The big house that some referred to as the ‘pussy palace’ but the girls who lived there simply referred to as ‘home’ was a huge seven bedroom, five bathroom ranch house on the outskirts of Balwyn.

The house was set back from the road on a large property with manicured lawns a swimming pool and a number of detached buildings, one of which was set up as a recreation room with a full-size pool table, pinball machines, gaming consoles, a home theatre, wet bar and popcorn maker. Another was set up as a gym and another held gardening equipment.

When Jennifer Jones had taken over as Pakhan she had ordered similar changes be made to all of the dwellings where the trafficked girls were housed. Those girls who had been in-country long enough and could be trusted were allowed some liberty. Those girls who couldn’t be trusted or misbehaved were transferred to more austere accommodation and their employment was not quite as pleasant.

Jennifer Jones and Katya Kuznetsova had come up with the idea. The concept was to keep the trafficked girls as comfortable as possible and engender some trust. The girls were encouraged to contact friends back in their home towns and encourage them to seek out similar employment opportunities with agencies run by Katya Kuznetsova for Jennifer’s criminal organisation.

Jennifer was of a mind of using honey to attract bees rather than vinegar. The same applied to her other dealings in the complicated world of organised crime: it was better to offer silver rather than lead. But if lead was called for she had no hesitation about dishing it out.

Steve Edwards and Silvia Bickle had left Supergirls after interviewing Robert Sangster and drove out to the pussy palace after Steve found records relating to the domicile amongst the paperwork in Sandy Spiffle’s office.

Unknown to them Freya Krause, the house mistress, had been briefed by Pavel Ivanoff to cooperate with the police as far as identifying the girls who had been involved in the robbery but to say nothing else about the operation of Supergirls. Jennifer had advised Pavel that she wanted the Balwyn Police on the trail of the people who took her money because as soon as they found something useful it would be passed onto her through sources he didn’t need to know about.

Freya Krause was sweeping the patio around the small pool at the pussy palace when Steve Edwards and Silvia Bickle pulled up into the driveway. Freya could smell a cop a mile away. She plastered a false smile on her face and went to greet them at the pool gate.

“Hello officers, may I help you?” Freya held open the pool gate to let Steve and Silvia onto the property.

Freya spoke with a Germanic accent. She was in her late forties, tall and elegant with blonde hair with some grey through it. It hung to her shoulder and was immaculately coiffed; her makeup was perfect and she wore a tailored black long-sleeve dress, sheer flesh-toned nylons and black heels.

She might be the house mistress but it was obvious that she seldom did domestic work; the broom was a prop.

Steve and Silvia showed Freya their credentials and she led them into recreation room and offered them soft drinks. They sat at a card table drinking Diet Cokes. While Freya was busy putting ice in glasses and pouring the beverages Steve leaned into Silvia and spoke.

“If you’re ever thinking of taking early retirement you might wanna think about working at Supergirls; looks like these girls got it pretty good,” Steve surveyed the house and property.

“Yeah. Smuggled across the border in a shipping container or raped by coyotes, then spend two years working as a sex slave sending most of the pittance you earn back home. The swimming pool and recreation room really make up for all that,” Silvia said bitterly.

Steve knew when to shut up. He lived his life surrounded by women and drag queens all of whom had biting senses of humour and sarcasm with which he couldn’t compete, although he liked to try.

“You live here all alone?” Silvia asked when Freya returned with the drinks.

She looked around pointedly at the pool table, pinball machines, gaming consoles and home theatre.

“Oh no. The hostel is usually busy but right now all of my girls have found employment elsewhere and moved on,” Freya aimed her smile at Steve.

She played with the nap of her skirt so that hem rode up over her knee.

“Hostel? Is that what this place is?” Silvia asked pleasantly enough.

“Girls come in sponsored by an employment agency; mainly looking for domestic work. The agency owns the house; I’m just the house mistress,” Freya smiled sweetly.

“I just accommodate the girls and look after their welfare while they’re here,” she added.

“But they all work at Supergirls, a strip club in town,” Steve interjected.

“I’m not sure where they all work. A commuter bus picks them up for work and drops them off after,” Freya’s smile faltered a little.

“Picks them up just before lunch and drops them off in the early hours of the morning,” Steve said; it wasn't a question.

“They work funny hours,” Freya’s smile returned.

“Ok. Enough bullshit. We’re coming back with a warrant to search this place,” Silvia had had enough.

“Oh. I’m happy to cooperate. You can search the place and I’ll answer your questions without a warrant,” Freya showed no fear.

“Do you know either of these two women?” Steve held up the pictures of Olena and Alina.

“Oh yes. Olena Svetlana and Alina Kunis,” Freya tapped the photographs with a manicured fingernail painted blood red.

“Alina was living here until this morning when the girls all packed up and moved out. Olena lives in town; she has her own flat but she lived here for two years before that,” Freya rummaged in her handbag for cigarettes.

“Working off her contract,” Silvia said sourly.

“I know nothing of the girls employment contracts,” Freya shook the pack at Steve and Silvia and they both declined.

“I know… you're just the house mistress,” Silvia said sarcastically.

“Exactly,” Freya smiled at them through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“Can we see Alina’s room?” Steve asked.

“Sure. It’s empty now of course. Oh! There is one thing that might help you. Olena Svetlana comes out here to visit some of the girls now and then. She sometimes rides pillion on the back of a motorcycle. The man she rides with has one of those sleeveless denim jackets with all the patches that you see on the TV shows… Sons of Anarchy was it? I liked that show; all those muscled bad-ass young men in denim and leather,” Freya winked at Silvia and smiled.

Steve and Silvia took a perfunctory look around Alina’s old room. It was bare. Freya Krause had packed up all of Alina’s belongings into a suitcase and had thrown it on the bus that had taken away the rest of the girls telling them to help themselves.

“Keep the door locked. We’ll send a crime scene crew round to process Alina’s room,” Silvia growled.

“As you wish. I’ll keep the room locked. I have a new batch of girls arriving soon but I’ll keep them out of there,” Freya gave Steve and Silvia a ‘fuck you’ look before she turned on her heels and walked away.

“Cunt,” Steve hissed under his breath.

“You’d fuck her,” Silvia smiled at him.

“So would you. She’s just your type,” Steve bantered.

“I probably would if she wasn't a psycho wrapped in stockings and a dress, to misquote an eighties rock band.

Steve and Silvia rendezvoused with the rest of the team in the Task Force office and updated Penelope who put the new information on her crime wall.

“So to summarize our hypothesis: Olena Svetlana and Alina Kunis are inside Supergirls providing entertainment for our two heavily tattooed, as yet unidentified, males. They are inside a room with no cameras and a reinforced steel door with heavy duty locks. Sandy Spiffle is taking delivery of suitcases full of either drugs or money and taking them to the room,” Penelope pointed at her wall as she spoke.

“Sandy had twenty thousand dollars cash on his person, which is quite a lot and we assume was given to him by the tattooed men, most likely for the use of his establishment and the girls.”

Silvia interrupted.

“But it wasn't his establishment. He was just the manager. We still don’t know who owns the place,” Silvia said.

“I’m doing my best to forensically analyse the financials. I’ll find out the parent company soon enough,” Alice Leasingham piped in.

Penelope continued.

“Olena Svetlana unlocks the internal locking bolts on the doors and our two intruders use a device to defeat the front door locks and a firefight ensues when they go upstairs. The two suits and Sandy Spiffle are killed and the two intruders and the two women leave with five suitcases.”

“We believe the suitcases were filled with money rather than drugs based on the scene of crime evidence.”

“We know the second accomplice is Alina Kunis, an illegal who also works at Supergirls and lived at the, ahem, ‘pussy palace’. We also know that the other girl Olena Svetlana was hanging around with a biker or wannabe biker.”

“We are assuming that the intel given to the two intruders came from either Sandy Spiffle or the girls, most likely Olena Svetlana so Steve was either collateral damage or he was taken out to silence him. The two intruders have some knowledge but they are amateurs who have access to specialised weapons.”

“Does anybody else smell a hit on an organised crime counting house?” Penelope asked the others who all nodded.

“The tattooed guys, the Slavic girls; this has Russian mob written all over it,” Penelope espoused.

She did not see Alice Leasingham turn away and blush with guilt.

“So where to next?” Penelope put down her laser pointer.

“The biker connection. We check out The Beast of Burden. They’d be stupid enough to pull something like this,” Steve offered.

“Also we matched all the blood at the crime scene to the victims except for one small patch. It might have come from one of the perps. I sent a DNA sample for analysis in the federal databases,” Alice chimed in.

“Ok tomorrow we get a warrant and a SWAT team and visit our biker friends at their clubhouse and Alice you keep working the forensics. I want to know who owns that club and who that blood sample belongs to,” Penelope looked exhausted as did the rest of the team.

“We got the Staties manning traffic stops on the main roads looking for a Ford F150 Raptor but they're a dime a dozen around here. I think that’s all we can do for now,” Penelope started throwing her belongings into her handbag.

They called it a night.

*****

Jaylene Foster was not yet thirty and Penelope Bishop was fifteen years her senior but the two women loved each other despite their differences. Penelope was a hard-nosed cop, recovering alcoholic, twice married, cynical and irritable.

Jaylene had been abandoned by her family when she came out as transgender and was an ex-prostitute who had walked the streets because it was the only way to pay her tuition at Balwyn College where she had studied fashion design. Penelope had rescued her from the streets and Steve Edwards had found her a job designing costumes for the drag queens at Ride ‘em Cowgirl.

Jaylene had only needed a little help to get on her feet and her career had blossomed. Jaylene knew that Penelope felt guilty because she thought that Jaylene only stayed with her with out of a sense of debt and gratitude. Jaylene went out of her way to make sure that Penelope realised that wasn’t the case. Jaylene acted independently and was her own woman and sometimes she was a little hard on Penelope but for her own good.

They lay snuggled in bed, both wearing satin babydoll pyjamas and sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose because it kept them warm but mainly because they both loved the feel of satin, lace, nylon and lycra on their flesh.

“Have you heard of a place called the pussy palace?” Penelope asked.

“No. Is it a strip club or a titty bar?” Jaylene looked puzzled.

“No. It’s the nickname for a house where some of the girls from Supergirls live,” Penelope explained.

“Oh,” Penelope could hear the hesitation in Jaylene’s voice.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t implying anything,” Penelope reached out and tentatively stroked Jaylene’s shoulder, afraid to be too intimate.

Jaylene rolled onto her side and pulled Penelope towards her so that they were facing each other.

“I’m not ashamed of my past Penny… but I’m not proud of it either. I did what I did to survive and because of you I was saved from a crazed killer and I have the job I always wanted,” Jaylene whispered.

“I sometimes think I took you prisoner. That you only stay with me out of guilt and gratitude,” Penelope whispered in return.

“That’s just your insecurities Penny. You carry so much baggage, so much remorse, so much pride. You project your hard, infallible, unbreachable façade to the world. You keep your feelings to yourself because inside that defensive wall you are vulnerable,” Jaylene stroked Penelope’s cheek.

“And that’s where the true Penny lies. The Penelope I fell in love with. The Penelope who I know will protect me, will cherish me, will forgive me my transgressions… the Penny I love so deeply that it hurts sometimes,” tears were running down Jaylene’s cheeks and Penelope choked down a sob.

Penelope pulled Jaylene into her arms and kissed her softly.

“I love you so much that I’m scared I’m going to lose you,” Penelope sighed.

“Never, my love. I am the burden you have to carry forever,” Jaylene smiled through her tears.

“You are no burden. You are the reason I live,” Penelope returned the smile.

Jaylene pulled Penelope closer and their breasts pressed together through layers of satin and their hard cocks ground together through their panties and pantyhose. They both growled with lust as they pressed their lips together and kissed, entwining their tongues.

The two trans-women rubbed their cocks together and kissed passionately, they freed their breasts and felt their nipples engorge as they stroked and kneaded each other’s teats. Rings of pleasure radiated from their bosoms and their cocks released waves or delight; their turgid members throbbing and engorged.

Jaylene pulled down their panties so that just two layers of silky, transparent nylon pantyhose enclosed their tender flesh. They rutted against each other, kissing, pressing their breasts together, rubbing cocks.

Penelope rolled Jaylene onto her back and Jaylene opened her legs and wrapped them around Penelope and pulled her close. They ground against each other, their breathing becoming ragged as they humped and slithered together, the silky pantyhose eliciting sparks of delight as their cocks began to leak pre-ejaculate.

Penelope put a hand down between them, her intention obvious. She was going to rip open Jaylene’s pantyhose and fuck her.

“No… just do this. It’s wonderful, it’s amazing, it’s intimate,” Jaylene gasped and slapped away Penelope’s hand.

Penelope drove her tongue into Jaylene mouth and thrust against her, driving her into the soft mattress as their cocks scooched together and their breasts clamped closely, nipples hard and sensitive, releasing rings of delicate delight; cocks more tender, the pleasure of them pressing together through their pantyhose almost agonising.

Jaylene began to shake and shudder violently and anyone who didn’t know her intimately might think she was stroking but she was climaxing. She clung to Penelope and her gossamer-encased legs scissored against Penelope’s satin-shrouded body. Their bodies lit up with pleasure as their satin and nylon sheathed torsos and limbs caressed each other, their cocks slithering against each other as Jaylene began to leak semen into her pantyhose.

Penelope held Jaylene down on the bed and rode her as she bucked and wriggled. She felt the warm, sticky efflux soak into her nylons as Jaylene’s semen seeped from her cock, soaked through their pantyhose and saturated Penelope’s cock. This triggered Penelope’s orgasm and her cock juddered and she spent her issue into her own hosiery.

Both women’s cocks were encased in sheer nylon, saturated with hot, slippery semen as they both continued to ejaculate. Their orgasms were a prolonged slow ride rather than violent and momentary. They clung to each other; Jaylene still convulsing and Penelope riding her, kissing her, caressing her.

Finally Jaylene stopped wriggling and lay still on the bed with Penelope on top of her. The last dregs of their issue dribbled from their cocks to mingle with the spreading, steamy, musky mess in the front of their pantyhose. Neither woman cared. They’d made worse messes in their sheets and still slept in them.

Jaylene put her arms around Penelope’s neck and smiled up at her. Even with her smudged lipstick and ruined makeup she was beautiful.

“Did I tell you that I love you Penny,” Jaylene sounded very girly and Penelope’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes you did honey and I love you too; with all my heart,” Penelope leaned down and kissed the tip of Jaylene’s nose.

“Those girls at Supergirls. I never knew them. We moved in different circles. I worked the streets, which were often cold and dangerous, and they worked in a warm safe club with bouncers and security. They had nice rooms and they had customers who couldn’t stiff them. I’d sometimes see them arrive in their pussy-wagon; Sandy Spiffle herding them through the doors like prized cattle,” Jaylene sighed.

“Yet I still felt I had the better deal. I had my freedom,” Jaylene said with some conviction.

“And that’s all want to say about that,” Jaylene said with some finality.

“I understand,” Penelope put her weight on her forearms ready to climb off Jaylene.

Jaylene clamped her legs around Penelope preventing her.

“Where do you think you’re going? That Cialis is going to kick in again real soon and I haven’t finished with you,” she grinned up at Penelope salaciously.

“Why you hussy Jaylene Foster!” Penelope giggled.

“Shut up and fuck me grandma,” Jaylene pinched Penelope on the ass.

“Grandma is it? We’ll see who’s a grandma,” Penelope’s cock was beginning to engorge and she kicked open Jaylene’s legs.

“Don’t forget the lube. It’s on the dresser,” Jaylene chuckled.

“I’m not sure you’re getting any lube you cheeky bitch. I might just ride you dry,” Penelope grinned down at her lover.

Jaylene broke up with laughter but that didn’t stop Penelope from fucking her.

*****

There were ten girls staying at the pussy palace when the counting room at Supergirls got hit and as soon as Pavel Ivanoff found out he had two of his lieutenants pick up the girls in a twelve-seater minibus to take them elsewhere. The Madame-cum-housekeeper who chaperoned the girls, Freya Krause, said one of the girls was missing: Alina Kunis.

Freya told Pavel that Alina Kunis had been given overnight duty by Sandy Spiffle. It was not unusual for some of the girls to service clients in their hotel rooms and Freya had thought nothing of it. Freya knew nothing about the counting house.

This information was provided to Jennifer Jones by Pavel Ivanoff during the short limousine ride to the Balwyn Hilton after her private jet arrived at Balwyn airport. Pavel was sitting across from Jennifer and was distracted by her short skirt which showed off a lot of leg and the occasional glimpse of panty. Pavel had never met Jennifer Jones before but he knew that she was a cold-blooded killer and knew not to underestimate her. She was the Pakhan and she had taken that office by force from a man who was known to be ruthless and lacking any form of empathy or morality.

“We will go directly to the hotel. I need to shower and change; it’s been a long day. How is the police investigation proceeding?” Jennifer looked up from her iPad.

“They are still processing the crime scene at Supergirls. A Mister Sangster who worked for our manager gave up the location of the girls’ accommodation,” Pavel said, knowing that using the term pussy palace would likely earn him a rebuke.

“Sangster is a fool who knows nothing of our operation. I considered having him disappear but I think it is better to leave an idiot who can offer the police nothing in charge for now,” Pavel continued.

“Good call. Have the police been to the pussy palace yet?” Jennifer raised an eyebrow.

She was letting Pavel know that she knew the colloquialism that the men used for the girls barracks and that she very likely knew more than they thought she did.

“They interviewed Freya Krause. She’s the house mistress. She knows nothing about our businesses except for the sex trade,” Pavel replied.

Jennifer just grunted. Another change she and Katya made was to replace all of the men guarding the girls in their accommodations with women. Putting men in those positions was like putting bears in charge of the bee hives… they just can't stop stealing the honey. The precaution was made not so much to keep the girls happy. Jennifer didn’t care who fucked the girls, that's why they had been trafficked. It was more to do with the girls’ welfare. They needed rest when they weren’t working, just like any other employee.

“I have hired two vehicles as you requested. They are parked at the hotel,” Pavel said as the limousine turned into the Balwyn’s business district where the hotel was situated.

“Good. Give me an hour, then come to my room and you can brief me on the rest of what you know,” Jennifer put down her iPad and purposely crossed her legs, adjusting her skirt.

Jennifer had given Pavel the leg show and panty-peek to unnerve him and to see how he reacted. She had been thinking of killing him because he was the Bratok in charge of the counting house so it was his fault that it had been hit but he seemed competent enough. She’d see how things panned out and decide later.

Jennifer checked in, took a long shower and did her hair and makeup. She put on sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose a satin and lace bra and a knee-length white satin robe. After pouring a drink she made call on a secure line.

“Hello Katya darling, how are you?” Jennifer settled onto the chaise lounge, curling her legs under her.

“Hello Jennifer, how is Balwyn?” Katya Kuznetsova replied.

“I haven’t seen much of it yet but I doubt it has changed. Have you spoken to your friend in the police department?” Jennifer cut to the chase.

Katya had different priorities.

“How is Katerina?” Katya asked.

“She’s just peachy; but you already know that, you see her often enough,” a smile crossed Jennifer’s lips.

“Don’t be obtuse Jennifer; you know what I mean?” Katya’s tone changed, becoming chiller.

Katya and Jennifer had an entangled relationship. Katya had introduced Jennifer to the world in which she now dwelled and at one time had been her lover. Jennifer had later saved Katya from a life of misery and promoted her to a position of wealth and power; but in return Jennifer had used Katya’s daughter to bait a trap and then taken on Katerina as her Girl Friday.

“Katerina is working out wonderfully. She’s learning every day. She’s running things while I’m away cleaning up this mess in Balwyn,” Jennifer took a sip of her gin and tonic.

“I never wanted this life for my daughter. I kept her away from it for most of her life,” Katya sounded a little choked.

“I never wanted this life either Katya. But this life finds you; you don’t find it. Of course you had a lot to do with me finding this life,” Jennifer countered.

“You know that Uri and I were only doing what Donald Chase demanded,” Katya said coldly.

“Donald Chase. Now there is a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Which reminds me, my girl in France finally caught up with Mike Cole in Switzerland. You might be pleased to know that she said he cried like a baby and begged for his life before she dispatched him,” Jennifer said just as coldly.

“Don’t worry about Katerina. She’s doing very well for herself and I love her as much as I love you Katya,” Jennifer’s tone softened.

“You know they call you the skorpion suka,” Jennifer could sense Katya’s smirk even though she couldn’t see it.

“My Russian is improving. I know what that means and I quite like it,” Jennifer laughed into the phone.

“Ok. Penelope Bishop’s task force haven’t yet identified the two men who took out your counting house. They know who the girls are of course: Olena Svetlana and Alina Kunis. Forensic techs have identified the weapons used. Your men’s guns are untraceable as expected. Sandy Spiffle, the manager, was carrying a Glock he purchased legally at a gun show. The two intruders were carrying weapons fitted with suppressors. The guns were part of a shipment stolen by a biker gang in California,” Katya passed on what she knew about the weapons.

“The blood at the scene has been matched to the three deceased men but the CSI’s also found a patch from another person. They believe one of the intruders may have been wounded during the firefight. They are in the process of matching it and putting the blood type and DNA through the system,” Katya concluded her summary.

“Good work. How is Alice Leasingham by the way? You two still fucking?” Jennifer said a little snarkily.

“Alice is sweet. You know she is. I let her spend her vacations here and I treat her well. I’m fond of her and she has her uses,” Katya replied.

“I’ll say hello to her for you if I run into her,” Jennifer teased.

Katya knew Jennifer was joking. Katya and Alice’s love affair was a closely kept secret, encouraged by Jennifer because she liked to have eyes and ears in as many places as possible.

The door chime sounded and Jennifer checked her watch.

“I have to go Katya. I love you darling,” Jennifer said; the sentiment real.

“And I love you too Jennifer. Look after my daughter,” Katya replied and broke the connection.

Pavel Ivanoff had changed into a dark suit and looked quite fit and handsome. Jennifer never fucked the help except for Katerina but if she had an itch that needed scratching she might let Pavel scratch it.

Pavel was surprised to find Jennifer dressed only in nylons and a robe but appreciative of the view. He’d never been tempted by a transgender woman but Jennifer could possibly change his mind.

The thought was fleeting and ludicrous. Jennifer Jones was his Pakhan and a cold-hearted killer. Pavel knew the fable of the scorpion and the frog and Pavel had no intention of becoming the frog.

Jennifer offered Pavel a drink and curled up on the lounge again, Pavel sitting across from her in an easy chair. He handed Jennifer the keys to her hire car and Jennifer shared with him what Katya had told her.

“The thing about the suppressed weapons being stolen by bikers in California is interesting. The bikers would likely only sell the weapons to other bikers because the weapons were too hot to sell on the streets. Freya Krause said she had seen Olena Svetlana in the company of a man wearing a biker jacket,” Pavel rolled his glass in his hands, clinking the ice.

“They call them colours or something. On the back… She said it looked like a wolf,” Pavel frowned.

“How novel,” Jennifer uncurled her legs and stood.

Pavel couldn’t help looking at her legs; they were very long for a woman of such a small stature.

“I think we are a little ahead of Balwyn Police Department and tomorrow will be busy. Do we have Supergirls back yet?” Jennifer asked, leading Pavel to the door.

“The place is still a crime scene but we expect it to be handed back late tomorrow. I have let that idiot Robert Sangster think he will be the new manager and I have some new girls coming. Freya has the house ready for them and we still have a few girls working for us freelance,” Pavel said as they arrived at the door.

“We need to get someone local to manage the place; not some bald-headed muscleman with tattoos and a Russian accent. No offence of course but you stick out like dogs balls around here,” Jennifer said and Pavel blushed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll call you after breakfast,” Jennifer ushered Pavel out the door.

Jennifer took dinner in her room and worked until the early hours of the morning. She checked in with Katerina and a few of her Bratoks around the country to make sure that business was being taken care of the way she wanted it to be. She stripped down to a pair of lycra shorts and did some floor exercises and took a nap, setting the alarm for 2am when she woke, showered and fixed her makeup.

She went to her bedroom and slipped a pair of Lorna Jane black spandex leggings over sheer pantyhose and put on the matching long-sleeve sports top. She stepped into her black Nikes and laced them and took a hooded fleece-lined coat from the closet.

Jennifer took the magazine from her Walther PPS M2 9mm and inspected it and then slammed it back into receiver, jacked a shell into the chamber and checked the safety before putting it in her fanny-pack. She pulled a black ballcap down low on her brow and left the room. She took the elevator to the fourth floor and then the stairs to the underground car park where she pressed the button on the car keys Pavel had given her and looked around to see the indicators flashing on a black BMW X5.

Jennifer wanted to see the scene of the crime herself. There was something about actually being in the place where a crime had been committed: the bullet holes in the wall, the bloodstains, the smell, the ambience, illuminated her tactile senses.

The free zone was popping. All the strip clubs were open with hawkers beckoning the punters to come inside, the greasy-spoons were busy selling heart-stopping fat-filled, calorific, salty treats, the music from the nightclubs was raucous, hookers and dealers prowled the streets.

Supergirls was conspicuous for being the only dark building in a sea of light. Jennifer parked in a slot beside the Adult Store across the road from Supergirls and got out of the car. She adjusted her fanny-pack so it sat just above her ass, pulled down the brim of her ballcap and pulled the hood up and over her head. She locked the car and walked quickly across the street.

*****

Harlan Decker had given considerable thought about what he and Pete were going to do with the money once they had it. They knew that the money was untraceable and was bundled by denomination so there was no need to launder it but it’s not like they could just walk into Wells Fargo Bank and ask to deposit twelve million dollars in cash.

Harlan had rented a small farmhouse on the outskirts of Balwyn where they could hole up for a while and wait for the heat to cool down. He had relocated his bike there and put in some meagre provisions and essentials to last a day or two. The plan was to head down to Mexico and kick back. He wasn’t worried about the cops as much as he was the Russian mob. He had heard what they did to people who stole their money or fucked with them in any way.

Whilst his brother Pete was excited about the money, he was also excited that Alina Kunis was virtually his prisoner. She had been at the scene of the crime and would be a suspect in the murders but more importantly he’d seen how she’d looked at the money. She wanted some of that cash and she knew that the only way to get some was to continue to hang with Harlan, Pete and Olena. She also knew that Harlan and Olena were ambivalent about her. She was a liability as far as they were concerned.

Pete knew that Alina knew that Pete was her only ally.

Harlan handed out tasks to his three accomplices. Olena was directed to park the Raptor in the workshop at the back of the farm alongside Harlan’s ride, Harlan was going to monitor police channels, the TV news and online news services to see what the cops were up to and Pete and Alina were to take the suitcases and the canvass carryall with the weapons cache upstairs and put them in the attic. They would figure out a better hiding place later if need be.

Pete continually pestered Alina while they did their chores, putting his hand up her skirt when she went ahead of him on the stairs, pressing against her at every opportunity and generally pawing at her. Alina finally gave up. She needed to be left alone so she could think.

When they climbed out of the attic after putting the last suitcase up there Alina pulled Pete into one of the bedrooms. She pulled Pete onto the bed and he pounced on her, kissing her sloppily and pawing at her clothes. He smelled of blood, beer, gunsmoke and sweat but she gritted her teeth and did what she needed to do.

“No time to play nice; the others are waiting for us. Do me quickly,” Alina slid from under Pete, her tube-top stained by the drying blood from his ripped t-shirt.

Alina helped Pete unbuckle his belt and yanked his jeans down to his hips. He winced at the effort but his cock was hard and ready, a filament of clear precum leaking from the glans.

“Ok, let’s do this,” Alina scooted around on the bed on her hands and knees and raised her ass.

Pete pulled down her pink nylon panties and cheap pantyhose and bunched them around her thighs. Her pudenda was shaved and the lips of her labia were swollen and protruded from her vulva. Both Russians had given her a good pounding in the counting room.

Pete was lightheaded from his wound, emotionally drained from the firefight in the counting house and sexually aroused. A combination of temperaments that disposed him with the need to vent his emotions and seeing Alina on her knees offering him her ass was the remedy he needed.

Alina felt the mattress shift when Pete scooched in behind her, pushing her legs open a little wider. He nestled his glans in Alina’s puffy vaginal lips and thrust.

Alina gasped as Pete’s organ filled her vagina. She was glad that her cunt was filled with Russian cum because Pete’s cock distended her bruised pussy. Surprisingly she felt a little tingle of pleasure through the pain and when Pete picked up her ankles and held them like the handles of a wheelbarrow and began to vigorously fuck her she pushed back to meet his thrusts. Pleasure radiated from her bruised pussy and she wriggled a little to change her position so that Pete’s pubis pressed on her clitoris.

They fucked in silent bliss, the room filled with thwok, thwok, thwok sounds as Pete’s groin slammed against Alena’s buttocks as he slammed his cock in and out of her cunt, Alina’s grunts as Pete’s phallus drove deep inside her, and Pete’s gasps every time Alina’s cunt gripped his cock when he shoved it inside her.

Pete dropped Alina’s ankles and grabbed her skinny hips, dug in his fingers and pulled her ass back against him and drove his cock inside her as far as it would go and ejaculated. Alina thought that Pete was going to split her open and she could actually feel his member as it pulsated, spurting his semen deep inside her. His pubis pressed on her clitoris and an orgasm blossomed from her tender bud and spread outward; the ripples of pleasure meeting up with the waves of delight radiating from her swollen vagina.

The orgasm surprised Alina; she seldom came with clients but there was something about Pete’s awkward, fumbling fuckery that turned her on. She pressed back against him and wriggled her ass, draining him of his seed until Pete collapsed on top of her.

She let him lie on top of her until his cock slid out of her vagina and she felt runnels of semen cascade from her battered pussy.

“Ok. Was good for me too now get off,” Alina squirmed out from under Pete and knelt on the bed and used the corner of the sheet to wipe her vulva, then pulled up her pantyhose and panties and lowered and smoothed out her skirt.

Pete hiked up his jeans, zipped and buckled his belt. He felt a little self-conscious now that the deed was done.

“Did I do ok?” he asked sheepishly.

Pete was usually drunk when he had sex and he no idea whether his performance was pleasurable to the recipient of his carnal needs.

“You did good. You make me come,” Alina patted his cheek and kissed the other quickly.

They had just climbed off the bed when Olena Svetlana poked her head around the door.

“It smells like a breeding stall in here,” Olena said caustically.

“Harlan wants you to fix us something to eat Alina, and Pete, he wants you cleaned up so he can get a better look at your wound,” Olena fixed them both with meaningful stares: Harlan was the boss and she was his girl so best do as she says.

“Ok. I use toilet first then cook food,” Alina lowered her head and made her way to the door.

“None of that shit from home either. There’s steaks in the fridge, salads in the crisper and tatties under the stovetop,” Olena called after her.

Olena prided herself on being Americanised even though she had only been in the country a little over three years.

Alina stopped briefly to pee and wash her privates in the toilet and then went downstairs to cook.

“Don’t get too sweet on her Pete. She’s here by accident and that money will buy you all the pussy you want,” Olena talked to Pete like a schoolmarm to a taciturn child.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Pete said morosely.

“I’ll get you some clean duds from the stuff we packed in the car,” Olena said brightly.

She didn’t really like Pete. She knew that Pete wanted to fuck her and that Harlan wouldn’t let him but now that Pete had Alina she might lose her control over him. She needed to keep the brothers on her side until they split the money.

“I’d come in and scrub your back but Harlan wouldn’t like that,” Olena let her hand linger on Pete’s shoulder longer than she should.

They all showered before eating and changed clothes. Harlan, Pete and Olena had packed only one change of clothes because they didn’t intend to spend long at the farmhouse. Alina had to make do with the clothes she had on but Olena gave her a new package of pantyhose and a clean pair of panties.

They ate steaks, potatoes and salads; all ravenous after their exploits. Harlan and Pete drank beer and the girls drank from a bottle of vodka which Olena had thrown in one of the suitcases at Supergirls before they left.

“The cops are all over the place. They’ve set up roadblocks on all the roads out of town. They were a lot quicker than I thought they would be,” Harlan explained as he chewed a hunk of steak.

“We’re north of Balwyn but I figure everybody is going to think we’d head south to the Mexican border. There’s no reason for anyone to be looking for us up here. We wait until the roadblocks come down and then we hightail it south,” Harlan sucked on his beer.

“What about the money? What about passports for Olena and Alina?” Pete asked.

“Alena doesn’t need a passport she won’t be coming. She has no Green Card or legitimate visa,” Olena jumped into the conversation.

“She goes where I go! Don’t you go thinkin’ you’re running this show Olena. Harlan and I are in charge; right Harlan?” Pete glared at his bother.

“No one is going to be left behind. We stay together until we are safe and divide up the cash,” Harlan looked sheepishly at Olena.

“Why is she getting a cut? She did nothing except fuck a couple of Russians,” Olena hissed.

“Ok. This was my job. I’ll decide who gets what. There’s plenty to go around,” Harlan banged the table with the handle of his knife.

“The police are looking for two young Slavic women. They have your names and a description and soon they’ll have pictures out for everyone to see,” Harlan pointed his knife at the two women.

“They haven’t identified me and Pete yet otherwise it would be all over the news. We wore masks and gloves so they can’t recognise us. Tomorrow Olena and I will go into Menard and get some more clothes and supplies. I figure worst case scenario we’ll be holed up here for a week,” Harlan said.

“I’ve still my connections through the MC with the border guards on both sides of the border at Del Rio. If I pay them enough we can get across the border when the heat dies down. While we’re in Menard we’ll buy some burner phones. I only want to do this once. One shopping trip then we don’t leave the farm until we’re ready to leave for good,” Harlan got up from his chair and went to the fridge.

“And of course we will need more beer,” he chuckled and the others chuckled with him.

He’d broken the tension.

*****

Jennifer stood in the dark outside Supergirls. At 2am the free zone was in full swing but the taped off area around Supergirls was dark and quiet. Jennifer was invisible dressed all in black. She spun her fanny-pack around and checked the Walther and took out a key and penlight then zipped it closed but left it hitched low on her belly.

She used the key to open the front door, stepped inside, closed the door and waited in the dark for her eyes to adjust. The place was silent and smelled of stale cigarette smoke, sour beer and cheap perfume. Penelope switched on her penlight which had been fitted with a shade that allowed just a pinhole of light.

She shone the light on the deadbolts being careful not to illuminate the glass doors. One of the girls had unlocked the bolts to let the robbers into her establishment. She crept around the ground floor but found nothing interesting, just the detritus left by the crime scene people.

Jennifer made her way to the bottom of the stairs where the faint smell of gunsmoke and drying blood lingered. The stairs creaked a little as she climbed them slowly. She shone the torch on the hallway carpeting and saw more blood and the numbered plastic orange triangles marking where the shell casings had landed. There was no chalk outline of Sandy Spiffle’s body like you saw on old cop shows, just an evidence marker.

Jennifer approached the counting room. More triangles, the smell of gunsmoke and blood was heavier along with the stench of spilled vodka. She thought she could smell an undercurrent odour of sex but wasn’t sure. She shone her penlight around and played out in her mind what she thought had happened in the room.

Her men were partying while counting and bundling the money when it arrived in the suitcases: fucking the whores, drinking booze and snorting cocaine between deliveries. They’d paid Sandy Spiffle twenty grand to provide the whores, booze and coke and to keep his mouth shut about their extra-curricular activities.

One of her counters had gone to the door to investigate the gunshots when Sandy got shot and had been pulled into the hallway and got shot himself. The other counter had been shot in the room but not before he’d tried to defend himself. As far as she knew the girls hadn't been involved in the shooting and given how they were dressed in pleated micro miniskirts, tube-tops, sheer pantyhose and black high heels it was unlikely they would have been able to conceal a weapon.

It was a clusterfuck! All of the protocols she had put in place had been broken. The girl’s should not have been in the room nor should there have been any booze or drugs. Just her men and the money, delivered by Sandy; the door closed and locked after every delivery and not opened until the money had been sorted, counted and bundled.

The two intruders had been lucky but their luck would run out soon. Jennifer knew who the girls were and the boys were stupid enough to hang onto them. They should have killed the girls, leaving no witnesses and no liabilities.

“Men are so stupid,” Jennifer said to herself.

“But they sometimes have their uses,” Penelope Bishop stood in the doorway.

She snatched on the light switch almost blinding Jennifer who snatched her Walther out of her fanny pack and pointed it at Penelope.

“Is that the same gun you pointed at me in the warehouse after you shot Reznik and Yakovich?” Penelope had a wry smile on her face.

“The very same,” Jennifer smiled back.

Penelope had her own weapon out, pointing at Jennifer’s midriff.

“Is this what they call a Mexican Standoff?” Jennifer’s wry smile became a grin.

Jennifer appraised Penelope. She was wearing almost identical clothing: a black spandex two-piece bodysuit under a black topcoat and training shoes. The shoes were Nikes but the bodysuit was a generic brand rather than the fancy Lorna Jane Australian fashion label that Jennifer was wearing.

“The last time you pointed a gun at me you came away on top and left me holding the bag,” Penelope’s gun never wavered from Jennifer’s midriff.

“Oh bullshit Penelope! You got kudos for taking out Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich; the most wanted Russian mobster in the USA,” Jennifer countered.

“You know the Feebs took most of the credit and of course the DOJ,” Penelope kept her eyes glued on Jennifer’s.

“But you were and still are the local hero or should I say heroine. I’ve followed your career. You're slated to take over from Gary Rasmussen soon.”

“Yeah. There’s a promotion. Chief of Detectives in the Balwyn PD. The pay rise will pay for all the nylons I’ll snag sitting behind a fucking desk watching my ass get fatter,” Penelope huffed.

“I'm surprised a girl with your record hasn’t been offered a job with the Staties or the FBI,” Jennifer countered.

“Too old. Anyway, why would you recommend the FBI; they didn’t want you, did they,” Penelope scored a low blow.

“Sorry granny. I keep forgetting how old you are; you’re not in bad shape except for that expanding ass,” Jennifer quipped.

“You're the second tranny today to call me granny. I might just have to kick your ass,” Penelope bristled.

“I oughtta kick your ass for calling me a tranny,” Jennifer spat.

“Takes one to know one. Put down that faggot piece and I’ll take you up on it,” Penelope countered, her eye’s squinting.

Jennifer carefully put her pistol down on the table and took off her jacket and put it on the bed. Penelope entered the room, holstered her weapon and took off her shoulder rig and placed it on the bed beside her topcoat.

“We can’t fight in here it’s a crime scene,” Penelope said.

She left the room and entered one of the bedrooms further down the corridor, Jennifer following.

“This should do us…” Penelope never got finish the sentence as Jennifer lashed out and jabbed her in the jaw, rocking her on her heels.

“No face hits you bitch. I have to show up to work looking professional,” Penelope hated that she sounded whiney.

“Stop bitching,” Jennifer raised her foot and kicked Penelope in the midriff and the air shot out of Penelope’s lungs and she staggered back against the wall.

Jennifer closed in and kicked at Penelope again but Penelope caught her foot and twisted it and pushed Jennifer, who flew across the room and fell on the bed.

Penelope pounced on Jennifer and pinned the diminutive woman to bed with the weight of her body.

“Now I got you; you little princess,” Penelope kneed Jennifer in the groin.

Jennifer was able to close her legs before Penelope made contact and she began to struggle. She might be small but she was strong and supple and Penelope was losing her grip on Jennifer’s wrists.

“That’s dirty fighting,” Jennifer huffed but she too raised a knee and tried to knee Penelope between her legs.

Penelope slid sideways avoiding the blow but that allowed Jennifer to flip Penelope over on her back and straddle her.

“I always prefer being on top with another woman,” Jennifer gasped, making light of the situation.

“I seem to remember that I was on top last time,” Penelope tried to free her wrists from Jennifer’s grip but couldn’t.

Their faces were mere inches apart and they were both panting from the exertion even though it hadn't been much of a fight.

“You going to say uncle?” Jennifer struggled to keep Penelope pinned to the bed.

She had to press her body against Penelope’s to keep her down.

“No fucking way,” Penelope wriggled and writhed beneath Jennifer.

“You bitch! You're not tucked!” Jennifer smiled down at Penelope.

She could feel the girth of Penelope’s penis through the layers of spandex. Penelope’s cock had come away from between her legs during the struggle.

“Who the fuck tucks when you're going out dressed in tights at fucking 2am?” Penelope struggled harder under Jennifer.

“Well I didn’t either,” Jennifer’s cock had also come away from her perineum and was lying pressed against her belly, held there by her lycra tights.

“Don’t you get hard on me bitch!” Penelope pushed her groin upwards, ostensibly to dislodge Jennifer but Jennifer pressed down harder on her, trying to pin Penelope to the bed.

“Give up Penelope,” Jennifer grinned.

The fight was no longer serious; they were just two girls wrestling on the bed.

“No way. And you are getting hard, you dirty bitch,” Penelope smiled up at Jennifer.

The only light in the room came in through the doorway, thrown from the overhead lights in the counting room. Penelope’s face lay in a bar of that light and once again Jennifer realised how beautiful Penelope was. Penelope had grown graceful and demure as she had entered middle age, her eyes were icy green just like her own.

Penelope gazed at Jennifer, who reminded her of a younger, smaller version of herself except with exotic red hair.

Both women were in full makeup and their eyeliner and mascara had smudged during the short fight. The dark grungy makeup made their eyes more attractive rather than detracting from their looks. Both women were wearing red lipstick which they tasted when their lips softly pressed together.

The kiss lingered and their tongues entwined as they both became engorged, their cocks trapped in the sheathlike fabric of their tights.

“Did you come here just to fuck me?” Jennifer grinned down at Penelope.

“No. I came here to fuck you up,” clouds crossed Penelope’s face as she realised that Jennifer was mocking her.

Penelope began to struggle again and Jennifer allowed her to wriggle free but then spun her over and pinned her face down on the bed and held her there, pushing down and gripping her wrists to hold her still.

Jennifer pressed her body against Penelope, her hard cock encased in the slinky lycra nestled the valley of Penelope’s seamless tights; she thrust it between Penelope’s lycra-clad cheeks. The tights were sleek and fitted like a second skin and Penelope could feel the girth of Jennifer's cock through the smooth elastin fabric. Jennifer gripped Penelope's hips and humped away at her smooth, tight ass. Penelope screamed silently into the bedclothes.

“Stop it you bitch. I don’t want this!” Penelope’s cries were smothered and Jennifer thought that her protests were faux.

Penelope heard Jennifer moan with pleasure as she moulded herself to her body. She released Penelope’s wrists and Jennifer’s hands slid under her body and found Penelope’s breasts and stroked them through the slinky, figure-hugging material. Jennifer didn't grope or paw; she caressed the firm globes and stroked Penelope’s nipples with her thumbs. Jennifer had also stopped rutting at Penelope’s bottom long enough to free her cock and was slowly thrusting herself between Penelope’s buttocks; enjoying the feel of the soft, slippery leggings on her cock.

Penelope's body was involuntary responding to Jennifer's ministrations. Her nipples hardened as Jennifer caressed them and she was enjoying the sensations of Jennifer’s hard cock stroking on her buttocks through her tights. Penelope felt a dewy droplet of precum leak from her cock.

“You know this rape,” Penelope sighed.

“It’s not rape if you enjoy it,” Jennifer whispered in Penelope’s ear then nibbled on her earlobe.

She felt Penelope shudder with lust beneath her and she smiled and caressed Penelope’s neck with her lips.

“That’s a good girl. You know when you’re beaten,” Jennifer whispered.

“Shut up!” Penelope hissed and wriggled her bottom invitingly.

Jennifer sensed Penelope’s compliance and she continued to stroke Penelope’s breasts. She tweaked Penelope’s nipples and felt them harden. Then to her delight she felt Penelope press her buttocks upward so that Jennifer’s erection rubbed directly in the crease of her buttocks. Jennifer heard Penelope moan with lust and she kissed the back of her neck and stroked her nipples a little harder.

Jennifer spun Penelope around and kissed her, crushing her lips against hers, her hands went back to Penelope’s breasts briefly before she lowered her face to Penelope’s firm globes and licked them, flicking her tongue across Penelope’s nipples, making her moan louder in the dark quiet room.

Penelope freed her arms and placed them over Jennifer's head so that she was locked in her embrace. Her silken-clad mound pushed against Jennifer’s cock and she could feel Jennifer’s erection through her leggings. Penelope raised her groin so that her cock was rubbing on Jennifer’s; pushing it hard into her silken tights. Penelope rutted against Jennifer and lifted her face so she could kiss her. As they kissed Penelope lifted her legs and wrapped them around Jennifer so that Jennifer’s cock was once again nestled in the crevice of her ass. Jennifer gripped Penelope’s thighs and met her thrusts, the slinky seamless tights the only impediment to Jennifer penetrating her.

Jennifer let go of one thigh and slipped her hand inside the waistband of Penelope’s tights. Penelope thought that Jennifer was going to pull them down but her hand snaked deeper and her fingers found Penelope’s throbbing cock. Jennifer stroked Penelope’s engorged phallus; squeezing little beads of pre-ejaculate from the glans.

Penelope screamed into Jennifer’s mouth but it was a cry of lust not anger.

Penelope bucked and writhed with pleasure as Jennifer forced her to enjoy carnal pleasures in the dark silence of the bordello bedroom. She wondered how many girls had been fucked on this very bed. How much semen had been spattered in the sheets on which they now rutted? It was wrong. Jennifer should have been Penelope’s arch enemy and it wasn’t that long ago that she had made love to Jaylene Foster but it was erotic, extremely stimulating, forbidden, wanton. All these words flew through Penelope’s mind as her cock quivered in response to Jennifer's ministrations. Confrontation had become resistance, which became reluctance, which became compliance, and had now become complicity.

Penelope wanted Jennifer. She kissed her and tasted Jennifer’s breath. It was fresh and sweet, her Dior Poison perfume was exotic, and the feel of Jennifer’s hard cock against against her lycra-clad buttocks was provocative, exciting and so very, very wrong.

Jennifer removed her fingers from Penelope’s cock and scratched her fingernail against the crotch of her leggings.

“You’ll ruin my tights,” Penelope whispered, her breathing harsh with lust.

“Cheap K Mart leggings. I’ll buy you a pair of decent fashion tights,” Jennifer teased, poking a finger through the elastin and lycra blend fabric.

Jennifer adjusted her position, looming over Penelope, her penis aligned with the hole she had made in Penelope’s tights. Penelope sensed what Jennifer was doing and she assisted, moving her buttocks until the glans of Jennifer's penis found the little hole she'd made. Penelope thrust upward and Jennifer bore downward until her cock popped through the hole and nestled in the bud of Penelope’s anus.

Penelope moaned as the tip of Jennifer's penis entered her. She wanted all of it inside her. Jennifer pushed down with all her might and the hole in Penelope’s tights ripped open enough to allow Jennifer's erection to slide all the way through and all the way inside Penelope’s anus.

Penelope locked her ankles behind Jennifer's back and she began to fuck her and Jennifer kissed Penelope, driving her tongue into her mouth. Penelope gyrated her hips and met Jennifer’s thrusts to ensure maximum penetration ensuring that her cock ground against Jennifer’s pubis to stimulate her engorged member. Jennifer held Penelope’s thighs and fucked her harder and faster, her mouth alternated between Penelope’s face and breasts, suckling her teats, nibbling them, biting them until she screamed with passion and desire.

They felt their orgasms approaching and Jennifer pushed Penelope down into the bed so she could drive her rampant cock all the way inside her. She kissed Penelope passionately as she ejaculated deep inside her, filling her anus with her hot seed. Penelope moaned as she felt her cock begin to pulsate and spent her hot seed into her tights, her anus spasming, gripping Jennifer’s throbbing cock in her tight channel, squeezing her issue from her.

The two beautiful trans-women twisted and ground against each other, stimulating each other to maximise their pleasure. They frantically fucked each other, gasping and moaning as they orgasmed simultaneously.

Their orgasms peaked and they began to descend from their bliss as Jennifer held Penelope pressed down into the bed. Penelope still clung to Jennifer and they kissed and nuzzled at each other tenderly like lovers.

"That was some fight," Penelope whispered.

“I kicked your ass,” Jennifer smiled down at Penelope.

“Yeah, I suppose you did,” Penelope sighed

“You knew I’d come here,” Jennifer said.

It was a statement not a question.

“Tattooed Russians, Slavic prostitutes, suitcases full of cash… it has your fingerprints all over it,” Penelope struggled out from under Jennifer who knelt on the bed and pulled up her leggings.

She followed Penelope back to the counting room where both women retrieved their weapons.

“So… did you see anything we might have missed?” Penelope asked.

Jennifer gave her a wry smile.

“Are we cooperating again?” she adjusted her fanny-pack.

“Not after the last fiasco. I think it’s best if we go our separate ways,” Penelope fiddled with the hole in the crotch of her tights, trying to close it.

“We’re likely to stumble over each other,” Jennifer pulled a package of cigarettes from her fanny pack and lit two, handing one to Penelope.

“I’m quitting,” Penelope said, taking a deep drag.

“You're always quitting,” Jennifer laughed.

“I like it when you genuinely laugh. You don’t do it enough,” Penelope pulled on her topcoat to keep warm.

“I’m in a serious business,” Jennifer abruptly stopped laughing.

“Well let’s make sure we don’t stumble over each other during our investigations,” Penelope said.

“No DOJ? No Feebs?” Jennifer fiddled with the zipper on her jacket.

“Nope. Just us local yokels,” Penelope ashed her cigarette into the palm of her hand and shook it out the door.

“You know what will happen if I find those men and those girls before you do?” Jennifer’s voice was dry.

“If you kill them and it’s not self-defence it will be felony murder,” Penelope voice was equally terse.

The two women locked eyes. They both had glacial green eyes but Penelope remained fascinated by the light bluish heterochromia in Jennifer’s right eye.

“Probably best if I leave first,” Jennifer said.

“Probably. I don’t want to be shot in the back,” Penelope looked for somewhere to put out her cigarette without contaminating the crime scene.

“Why would I do that? I just shot you in the ass,” Jennifer eased past Penelope and kissed her lightly on the lips before she disappeared down the corridor.

To be continued

Author's Note: As an internationally tolerated transvestite purveyor of pornographic literature I would appreciate your feedback and comments on my work if you have the time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This roused Duane McAllister and Bob Livingstone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harlan kept loading the Raptor, ignoring the old hippies.

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

Harlan just nodded.

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

They had finished the joint and moved onto the beer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled and her attractive face was suddenly beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus lady!” Harlan howled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Push baby,” Justine sighed and Harlan obliged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was grandma?” she teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The RV began to rock on its axles again.

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck it!” she said to herself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benny Hopkiss nervously prowled the wooden floor behind Pete Decker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stepped back when he reached for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pete burst out laughing and got to his feet.

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alina noted Olena had used I not we.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bed started to creak again.

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

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

*****

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

Pavel Ivanoff lay naked on the bed sucking her cock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Decker boys had automatic weapons.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The farm was eerily quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doctor,” he gasped through the pain.

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

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

Jennifer walked back to her car and stared at Alina.

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

Alina told her.

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Two years later...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The end

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