Executive Solutions
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter One – Amnesia

She felt the sting of the needle and then her world went black.

Later… Strange voices coming to her like from a dream, she couldn’t move or open her eyes.

“Did he fuck her?”

“What?”

“Did he fuck her? We need to make it look like he fucked her.”

“I doubt they’ll run any DNA given the evidence we’re going to leave but if they find a few different semen samples, it will collaborate that she’s a hooker,” the man grunted as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants.

“Roll her over and pull down her panties.”

She felt the man roll her over so that she was face down on the bed, lift her dress and pull down her underwear. She couldn’t move a muscle or utter a sound.

The bed creaked as the man climbed on to it, he opened her legs and knelt between them.

“She does have a great ass,” he chuckled as he improved his growing erection.

“Not my type at all but I’ll make my contribution,” the other man pulled his penis out of his trousers and began to masturbate as he watched his friend position himself between the woman’s shapely stocking-clad legs.

“Oh yeah! She’s fuckin’ tight!” the man pushed his erection against her sphincter and slowly penetrated the woman.

She wanted to scream. The man’s penis was unlubricated and her anus was tight; the pain seared through her body but she could do nothing.

“Gimme that!” the man pointed to a tube of lubricant on the bedside table.

He extracted his penis and liberally coated his erection with the viscous jelly.

This time he slid in easy and he enjoyed the feel of her tight anus clutching at his cock as he thrust back and forth.

The woman was relieved that most of the pain had stopped but was still distressed that the man was taking her anally while she was comatose. The man’s cock slid easily in and out of her back passage and she heard him grunting with pleasure and felt his cock get harder.

“Oh shit!” the man cursed as he ejaculated deep in the woman’s anus.

“Jesus, that wasn’t half bad. Imagine how good it would be if she was awake?” he said as he extracted himself.

He wiped his dripping penis on the woman’s buttocks.

“Move!” the other man gasped.

“What?”

“Move or you’ll get this,” the other man was furiously masturbating and his angry cock looked ready to explode.

The man leapt out of the way just as his accomplice sprayed his issue over the woman’s thighs, buttocks and back.

“There! My contribution,” he zipped up while his partner pulled up his pants.

“Ok let’s get this shit done. Let’s take some pictures for the boss and get the fuck out of here,” the man said.

“Roll her back over while I get the gun.”

The accomplice rolled the woman over, face up on the bed. He left her dress hiked up and her panties draped around her ankle. The other man put the silenced nine-millimetre pistol in her hand and placed his gloved hand over hers and put her finger inside the trigger guard.

“Look out,” the man said.

He pointed the weapon at the wall and pulled the trigger twice, pressing the woman’s finger against the trigger.

The weapon made a ‘phut’ sound when it discharged; it was nearly noiseless.

“There’ll be plenty of GSR on her hand and wrist,” the man said, carefully lowering the woman’s arm onto the bed, ensuring that the pistol remained in her hand.

The woman moaned.

“Fuck! How can the bitch still be alive?” the accomplice whined.

“Gimme the kit,” the man said.

He took a syringe out of the little black bag and carefully checked the dose of the drug. He searched for the small pinprick in the crook of her left forearm and inserted the needle into the tiny wound and pressed the plunger.

“That’s her gone. Let’s check everything one last time, get the pics, and get the fuck out of here.”

The woman passed into oblivion.

Much later… The woman groaned.

She felt herself floating, still semi-conscious. She forced herself back into consciousness and opened her eyes.

The ceiling was coated with white textured polyurethane paint common to most cheap hotels. It was flyspecked and stained with the residue of thousands of cigarettes. Her sense of smell began to function. Stale cigarette smoke, stale booze, a faint hint of disinfectant, a scintilla of semen, and ominously, gunsmoke.

The woman tried to think. She couldn’t remember her name or anything prior to the two men violating her. Besides her amnesia she just didn’t feel right; it was like she was wearing the wrong skin.

It took her nearly an hour before she regained any motor skills. She was able to move her fingers and toes and then she was able to wriggle them. Once she was able to move her extremities, her controllable bodily functions quickly returned.

She turned her head and saw a bedside table. On it was a cheap clock radio, a tube of personal lubricant, a foil of condoms, and a roll of banknotes. She turned the other way and saw the interior of a decrepit hotel room with cheap faded curtains pulled closed against the windows.

She looked down and saw that she was clad in a red sequined evening gown that was split to the thigh on one side. The dress had been rucked up exposing her legs clad in what appeared to be expensive hosiery; a pair of black satin panties hung from one ankle and her feet were clad in red high-heels.

It still didn’t feel quite right. She let go of the pistol and rubbed the small sting on her inner elbow; it itched.

She summoned all her efforts and was able to sit up. Nausea and vertigo immediately hit her but she fought the urge to lie down and rest. She reached down and pulled her panties up her legs. It was only when she got them to the top of her thighs that realised why she felt so perplexed.

Between her legs was a full set of male genitalia.

Was she a woman or man?

Her thoughts were feminine but she also felt some maleness. She shook her head and tried her hardest to think, but try as she might she was unable to remember anything.

“Maybe when the drugs wear off,” she said, surprising herself.

Her voice was sultry; feminine but dusky. Sensuous, she thought.

She was able to rise and sit on the edge of the bed. She eased herself up and slid her panties into place and pulled down the hem of her dress.

Then she saw the body.

The man was heavyset and balding; naked except for a pair of boxer shorts. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling.

She kicked off her heels so she could maintain her precarious balance and took a step closer. The man had a neat hole in the centre of his forehead. There was a pool of coagulating blood blooming from the exit wound soaking into the carpet.

The woman immediately snapped her head around and looked at the pistol on the bed. She had awakened clutching it and she vaguely remembered the man forcing her to fire it. She quickly found the two bullet holes in the far wall.

She looked around the room. There was an opened bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the coffee table and two glasses of the golden liquid beside it; one of them stained with lipstick. There was a small mirror with white powder arranged in small lines, and a pill bottle had spilled its contents onto the table. Little blue tablets. The ashtray was half full and two packets of cigarettes sat beside the liquor. One Marlboro Red the other Marlboro Menthol Lights. Did she smoke?

Her mouth tasted rancid and she detected the taste of bourbon and cigarettes and something vaguely medicinal.

“What the fuck is going on? Who am I? Why am I here?” she murmured.

There was a sofa and two lounge chairs adjacent to the coffee table and the woman carefully picked her way between the body and the table and fell into a chair. An expensive looking suit and a shirt and tie were draped over the back of the other chair. She instinctively picked up the menthol cigarettes and lit one up.

She studied the glowing tip of the cigarette.

“I guess I’m a Marlboro Menthol girl?” she giggled dementedly.

“But I’m not a real girl am I?” she frowned and tried to make sense of her surroundings.

She coughed, the smoke burned her throat and she was about to stub out the cigarette but then she realised that the smoke had soothed her, provided her with some sense of clarity.

She walked over to the full-length mirror and looked at herself. Her makeup was professionally applied but garish; dark eyeliner and long mascaraed eyelashes, turquoise and mauve eyeshadow, bright red lipstick, rouge highlighted her cheekbones. She was attractive in a slatternish sort of way. Her dress hugged her lithe figure, her breasts were small but the swell of them filled her decolletage.

She put her hands there and found she had a small but well-defined bosom. Her skin was smooth and soft, her legs long and shapely. She thrust her leg out. She was wearing sheer hold-up stockings. Her hair was coal black worn shoulder-length with cerise highlights. It was straight with bangs.

She looked like a high-class hooker.

She rummaged around in the man’s trousers and found a wallet devoid of any identification other than a single business card. It was printed on expensive card stock. She read it: ‘Executive Solutions, Kelsey Reka’ and a phone number. Blue raised font on a crisp white background. Seeing the phone number on the card gave her an idea and she searched the area around the coffee table and found an iphone on the floor. It was locked.

“Shithouse mouse!” she hissed.

She put the card and the phone on the table. She saw a small silver clutch purse on the floor beside the bed and her heart skipped beat. If it was hers it might provide her with the answers she needed. First off; who was she?

The clutch was empty except for some tissues and a hundred dollars in twenties. No ID, nothing.

She drew on her cigarette and surveyed the scene. She crushed out her cigarette and thought hard. If someone entered the room and found her dead or comatose on the bed what would they think?

She surmised that she was supposed to be found lying on the bed. A recently fucked transsexual hooker, her anus and body bearing traces of semen, a gun in her hand. Two wild shots in the wall and a third that had killed the man. The booze, the cocaine, blue tablets that were likely Viagra, a roll of banknotes and a dead man naked except for his boxers.

They would have found gunshot residue on her hand.

The hooker and the man had fallen out over something. Had the man had become violent? Was it a robbery gone wrong? Was it a sting or a scam?

Either way the logical explanation was that the hooker had shot the man after having sex with him.

But the woman knew the scene was staged. Her recollections of the two men manipulating the spectacle in the room supported her thesis. If only she could remember something about herself. Anything!

She heard the sound of approaching sirens on the street outside and although the sirens could mean anything they spurned her into action. She picked up her clutch and stuffed the roll of cash from the bedside table, the cell phone, and the business card into it. She went over to the coffee table and picked up the menthols and a bic lighter and stuffed them in the purse. She slipped on her high-heels and scanned the hotel room one last time.

She cracked open the door and saw that the corridor was deserted. She took a deep breath and stepped outside and closed the door behind her. She made her way to the elevator and twice had to rest against the wall to catch her breath. The powerful sedative that she had been administered to her was still affecting her coordination and clouding her thoughts. She pressed the call button and breathed deeply as she waited for the car.

The elevator pinged and mercifully it was empty. She pressed the button for the ground floor.

The foyer was also deserted except for the receptionist, a dishevelled looking fat man thumbing through a girly magazine; and a black man wearing a suit smoking a cheroot sitting in a lounge chair reading a copy of USA Today. Both men looked up at the woman as she carefully stepped from the elevator car and purposely strode across the foyer.

“Hey honey. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” the receptionist chuckled lewdly.

He watched her every step, studying her swaying buttocks in the tight dress. Under the desk he rubbed his erect penis through his pants.

The black man glanced up at her and then he went back to studying his newspaper.

The woman made it outside and gulped in the cold air. It was night and she was obviously in the seedy district of whatever city she was in. She looked around and tried to force herself to remember where she was but nothing triggered her memory. The streets were wet from drizzle, the neon signs advertising X-rated movies and cruise lounges reflected off the pavement. People either scurried along purposely or drifted aimlessly. It was a tableau of desperation and she felt no affinity to the surroundings.

Where did she go now? She didn’t know who she was or why she was here; she certainly had no inkling of where she lived.

The obvious choice was to get a cab to somewhere more civilised, somewhere less depressing. Hookers in hotpants, miniskirts and tight leggings offered their services to the occupants of slow moving vehicles cruising the street and dealers plied their wares on the street corners.

The woman knew that hanging around the fleapit hotel was the least desirable course of action and she turned right and walked as steadily as she could along the sidewalk. She kept her eyes down, only glancing up at the approaching headlights hoping to snag a vacant taxi.

“Shit bitch! I tag you the best John you gonna get in a week and you walk past me like me like I don’t exist,” the black man from the foyer gripped her wrist and began to pull her along.

The woman tottered on her heels as the man half dragged her into an alley.

It was narrow and dark and the man pushed her against the cold brickwork.

“Come on sugar; I know you scored up there. That guy’s watch was a gold Patek Philippe and his suit must have cost at least a thousand dollars,” the black man had her pinned against the wall, his face inches from hers.

The woman tried her hardest to think who the man might be. Was he her pimp? Was she a prostitute?

She thought quickly and put her hand in her clutch and found the roll of bills. She hadn’t even looked at their denomination but she stripped off a handful and held them up in front of her. The man snatched them from her and stepped back a pace and counted them in the gloom of the alley.

“Sheeit momma! That’s nearly a grand! I know you some fine looking pussy but you must be some hot shit for fatty to pay you two grand. Half of your take was the deal right?” the black man was handsome, he looked a little like Denzel Washington, his teeth gleamed in the gloom.

The man stuffed the bills into his pocket and stepped forward again so that he was face to face with the woman.

“And don’t forget the other half of the deal,” the man grinned.

The woman had no idea what he talking about.

“Sheeit! I ain't got all night. Get to giving me what you promised,” the man pushed the woman down on her knees in the filthy alley.

The woman was too surprised to react and fell to her knees looking up at the black man.

“Sheeit! I gotta do everything?” he cursed.

The man unzipped his flies and his long thick cock fell out of his pants at eye level with the woman. He pushed her face into his groin and guided his cock to her lips. The woman instinctively opened her mouth and began to suckle the proffered organ.

The woman had no idea how she knew this was the right thing to do or where she had learned her fellatrix skills but she suckled the man’s glans and used her hand to stroke the shaft. When he was fully erect the man began to fuck her mouth and at first the woman began to gag but intuitively she began breathing through her nose while she sucked the black phallus with the bulging purple glans.

She slavered at the man’s glans and then ran her tongue up and down the shaft; she worked her tongue on his fraenulum and was rewarded with a sigh of contentment from the man. She fellated the man for about five minutes before he dragged her to her feet.

“Hot damn woman; you are the best cocksucker I’ve ever had but I want my piece of pussy,” the man moaned.

Still not certain what she was supposed to do the man spun her around and pushed her against the wall. He lifted her dress and pulled down her panties. He prodded at her sphincter with his large cock and the woman knew what was about to happen. She remembered the man doing the same to her while she lay drugged on the bed.

She struggled and tried to extricate herself but the man pushed her hard against the wall.

“Come on sugar, a deal is deal,” the man panted as he fumbled behind her trying to find a way into her rectum.

“Ohh!” the woman gasped as the man’s cock slid inside her.

Mercifully for her she still retained some of the semen and lube from when the man had fucked her on the bed in the hotel and this provided lubrication. The man’s cock was huge and it stretched her anus and she grimaced with pain.

The man began to fuck her with long slow strokes and the woman realised that resistance was futile. She concentrated on relaxing her sphincter. The man pulled her close to him and kissed her on the neck and his hands found her breasts, he squeezed them through the material of her dress and her bra.

The woman found some sort of defensive response mechanism deep inside her psyche; something learned or ingrained. She somehow knew the best way to conclude the assault on her was to capitulate and participate willingly.

The woman placed her hands on the wall and pushed out her buttocks so that the man could fuck her deeply. The man grinned and gripped her hips and thrust himself in and out of her tight ass.

The woman ground her buttocks against the man and got into rhythm with him, pushing back to meet his thrusts, gyrating her soft ass against his groin.

A strange thing happened. The man’s penis began to sexually excite her; his bulbous glans was pushing on her prostate and its girth stimulated her sphincter. The woman felt a deep sensual awakening in her anus spreading to her groin and she began to become erect.

“Oh my!” she gasped.

“That’s it sugar. You enjoy what daddy is giving you,” the man moaned.

The man penetrated her deeper and pulled her against him. She found the presence of the man’s body against her and the feel of his groin pushing on her buttocks as he fucked her comforting as well as arousing. She sighed and surrendered to the inevitable.

The man fucked her harder and faster and she gasped and rutted in concert with him. He twisted her face sideways and kissed her and she kissed him back, her tongue slurping on his, their lips crushed together.

“Oh yeah honey! You’re my honeysuckle!” the man drove himself deep inside her and shuddered.

The woman felt his cock convulse inside her anus and instinctively her hand found her own penis and squeezed it. Her own issue dribbled from her erect penis and splattered on the filthy pavement as the man ejaculated inside her.

The man howled and she shuddered with a paroxysm of lust as he climaxed.

They clung to each other as they orgasmed, the man pulling her back to him and she gripped his thighs, pushing back and grinding herself against him.

They stayed like that until their lust was sated. The man extracted himself from her and spun her around and kissed her amorously.

He looked into her eyes.

“Damn bitch you know how to strike a bargain! Nearly a grand in cash and the best tranny fuck I had in a long time! You ever need a short-time pimp and lookout again I’m your man,” the man pushed his deflating penis back into his pants and zipped.

The woman was still dazed and confused. She pulled her panties back into place and smoothed her dress. The bump of her penis showed at the front of her sheath dress and she pushed it between her legs and hitched her panties tighter to keep it in place.

“Ok girl. You stay safe now you hear,” the man began to walk away.

“Hey!” the woman called after him.

The man stopped and turned around.

“Do you know who I am?” she beseeched the man.

“Sheeit no bitch! That was part of the deal!” the man shook his head and continued on his way.

The woman exited the alley and mercifully found a yellow cab with its vacancy light on cruising the street looking for a fare and she flagged it down.

She climbed into the back seat.

“Where to?” the Pakistani driver looked at her in the rearview mirror.

“Is there a Holiday Inn in this city?” she asked.

The woman was perplexed. She knew nothing about herself but she knew about hotels? She needed somewhere to think.

The driver dropped the flag and accelerated.

They left the decrepit part of the city and entered a well-lit commercial district. The woman saw a shopping mall and an illuminated Kmart sign advertising twenty four-hour service.

“Pull over here and wait,” she handed the driver a twenty from the roll in her clutch purse.

“I’ll double that when we get to the hotel,” she said.

The diver nodded. He looked perplexed but forty dollars for a fifteen-dollar fare was not to be passed up.

The lights in the store were bright and garish and she looked out of place in her evening gown but she paid no attention to the stares of the customers.

She bought cosmetics, toiletries, and in the ladies clothing section, some leggings, a top, underwear and a pair of flat shoes. She also bought a small suitcase.

For a short while she wondered if she should be buying men’s clothes, but she was obviously not presenting herself as male, even though she had male genitalia.

She figured she had made enough purchases to make a start, she obviously couldn’t go out tomorrow in her evening down.

She stopped at an all-night liquor store and bought a fifth of Jack Daniel’s and a carton of cigarettes. She somehow knew that these were her drugs of choice and it seemed logical as both were present in the hotel room where she had regained consciousness.

The taxi driver raised his eyebrows at her as she piled the bags containing her purchases onto the back seat.

“Fuck off Apu, just take me to the Holiday Inn,” she hissed, she was tired, confused, and in no need for a confrontation.

The taxi driver stopped out front of the Holiday Inn and with the offer of a further five-dollar tip on top of the doubled fare he helped her inside with her purchases.

The foyer was bereft of customers at this late hour and the woman strode to the counter where a young man was stifling a yawn whilst sliding his finger absentmindedly across his cell phone.

“I’d like a suite if you have one,” the woman said fanning three fifty-dollar bills on the counter.

The man worked the keyboard and then slipped a registration card onto the counter.

“We have one suite available madam, if you could just fill this out,” he looked her up and down like she was dogshit on his shoe.

The woman knew that she looked like a poorly used hooker and didn’t resent his attitude. She knew that she had nothing in her possession that she could use for identification but scrambled around in her purse in the vain hope that she might have missed something that identified her. She found the ‘Executive Solutions’ business card and dropped it on the counter as she continued to rummage around in her purse.

The young man immediately became alert when he saw the card.

“I’m so sorry ma’am. I’ll have your bags bought up to the Ambassador suite,” the young man looked alarmed.

He pushed the bank notes on the counter back at her; mystified at the change in attitude she stuffed the notes back in her clutch purse.

“Please enjoy your stay,” he swiped a room key to activate it and offered it to the bemused woman with a shaking hand.

He picked up the house phone and uttered some words and a bellhop appeared out of nowhere and picked up her purchases and guided her to the elevator.

The elevator stopped on the ‘Ambassador Floor’ and the bellhop escorted her to a luxury suite.

The woman showered, still perplexed that she had a woman’s body but with a man’s genitalia, and changed into a pair of fresh new panties and satin full-slip. She opened the Jack and poured a generous amount over ice.

She opened the sliding door to her balcony and enjoyed a cigarette. She was tired, confused, abused, and suffering from amnesia, but she felt safe. She slipped under the covers of her king-sized bed and was ready to sleep but her mind was racing. She clicked the remote for the TV and selected an all-news station to provide some background noise.

A pretty Asian reporter sat on a stool, her short skirt showing a lot of leg.

“And in breaking news, alleged Mafioso Capo, Franco Delgado, was found dead in a downtown hotel room tonight. Early reports are that he was shot dead by a prostitute and that drugs were found at the scene. CNN contacted his wife for comment but she refused to respond. Stay tuned for updates.”

A recent picture of Franco Delgado was projected on the screen. It was the man the woman had found shot in the head in the sleazy hotel room.

“Who the fuck am I?” the woman sobbed.

To be continued

Executive Solutions
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Two – State Forest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had so many questions and so few answers.

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

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

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

The bellhop looked at her quizzically and uttered one phrase.

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

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

The hotel receptionist was assisting police with their enquires.

“Fuck!” the woman clicked off the TV.

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

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

Someone had slipped a card under her door.

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

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

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

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

“Fuck!” she whispered.

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

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

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

“Hello?” she whispered into the phone.

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

“Who is this?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man’s smile widened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither got their wish.

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

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

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

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

The woman slept soundly.

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

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

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

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

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

The woman clicked the TV off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boy gasped and stared away.

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

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

The boy nodded tentatively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh lordy!” he moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hot damn!” she boy whooped.

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

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

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

“I wanna see it,” the boy gasped.

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

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

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

“I wanna see it come!” he gulped.

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

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

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

It was a short ride.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The woman chuckled and rose to meet his thrusts.

To be continued…

Our amnesiac transsexual girl on the run is in hiding with worldly loudmouth pimp LeBron and young hunky wanna-be cowboy Reese, holed in a cheap motel. An uneasy truce exists between them as they play happy families and try to find out more about the mysterious Executive Solutions and who is Kelsey Rika?

The woman was dozing fitfully when the iphone buzzed. She snatched it up and read the screen.

‘LeBron’ it said.

She swiped the screen and answered.

“Sheeit bitch you in some hot water now,” it was the pimp from the hotel lobby and later back-alley humper, but of no use to her now that she could think of.

“I thought you didn’t know me?” the woman replied.

“No you aksed me ‘do you know who I am?’ which I don’t. But we been working for a while using this phone number sugar; this the number you gave me. First and last time we actually met in person was two nights ago at the hotel where the Mafia guy was killed,” the man said.

“Did I give you my name?” she asked.

“Sheeit no! And you told me not to ask neither; told me the cash and a blow job, maybe a good fuckin’ would be ample reward and not to contact you once the gig was over,” the pimp replied.

“All right! All right! I have lot of questions but first what do you mean by I’m in hot water?” she asked.

“Well I saw the news the next day, where they say you offed the mark I found you, Franco Delgado. Took me no time to find the sand nigger who took you to a downtown hotel via Kmart after the deal went south. All us coloured people like Kmart,” he chuckled down the phone.

“Get on with it LeBron! And cut the Black vernacular; it’s stopped being amusing,” the woman was getting exasperated but remained hopeful.

“Well even a pimp like me knows to look at the security tapes at that hotel where you went to. Shows you getting into a fine black Mercedes in the underground carpark with some handsome guy with hair like an eighties ballad singer right?”

“Cept he turned up taped to a tree in some Bumfuck state forest and guess what? Who gonna believe some nice white lady strangled that murdering rapist pervert?” LeBron chuckled.

“Now I doubt there be many that could tie all that together cept maybe those two white-trash assassins that was chasing you, I saw them on the cameras in the car park too, they missed you by seconds by the way!”

“But; as I have done so before; once again I would like to offer you my services to you,” LeBron finished his rambling speech.

The woman thought about it quickly. LeBron knew something about her; he’d brokered the deal with her regarding whatever she was going to do with Delgado. If he wanted to sell her out, he would have sold all this info to the two white-trash killers. He’d tied everything together so he was smart.

“If you’re so smart can you find me now?” she asked.

“Your phone GPS is blocked, so no. All I can guess you is that you far away from that state forest,” he replied.

“This isn’t my phone; it belongs to some guy named Kelsey Reka who works for Executive Solutions but everyone seems to know I have it. Anyway come to the King’s Court Motel on the outskirts of Marana Arizona and we’ll see what we see,” she decided to finally trust somebody.

She heard the pings and blips as he bought up the map app on his phone.

“Sheeit! You might as well be in Bumfuck Arizona! I’ll take my time and drive the double nickel and see you tomorrow morning.

“Ask for Sharon Stone,” she grinned into the phone.

“Sheeit!” the phone went dead.

She had tried to access applications on the phone while she was in the call but she couldn’t. Without the password all she could do was receive calls on the phone.

She heard the crunch of gravel and the screech of tired brakes from Reese’s pickup as he parked outside her room. She had eventually coaxed the boy’s name from him.

Reese! How fucking apt! She was fucking a wannabe cowboy named Reese who was dumb as a bag of hammers and she was also waiting for a black pimp named LeBron to come help rescue her!

She reached for the remains of the fifth of Jack Daniel’s she’d thrown in her suitcase and swallowed it straight from the bottle.

She knew Reese had two bottles amongst the purchases she had sent him for. Well at least he better have!

After she had fucked Reese a second time, and a good fucking it was, just like the first, the woman had pressed her demands on the boy.

“So Reese right? That’s really your name?” the woman had found the fifth of bourbon and poured herself a shot.

She lit a cigarette.

“These are non smoking rooms Miz Stone,” he pointed to the No Fumar sign next to the door.

“Yeah right cause this place is so classy. Anyway; was your dad by any chance a fan of the Laredo TV series that ran in the late sixties?” she finished her drink and poured another.

The boy grinned.

“He watches that show all the time on DVD.”

“Explains things even better; bet your daddy is a Texan,” she smiled as the boy nodded.

“Well that explains everything. Look; go do what I said about registering me as Sharon Stone and I’m writing you a shopping list of things I need. I’ll go out later to buy some clothes and ladies things but I’d rather not show my face too much around your small burg splashing cash,” she smiled at the boy.

He looked confused so she drew him to her kissed him and he was soon smart as a whip.

“You know what frugal means right? That means you buy the best products at their lowest price ok?” she said as she wrote her shopping list on a piece of motel stationery.

She ripped off the paper from the pad and gave it to him with a wad of cash. He studied it carefully for a while and looked up and grinned at the woman.

“Miz Stone I can get everything on this list; most at discount prices. The only item I don’t understand is ‘personal lubricant’; where might I find that?” he frowned at her.

“Right next to Trojans and generic Viagra at the super mart or drug store sweetie. You find it or Sharon Stone is not offering her ass to you any time soon,” she helped him out the door and blew a long sigh of relief.

She rubbed her rump and climbed back in the shower.

The woman helped Reese quickly unload his pickup and they arranged the packages on the second bed, which was a single.

She put four six packs of beer and some cokes in the small fridge and the carton of Marlboro Menthol Lights on a shelf along with some snacks; the two bottles of Jack went on the shelf beside the smokes.

Reese sat on the bed and took the big packages out of their wrapping; a laptop computer; a prepaid wifi hub, a prepaid mobile phone and some other sundries. Then he sat there spinning a tube of Four Seasons personal lubricant in his hand.

The woman opened a beer and lit a cigarette; she turned around and saw Reese sitting on the single bed staring at the tube as he spun it. He looked up.

“Is this the right stuff?” he smiled.

The boy was half her age, but he was well over the age of consent and he was damn handsome, if a little rangy and unkempt. He has potential, she thought.

She smiled seductively at him; she was dressed only in her leggings and a tight t-shirt and she could see the effect she was having on him.

“Would you like to find out?” she grinned mischievously.

“Miz Stone there is nothing I would rather do; but if I don’t get cracking on my daily chores my old man will kick my ass. I’m already two hours or so behind,” he looked disappointed.

She put out her smoke and put down her beer and walked over to him.

“Well I’d like to reward you; but because you’re in such a rush so let me just do this quickly,” she grinned.

The woman dropped to her knees and unzipped the Reese’s flies. His cock popped out like a jack-in-the-box.

She lowered her head and licked it tentatively.

“Ohh ma’am; I’ve never had a girl do that for me,” he moaned.

“I’m no girl, I'm a woman,” she looked up at him and then engulfed his cock with her mouth.

She sucked on it a little and then worked her lips up and down his thick veiny shaft.

“Ohh god,” he moaned.

The woman put her hand to use; stroking the shaft of his rock hard cock as her mouth worked the glans. She sucked it, her lips wrapped around the corona while her tongue flicked across the eye and the fraenulum.

“Ohh jeez!” the boy was close already.

The woman took her hand away and worked her lips up and down the shaft of his erection vigorously while her tongue lapped at his glans.

“Ohh jeez!” the boy put his hands out and held her face and fucked it.

The woman sucked hard on his cock as he fucked her mouth and she was rewarded with gobbets of creamy semen which soon filled her mouth and she had to swallow it; which was no inconvenience to her.

She held onto his thighs and sucked the last of his issue from his throbbing cock.

She smiled up at him and was pleased to see a look of ecstasy on his face.

She kept her grip on his thighs to help her to her feet and then she bent down to kiss him.

Reese looked puzzled, and then, realising what she was going to do, he baulked.

“If you don’t kiss me because I’ve got the taste of your cum on my breath that’s the last time you are getting any of that,” she said tersely; but she was jibing the boy.

He pulled her face to his and kissed her desirously; driving his tongue into her mouth and pulled her on top of him as he fell back on the bed.

She broke the kiss and climbed off him; putting his penis away and closing his flies.

“Don’t you wash your pecker until you shower after work; that way you can get a taste my mouth whenever you get bored doing your chores,” she chuckled.

“Huh?” Reese looked confused.

“You’ll figure it out cowboy,” she pulled him to his feet and led him to the door where she stopped him.

“Anyone comes looking for me; you don’t know me and haven’t seen me. No one needs to know about me Reese. No one! Ok?” she looked at him seriously.

“Who is going to believe that dumb old Reese has the most beautiful transsexual in the USA locked up in one of his old man’s motel rooms and she makes love to him like she really likes him,” he blushed.

She kissed his cheek.

“You are not dumb Reese, you are sweet, and I do like you,” she patted his buttocks and pushed him out the door.

She picked up her beer and sipped it while she worked on her purchases. She set up the laptop and the wifi hub and went through the rigmarole of registering them online. She smiled to herself as she used the name Sharon Stone and punched in a fictional address somewhere in California.

She did the same with the phone and the wifi hub when she activated the SIMs.

She changed her drink to JD and coke, lit a cigarette, and went online on the laptop Googling ‘Executive Solutions’ first. The results weren’t helpful and mainly bought up business executive headhunters or software developers. She thought she’d stuck gold when one link that bought up a Mercenary outfit, but it ended up being fictitious.

The woman threw in a few variations into the search bar but nothing came up that helped her. Next she threw Kelsey Reka’s into the search and that produced nothing either.

“Shithouse mouse!” she was getting frustrated.

She topped off her drink and entered a search for the Mafioso Franco Delgado and hit dynamite. He was described as being a boss of the ailing West Coast Cosa Nostra which had lost power to other ethnic gangs mainly Russian, Latino and African American. Her research described a crime family in decline that had lost most of their drug, prostitution, gambling and standover rackets to the other ethnic gangs.

There were rumours that the family had diversified into pornography, particularly the lucrative ‘special interest’ markets such as bestiality, heavy dominance and forced sex, and even suggestions that they were producing snuff movies and kiddie porn; although non of it was substantiated.

They were also believed to be involved in people smuggling but again it was whispered that they specialised; bringing young girls to sell as sex slaves or to use in their porn productions.

She played around online but couldn’t find anything further to help identify herself or to fill in the gaps in her missing memory. She even Googled the State Forest Sadist and got all the details of his grisly crimes. She was glad that she had killed him but she truly believed that it was an absolute fluke that she happened to get into his car at the hotel. Here was no reason she could think of to link him to either Delgado or Executive Solutions.

The woman shut down the laptop, fixed her makeup, put on a bra and fresh t-shirt and stepped outside. Being March the temperature was quite cool but bearable and, as expected, quite dry. She found Reese cleaning the pool and after a bit of flirtatious banter, the promise of dinner and maybe something ‘special’ for dessert she was able to cajole the keys for his pickup from him.

She drove around and found a mall not too far away where she parked the old banger, put on a pair of large lensed sunglasses and hit the shops. She topped up her meagre supply of clothing trying on some skirts and blouses, dresses, jeans, more leggings and some accessories. She found some nice shoes at reasonable prices and spent quite a while browsing lingerie. She bought some nice pieces for herself and some that she was sure would delight Reese. She bought more cosmetics and toiletries and then looked around for something simple but tasty to have for dinner and two bottles of good wine. She hadn’t had a proper meal that she could remember.

She was enjoying herself and stopped to sit on a bench and eat an icecream when she looked up at the ceiling and noticed that there were surveillance cameras placed subtly and strategically to cover the whole mall. Could the people at Executive Solutions get their hands on the video? She likely being paranoid but her senses told her to always consider the ‘what if’. She ditched her treat and pushed her trolley out to the carpark ensuring her sunglasses remained in place.

When she returned the pickup to motel there was a beat up Caddy parked outside her room and Reese was sitting on the rail over porch that ran the length of motel rooms.

The woman climbed out of the tuck and put her hands on her hips and nodded at the Caddy indignantly.

“Some nig…Some black man says he knows you. He asked for Sharon Stone and he described you so I figured he was someone you knew,” Reese slowly shook his head.

“What did I tell you? I told you no one needs to know about me; you duffus,” she punched him playfully in the arm.

His upper arm was all muscle and he wouldn’t have felt a thing but Reese looked sheepishly at the ground like a chastened child.

“You grab the rest of my purchases out of the truck and bring them in. Be careful with that Styrofoam cooler because it has our dinner in it.”

The woman opened the door and there was the man she now knew as LeBron lying on her bed changing channels on the TV.

“Sheeit woman! You don’t got any of the premium channels on this thing,” LeBron said in the way of greeting.

She noticed a tumbler of Jack and a half-smoked cigarette on the bedside table.

“Make yourself at home LeBron,” the woman said dropping an armload of shopping bags on the other bed.

“You buy me something nice sugar,” LeBron nodded at the bags with lingerie chain logo on them.

“Why do asshole men always think we buy nice underwear to please them, rather than us?” the woman walked over to fridge and poured a good measure of Jack into a glass..

LeBron gawked at her ass in the skintight leggings.

“You know seeing you in the light of day dressed in everyday clothes, you still one hot babe; for an old chick of course,” the woman knew he was riling her up and she wasn’t biting.

She deliberately wriggled her ass as she took the Coke out of the fridge and mixed her drink.

Reese came inside with the remainder of her purchases and closed the door. He did not look happy to see LeBron.

The woman smiled at the men’s jealousy over her.

“Reese, LeBron – LeBron, Reese,” you boys play nice ok?

LeBron got up off the bed and approached Reese; they checked each other out, circling each other like a couple of dogs sniffing asses but eventually they shook hands.

The woman waved her glass at Reese in a questioning way.

“Nah, still working but I’ll take a beer,” he said and the woman indicated the fridge with her chin.

Reese took a beer and they all sat down at the small wobbly table.

“So what’s the plan Stan?” LeBron spoke first.

“I’m going to pick your brain and find out as much about myself as I can. Then you’re going to help me find out more about me and Executive Solutions using the computer if we can, meanwhile Reese will finish up his chores so as not to arouse suspicion. Then I’m making us all dinner,” the woman sipped her drink.

“So now we’re some type of New Avengers? A redneck, a black pimp and a tranny whore?” LeBron quipped.

“Hey I’m no redneck,” Reese shot back, slamming his beer on the table.

“And I’m no whore! At least I’m beginning to think I’m not,” the woman replied.

“I’m just promiscuous,” she chuckled, and broke the tension as LeBron and Reese joined in.

Reese went back to work and the woman got LeBron working on the laptop while she unwrapped and put away her purchases. LeBron sneaked a peek when she began to unwrap the lingerie she had bought.

She finished putting everything away and made a start on dinner and then sat down beside LeBron with a fresh beer.

“So how do I know you?” the woman asked lighting a cigarette.

LeBron looked at the No Fumar sign, shrugged his shoulders and lit up.

“Ok this is all I know. You got my details from somewhere; I don’t know where but you contacted me by phone. Wouldn’t identify yourself other than that you knew I was a pimp who provided ‘special ladies’ for ‘special clients’. Said that you knew that I sometimes provided, shall we for the sake of convention, say professional services, for Franco Delgado.”

“You said that you knew he didn’t use his own ‘talent’ so that he kept his work and his play separate and because he knew that the other Bosses wouldn’t approve of a Mafia Boss entertaining special ladies and the other special amusements he liked to indulge in.”

“You mean transsexuals?” the woman asked.

“Yes. But also sometimes young men, and sometimes men and women both; he had, shall we say, eclectic tastes,” LeBron replied.

“Did I tell you how I knew all this?” the woman asked.

“Sheeit no! You was the most secretive motherfucker I’ve dealt with beside those Mafia assholes.”

“But you took the job?” the woman said.

“Like I said before, you offered me half the cash that you came out of that room with, a blowjob and a good fuckin’” LeBron sipped his drink.

“That doesn’t seem like a great deal for a guy like you,” the woman was sceptical.

“You said the deal was… I line you up with Delgado, fix it in a hotel room somewhere cheap and discreet and for me to stand watch in the foyer and to call you if anyone suspicious or any law enforcement types came in,” LeBron replied.

“And then you sent me this,” LeBron bought out his phone and bought up a downloaded picture on the screen.

The woman lay on silk sheets, her hair and makeup perfect. She was wearing a black satin brassiere and bikini panties, a red satin and lace suspender belt, black sheer fully-fashioned stockings and red high heels.

“I get plenty of pussy in my line of work but a T-MILF like that! I get to fuck her and get some cash and I get a finder’s fee from Delgado for finding him some hot tranny cooze, pardon my French. Anyway I’m not knocking that back babe,” LeBron grinned.

“So I prostituted myself to you and Delgado?” the woman appeared dismayed with herself.

LeBron took her hand.

“Nah! You a fine piece of pussy but I don’t thing you are a whore. You up to something; but the way you behave, you are no pros. You came out of that elevator looking like you lost everything in world you hold dear; which if you have amnesia like you say, is about right,” he squeezed her and smiled at her.

“And you are not any kind of street pimp, even though you pretend to talk like one. I sense an education coupled with street smarts under that façade,” the woman smiled wanly.

LeBron gave her a cheesy grin and once again she noticed the similarity between him and Denzel Washington.

LeBron leaned in and attempted to kiss her but the woman deflected it.

“Too soon?” LeBron smiled inquisitively and squeezed her hand again.

“I kinda promised Reese another pop tonight,” she blushed.

“Sheeit, I’m happy to share, you get no jealousy from me,” he grinned.

That handsome grinning face was hard to resist and the woman saw no need to do so. She leaned into him and kissed him and he kissed her back.

They smooched and tried to fondle but it was awkward sitting side by side on the hardback chairs.

“The bed?” LeBron gasped into her mouth.

“No time!” she panted.

She got out of her chair and ripped off her top and pulled her leggings and pantyhose down to her ankles. LeBron got the idea and he dropped his pants and underwear and sat back down on the chair. The woman reached over to the table and picked up the tube of lubricant that Reese had been playing with.

She ripped off the cap and squeezed a good size gobbet of the viscous liquid onto the head of LeBron's erection and was about to smear it all over when LeBron caught her wrist.

“This thing on a hair-trigger honey; you want quick? Well you getting quick, climb on,” LeBron smiled at her.

And she did, a little awkwardly at first with her scanties around her ankles but she got there. She put her hands around his neck, lowered her face to his and slid her tongue into his mouth as she lowered her buttocks and he slid inside her; all the way.

LeBron gripped her hips and pulled her down onto him and she obligingly wriggled her buttocks and squeezed him with her anus; their tongues intertwined and LeBron shuddered and came deep inside her.

The woman was erect but had no time to pleasure herself and didn’t really care; she was happy to satisfy LeBron and she tenderly kissed him, mewed and stroked him while he ejaculated in her. She remained in his lap and they kissed and caressed until she felt him starting to deflate.

The woman stood up and LeBron’s issue began to dribble out of her anus and she scampered for a towel. After she’d cleaned herself she tossed him the towel.

“Get cleaned up. I’m taking a shower and don’t behave like the cat who ate the canary if Reese comes over before I’ve finished getting ready,” she gathered up some things and headed for the bathroom.

“Yes ma’am,” LeBron chuckled wiping at his crotch.

The woman came out of the bathroom and Reese and LeBron both smiled when they saw her.

She had toned down the makeup but still had her ruby-red lipstick and black mascara. She was wearing a plain, figure-hugging, red sleeveless dress; the hem rested mid-thigh. Her legs were clad in shimmering, flesh-toned, holdup stockings and she was wearing those red high-heels. She wore jewellery, gold drop earrings, pendant and a bracelet.

Both men stepped forward and each kissed a cheek.

She smiled at them both.

“Wonderful,” Reese said.

“Delightful!” LeBron countered.

“Let’s eat,” the woman smiled and they each took a hand and led her to the table.

The men had set the table and found the wine and poured three glasses. They chinked glasses and the men sat down and the woman pulled out the green salad she had prepared earlier and some potato salad and coleslaw. She had bought two lobsters for her and Reese but they were huge and easily spread to three generous serves with plenty left over. There was also an assortment of shrimp, calamari and mussels.

She sat between them. She was starving, having not eaten a decent meal for three days.

“Whose goin’ to say grace,” LeBron kidded.

“Fuck that! I’m famished,” The woman heaped food on her plate and the two men laughed.

To be continued.

Executive Solutions
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Four – On The Run

“What the fuck is the dark web?” the woman asked sipping coffee sitting across from LeBron.

True to her word, the night before, the woman had lived up to her promise to give Reese something ‘special’ for dessert. LeBron took the hint and went for a drive after dinner and Reese and the woman rolled around on the bed for good while.

Reese became sulky when LeBron returned and was told that LeBron would be staying in the woman’s room.

“It’s nothing to do with money; we need to be low profile,” the woman explained.

“Well in this town a woman sharing a motel room with a ni…I mean a black man isn’t low profile!” Reese said looking very surly.

“Were you gonna call me a nigger!” LeBron looked ready to fight.

“Right you two; stop it!” the woman screeched.

“No one needs to know LeBron is here and we’ll be careful about how he comes and goes. Reese you put his vehicle registration against my name in the tenant ledger,” the woman seethed.

“And if you two don’t stop fighting, I’m closing the playground! Neither of you get any of this,” she pointed to her buttocks.

“There’s plenty of me to go around and it’s not like I’ve been rationing you two. Goddamit my ass feels like it’s been subject to more traffic than a short term parking lot!” the woman seethed.

“Ok! Ok!” LeBron and Reese said in unison.

“Anyway we are definitely sleeping in separate beds tonight and you know who is getting the single!” the woman stormed off to the bathroom and when she came out wearing the tatty robe and her underwear the boys took no interest in her.

The men had started a hand of Texas holdem, playing for nickels and dimes and she lit a cigarette, poured herself a JD and Coke and sat down with them throwing a handful of change on the table.

“This whole amnesia thing isn’t just a ruse so you can fleece us of our pocket change is it?” Reese grinned.

The tension was well and truly relieved.

In the early hours the woman felt the bedsprings give beside her.

“Don’t even, LeBron,” the woman swatted him away sleepily and he snuck back to his own bed.

The next morning found the woman and LeBron discussing the dark web.

“Look it makes sense. For some reason you wanted an assignation with Delgado. You knew where to find me and we can’t find anything about Executive Solutions on the Internet. Therefore; it’s likely the information we need exists on the dark web,” LeBron said.

The woman had made toast and used some of the leftover lobster to make open-faced lobster and salad sandwiches.

“Who the fuck knew Sharon Stone knew how to cook?” LeBron smirked but he tucked into the food.

They cleared the table and set up the laptop and sat side by side, LeBron in his boxers and t-shirt, the woman still in panties, bra and ratty bathrobe. They poured fresh coffee and lit cigarettes.

“Ok. I’ll admit that I might have done some dealing on the dark web before so we gotta fix this puppy up so we can use it and we don’t want anyone to trace us,” LeBron bent over and worked the keypad on the woman’s new laptop.

“First we set up a Virtual Private Network or VPN so no one can trace us. If anyone tries to trace us they think were in Wagga Wagga Australia or Kathmandu or some shit,” he tapped away while they drank and smoked.

Then he pulled out his key ring and pulled a flash drive off the fob and plugged it into the USB port. He opened a program named Tor Browser and executed it, set it to the highest security setting and opened the browser.

“Ok this is about as secure as I can get it but there are no guarantees once you’re online, you know that,” LeBron said and the woman nodded.

He opened a program called Wiki and the menu came up with a number of headings with websites listed below the headings in sub categories. They looked at the menu and when LeBron hovered the cursor over a heading titled ‘security, KFR resolution, and counter espionage,’ they looked at each other and nodded.

He clicked the menu and was immediately presented with over a hundred websites. He hit control-F and typed in ‘Executive Solutions’ and they waited.

“Everything takes longer on the dark web because of the security protocols,” he explained.

The woman nodded and took their cups over to the kitchenette to refill their coffee.

“Bingo!” LeBron shouted.

The woman hurried back, spilling hot coffee on her wrist but she didn’t even notice she was so excited.

LeBron clicked the link to a website called Executive Solutions and they nervously sipped coffee while they waited for the page to load.

A very well designed and opulent home page opened.

‘Executive Solutions: specialists in protection and protective services, financial and personnel recovery outcomes, surveillance and counter-surveillance, transaction protection, movement control and tailored resolution to KFR situations.’ it read.

‘Our professional staff are all ex-government or military professionals. Individual consultants or specialist teams available to suit you needs.’

‘We operate throughout the USA and its protectorates.’

There images of operatives in paramilitary uniforms wielding weapons, men and women dressed in business attire concentrating over a computer screen, a child held captive in a darkened room and armed men bursting in to rescue her. All very dramatic.

“Sheeit! This some sort of mercenary or black ops shit. Like a commercial CIA or FBI for hire deal,” LeBron lit another cigarette.

The woman bought over the JD and poured them both a shot while LeBron browsed the site.

“Search for Kelsey Reka,” the woman gripped his wrist.

The search produced nothing.

“Try Franco Delgado.”

A bright red box appeared on the screen. ‘You have reached a secure area of our site, please enter your username and password,’ it read.

Suddenly a small box opened at the bottom of the screen on the computer taskbar and began to flash amber.

“Sheeit!” LeBron pressed the power button on the laptop, shutting it down.

“Fuck!” he looked gravely concerned.

“What was that?” the woman asked.

“A tracking cookie. But it’s bullshit! With the VPN and the other security protocols I had in place there is no way they could trace us that quick,” his fingers were trembling as he ashed his cigarette.

“Now generally I’d say: there ain’t anything here to worry about, but in this instance, I’d be more inclined to say: there ain't nearly anything to worry about. Now some might not think so; but there be a big difference between there ain’t anything and there ain’t nearly anything; you feel me?” LeBron espoused.

The iphone suddenly burst into life with an incoming call.

The woman and LeBron looked at each other anxiously.

“Fuck it! Take the call; what have you got to lose?” LeBron said.

The woman walked over to where she had left the iphone, almost forgotten, on the bench beside the kitchenette.

She slid her finger across the face of the phone to answer the call and put it to her ear.

It was the same indeterminate voice that had called her at the hotel where she had fled after the murder of Frank Delgado.

“Hello Cassandra. You’ve been doing some freelancing haven’t you? Time to come home now,” the voice was obviously being transmitted through some sort of device which disguised it and she bet also prevented the call from being traced.

“Who is this?” the woman screeched into the phone.

“Whose phone is this?” she demanded.

“It’s your phone Cassie; how can you not know that?” the voice calmly articulated.

“Bullshit! This phone belongs to Kelsey Reka or someone from Executive Solutions,” she spat into the phone.

“Ok, enough games; come on in,” the voice said trying to sooth her.

“I’m not playing games! I have amnesia! I don’t have any memories prior to three days ago,” the woman cried.

The phone went quiet.

After a beat, another voice came on but this time the voice was not disguised. It was female and it articulated genuine concern.

“Cassie?”

The woman shivered. She knew the voice but for the life her could not recall who it belonged to.

“Who the fuck is Cassie?” the woman began to sob.

The phone stayed silent for another beat.

“Ok. I’m activating a priority one recall. You know what that means right?” the anonymous female said calmly but with determination.

“Lady. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” the woman was exasperated.

Another beat.

“Get out of that place now! Drive towards LA but use the back roads. Once you are on the road you’re probably safe for now; but do not go online and turn off any other devices you have except for the iphone you are using ok?”

“When you get to the outskirts of LA call me on the iphone; I can’t get a team to where you are in time to ensure your safety.”

“I can’t call you on the iphone! I can’t access the phone! Do you have the password?” the woman was becoming frantic and LeBron looked agitated, just listening to one side of the conversation.

“No I don’t know the password; it’s your phone! Look you need to move, get mobile and I’ll call you again when I think it’s safe. I can’t track you; you disabled the tracking device on the phone when you went rouge,” the female now sounded very agitated.

“Ok! Ok! Just answer me one question. Who am I?” the woman begged.

“Your name is Cassandra Rivers, but you prefer Cassie. You need to go now. If we’ve tracked you then you can guarantee they have too,” the urgency in the female’s voice was palpable.

“But…” the woman, now known as Cassie, was sobbing heavily now.

“No buts! Run!” the line went dead.

“We gotta pack up! Now!” Cassie said recovering her composure, her tone conveyed the urgency.

“Sheeit! I only caught one side of that conversation but I’m guessing we’re getting the fuck out of Dodge right now,” LeBron looked very edgy.

Cassie began throwing all of her clothes into her one suitcase and what didn’t fit she shoved into the shopping bags from the mall. LeBron got the message and grabbed the laptop, the wifi hub and his own meagre possessions and threw them into a large carryall he had bought with him.

“We ain’t leaving this; I’m guessing we gonna need it if we survive the day,” he threw the JD, the remaining food, beer, soft drinks and snacks into the cooler.

They started loading up the Caddy and this attracted the attention of Reese who came over to the room.

“What the fuck?” he tried to get Cassie’s attention but she ignored him and traipsed between the room and the car, throwing stuff into the trunk.

He cornered her in the motel room and held her by her shoulders.

“Look I don’t have time to explain. We have to run NOW! You’ll likely be safe here but there’s some bad people on their way looking for me,” Cassie gasped.

“Fuck that! I’ve got a grab bag; I’m coming with you; I’ll follow the Caddy and when we stop somewhere you can tell me everything,” Reese looked her in the eyes.

“There ain’t much to tell, but ok, get your ass in gear; we’re out of here in seconds.”

Reese ran off and LeBron came inside and they systematically searched the room. Cassie took stock. She had her clutch with the remains of the cash, her smokes, the iphone, and then she saw the cell phone she had Reese purchase for her.

“Fuck! I should given that woman the number of my new cell and got hers,” Cassie threw all the items into her purse.

“The place is as clean as we can get it. No time to wipe for prints and I figure that don’t matter anyway. Let’s adios motherfuckers!” LeBron could crack quips even now.

Reese returned and parked his pickup beside the Caddy. He’d thought ahead and dumped two bags of ice in the cooler in the trunk of LeBron’s Caddy to keep the food and drinks cold. They all exchanged mobile numbers so they could communicate on the road and then they beat feet.

The Caddy fishtailed as it left the motel parking lot, its nose pointed towards toward Route Ten, Reese’s pickup fell in behind, raising his own cloud of dust.

“Call Reese,” LeBron was concentrating on driving just below the speed limit whilst fiddling with his GPS; the local roads were busy and he had to concentrate on both driving and mapping a route.

“Tell him we’re turning right at the I-10 then onto West Tangerine road until we hit Route 77. We can’t go northwest on I-10 because there are no exits and we’d be sitting ducks with nowhere to go if anyone comes after us,” he instructed.

Cassie called Reese and passed on the instructions and then lit smokes for her and LeBron.

“Sheeit! There’s no smoking in my Caddy!” LeBron whined.

Cassie looked around the decrepit interior and guffawed.

“This piece of shit?”

“Hey this my second car, for when I wanna be, how you say; incognito,” LeBron grinned.

“Well incognito this shithead!” Cassie pushed the smoke into LeBron's face and he took it in his lips.

Cassie cracked her window to let out the smoke and they both burst out laughing.

“Least we still got our sense of humour,” LeBron chuckled.

They drove the back roads using the most obscure routes they could devise. Cassie worked the GPS and they stopped for lunch on a fire trail deep in the woods.

“So what do you know?” Reese asked Cassie.

“I know that my name is Cassandra Rivers and that apparently I work or worked for Executive Solutions and that’s about it,” Cassie chomped on leftover potato salad.

“I kinda liked it when you were Sharon Stone; but I can live with Cassandra,” Reese licked his paper plate clean.

“Cassie. My name is Cassie,” she replied.

“You know what? It kinda feels right too,” she said reflectively.

Just before dark they came across what appeared to be a hunting tail leading off Route 62 and on a hunch they followed it, hoping to find somewhere to spend the night.

They lucked in and found a hunters lodge. It was basically a log cabin with a large bed made from raw lumber, a rough-hewed wooden table with four equally rustic chairs, and a bench-top with some old cookware and a huge fireplace against one wall. It measured no more than thirty by thirty feet but it would do. A small stream ran about ten yards past the door.

Reese cleaned up the cookware, which was really just two battered pots, a skillet and a coffeepot, in the stream. LeBron gathered wood and lit a fire while Cassie did the best she could and took the dusty blankets off the bed and shook them outside.

Cassie miraculously managed to make something hot and edible by throwing all of their leftovers into a pot with some seasoning they had had taken from the hotel. It was a poor man’s chowder but they wolfed it down with some crackers. LeBron used sachets of instant coffee taken from the motel room and concocted a formidable brew.

They drank it from tin cups fortified with liberal splashes of JD.

The three fugitives ruminated over and dissected the information Cassie had received from the phone call from Executive Solutions and the information from the dark web and came up with numerous hypotheses, ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime. Hey drank beer with JD chasers using the watery ice from the cooler. It got dark quick and cold even quicker and they huddled together under the dusty blankets beside the fire.

“So basically we don’t know shit, other than Cassie’s name and that these Executive Solutions people gonna come and save us when we get to LA,” LeBron mused.

They all looked at the iphone sitting on the floor beside Cassie. It hadn’t rung and it would soon need to be charged.

“Look we are only a hundred and some miles from the outskirts of LA. Let’s get a good night’s sleep or as best we can in this cracker mansion and see what we see tomorrow,” LeBron said.

The other two nodded and they all lit one cigarette before going to bed. The question no one wanted to answer was what would the sleeping arrangements be.

Cassie had dressed for travelling in her black leggings with pantyhose underneath for comfort and a long-sleeved t-shirt. She kicked off her shoes and staked her claim in middle of the big bed strewn with Indian blankets and a big fleecy coverlet.

LeBron stripped down to his underwear and jumped on the bed too but Reese sat staring in the fire.

Cassie needed human company, the feel of another person to make her feel safe and cherished and LeBron was snuggling up to her to oblige but Reese looked sad and alone, sitting, staring into the fire.

“I’ll sleep in the car; I can keep lookout too,” he said sulkily.

“Bullshit man! You freeze your ass off out there!” LeBron proclaimed.

“Come join us babe. We’re in this together, with no idea how it will end. I only have two people in the world at the moment that I can trust; you and LeBron. What have you got to lose,” Cassie held out her hand.

Reese undressed and joined them in the big bed.

Cassie shucked out of her leggings, leaving her dressed in pantyhose, bra and long-sleeved t-shirt which she kept on to keep her warm.

The three of them snuggled together under the blankets and coverlet trying to get warm.

Cassie turned to Reese and kissed him tenderly, he had undressed down to his boxers and she could feel him becoming erect. LeBron snuggled up behind her and nuzzled her neck, she felt his erection against her buttocks and she pushed back against him and squirmed. He wrapped his arms around her.

Reese wrapped his arms around her too and they huddled together with Cassie in the middle. Cassie opened her lips and allowed Reese’s tongue to explore her mouth while LeBron nestled his hard cock in the crevice of her buttocks, rubbing his cock on her pantyhosed ass. Cassie allowed Reese to take off her t-shirt and bra, it was getting warm under the covers now and she didn’t need them. He reached for her breasts but found LeBron was already cupping one so he settled for the other.

Cassie wriggled her bottom encouraging LeBron; she reached behind her and dug a fingernail into the sheer nylon and poked a hole in the gusset. She took LeBron’s erection in her hand and guided it to the hole. He needed no encouragement and he poked his hard cock through the hole in her nylons and rubbed his cock against her sphincter.

Cassie gasped and she kissed Reese harder and reached for his cock. She found it hard, hot and throbbing and she stroked it with featherlight touches.

Cassie had anticipated that she would be making love tonight and had prepared and pre-lubricated herself earlier during a toilet break. She thrust back against LeBron's erection and he slowly entered her. Cassie gasped and squeezed Reese’s penis; her removed her hand and pushed his cock into her groin and found Cassie’s penis erect and leaking preseminal fluid; the gusset of her pantyhose became soaked with their precum. He rubbed his cock against hers, the slinky nylon of the sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose stimulating him.

LeBron began to fuck Cassie with long firm strokes; building the crescendo of his oncoming orgasm. He now had both of her breasts in his hands and he squeezed them and stroked her nipples. Reese kissed her harder, as Cassie bucked to meet LeBron's thrusts he got into sync and humped her pantyhosed-clad penis against his.

The three rutted, feeling release not far away. LeBron came first, trembling with delight as he ejaculated deep inside her anus; he gripped her hips and pulled her back against him, he clasped her breasts and bit into her neck as he orgasmed.

Feeling LeBron come tipped Cassie over the edge and she filled her pantyhose with creamy ejaculate, pushing her ass back against LeBron and pulling Reese's cock against her own palpitating penis.

Reese came too, his cock pulsed as it spent his semen against Cassie's, nylon-encased phallus, his seed pooling with Cassie’s as he kissed her ravenously.

They clung to each other as they orgasmed knowing they needed each other not just for carnality but because they depended upon each other, the bond between them essential to their survival.

They fell asleep like that but awoke a couple of hours later still lascivious and needy. Reese and LeBron turned Cassie around and reversed their roles; Reese fucked her while LeBron frottaged her until the two men were sated once again; Cassie didn’t need release, she enjoyed pleasing the men.

They finally fell into a deep sleep.

This time it was Reese and LeBron who felt the sting of the needle but it didn’t knock them out; they were just unable to move; paralysed.

Cassie was dragged from the bed and thrown in the corner. One of the men covered her with his pistol while the other man dragged LeBron and Reese from the bed and tied them into two of the hardback wooden chairs then they motioned for Cassie to climb back on the bed.

“You’ve been giving us grief for four days now bitch and I’m about done! You dragged our asses across three states, our boss is pissed at us, and now you make us come to this shitbox cabin!” the man said bitterly waving her pistol at her.

“So we gonna make you and your friends pay. They’re gonna sit there unable to move and we’re gonna make them watch us fuck you again and again. We’re gonna fuck you til your ass bleeds then I’m going to put a bullet in your head.”

“I’m going to drop your body somewhere in low-town so you can be identified as that fuck Delgado’s murderer and before we leave my friend over there is then going to put bullets in your boyfriends heads. Then we gonna leave them here for the coyotes and rats to eat!” the man ginned evilly.

“But I don’t trust you. You’ve escaped from us twice before and we only found you because you went searching on the dark web and were stupid enough to use your cell phones. You’re a tricky bitch and I don’t think you are any kind of ordinary whore. In fact the opposite; I think you’re some kind of professional operative.”

“So with that in mind, put this around your wrists and tie these around your ankles,” the man ordered.

He tossed a cable-tie and two nylon stockings on the bed.

Cassie did as she was told and tied the toe of each stocking around her ankles and put her wrists through the cable tie. The other man approached the bed while the other man covered Cassie with his gun; he pulled the cable tie closed around her wrists and tied the loose ends of the stockings to the bedposts.

Cassie was trussed to the bed but the elasticity of the stockings allowed her to move her legs; her wrists securely bound in front of her, prevented her from using her hands other than to support her on her hands and knees.

Reese and LeBron looked on in alarm but there was nothing they could do; they couldn’t even scream and Cassie saw the terror in their eyes.

“We’re gonna take turns fucking you while you suck the guy with the gun to your head. If you do anything really stupid, we’ll just pull the trigger. If you’re reluctance to join in, we’ll go over there and start cutting bits off your friends until you comply. Ok?”

“I need an answer!” the man growled.

Cassie nodded, resigned to her fate. She was dressed only in her ripped-crotch pantyhose so they didn’t have to undress her. The two men dropped their pants and underwear and took off their shoes. The bigger of the two got on the bed behind her while the other guy went to the front and put the gun against her temple.

Hey were both erect and dripping precum; they were obviously enjoying torturing her and guys. They put Cassie into a kneeling position in the centre of the bed.

When the man offered Cassie his phallus she took it in her mouth and began to suckle it; what else could she do? Her anus was well lubricated with lube and semen from Reese and LeBron and the man behind her slipped right in all the way to the hilt. His groin pressed against her buttocks and he sighed; Cassie grunted.

He held her hips and slowly fucked her; enjoying the feel of her tight ass on his hard cock; looking at her sucking on his accomplices cock with her red lipsticked lips.

“That’s it honey; suck that cock. Maybe you are whore after all,” the man fucked her harder and increased his pace.

The man at the front of her took his cock from her mouth and turned her face towards LeBron and Reese.

“Look at your slut girlfriend; look at her sucking my cock and fucking my friend! Look at her!” he demanded.

“And you, you bitch! Look at your boyfriends; they’re crying for you but that won’t help them or you. Now suck my cock!” he thrust his cock back into Cassie’s mouth.

All she could do was capitulate and hope that by buying time, perhaps by some miracle, she could find a way to escape.

“Wriggle your ass bitch! At least pretend you like it!” the man fucking her spanked her pantyhosed buttocks.

Cassie wriggled her ass obligingly and sucked eagerly on the other man’s cock, slurping on the glans with her tongue.

The man behind her fucked her with long hard strokes, deeply penetrating her and the man at her face slid his cock in and out of her lips; she had to balance on her knees and bound wrists. Although reluctant, Cassie couldn’t stop her body from reacting to the stimulation. Rings of pleasure emanated from her prostate and sphincter and she became erect. Her cock began to leak pre-seminal fluid.

“See! This bitch is a whore! She’s gettin’ hard and she fucking me back,” the man fucking her grinned.

“I’m gonna come soon all over this bitch's face,” the man at the front grunted and held her head as face-fucked her.

“I’m close too. I’m gonna come deep inside this whore, then we can drink some of that booze over there and come back and swap places,” the man grunted as he worked his cock in and out of her ass.

“Oh Jesus!” the man at the front gasped and filled Cassie's mouth with hot creamy semen.

Cassie gulped and swallowed, but the man whipped his cock out of her mouth and sprayed the last of his issue on her face, rubbing his sticky cum all her face with his dribbling cock.

This triggered the man behind her to viciously grip Cassie’s hips and jackhammer his cock in and out of her ass as he shot his load; then he pulled her back into him and drove his cock into her as deep as he could as his scalding seed filled her anus.

Cassie orgasmed; her spend dribbled onto the bed. The orgasm was intense and insanely pleasurable given the circumstances and she sobbed with self-loathing and disgust.

The man pulled his cock from her anus and wiped it on her buttocks, the other man eased his cock from her mouth and began to get off the bed whilst keeping his gun on the sobbing tranny.

The door to the cabin suddenly burst and open and an apparition in the form of a trim, redheaded woman appeared in the doorway. She assumed the Weaver stance and her pistol found the man climbing off the bed and her weapon made two phut, phut, sounds. The man’s chest blossomed with blood-red bouquets and he fell face first on the bed.

The man who had been fucking Cassie made a valiant effort to reach his own weapon but the woman’s gun thrice reported its muffled bark and he fell to floor with the back of his head blown off.

Tied to the bed there was nothing Cassie could do but stare at the woman who stepped inside the cabin and ensured it clear of other assailants, then she holstered her gun.

The woman looked to be her early forties. She was wearing a tight-fitting navy blue business suit and a cream silk blouse. Her ginger hair was styled with layered bangs and rested on her shoulders, her makeup emphasised her peaches-and-cream complexion although she favoured heavy black mascara and bright-red lipstick. She wore ultra-sheer pantyhose that gave her long well formed legs a lustrous sheen. She was wearing what appeared to be very expensive high heels.

She walked over the bed and opened a flick knife and cut the stockings that held Cassie’s legs tied to the bedposts and then cut the cable-tie at her wrists. She pulled one of the Indian blankets off the bed and and wrapped it around Cassie who was shaking with shock.

She woman dropped her pistol on the bed and pulled Cassie to her. She gently stroked her hair and then she softly kissed Cassie who was still traumatised.

She reached into her suit jacket and bought out a small transmitter.

“Clear and secure,” she said into it, and four men in military combat gear hustled through the door.

“I told you not to use your mobile phones,” she admonished Cassie, stroking her hair.

She hugged Cassie close and kissed her again.

To be continued.

Executive Solutions
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Five – Homecoming

“Natalie Styles,” the woman replied.

“I’m Natalie Styles, ex FBI agent, co-founder of Executive Solutions, and your sometime lover.

A man in a white coat carrying a large medical kit came in behind the four paramilitary types. Two of them dragged the assassins’ bodies into corner and covered them with the bloody blanket off the bed.

“That’ll do. We’ll torch the place when we leave,” Natalie said.

Two of the men remained outside standing guard while the other two helped the medic tend to LeBron and Reese.

Natalie pointed with her chin to the medic, her arm still around Cassie.

“‘Doc’ Neeson knows what he’s doing. He’s no longer a licensed doctor per-se but he’s better than most of those quacks out there and he specialises in treating wounds and treating people infused with psychosomatics. They will have drugged your friends with some sort of immobilising agent. Doc will take a quick blood sample, identify the drug and administer an antidote. They should be able to walk in an hour or so,” she went on to explain.

“I have so many questions that I don’t know where to start,” Cassie sighed.

“Ok; ask away but you’ve only got that hour. But first I wanna clean you up and get you dressed, ok?” Natalie stroked Cassie’s hair and looked at her lovingly.

“Ok. Stay here. Let me do my thing,” Natalie eased Cassie back down on the bed and she curled up in a foetal position.

Natalie poured hot water from the kettle in to a bowl and mixed in some cold; she took a little bottle of liquid soap the boys had taken from motel and mixed it with the warm water. She helped Cassie out of her tattered and cum-soaked pantyhose and began to wipe her down.

“Mmm that feels good,” Cassie managed a weak smile.

Natalie gently kissed her cheek; she brushed away Cassie’s hand when she tried to take over.

“I’ve done this many times before; don’t be bashful,” Natalie smiled down at her.

She dried Cassie off, fixed her makeup and helped her into a new pair of pantyhose, panties and bra, jeans and fleecy top. She poured fresh coffee for them both with a good slug JD to fortify it. The medic and the others were still working on LeBron and Reese and they wanted the bed so they could lay the paralysed men down so Cassie and Natalie moved over to the table.

“Ok; ask away,” Natalie took Cassie’s hand in hers.

“First off. Who the fuck is Kelsey Reka?” she looked earnestly into Natalie’s eyes.

Cassie was surprised when Natalie burst out laughing.

“Why that’s you honey! You’re Kelsey Reka,” Natalie grinned.

“What the fuck?” Cassie looked bemused.

“Well I figure you made the name up yourself. Kelsey, because it’s very close to Cassie and Reka is Bulgarian for River. Very sanguine of you; Cassie Rivers becomes Kelsey Reka,” Natalie reached for cigarettes and lit them both one.

“But why?” Cassie looked bewildered.

“You really have lost your memory haven’t you? You really don’t remember me?” Natalie searched Cassie’s eyes.

“Well yes but only vaguely and only because you are here; I feel a bond between us and I feel somehow safe and cared for in your presence,” Cassie said and Natalie squeezed her hand.

“Ok as soon as he’s finished with your friends; I’ll get Doc to look at you and see if there is an antidote for what has caused your amnesia. In the interim I’ll give you a very abridged version of your past,” Natalie began.

“There is of course some fascinating history before you became a full patch member of the Beasts of Burden Motorcycle Club working undercover for the FBI, but that’s where I’ll start. I was your supervising agent. I was also your lover. You left the club for reasons I won’t go into now and for a period you were in Witsec also called Witness Protection. Then you ditched Witsec and became a Nomad biker; riding around the USA working briefly for various MCs as an enforcer or problem-solver.”

“I eventually left the FBI and we reunited. I had the necessary skills and resources to track you down so I did. We rekindled our love for one and other, although you always were and always will be profligate, that’s just who you are and I love you regardless,” she squeezed Cassie’s hand.

“I’m to blame somewhat for your promiscuity, it’s ingrained in you due to the intense training I had you undertake during your FBI induction as an undercover agent.”

“But you also have ingrained within you a devout sense of righteousness and compassion and it’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“Anyway when we got back together, we couldn’t just sit on the porch and grow old or ride motorcycles all over the world; we both have special skills that are intrinsic to us and that we are unable to repudiate, we are bound to exercise them.”

“So we formed Executive Solutions which started off as just the two of us conducting KFR resolutions, blackmail solutions and large scale debt recovery. Our reputation grew and so did our business, our staff, our resources, our proficiency, and our variety of products.”

“Then, about a month ago you went rogue. A couple came to us claiming that their daughter had been taken and was being used by a paedophile ring using the West Coast Mob’s pornography production interests as a front. Some initial research led us to believe that Franco Delgado could be involved but then we were warned off the case.”

“Warned off by some powerful and influential people in law enforcement, business, and political spheres may I add. The couple who made the claim disappeared and Executive Solutions formally dropped the case.”

“But not Cassie! Not my Cassie! She took everything we had on the case, disappeared and went rogue. From what I gather you even printed up your own Kelsey Reka business cards and ID; knowing that just being associated with Executive Solutions opens doors and procures indulgences.”

“I haven't put it all together yet and we won’t until your memory returns. But I’m guessing that you somehow acquired the services of LeBron in order for him to pimp you to Franco Delgado where I’m guessing you intended to interrogate him and that’s when it all went to shit.”

“I’ve no idea who those two stiffs are or who they were working for; or why they wanted you dead and the need to frame you for Delgado’s murder.”

“We got a lead on you when you checked into the Holiday Inn and used your Executive Solutions card to get upgraded,” Natalie said.

“That was just a fluke; I had no idea,” Cassie admitted.

“Anyway we had Intel that some mob operatives were after you and we warned you as best we could. You disappeared again until we found you at the King’s Court Motel on the outskirts of Marana Arizona.”

“Doesn’t explain why I had no ID, no credit cards and had to offer LeBron a piece of my ass to get him to pimp me to Delgado?” Cassie drew on her cigarette.

“Darling we froze all your accounts and put out a BOLO on you. You could only operate as Kelsey Reka. Until we unlock what’s in there we won’t know the full story,” she tapped Cassie’s forehead with her forefinger.

“And you’re my lover?” Cassie asked, looking at Natalie questioningly.

“I fell in love with you back when you were an undercover biker and I just can’t shake the habit no matter how much you piss me off and antagonise me. I’m head over heels, insanely in love with you Cassie,” she reached across the table and kissed Cassie tenderly on the lips.

Cassie was tentative at first and then something happened inside her and she returned Natalie’s kiss.

“There is something there for sure; and it doesn’t feel like something trivial; it feels special,” Cassie whispered.

Natalie let a single tear run down her cheek and when Cassie went to wipe it away, Natalie grasped Cassie’s hand, put it to her lips and then rested it on her cheek.

“I do love you Cassie,” she sighed.

Doc Neeson eventually got LeBron and Reese ambulatory and with the help of the two burly paramilitaries they were helped into the back of a large black SUV. They were both rambling incoherently but Cassie guessed they were trying to say they were sorry for being unable to help her while the two assailants were abusing her.

Cassie got up and went over to them both and kissed their cheeks and ruffled their hair affectionately, it’s ok; The Avengers finally prevailed,” she smiled at the joke.

“See what I mean? You’re a trained killer but you are loyal and affectionate to the last,” Natalie smiled at her.

“What do you mean trained killer?” Cassie’s brow furrowed.

“Enough for now. Let’s get you back to Executive Solutions,” Natalie clapped her hands and her associates began to pack up the cabin.

Natalie escorted Cassie out to a second SUV, refusing to leave her side. They sat in the back of the vehicle and Natalie lowered Cassie’s head onto her lap. Cassie fell asleep as the convoy of two SUVs and a black, souped-up transit van bounced down the forest trail, the night sky illuminated by the blazing cabin and the assassin’s vehicle. Natalie stroked Cassie’s hair gently until she began to fall asleep herself; unconsciously she sought Cassie’s hand and Cassie squeezed Natalie’s fingers. They both sighed with contentment in their sleep.

Cassie woke up as the convoy pulled up outside of a converted warehouse. The façade had been restored to its original rusticity but the entrance and windows were modern and stark; all brushed aluminium and black glass. A security roller-door opened and the convoy entered the basement with a screech of tyres.

Two stretchers were waiting and despite their protests LeBron and Reese were made to lay down on them and covered with blankets. Doc Neeson fussed around them for a minute or two giving directions to a medic and a nurse. Then he came over to Natalie who was helping Cassie out of the SUV.

“They have both been given a neuromuscular-blocking drug, which I’m sure I’ve identified and provided appropriate treatment. As you can see they quite ambulatory now and beginning to recover their speech and other body functions. However; I’m keeping them under observation for a couple of days to ensure there are no complications,” he said.

“As for Cassandra, I’m reasonably certain she was administered benzodiazepine propranolol which has caused her amnesia. You can see that skerricks of her memory are returning but I will need to properly treat her by putting her into an induced coma while I flush her system and administer what I hope will be a treatment that will return her memory,” Doc said.

Natalie lit a cigarette.

“I wish you would stop that filthy habit,” Doc said tersely.

Natalie ignored the barb.

“Can her treatment wait a day at least; she’s been ok until now,” Natalie raised her brows asking the question.

“Hey! I’m right fucking here! I’m not some child or puppy for you two to decide what happens to me!” Cassie said angrily.

Natalie gave Doc a ‘here we go again look’ and replied.

“That’s it then. We give Cassie twenty-four hours to make up her mind what she wants to do. You’ll explain the medical procedures and associated risks and I’ll try to explain to her some more of her past and present so she can make an informed decision.”

Doc Neeson shrugged his shoulders; Natalie and Cassie were his bosses and he was used to taking orders from them. They paid him for his medical expertise but it was their company, their operation, they made the final decisions; the Hippocratic Oath did not come into play when you worked for Executive Solutions.

“I agree,” Cassie said.

Natalie took Cassie’s hand.

“Come with me and I’ll show you around but only briefly; I want to get to you to our apartment so we can get you settled in,” Natalie said.

“We have an apartment together? We have an apartment here?” Cassie looked incredulous.

Natalie and Doc both couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

“Oh yes; we have an apartment here,” Natalie grinned and pulled Cassie along with her towards the elevator.

“What about my stuff?” Cassie protested.

“Not sure you will need any of that ‘stuff’ darling but the boys will unpack it and bring it up later,” Natalie replied.

Cassie looked bemused.

They entered the lift and Natalie pushed the buttons for the first and second third floors.

The door opened on the first floor to an opulent foyer with a handsome and hard-bodied security guard standing erect and looking very observant; sitting behind a sleek blonde-wood-panelled desk was a rather attractive and impeccably dressed receptionist. A smoky glazed wall separated the foyer from what appeared to be a well-laid out office space where a staff of about twenty men and women were going about their business.

“Mmm…is that guard on the payroll and does her perform collateral duties,” Cassie chided Natalie.

Natalie poked Cassie in the ribs.

“Yes and no; good to see you haven’t changed.”

“Dennis is professional; and married, so forget about that sister,” she snickered.

“This is our business centre where we interview prospective clients, manage cases and our company,” Natalie pushed the button to close the door.

The second floor was similar to the first with a security guard and receptionist but the wall behind the receptionist was impenetrable black glass.

“On this floor is our operations room, infirmary, armoury, intelligence centre, and rooms with other uses, best explained later,” Natalie had to punch in a code to access the third floor.

They stepped out into well-appointed foyer. There was a small reception area off to the left with an opulent couch and chairs with two elaborate teak doors that looked like they led to offices.

“Your private office and mine,” Natalie casually waved in their direction but led Cassie to the right down a small corridor.

They came to a set of imposing teak double doors with a keypad and a touchpad mounted on the wall. Natalie punched in a code and pressed her hand on the touch screen.

The doors opened onto a huge apartment.

“Home,” Natalie squeezed Cassie’s hand.

The reception area was huge, furnished with expensive leather and modern furniture, the biggest flat-screen TV that Cassie had ever seen, and a fully-stocked bar. One-way glass gave views out over the city and an ostentatious outdoor entertainment area complete with what looked like a small jungle garden surrounding a large pool.

The lounge led to a modern open-plan kitchen with all the best appliances and she could make out a small glassed in gymnasium to one side. Beside that was what looked like a party room that opened onto another balcony.

“The smoking area. We refuse to allow smoking inside. We both keep pledging to give up but…” Natalie just shrugged her shoulders.

“And through there?” Cassie was amazed at the opulence of the place.

“Our bedroom,” Natalie led Cassie through another set of double doors to the biggest bedroom Cassie could imagine.

The bed was huge, covered in African animal print throw rugs and pillows. The door to what Cassie could only imagine was an equally palatial bathroom was open. There were ‘her and her’ walk-in robes resplendent with dressing tables and full-length mirrors.

“So we live like paupers then?” Cassie joked.

Natalie spun Cassie around and tossed her on the bed. Natalie dived on the bed and landed beside her; then she climbed on top and straddled her.

“Yes babe we do it tough,” she grinned down at Cassie.

Cassie frowned.

“So I really live here? With you?” she looked up at Natalie expectantly.

“When you’re not catting around you do,” Natalie’s smile turned into a pout.

“So I am a whore,” Cassie looked perturbed.

“No you are definitely not! You’re…how do you say? Unbridled,” the pout deepened.

Cassie pulled Natalie’s face close to hers.

“You don’t like it do you?” she searched Natalie’s eyes.

“Sometimes we have to do what we have to do,” she said pragmatically, but Cassie could see the hurt in Natalie’s eyes.

“You do love me don’t you?” Cassie whispered.

“Unconditionally,” Natalie whispered.

Cassie pulled Natalie's face down to hers and kissed her; at first tentatively, then lovingly, then passionately.

Lust overcame them both. Natalie struggled to rip off Cassie’s jeans and panties, Cassie kicked off her shoes and threw open Natalie’s jacket and pulled it down her arms; it was awkward but intense. Natalie eventually got Cassie free of her jeans and pulled the fleecy top off her leaving dressed only in pantyhose, and bra.

Natalie was still fully dressed except for her jacket but she lay down on the bed and pulled Cassie down on top of her kissing fervently between her sentences.

“Just leave the rest! We’ll work it out,” she gasped grasping Cassie’s erect penis through the sheer gusset of her pantyhose.

Cassie pushed Natalie down into bed aggressively; she ripped open Natalie’s blouse and yanked down her bra. Natalie reciprocated ripping off Cassie’s bra and exposing her small, pert breasts. Natalie pulled Cassie to her and sucked her breasts while stroking her penis while Cassie gasped and writhed on top of her lover.

Cassie endured the stimulation as long she could then she tore herself free and lowered her mouth to Natalie's large firm breasts suckled her nipples, nipping at them and making Natalie moan. She swiped away Natalie’s hand from her crotch and hiked up her navy blue skirt, exposing sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose and white satin panties.

Cassie pushed her groin into Natalie's, her hard nylon-encased cock rubbing on Natalie’s panty-clad mons. She reached down and ripped off Natalie's panties.

“You bitch!” Natalie growled.

“You too!” Cassie hissed into Natalie’s mouth as Cassie raked her hands along Natalie’s thighs and then tore open the gusset of her pantyhose.

Natalie lifted her back off the bed pressing her moistened cunt against Cassie’s nylon-encased penis.

“Stop teasing me you cunt,” Natalie bit Cassie’s lip and used her fingernail to tear a hole in Cassie’s pantyhose.

She freed Cassie’s rampant member and guided it to her dewy labia.

“Fuck me Cassie! Make love to me like you used to,” Natalie looked deeply into Cassie’s eyes and then crushed her lips against Natalie’s.

Cassie’s hard cock slid inside the folds of Natalie’s sex; her tumescence filled Natalie’s vagina. Cassie pushed her cock all the way into Natalie; their pubis ground together stimulating Natalie's clitoris and Natalie's locked her legs around Cassie’s. Their nylons whispered as they rubbed together adding to their stimulation.

Cassie got into a rhythm as she fucked her lover, easing her cock out of her vagina until her glans nestled in Natalie’s labia and then thrusting deep inside her and grinding her pelvis against Natalie’s sodden sex to stimulate her clitoris.

They kissed intensely and raked at each other’s bodies as their passions mounted.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” they gasped in unison as their respective orgasms approached.

They thrashed and tore at each other, biting lips, nipples and sucking on necks and bruised lips as they came. Cassie pounded her hard cock deep inside Natalie and released her seed deep inside her lover. Natalie intertwined her pantyhosed legs with Cassie’s nylon-clad calves and held her lover close, ensuring Cassie’s pubis pressed on her clitoris. She raised herself and ground herself against Cassie, intensifying her orgasm.

Later they lay in each other’s arms. Natalie had managed to shed the remnants of her torn blouse and shucked out of her skirt. They cuddled, nuzzled and caressed each other.

“You know we go through so many pairs of nylons and panties like that,” Natalie kissed Cassie on the side of her mouth.

“Is that a bad thing?” Cassie joked.

“Certainly not,” Natalie chuckled.

She became serious.

“Are you going to undertake the treatment recommended by Doc Neeson tomorrow?” Natalie asked.

“Yes I am. I feel something for you Natalie but it’s beneath the surface; a vestige of something profound. I want to really feel the love we so obviously have for each other,” she stroked Natalie’s face.

“Well that’s what scares me. There is more to our history than love; you might come out of that coma hating me,” Natalie kissed Cassie gently and lovingly stroked her face.

“I only know you as you present to me now; I don’t know the real Natalie. Let me do this and we will take the good with bad. I’m just so overwhelmed at the moment I need sleep,” Cassie whimpered.

Natalie pulled up the coverlets and they snuggled together; too tired even to take off their pantyhose. They intertwined their legs and snuggled together in a close embrace and fell asleep.

Cassie woke up in a hospital room. She opened her eyes, closed them again against the fierce bright light, and then forced herself to open them again.

Cassie shook her head to ward off the fuzziness then she took a small handful of ice chips and put them in her mouth. They felt heavenly and she had to use all her control not crush and swallow them and allow them to melt instead.

A feeling of deja vu permeated Cassie’s thoughts.

“How many times have we done this now? Three?” her voice was croaky.

Natalie sat in chair pulled up close beside the bed. A trim, redheaded woman in a tight-fitting navy blue business suit and cream silk blouse. She wore her usual ultra-sheer pantyhose and Christian Louboutin high heels.

“You won’t chase down many bad guys in those shoes; and how many of those fucking suits do you own anyway?” Cassie grunted; but she was smiling.

Natalie crossed her legs and her nylons swished. She smiled back and took Cassie’s hand in hers.

“Yes I think it’s three times we’ve done this. Once when we first met, then after you got shot at Carlo Ramirez’ house, and now,” she gently squeezed Cassie’s fingers.

“And as I keep telling you darling, these are Christian Louboutin’s. Four hundred bucks worth of sex appeal; and I can run the FBI fitness test in them and then score perfect on the live fire range.”

“And finally; I have seven of these navy-blue business suits; well I did I have until you ruined one in our bedroom last week,” Natalie grinned.

“Last week? How long have I been out?” Cassie looked unsettled and Natalie patted her wrist.

“Ahem,” Doc Neeson was standing unobserved in the corner.

He stepped forward.

“I’ve had you in an induced coma for a week. We have flushed all of the nasty chemicals from your system and had you on course of other pharmaceuticals that should have helped your brain recover and restore your memories. I doubt you will have full memory recall but most of your memories will have returned. I’ll soon be giving you some cognitive tests to see how we have progressed,” Doc looked at her vitals on the monitor.

“So no surgery or anything invasive?” Cassie asked.

Doc shook his head.

“Well then fuck that! I’m getting up,” Cassie threw back the covers, ripped off the sticky monitoring tabs and leapt out of bed.

Straight onto her ass.

“Whoa!” Natalie sprang from her chair and she and Doc helped Cassie to her feet.

“Back to bed my lady,” Doc said.

“Wait! Our apartment is one floor up. Take me home Natalie; I’ll recover in our bed,” Cassie demanded.

She looked at Doc and they both smiled. Cassie seemed to have at least recovered some of her memory.

Doc went to organise a wheelchair while Cassie sat in the chair Natalie had vacated; she refused to get back in the hospital bed.

“I had an interesting meeting with a Mister Alfonso Leotardo from, shall we say, a large Italian family, while you were under,” Natalie lit a cigarette in flagrant defiance of the rules.

She offered one to Cassie who shook her head but indicated for Natalie to continue.

“Am I right in thinking that you found Mr LeBron using the information you stole from our database?” Natalie asked and Cassie nodded.

“Your intent, I presume, was to get LeBron to pimp you to Delgado, lure him into that fleapit hotel and then use your interrogation skills to find out all about his kiddie porn and paedophile ring.”

“Seems LeBron couldn’t help but try to make a little extra. He sold information to the mob bosses that Mr Delgado was meeting with a transsexual prostitute in the hotel. The mob had been looking to get rid of Delgado for some time; they do not condone his ventures into, and I quote, ‘that filth’, meaning the kiddie fiddler stuff.”

“They of course had no idea you worked for Executive Solutions and neither did LeBron; you were just an expendable transsexual hooker who the mob could frame for Delgado’s murder,” Natalie drew on her cigarette.

“But LeBron…” Cassie was about to interject but Natalie held up her hand.

“To be fair LeBron didn’t know they were going to hire contract killers to kill you in the hotel and frame you for murder, but he couldn’t help trying to make more money from the situation after you escaped. When he found out the mob were looking for you he contacted you and then led them to you.”

“The whole dark web bullshit was just his way of letting the hitmen know where you were and then he insisted that you use your mobile phone in the car when I specifically told you not to,” Natalie dropped her cigarette into the remains of a cold cup of coffee.

“But at the cabin? They were going to kill him too,” Cassie was incredulous.

“Would have tied up all the loose ends nicely,” Natalie offered a grim smile.

“But after we arrived and took care of the hired hitmen and bought you in, word got back to the Mafia bosses that they had fucked up; that you were in fact Cassandra Rivers, co-owner of Executive Solutions. They are now quite contrite.”

“They have released and returned all of the kids and women Delgado and his loathsome cronies had held captive. They have also dispatched said cronies; if you know what I mean. And they have offered to do the same for LeBron,” Natalie reached for her cigarettes.

Cassie put out a hand and stopped Natalie.

“Please don’t; the smoke is hurting my throat,” Cassie said.

Natalie put down the cigarette case.

“LeBron?” Natalie raised a brow.

“Let him go. He’s just a money-grubber who got too deep into something he really didn’t understand,” Cassie said resignedly.

“Are you sure?” Natalie lifted her chin.

Cassie nodded.

“Reese?” Cassie looked at Natalie expectantly.

“Oh my god! That young cowboy stud! You should be ashamed Missy for corrupting that young man,” Natalie laughed.

“Reese just about shit his pants when he realised who we are and what we do. He was happy to take a generous reward for looking after you and go home to help daddy with the motel,” Natalie was fidgeting; she wanted another cigarette.

“The State Park Sadist?” Cassie asked.

“A pure fluke but he fucked up big time when he abducted you. You did the community a big favour,” Natalie patted Cassie’s arm.

A nurse came in with the wheelchair and she fitted Cassie into it and took her to the elevator.

Cassie slept for most of the next two days, which Doc said was a natural thing; her body was recuperating, restoring lost memories he hoped. She woke only briefly to find Natalie beside her on the bed; when she would quickly feed Cassie some soup before she fell back to sleep.

Cassie woke up fully to find the bedroom was dark but she could see chinks of light though the vertical blinds, which had closed off all of the windows. Natalie was asleep on the bed, still full clothed.

Cassie padded to the bathroom and showered and shaved away nearly two-weeks worth of sleep. She brushed her teeth and used mouthwash twice until her breath tasted clean and fresh. She silently made her way to her walk-in robe and closed the door behind her, turning on the light over the dresser and fixing her makeup. She slipped into satin panties, luxuriating in the feel of them sliding up her freshly shaved legs.

She slipped into a satin full-slip and went back to the bed.

The scent of her perfume roused Natalie who beamed at Cassie when she found her lying awake beside her. They kissed softly but for what seemed like ages.

“Cassie I…” Cassie put a finger to Natalie’s lips to silence her.

“Most of my memory has returned Nat, but not only that; I now have a deeper understanding of myself,” Cassie began.

“I know why I cat around. It’s to punish you. It’s me subconsciously punishing you for making me what I am and for abandoning me and letting the FBI put me into Witsec,” Cassie whispered looking down at the covers.

She looked up and met Natalie’s gaze.

“I deserve it,” Natalie’s eyes were brimming with tears.

“No you don’t! And it’s going to stop!”

“We are going to some place special; I haven’t decided where yet, and we are going to pledge our undying love for each other and grow old and wrinkled like a couple of lipstick lezzie grannies,” Cassie grinned.

“Is that a proposal?” Natalie smiled through her tears.

“Sure; but two things…We are giving up smoking and you have to tell me that I do not have a skinny ass!”

The End.