large swallow of his new beer. The short Colombian stood up unsteadily to stager toward the restrooms located on the opposite side of the restaurant. Manuel began to follow his employer but was waved back to his seat.

“Was he drinking before I got to the restaurant?” Amber asked.

“Si’ chica. He had several before he met you this evening.”

“He didn’t mean what he said,” Amber said.

“My village is small. He has talked about it before.”

She reached across the table placing a hand on his large forearm. In her presence, Amber had noted Angel constantly treated the bodyguard with condescension and even contempt. The big man glanced at the t-girl, shifted uneasily and pulled his arm away.

“Manuel, do I make you uncomfortable?” Amber asked in Spanish.

“I am here to watch Senor Corazon not to make judgments on what he does.”

“You don’t approve of Angel and me dating.”

“It is not my concern what you do,” he said emphasizing the word “you”.

“Manuel, is it that we are dating or the fact I dress like a woman?”

“You are a man, no? You should act like one.”

“I am not a man. I would feel uncomfortable dressed as a man. I would hate myself.”

“Men are men. Women are women.”

The pair sat in silence a few moments waiting for Angel to return. When the drug lord returned he sat close to Amber. He had commented earlier how sexy she looked in the sheer black lace mini dress often stroking her bare back. Now, he rested his hand on her knee and traveled up her bare thigh caressing her leg. She crossed her legs hoping to prevent him from going further.

Angel frowned at her with annoyance. He considered her his “la novia” or girlfriend now, why would she prevent him from touching her. Amber noticed the frown along the white residue on his upper lip. She smiled at him then reached out to caress his face, letting her fingers move to his lips. The Cartel deputy kissed her finger tips while Amber subtly wiped off the traces of cocaine. Manuel had also observed the powder on his charge but shook his head then shrugged his shoulders at her.

Amber looked down into her frozen Margarita then at the quiet big man next to her. She realized he was scrutinizing the other clients in the restaurant moving table to table. She glanced across the room also over the salted rim of her glass. Amber’s eyes moved from patron to patron halting on three dark men recently seated in a booth to Manuel’s far right. They, too, sat quietly and studied the restaurant frequently stopping on their table.

“Excuse me,” Amber said.

Angel squeezed the girl-boy’s ass as she slid from the booth. She pushed his hands away but winked at him. Amber moved between the tables, taking the most direct route toward the rest rooms. Once there, she checked behind her then bypassed the ladies room and stepped unseen into a nearby small alcove, where she flipped open her phone.

“Yes, Amber?” Major Brewer asked.

“Are there any other teams assigned to Corazon tonight?”

“None that I am are aware of. Just a moment.”

Amber heard her question Logan about the DEA and CIA stakeout teams. She knew Brewer and Logan were parked behind the restaurant in the rented SUV providing an over watch and her backup tonight. Based upon her young asset’s last encounter, Janice decided Amber’s “dates” would be chaperoned from now on.

“Logan confirms we are a solo team tonight,” her control answered.

“There are three South Americans at the restaurant. They seem to be eyeing us,” Amber said.

“Stay sharp. The ‘intel’ we gave you this afternoon said there has been movement by a rival faction in the Cartel. There may be trouble.”

“I will Major.”

“Amber…Be careful.”

“I will Janice.”

She snapped the phone shut replacing it in her black clutch next to her SIG. She began to leave the alcove but discovered one of trio from the other table standing next to the ladies room. She slid back into the niche, leaned against the wall and bit her lip. She opened her clutch then walked toward the man guarding the ladies room pretending to search with one hand in her small purse.

“No matter how small your purse is you can never find anything,” she said looking at the slim, dark man.

Surprised, the man glanced at Amber then to the door of the ladies room. He returned his gaze to the girl-boy who delivered a hard right cross to his chin, followed by a knee to his groin. The stunned South American fell to his knees clutching his smashed balls. Amber slammed her elbow into his temple toppling the man to the carpet unconscious.

She opened her hand and dumped the roll of dimes Logan gave her back into her clutch. The CID agent explained to her earlier how a weighted punch would give her an advantage in a fight. Unlike a pair of brass knuckles, he chuckled; a roll of dimes would go unnoticed in a woman’s purse.

After checking to see her actions went unnoticed, she dragged the lightly built man into the nearby alcove despite the 4 inch high heels she wore. Depositing the assassin there, she pulled a nickel plated Colt .45 from the holster under his linen jacket, unloaded it then placed the weapon in a nearby potted plant. Next, she hid the loaded magazine behind a fire extinguisher.

Out of breath, she straightened her dress and checked her makeup along with her hair in a nearby mirror. Amber forced herself to take a deep breath then started back to the table. As she walked back to her table, she smiled brightly at several men along the way trailing her fingers across their shoulders, observing the reaction of the two South Americans at the table to her right.

Reaching their booth, she pushed Angel between her and Manuel ignoring the Cartel deputy’s protests. She sat her open clutch on her lap and slid her fingers around her weapon. She “whispered” loud enough to Angel for Manuel to hear.

“Baby, do you mind if we leave? There is a table of men who keep staring at us.”

“That is because you are beautiful,” Angel slurred.

“I don’t like the way they look at us,” Amber loudly pouted.

“What men?” Manuel asked.

“Those two men,” she nodded towards the remaining pair of South Americans.

The big Latino with the moustache turned to see the two men rising from their seats with pistols in their hands. With surprising agility and speed, Manuel flipped over the large, heavy table on its side dragging Angel behind it while pulling out his own 9mm pistol. Amber managed to duck behind the makeshift barricade as bullets began tearing into the table’s heavy top.

Chaos erupted in the restaurant as the pair of South Americans opened fire. Women and men screamed fleeing from the gunplay to The Tropic’s exits. Amber lost track of the number of rounds fired at them in the few seconds. Manuel lifted his handgun over the table shooting blind. Amber popped up and shot two rounds then dropped back behind their impromptu screen.

Continuing to fire, the two South Americans split in opposite directions. Manuel took several shots at the man running to the right; his bullets trailed the assassin along the pastel wall. Amber fired once more at her target moving left and deeper into the restaurant.

“Angel, get out to the car!” Manuel shouted replacing his empty magazine.

Angel didn’t respond but leaped up and ran for the exit. Manuel began to fire rapidly at the gunman to their right. Amber shot twice more at her man hiding in the back of the restaurant. The bodyguard saw the little drug lord scamper out the exit and continued to fire.

“Where’s that fucking whore!”

The shout caused Amber to look over the table to see the man she knocked unconscious searching the restaurant with a 9mm in his hand. Spotting her he shot several times. Bullets struck the table top and whizzed by her head. Like a metronome he shot the pistol as he marched toward her. Manuel wheeled and rapidly fired at the man. The man focused his fire on Manuel. Three or four bullets hit the heavy table beside him. Amber leaped up from behind the makeshift barricade and fired. The man spun once before falling to the floor.

“Chica, I’m out! Let’s go!” shouted Manuel.

Amber jumped up and followed the big Colombian to the door. There she paused to shoot once more at each of the remaining gunmen. She ran from the restaurant entrance to meet Manuel in the parking lot where he searched in vain for the blue Lotus. Angel had fled with their only way of escape.

A white SUV with tinted windows was pulling up to the restaurant doors. Amber leapt in front of the Cadillac and pointed her empty SIG at the driver.

“Out of the car, NOW!”

The driver, dressed in a tight red polo shirt tucked in his dark slacks, opened the door and dove out of the vehicle. Amber yelled at Manuel to get into the car as she climbed into the driver seat. The bodyguard followed her into the SUV, shutting the door while she pulled away.

“Gracias, chica,” Manuel panted, “I don’t know if I would have made it out if not for your help.”

“De nada,” Amber said, “I couldn’t leave a friend.”

Expertly, she drove the large vehicle down alleys, on side streets, and through parking lots until she turned on a major avenue. Amber continued to maneuver the Cadillac quickly in the heavy traffic with ease when she spotted the on ramp to the highway. She glided across several lanes packed with cars to the on ramp of I-95.

Chapter 12

Amber exited the Miami freeway, driving onto the main thoroughfare where Angel’s hotel was located. Manuel instructed her to cruise slowly past the plush hotel into a parking lot; there to circle back then park on the opposite side of the street. The pair silently sat scanning the area and vehicles along side the building’s art deco facade searching for signs of other assassins.

Seeing no evidence of another hit team, Manuel told Amber to get rid of the stolen vehicle before going back to her apartment. The big Colombian exited the white SUV, crossed the street only to walk past the hotel, next to vanish around the corner. The t-girl pulled away from the curb and imagined what Major Brewer was going to say about having to rent another vehicle. Amber hoped the new rental would be a sportier Mustang; maybe a yellow convertible she dreamed.

Amber parked the team’s SUV on a near side street then walked to the apartment complex. Once inside the apartment she shared with Major Brewer, she slipped off her spiked heels, made a pot of coffee and started creating a timeline of events for the inevitable debriefing to follow.

She had completed her initial outline when the chorus of Elton John’s The Bitch is Back played on her cell phone signaling the expected call from Major Brewer.

“Hi Amber, this is Janice. How’s your evening going?”

“It’s ok Major, I’m alone.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m not hurt.”

“What is your location?”

“I’m at our apartment.”

“Logan and I are in a cab and we will be there in a few moments. You should start collecting your thoughts.”

“I’ve finished a time line and I’ve added some notes.”

“Good girl. I am glad you are ok. We will see you in a few minutes.”

Amber snapped the cell phone shut. Sitting alone on the couch she realized what actually happened. She put her hand over her mouth then darted to the bathroom.

The debriefing lasted several hours. While the detailed outline plus Amber’s supplemental notes helped, the trio consumed two pots of coffee along with a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts but was no closer to finishing the debriefing by midnight. The team went over the episode at The Topic in minute detail. The CID agent and Intelligence officer questioned Amber over each of her actions at the restaurant, making her describe every element while making their own notes.

Near 2 a.m. Amber once more repeated how she incapacitated the slim South American by the women’s restroom when Janice stopped her mid sentence.

“Amber, you are giving us a memorized speech.”

The young t-girl sighed. She picked up a half eaten doughnut only to toss it back onto the coffee table in disgust. She stood, flipped her head backward pushing her hair out of her face.

“Ok. Let’s call it a night,” the CID agent stated, “We can start fresh in the morning.”

“Ooh…I have to go…somewhere…tomorrow…uh…this morning,” Amber realized.

“With Corazon?” Janice asked.

“No. I’m going to the hospital with Rienhart. He’s starting his chemotherapy this morning.”

“I am sorry to hear that. I didn’t know he was ill. I know you like him,” Janice said, “You go ahead with him. We will complete the interview after you get back.”

“Thank you Major,” Amber said, “I’m heading on to bed. I’ll see you guys later.”

She bent down kissing Janice on the cheek; she looked over at Logan and waved. She turned to go to her room but paused to lift her hair off her collar.

“Can you unbutton me?” Amber asked.

The handsome Captain rose from his chair. His eyes followed the backless dress’ hem up the t-girl’s back then across her shoulders while he unfastened the twin buttons holding the collar together. He was keenly aware Major Brewer watched him undress her protégé. Completing his task, the CID agent cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his dark slacks before returning to his seat.

“Thanks,” Amber said disappearing down the hall.

++++++++++++++++++++

“What do you think this is an episode from Miami Vice?” Lt. Colonel Washington questioned.

“Colonel, another Cartel faction entered the restaurant in what appears to have been an assassination attempt on our subject. Our operative tried to remove our subject from the premises before any attempt or action took place,” Major Brewer explained.

“Major, a man was killed. One of the best restaurants in Miami was shot up.”

“Our operative was fired upon and returned fire in self defense. She saved our subject’s bodyguard by killing the gunman.”

“Major Brewer, it made the national news! I had a Deputy Director from Homeland Security call me at 11:30 last night to tell me Geraldo Rivera mentioned the incident on his Sunday night program. The Deputy Director then asked me if it was a planned part of my operation.”

“Colonel, no evidence linking our operative’s participation in the incident can or will be found. The restaurant has no security cameras. There are no witnesses available who can testify with any accuracy our operative was there. Any evidence linking our operative to the incident will not be found.”

“I don’t want to hear anything about evidence tampering Major.”

“You won’t maam.” Major Brewer confirmed.

“I want a full report ASAP. If anything like this happens again, I’m pulling the plug Major. This show will be cancelled.”

“Colonel, it won’t happen again.”

The phone’s intercom went dead.

An electronic voice indicated the other party had left the call. The blonde intelligence officer reached over and pressed the power button on the phone. She tapped her pen on the table top. She glanced up at Logan then over at Amber.

“Janice, the hit team was an unforeseen event,” the CID agent reflected.

“I know.”

“Amber did exactly what she should have. She communicated with us. She removed one adversary with non lethal force,” Logan listed his points, “She tried to remove the subject and herself from immediate danger. She returned fire only self defense then she evaded capture.”

“Logan, I know. Amber you did well. WE should have recognized the danger,” Janice said.

“What do we do now?” Amber asked.

“We continue with the plan. You will meet with Corazon. Nothing has changed,” Major Brewer said, “When do you meet with him again?”

“I haven’t heard from him yet,” Amber replied.

“Give it time, Janice. He is scared and thinking what his next move is,” Logan reasoned.

“If last night’s action signals the start of a Cartel civil war the mission could be in jeopardy. His psych profile states he will not put himself in any danger. He may flee the country and return to Colombia,” Janice said to no one in particular.

Amber bit her lip then crossed the room to stand next to Logan who gave her a reassuring smile. The muscular Army investigator nodded Amber towards the door.

“Janice, Amber and I are going to go walk along the beach. Why don’t you come with us and clear your head?”

“No, I want to think this thing through.”

“Are you sure, Major? It’s really pretty this afternoon.” Amber cajoled.

“No, you two go ahead.”

The pair exited the apartment leaving their team lead alone. Major Brewer picked up the Miami Herald reading the headline again, “More Drug Violence” over the story of the mayhem at The Tropic. A smaller column sub-heading asked “A Return to the 80’s?” followed by a story of the Cartel being linked multiple murders in Colombia.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Several days passed with no contact from Angel. The CIA verified Corazon had not left the country but the DEA could not confirm if he remained at his hotel. The government’s hyper sensitive directional microphones and high powered photo lenses could not penetrate loud music and closed blinds. The stakeout teams resorted to less sophisticated techniques to determine if Angel stayed in his suite.

Posing as hotel staff, female federal agents tried to gain access when the room was to be cleaned but a “Do Not Disturb” sign along with a chained door thwarted their efforts. Other agents were successful in their efforts to spy upon the drug lord when food was ordered through room service. These informants established Angel remained in his room while Manuel had not left his employer’s side.

Amber suggested she could “drop by” to see Angel, however, Janice and Logan rejected her plan. The intelligence officer believed Corazon may see this as a security threat based upon his psychiatric profile while the CID agent worried for Amber’s safety. Both senior team members agreed it was the Cartel deputy’s move.

Amber continued her normal routine and waited for Angel to contact her. She hoped he would attend one of her sets at The Peacock but the weekend came and went with no communication from the drug lord. On the following Monday, Amber went with Rienholt to his chemotherapy session then back to his hotel. After the session, she saw him into bed then left the club owner to return to her own apartment. Once in the taxi, instead of returning to her apartment she instructed the cab driver to drive to Angel’s hotel.

“Good morning, Miss,” the hotel doorman said as he opened the cab door.

“Good morning. Thank you, how are you?” Amber replied.

“Fine, thank you. Do you have any luggage?”

“No, I am here to see a friend.”

“Of course,” the doorman said shutting the cab door.

Amber entered the luxurious hotel stopping briefly at the desk to ask for Corazon’s room number. Securing the information she stepped into an open elevator and pressed the button marked for the 17th floor.

The young TG examined herself in the lift’s stainless steel doors. Self consciously she tugged at the hem of her red, ribbed tank top smoothing it over her white denim short shorts. Amber did an “about face” then looked over her should to inspect her bottom. Satisfied she returned to face the doors glanced down at her red sling back wedges and wiggled her French manicured toes. She smiled at her reflection once more only to lean forward to check her lipstick in the metal surface.

She jumped as the elevator “dinged” announcing she arrived on the 17th floor. When the doors opened she stepped out onto floor’s lobby and turned toward the hallway only to bump into a maintenance cart.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said to the two men.

The two men in hotel maintenance jumpsuits didn’t respond but pushed the cart passed her into the elevator. Amber turned toward the hallway when she felt herself lifted of the floor with a huge hand over her mouth. Struggling, she was carried into the elevator by the larger maintenance worker.

Once the lift’s door shut, she was sat down at the back of the elevator. Both employees took off their hats then ignored her as they began to remove their hotel jumpsuits. She leaned against the paneled wall and watched the two men peal off their costumes to Dionne Warwick’s “Do You Know the Way to San Jose” playing on the intercom.

“Ooh go baby…take it off,” she commented.

Angel looked at Amber with a grin on his face while Manuel only grunted. Finished, the pair stuffed the borrowed uniforms into the cart then straightened the clothes they wore under the overalls. Amber stepped forward to comb the drug lord’s black hair with her fingers followed by a long kiss.

“I missed you. Where have you been? Why haven’t you called me? I thought something had happened to you,” Amber spoke rapidly at Angel.

“Busy with work. I have no time right now for play. You will have to go with us.”

“Work? Where are we going? Why were you dressed that way?”

“The DEA is watching our room but we hired some locals to pretend to be us. They sit in the room all day, listening to music, ordering room service, and watching pay per view. We put on these hotel uniforms and pass by the Federales.”

“So the Feds think you are in the room?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you two been doing this?

“For about a week,” the drug lord looked to his bodyguard, “Manuel came up with the idea.”

“Good job, big guy!” Amber looked up at the Colombian.

“Gracias, chica,” Manuel said smiling.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened in lowest floor of the parking garage. Manuel led the way to the back of the lot where a dirty, late model Chevy was parked. Angel opened the door for Amber who slid across the bench seat next to the big Colombian. The bodyguard started the car’s engine and slowly drove up the exit ramps and out into the Miami sun.

The trio drove south along the shore line for some time until they came to a marina. Manuel left the freeway to enter a boat dock where a large cruiser christened “Take a Chance” sat tied to a pier. Manuel untied the boat from the dock while Angel helped Amber onto the craft. The bodyguard pushed the boat away from the pier, leaped onto the cruiser and began to pilot the boat out of the harbor.

The young tg sat down on a side bench topped with an orange cushion, crossed her tanned legs while pushing down her sunglasses from the top of her hair. She gazed toward the prow of the boat and out over the blue ocean towards the endless horizon then looked behind her and saw the hotels and freeway become smaller in the distance then finally the shoreline disappeared from view. Amber returned her attention to the cabin where she saw Angel come from below with two Dos XXs in his hand. He sauntered slowly to her, sat down next to her and handed her one of the cold beers.

“Gracias,” she said taking a long drink.

“De nada.”

Angel pointed out a pair of dolphins off to the side. The t-girl leaped up on her knees to peer over at the aquatic mammals speeding through the bright blue water. The pair kept pace with the cruiser for several minutes shooting out of the water briefly then dive into the water to continue their race. Amber placed a hand on Angel’s shoulder to steady herself only to feel his lips on her hand placing soft kisses. She smiled at him reaching over to his free hand to squeeze it. Amber’s eyes darted forward to the cabin to see Manuel busy steering the craft toward the east. She placed one hand on each side of Angel’s face and passionately kissed him. When they parted, she leaned back on her heels, looking into his brown eyes. Her heart raced; embarrassed she looked away toward the ocean her tears running down her face.

“What is wrong mi novia?” he asked.

When she heard his words, she turned away from him and wiped her seemingly endless tears. He put his hands gently on her shoulders but she sobbed even more. She quickly turned around hugged him tightly, so tightly, he moaned for breath.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I am just happy.”

“You are a strange girl.”

“I know.”

For about an hour the boat headed east when Manual finally begin to slow the boat down. Angel went forward and spoke for several minutes in low tones to his aide. Amber stood up and walked toward the two men who stopped talking when they noticed her approach.

“What’s up? Why did we stop?” she asked looking at the men.

“I wanted to speak to Manuel over something. Why don’t you go below to the cabin and rest for a while,” Angel said.

“I’m not tired.”

“I’m think you are. You seem…”

The Cartel deputy was interrupted by the sound of a low-flying aircraft. As one, the trio looked behind them to see a small single engine plane heading directly towards them. Manuel quickly walked back to the stern of the cruiser where he picked up a long grappling hook.

“Go below, now”, the Columbian harshly said.

“but what is…”

“Now!”

Amber heard the menace in his voice. She meekly complied with the command, followed the steps down into the lower cabin shutting the twin louver doors behind her. The plane came closer, went directly over the boat then the sound of its engine faded in the distance. She waited only a few seconds, climbed the stairs to peek through the doors’ slats. She saw both men standing at the stern of the boat, hauling a large plastic wrapped package, the plane obviously dropped, into the boat with the help of the grappling hook.

The package was wrapped in blue plastic then tied with several large bands. It was about the size of a big dresser Amber’s aunt once had, roughly four by six feet. The men grunted and cursed as they pulled the wrapped container into the cruiser. Once on the deck, Amber saw the bottom of the container sat on enormous inflated floats.

Manuel took out a wicked looking knife. He cut the bands from wrapped container then stripped the plastic off to reveal an industrial sized rubber tub. The big Columbian unsnapped the locks and popped the lid opened. Angel reached in to take out the expected contents, blocks of cocaine.

Mission Impossible?

Chapter 13

“I’m sure the DEA or CIA will be more than happy to give us a tracking device for Amber to wear the next time she goes out with Corazon” the blonde major thought aloud.

“It was a spur of the moment decision that he took me. I happened to bump into Angel as he slipped out dressed as hotel maintenance.”

“Yes, and you put yourself in danger,” Logan snapped.

“I was in no danger,” the young operative replied.

His tone caused Amber to glance over at the handsome captain with a look of curiosity. He didn’t seem concerned but annoyed or even angry with her. She tried to meet his eyes; however, he turned away from her to look out the room’s window past the other hotels toward the distant ocean.

“We will discuss you not following protocol later… you should not always count on luck,” Janice said, “Right now we need to make sure you convince Corazon he wants you to be on the boat with him. I think…”

A ring tone of blaring horns and drums from Logan’s phone interrupted the woman’s conjecture. She stood up, reached for her purse and slipped her sunglasses on. She moved to the door where she paused briefly. She turned to the captain holding her hand out.

“Keys.”

Still speaking on the phone, Logan stopped his pacing long enough to dig into his tan Dockers to produce the rented SUV’s fob and key. He tossed them to her then she nodded at Amber to follow her out the door. Amber started out but dashed across Logan’s path to grab her purse and raised her hand to say goodbye. Logan only ignored her.

Hurt by the unusual lack of attention from him, Amber pouted as she walked next to the Major. She mulled over the Captain’s attitude towards her and was confused by it. She finally spoke to Janice about the matter while they shopped. Amber explained how Logan could seem so nice to her one moment but suddenly he could become harsh then sulky towards her. The t-girl commented to her mentor that Corazon was always sweet to her, well, except for the small incident on the boat. That was the only time he ever said anything cross or spoke loud to her. Amber continued that once you got to know him, Angel was actually a nice guy. She told her friend she felt that Logan was being just being an ass.

****************************************

“Dan likes to relax. He doesn’t want to get dressed up to have a good steak and beer. He wouldn’t feel comfortable in some place like The Tropic,” Logan said opening the chain steakhouse door for the two women, “besides this place has free peanuts.”

“Ooh, I cannot wait,” Janice replied rolling her eyes.

The CIA agent was seated at a table off to one side of the restaurant. Amber remembered him well; he was the older, powerfully built man who she met with in her interview with the Colonel. He stood as the group approached, extending a bear like paw to Logan who shook it heartily.

“Major, nice to see you,” he said nodding to Janice.

“White.” she smiled perfunctorily.

“Dan, you remember, Amber?” The captain asked.

“Yes, I remember. You look nice tonight.”

The polite comment caused her to flash a brilliant smile at the tall, distinguished looking man. He shook Amber’s offered hand gently. She immediately thought of the apparent contrast between herself and him. While her hand was delicate, smooth, and soft; his was massive, powerful, marked with calluses. This man emitted masculine strength. He was everything Arron was not and Amber did not want to be.

After the meal ended, the group gathered outside the restaurant chatting in the pleasant Miami night. Heading towards a rented Chevrolet Impala, Dan and Logan continued their in-depth pre-season football discussion. The two women dutifully followed the pair listening politely but with boredom showing on their faces. Arriving at the vehicle, the CIA field man reached into the vehicle for a large manila envelope then handed it to Major Brewer.

“Here’s the information you wanted on Fruto. Have you come up with something?” the large man asked lighting a filter-less Camel cigarette.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” Amber admonished.

“It’s been a habit for too long young lady,” he replied eyeing her.

“You should just sit them down and walk away.”

“Amber.” Janice said, not looking up from the contents of the packet. “White, I will call you and let you know. Scanning the information you brought me, it confirms a suspicion that I had. I have an idea that is still needs some thought before I propose it. We will get back with you in a couple of days.”

“Not a problem. I’ll let the DOD pick up another steak dinner,” the government agent continued, “ I want to say thanks for the heads up on Corazon’s leaving the hotel and how the coke is getting into the CONUS. We had a camera in the hall, but it was conveniently blocked for the few seconds he needed to get into the elevator. I’m still amazed he let her go with him on a drop. I’d thought he was too smart for that.”

“CONUS?” whispered Amber to Logan standing next to her.

“Continental United States, “he answered, “I’m surprised you never heard the acronym.”

“Hey, so I don’t know everything like some people,” she retorted with an elbow to his ribs.

Agent White ignored them and continued, “Why he is and Fruto picking up the drop? Where are the mules?”

********************************

Several days later, Amber knocked lightly on the beige hotel door with a gold 1722 tacked to it. She waited for a few seconds, rapped on it again, standing on her toes trying to see through its peep hole. She raised her hand to strike the door a third time, when she heard the chain slide back and the door open slowly.

“Chica, Que pasa?” Manuel asked.

“Nada. Y tu?” she grinned at him, “Donde esta Angel?

The big Latino lingered with a hand on door jamb, his large brown eyes dropped to the floor not meeting hers. Amber waited in the hall as the silence between them became awkward. She moved to go into the room but Manuel blocked her and shook his head no.
The t-girl stepped back wondering why he was being so rude. Amber studied the body guard for a short time, suddenly, Amber realized the reason.

“Let me in,” she demanded.

“No, chica. Go home.”

“Damn it, Manuel, let me in there,” she said trying to push him aside.

“Come back tomorrow, it would be better.”

The petite t-girl stared at him. The large man closed the door; Amber heard him chain it. She stood there only briefly then walked quickly back to the elevator. Mindful of the CIA and DEA cameras in the hallway she waited until the elevator doors shut before she let her tears fall down her cheeks.

Manuel heard the girl go down the hall before he returned to the suite’s living room where his guest sat. The American had contacted him earlier this week requesting to meet. She was very attractive, almost painfully neat with her long blonde hair pulled in a pony tail.

“Thank you, Manuel. That could have complicated things,” Janice Brewer said.

********************************

“I’m not going to do it. I’m done. You can get someone else to do it.”

“Amber, we told you what kind of man he was. This should not have been a shock to you,” Major Brewer said.

The trim woman sat down on the couch next to protégé, who had her arms wrapped around her drawn up knees, while the t-girl’s chin rested on their tops. Returning from her meeting, Major Brewer found Amber sitting in their apartment with a half eaten gallon of Blue Bunny Rocky Road on her lap watching TV. A simple series of questions compelled Amber to relate what happened at the hotel. Janice took the ice cream from the t-girl and explained to her women, real women, do not let men dictate their happiness.

“I don’t get him. I never would have treated a girl like that.”

“Corazon is not a real man. He pushes drugs on kids. He is a coward. He is a murderer. He is responsible for the deaths of policemen, DEA agents, and of many of his own people. He has even ordered the killing of families of people who work for him,” the intelligence officer explained.

Amber continued to stare past her mentor at nothing.

“We have another meeting with Agent White and Logan tonight. I need you to call Corazon and see if you can go with him the next time he goes out on his boat. I’m betting it is this weekend. Tell him about the surprise we picked out for him and you can’t wait to see him.

********************************

She climbed the stairs from the cabin out onto the deck. Amber strutted over to Angel then pirouetted, modeling her new hot pink bikini for him.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Yes, it is wonderful. You are very beautiful.”

“Thanks. Baby, could you put some suntan lotion on me?”

Angel smiled and took the offered bottle from his girlfriend. Amber laid on one of the side benches with orange seat covers. The Cartel deputy sat next to her, pouring Coppertone Dark Tanning Oil directly onto the small of her back. The girl-boy shuddered at the touch of cold liquid on her warm skin.

He rubbed the lotion across her shoulders and down her back. He poured more lotion on each of her legs rubbing it thoroughly into her skin. Amber let out a soft whimper of pleasure feeling his strong hands massaging her body. She reached under her hair to untie her bikini’s halter followed by untying the laces to her bra.

Angel continued to rub her back, occasionally, letting his hand slip down her sides to cup her tiny breasts. Amber caught her breath as his rough fingers traveled across her swollen, sensitive nipples. The Colombian caressed her body.

“Oh baby, your hands are maravilloso,” she complimented him.

He began to tease her by tracing the outline of her bikini panty then run his hands over her bottom. He continued to massage her spandex covered bottom but his hands eventually drifted down her cheeks between her thighs. His hands rubbed the oil into her thighs and slowly worked his way down her legs.

Amber moaned softly. She gave him a sultry stare over her shoulder at him then smiled. She returned to her original position but opened her legs wider for him.

“You are much smaller than all the others performers I’ve met. All were taller than me. It was always awkward with them but not with you.”

Amber turned over lying on her back leaving her chest uncovered. The large, white plastic bracelets jingled on her wrist when she took one of his hands in hers and placed it on her left breast.

“You are what I always wanted,” he confessed, “So feminine but still male.”

“Mmmm…mi amante…my lover,” Amber cooed.

Your Spanish is excellent, where did you learn it.”

“My mother was from Guadalajara but I also took several years in school.”

The Cartel deputy smiled at his lover. His hand slid off her breast traveled down her slim body to the edge of her bikini bottom.

“When I first saw you dance, I wanted you. Your second performance made me burn with desire. Your instructor is very good. Does he teach everyone to dance?”

“No. Janice, my manager, wants my routines to be special. She hired him to choreograph just my sets.”

“Just for you alone?”

“Yes. He can be a bitch sometimes but his choreography is great”, she said taking his hand in hers she pressed the tips of his fingers to her lips kissing them softly.

“You seemed to have several admirers but chose me.”

“I think we are lucky we found each other,” she purred.

At her answer Angel abruptly removed his hands. The Cartel deputy stood up and walked to the opposite side of the boat, leaned on the rail looking out over the water.

“On the night we met you left your purse and phone,” he said.

“Si, I was sick…remember?”

“I remember that is what you said. You were so sick you passed out but somehow you were able to make it back to your apartment. After that evening, I started to be followed.”

Amber slid off the bench, walked over to him wrapping her arms about him. She pushed her small breasts against his bare back and her bikinied groin against his ass while she hugged him. She kissed the back of his neck.

“So? What’s that got to do with me?”

“Why would a pretty puto like you carry a gun?” the Cartel deputy questioned.

She dropped her arms from him upon hearing the derogatory name. She took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. She stared at the short, stocky man.

“I carry it for protection,” Amber said flatly, “and I don’t like that word.”

“Manuel says you shoot your pistol very well. Where were you trained?”

“I took lessons at a local pistol range back in Missouri. I wanted to know how to shoot.”

Exasperated the t-girl went back to the bench where she snatched up her bikini top. She tied the bra straps then fastened the halter straps behind her neck. Having finished dressing, she turned back to the drug lord who continued to scan the ocean.

“He also says you drive as good as him, if not better.”

“I’ve been driving a car since I was 16,” Amber retorted lifting her hands in disbelief.

“He tells me you have been hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she stated her hands on her hips.

“Manuel says he knows what you are hiding.”

“MANUEL doesn’t know shit,” she said loudly and glared at the bodyguard, “He doesn’t like what I am or that you like me.”

“He says maybe you are not who you say you are.”

“Oh baby, what are you saying?” Amber laughed nervously at the accusation. She reached out to touch his brown shoulder.

Angel spun quickly striking Amber hard with the back of his hand. She fell to the boat’s deck, blood dripping from the side of her mouth. The big Latino was instantly over her grabbing her by the shoulders, lifting her up like a doll.

“Manuel may come from a small village but he is not too stupid. He can be quite clever sometimes. I found out after the attack in the restaurant the men who shot at me worked with the Colombian National Police and the CIA. Manuel came to me a later and said he barely made it out of the restaurant alive but you came out easily.”

Amber struggled to free herself but was held securely by the bodyguard’s large hands. Angel gripped her chin with one hand glaring into her eyes.

“He also said he did not trust you,” Angel continued, “I thought he didn’t like you for being a maricá³n. He then came to me last night telling me you were more than a dancer.”

Angel reached under the orange seat cushions and pulled out a manila envelope. He opened it slowly not taking his eyes off Amber. He pulled several photos from the large envelope. He held one up to let the t-girl see it.

“Here is your ‘manager’, her boyfriend, and you going to dinner a few nights ago.”

“Yes, so?”

“This is the same car you stole from the restaurant,” he accused.

“There are lots of white SUVs in Miami,” she shot back.

“The blonde woman from the club is your ‘manager’, no? The tall man next to her is her ‘boyfriend’ you said.”

“Yes, that’s right. You’ve seen them in the club.”

“Did you know he is a policeman in the U.S. Army? Did you know he works with the CIA and DEA?”

“No.”

The short Latin Indian struck her a second time. Amber noted Angel’s eyes were burning with passion and his breath quickened. She was sure his pulse was racing. The ass is getting off on this, Amber thought.

“This man, the big one standing beside the Army detective,” Angel said pointing at a second photo, “works for the CIA. He has been following me. Do you know him?”

“I met him once. We all had dinner. I thought he was a friend of Janice’s boyfriend.”

Angel slapped Amber again. Her head snapped to one side then rolled forward. She lifted her head up with her jaw clenched; her hair draped over one eye while the other looked at the drug lord with malice.

“Lie to me again and I will kill you.”

Manuel stood behind Amber holding her arms. She quickly raised a foot to smash it down on the big man’s right instep followed by a left elbow to the solar plexus then a powerful backhand strike to the groin. Taken by surprise by the series of blows, he momentarily let go of his captive. Realizing she was free, he clutched at her oiled arm but Amber struck his huge hands away and dashed forward to the boat’s cabin located toward the prow.

The girl-boy sprinted down the stairs into the boat’s cabin leaping onto the bed. Amber dug frantically in her purse for her P232 when Manuel entered the compartment. She yanked the pistol out, pointing it at the bodyguard throwing her bag to a corner of the room.

“ALTO!” Amber shouted.

The big Latino halted in place, raising his hands slightly. The Cartel deputy entered the berth surprised to find his former girlfriend holding off his large bodyguard. Angel cursed at the man calling him a fool and moved to the right slightly.

“You move again Angel and I’ll shoot,” Amber said firmly pointing the gun at him.

“What are you? Who do you work for?” Corazon demanded.

The small Latino stopped, raising his hands. Amber motioned with her pistol for Manuel to move next to his charge leaving the way to the cabin door open. The big man complied slowly his eyes never leaving Amber’s. The t-girl looked from Manuel to Angel then back again as she sidestepped toward the door and stairway leading to the boat’s deck.

“Amber, don’t forget your new purse,” Manuel said.

Amber’s eyes darted to the corner of the berth were she had flung her purse. With the speed of a striking adder, Manuel darted forward. His huge hand captured Amber’s outstretched hand holding the pistol. She twisted in his vice like grip trying to tear free. She fired the pistol twice. The shots caused the Cartel deputy to dive to the carpeted floor for safety. Three more shots rang out but the body guard and the t-girl still struggled.

Amber pushed against Manuel with all of her strength forcing him back a step then she rocked backward, pulling him and twisting to one side. Off balance, the Latino began to fall forward. Amber decided to let go of the weapon since it appeared she was going to be dragged to the floor with big man. She darted up the stairs closing the cabin doors behind her. She leaped into the wheelhouse then to the controls, pushed the throttle forward steering the craft around toward the shore.

She heard Manuel breaking through the doors. Amber fled from the wheel house to the stern of the boat where she stopped. The big man’s footsteps alerted her that the big man was standing behind her. She whirled about to see her own pistol aimed at her.

Angel raced up the stairs hearing the first gunshot. He heard the second then the third and arrived on deck to see Amber pitch into churning water from the boat’s wake. Manuel walked to the stern but didn’t try to fire again since the girl-boy was gone from sight. The drug lord strode up to his bodyguard then nodded toward the steering wheel indicating him to turn the boat back.

Manuel steered the small craft around heading back along their course. They quickly spotted Amber in the water. She was face down in the ocean surrounded by patch of black-red blood. The bikini wearing corpse bobbed up and down in the ocean waves. Manuel stopped the circling craft to get the long boat hook out.

“Let the sharks take care of that puto,” Angel shouted at Manuel. “We have to meet our connection soon.”

Nodding, Manuel spit into the water at the floating body; he sat the hook down then returned to the wheel. He checked the compass and set the boat to its original course heading. Angel retrieved Amber’s purse from the cabin tossing it into the ocean next to its owner as they passed her corpse.

EPILOGUE

“Colonel Washington, you state that you are now receiving prime intelligence from your source now embedded in the Columbian drug cartel. Is that correct?”

“That is correct Senator. Our operative is now relaying the cartel’s distribution plans and timetables to us. This provides us with the opportunity to locate and identify participants in the smuggling operations and ascertain the financial institutions they are using.”

“We want to thank you again for appearing before this select sub-committee on convert intelligence, Colonel Washington,” acknowledged the chairman of the three member panel.

“You are welcome, Senator. I want to thank the entire committee for allowing me the opportunity to report on our success,” the Army Lieutenant Colonel replied.

The colonel understood the interview was over. She stood up closing the few paper files before her placing them on her laptop then placing both into a stainless steel case nodded at the panel, turned and exited the conference room through the side door. The senators waited until the door closed before they returned to their session.

“I believe with her testimony completed that concludes the business before the sub-committee today. If I could have a motion, we will adjourn.”

“Mr. Chairman, I make a motion we adjourn,” offered his sun tanned colleague to the senator’s left.

“I second the motion,” said the older, attractive woman with grey hair to his right.

“All in favor say aye.”

A unanimous chorus of ayes echoed in the small hearing chamber. The assistant to the chairman dutifully noted the motion in addition to the vote. She stood up leaned over the railing turning off each senator’s microphones. Returning to her seat she closed her laptop, took off her glasses and rubbed her emerald eyes then ran her fingers through her shoulder length red hair. She glanced up to notice the senator watching her. She flashed a warm smile at the older woman and slid her laptop into its inexpensive case.

“Barbara,” said the chairman with a slight southern drawl, “could you go ahead? We’ll be along in a minute.”

“Of course,” the pretty red head said to her boss.

Noting the tone in her boss’ voice, Barbara quickly finished gathering her things. With her laptop case slung over her shoulder, the young aide walked to the door turned to once more catch the eye of the older stateswoman, smiled coquettishly, then slipped out the door. The large oak door echoed shut in the chamber.

“Tom, you seem out of joint on this? Did you have objections?” The chairman asked leaning back in his chair.

“Not at all, Doug. It is just…well…where do these people come from?” he stammered.

“What do you mean?”

“What...I mean, how is this boy…uhh..girl… an operative? How many of these…trans-gendered people are there?”

“Senator Lawson, need I remind you that this person is a United States citizen and a veteran with an impeccable service
record? What would your blue state constituents think hearing you say that?”

“I believe the vast majority of the UAW and IBEW members would agree with me, Gloria. And don’t lecture me about my positions, especially when you have those Family of God people.”

“Now Jim, that is uncalled for. Gloria did not doubt your sincerity to social equality but was reminding you this young person is extremely skilled and patriotic,” the Chairman held up a hand preventing more comments from being issued. “Gloria, I doubt that Jim is trying to say anything against this person,” he continued trying to pacify, “I believe he is surprised that there are so many in the military. From what Colonel Washington said we should expect more of these brave and patriotic individuals to come forward.”

Senator Lawson frowned and flipped the report back to the operation description where he quickly reread the summary of the action that took place a little over six months ago. He took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, then replaced them and continued to read the brief. After a few minutes, he closed the report and looked at his two colleagues.

“Did you two realize that this young soldier was left in the ocean?” Lawson asked.

“I understood she was picked up,” the chairman replied.

“Just think about that...left in the ocean…to die…”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Without another thought to the young boy- girl who they shot and left floating in the sea, Manuel pushed the throttle forward and the boat swiftly responded to speed toward its rendezvous point where it would pick up another shipment of cocaine. About an hour later the burly bodyguard and his employer saw their contact coming from the southeast.
The twin engine plane descended, flew above the boat and passed over the pair who waved in recognition. The two cartel agents waited as the plane passed over again but this time a large package tumbled from its door. Seconds later the package splashed in the water near the speedboat. Manuel maneuvered the boat close to the floating container allowing Angel to catch ahold of it with the boat hook and pull it to the boat. Together they hauled the package on to the speedboat then after checking its contents they placed it in the boat’s cabin.

Almost ninety minutes later Manuel pulled the speed boat next to the pier and Angel leaped onto the wooden planks waiting for his bodyguard to toss the line to him. After securing their craft, the pair walked down the pier to the marina parking lot a short distance away where they got into their blue sports car and drove away. The two South American Indians paid little attention to the dark haired woman standing next to the pumping station who watched them drive away. Taking a cell phone from her pocket she quickly called her team member.

A Cessna 172 Skyhawk waited on the tarmac where a trim, handsome man paced back and forth nervously when his cell phone jingled. Quickly, he answered and immediately snapped his fingers at the pilot who leapt up from his chair and ran to remove the chocks blocking his plane’s landing gears. The man thumbed his cell phone off and leapt up into the plane while the pilot started the engine and spoke to the tower. Receiving clearance the single engine plane taxied onto the run way and flew southeastward.

“Head to 79 degrees, 53 minutes and 49 seconds longitude by 25 degrees, 49 minutes 38 seconds latitude,” the Logan said.

“You got that backwards,” the pilot said.

“What?”

“In aerial navigation we say the latitude first.”

“Just get to the target point.”

“Roger that.”

The Army CID captain thumbed the controls on the scanner verifying the coordinates of the beacon. The signal was strong and it was verified. Satisfied, he removed his seatbelt and slipped out of the front seat moving to the back slipping on his equipment.

“We will be there in less than 4 minutes. Are you sure you will be ok out there?” The pilot asked.

“Yes. I don’t plan to stay out there long.”

“Want me to hang around for a few minutes, just in case?”

“Good idea. You will know when it is ok to leave.”

“Well…ok, I guess.”

Logan slipped on his helmet and goggles and zipped up his orange jumpsuit then opened the door to the Skyhawk. While the air rushed through the interior of the cabin he strapped a black, nomex bag to his leg. The CID agent took the long strap from a matching large bag and connected it to his harness next he set the bag by the door. He once more checked his harness then turned to his attention to the pilot.

“Coordinates reached. We’re here. Good luck.”

Captain Logan gave a thumbs up, picked up the bag sitting on the cabin floor and leapt out the plane. Air whipped about him as he fell towards the open sea; he counted to ten slowly then pulled the red plastic covered “D” ring hooked to his harness releasing his chute. He was suddenly jerked upward then he began to descend slowly after the orange square opened up above his head. He dropped the bag he held taking a hold of his parachute’s handles allowing him to steer his fall.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“The Sergeant knew the risks when she accepted the mission,” Senator Hayworth stated, “but I understand exactly what you mean. Out there in all that water alone…”

“Remember, she did know the Captain was going to jump,” the Chairman noted.

“I think the girl has a real set of balls on her. No pun intended,” Senator Lawson glanced back and forth between his two panel members.

“This Captain Logan should be commended on his effort in her recovery,” Senator Hayworth said.

“You are right, the man has courage,” the suntanned junior Senator quickly agreed.

“He does but this is not out of the ordinary for him. His service record states he routinely accepts these assignments.
It appears he is somewhat a thrill seeker,” the Chairman observed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The CID officer slowly circled riding the thermals while scanning the blue ocean underneath him for his target. When he came about again he looked north; there she is he thought…about two hundred yards away he saw the young operative bob up and down in the waves. The captain steered his parachute towards her when only a short distance remained he released the nomex pack into the water.

Amber waved at the parachutist as he passed overhead then swam to the floating package in the water. After several attempts she succeeded in clutching the “D” ring connected to the package and pulled with all her strength releasing the inflation device. The package exploded into a large, yellow rubber raft.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Based upon what the Colonel reported we have the makings of a very fine operative. She needs much more training and a firm hand. It was a good call by Major Brewer to prevent her further involvement with the target,” Senator Gloria Hayworth noted.

“The major convinced the bodyguard to become the DEA’s mole by persuading him that Corazon was behind the death of his family in Columbia. Also she was able to coordinate the faux shooting on the boat,” added the junior senator from Michigan.

“You are right, Jim. Major Brewer appears to be an effective field leader. Maybe it’s time she should be in charge of her own operation,” the Chairman offered.

“She needs to continue to mentor this Kain – girl,” Senator Hayworth stated. “Did the report state where she is at now?”
Senator Russell flipped through the report quickly and discovered the page he was looking for, “Here it is…the University of Missouri at St Louis. It seems she is also working at a local gay club, called ‘Heaven’.”

“What is she doing there?” the chairman asked.

“Performing…dancing and lip syncing, it says,” replied Senator Lawson.

“Tom, I meant at the University,” said the silver-haired chairman

The deeply tanned man leafed through the file again, “Oh…ummm…it appears she hasn’t picked a major yet…she is listed as undecided.”

“We better get her to decide to stay with us,” Senator Hayworth stated.

“I think we all know who we should send to convince her,” Senator Lawson declared.

“Are we agreed?” He looked at both panel members who nodded their assent, “I will have my assistant contact her.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“I’ll catch you girls later. I’m heading to the library; I’ve got to study for my constitutional theory class.”

“What is it with you and this class load?” Heather asked the blonde girl. “I mean you’re a freshman…start slow and work your way up to those classes.”

“Yeah Amber, don’t max out your first year here,” Lori commented not taking her eyes from her phone.

“Look, I’ll catch up with you later. Ok? We’ll meet at ‘the Yard’ about seven tonight?”

“Well, can I borrow your pink top? You know the sheer one with the three quarters sleeves?”
Amber nodded at her friend and said, “I thought you already borrowed it…but sure. Do you have the key to my apartment?

“Yeah, I still have it. Thanks babe…we’ll catch you later,” Heather said taking the arm of the dark haired girl who did not look up from her phone but furiously continued to text.

Amber smiled watching the pair go down the sidewalk on the bright spring afternoon, turned on a heel and headed for her date with Hobbes, Locke, Madison and other political thinkers. A slight breeze pushed her blonde hair off her shoulders as she walked quickly to the building then up the stairs to enter the enormous foyer where the click of her heels on the marble floor caused several young men sitting in the lobby to stare openly at the pretty coed.

Amber knew many of her classmates thought she dressed oddly or a better description perhaps was too well for a college student. She rarely wore the baggy sweatpants along with any of the various Tritons t-shirts most of her friends wore to class but dressed in skirts or slacks with blouses. She couldn’t understand why with the beautiful clothes available to her friends they would only choose the ugly, loose athletic wear. Amber shrugged her shapely shoulders as she walked into the stacks and to her favorite desk.

She fished her smart phone with the pink otter box cover from her purse to check the time. The digital display read a quarter past seven; Amber discovered she had missed several texts since she turned her ringer off. She flicked the switch activating the ringer then gathered her books and tablet, slipped them in the leather case. She threw the case’s strap over her shoulder and darted between the book cases to make her way out of the stacks back into the lobby area where a few students remained when her phone played a familiar tune she hadn’t heard in months. She retrieved the smart phone once more. A smile spread across her face then she swiftly thumbed the security code across the touch pad and hit the answer key.

“Hello, Major?” she asked cautiously.

“Hello dear, how have you been?”

“I’m doing great. I simply love school,” Amber replied beaming hearing her friend’s voice.

“I’m glad to hear that. Are you busy tonight?”

“Are you in town? What did you have in mind?”

“Would you like to watch a movie? Would you consider the cinema of Yemen?”

Amber’s mind went blank for a second upon hearing those words then she began to think of the possibilities.