Novogorbovo, Russia – July 1985

There was supposedly no class system in the USSR; everyone was equal. And everyone knew that was a myth but to keep up the charade the Ilyushin Il-62 long-range jetliner, specially fitted out for the delegation, did not have a designated First or Business Class. The delegates and aides were simply assigned a seat. The fact that the front section of the aircraft had the biggest, most comfortable seats with the extra leg room, better food and a full bar service, whilst the rear section was more indicative of Economy or Coach on a commercial airliner was not lost on Professor Mikhail Blavatsky.

He complained bitterly to the hostess who seated him in the middle section of the plane but she ignored him. Telling her that he was the head of the academic contingent of the delegation made no difference to her. What incited him further was that when he was seated he looked out the window he saw a small convoy of black GAZ Volga sedans pull up alongside the aircraft and Valerie Sokolova and Yuri Godekin alighted from one and were directed to the front section of the aircraft along with the VIPs.

Mikhail’s bitterness towards his new assistant had become an almost constant hum in his brain. She was insanely beautiful and she dressed proactively (he was sure just to tease him) but she was untouchable and even worse she was treated with more reverence than he was.

Valerie Sokolova was given the window seat beside Yuri Godekin not as a privilege but because Yuri was going to give her final instructions and briefings during the flight and what they were about to discuss was not for the ears of the underlings in Coach. As soon as they were airborne Yuri took down his briefcase and pulled out a selection of dossiers.

“Colonel Steven Braxton USAF,” he tapped a headshot of a handsome middle-aged man in a blue uniform.

Valerie nodded. She recalled the dossier vaguely from the many she had been given to study.

“He works on the Strategic Defense Initiative, what the Americans call Star Wars. He’s assigned to work with research scientists in the fields of high-energy physics and supercomputing. He is a member of the science and technology contingent in the US delegation so you will not meet him during the conferences you are attending but there will be opportunities for you to meet him socially, especially at the ‘ice-breaker’ reception tomorrow night,” Yuri explained.

“He is to be your first target,” Yuri said tapping the picture again.

“He is married with three children but our operatives in the US have discovered that he is a womaniser and sexual predator who also has a penchant for what he calls ‘Ladyboys’. One of our rezidentura nearly nabbed him when he went to a nightclub in Washington where she works as a drag queen but he slipped through her fingers,” Yuri continued.

“He should be an easy mark because you can identify yourself as a transwoman who is seeking asylum. No need to disguise your gender with this one; he will take advantage of you for sure,” Yuri chuckled.

“But when we show him the film of him in flagrante delicto with a Russian transsexual and threaten to show it to his wife and his superiors, I’m sure he will sell his soul to us,” Yuri said gravely.

Yuri went on to identify particular targets and what he wanted Valerie to do with them. A meal was served and wine poured and for a while Valerie was just happy to recline in the comfortable seat and talk to Yuri. He was in one his better moods and allowed Valerie to slip into a deep sleep.

She had her seat fully reclined and slept facing him. Her face was pretty even when she was sleeping; in fact probably more so, except for on the rare occasions when she smiled; then she made his heart flutter but he would never tell a soul. She was wearing one of her business suits for the flight and her skirt had hiked up and the long expanse of her gossamer-sheathed legs were on display and Yuri could hardly tear his eyes away.

He was confused by his feelings for Valerie. At first he felt nothing but loathing for her. He considered Valéry Sokolova a weak-willed degenerate who had a perversion that he should control but couldn’t. He saw Valerie only as a tool that had potential.

But things had changed over the weeks they had spent together and especially after her surgery. He no longer thought of her as a man in a dress; he only ever thought of Valerie as a woman. He was beguiled by her beauty, her intelligence, her poise and her vulnerability. He now fully understood that Valéry Sokolova had believed that he was a woman trapped in a man’s body but that was no longer the case. Valerie Sokolova had emerged like a beautiful butterfly from a cocoon. She was attractive, intelligent and obedient with just a tinge of rebelliousness that made her a perfect spy.

But.

As much as he admired her; he could not get over what she was: a delightful and beautiful creature that was not fully a woman.

But she was a better choice for the mission than Petra Donevski had been. Valerie had the advantage of being a transgender woman so anyone caught compromising themselves with her was more likely to succumb to blackmail. Also, Petra had become overconfident and demanding. Yuri had made a mistake ordering her to seduce Professor Mikhail Blavatsky. She had become big-headed, telling both Yuri Godekin and Ivan Petrov, both of whom were sharing her bed, that she had complete control of the Professor and that perhaps her reward for serving the Soviet Republic by prostituting herself was insufficient.

When Yuri had proposed replacing Petra with Valerie, at first Ivan was against the idea but when Petra kept pestering him for better remuneration, both financially and politically, Ivan eventually came around. The proviso being that Petra had to be taken care of because there was no doubt that she would become impossible to control once she found herself replaced.

It had saddened Yuri a little to kill Petra but there were always causalities during war and make no mistake; the Cold War was still a war.

Yuri glanced at Valerie to confirm that she was sleeping deeply; the direct flight was ten hours and most of the delegates and the security detail were napping, the cabin lights dimmed. He took out his portable microfilm reader which resembled the View Master toys sold in the US but instead of a picture reel, the pictures were read from a strip that advanced when the operator pressed the trigger.

Yuri loaded the film strip into the reader and brought it to his face.

Vladimir Golubev had Valerie Sokolova on the bed; her evening gown pulled down and was suckling her breasts. Yuri advanced one click and Valerie was naked except for her stockings, panties and high heels. Vlad was lying on top of her rubbing his cock on hers through her panties, kissing her. One click later and she had her legs wrapped around him and she was grimacing with pain as she impaled herself on his phallus. Another click. They were rutting: kissing while Vlad was fucking Valerie, she had her legs around his waist and her arms on his shoulders; her beautiful face a picture of lust.

Yuri advanced the next three frames quickly. Vlad and Valerie were lying on the bed smoking and drinking, obviously relaxed and enjoying each other’s company.

In the next frame Valerie’s ass was to the camera, still wearing those tight red nylon panties, she was kneeling over Vladimir Golubev’s torso and sucking his cock. In the next frame they were lying sideways, reversed; he was sucking her cock while she sucked his.

Yuri was supposedly checking Valerie’s acumen with the miniature camera that he had given her to practice taking photographs during her honey traps but this was the fourth time he had viewed the pictures. He found them highly provocative: they both aroused and disgusted him. He couldn’t help looking at them and now he was concupiscent, tenting his trousers.

Yuri looked around the dim cabin and saw that most of the passengers were asleep and those who were awake were studying paperwork. He made his way to the toilet and locked it.

Yuri put the microfilm reader on the little shelf adjacent to the tiny sink and put his hand inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the pair of red, almost transparent, nylon full-cut panties that Valerie had been wearing when the pictures were taken. He had stolen them from her laundry basket and kept them as a souvenir. He unzipped his fly and released his semi-erect penis. He brought the viewer to his eyes and the panties to his nose and inhaled.

In the viewer Valerie was astride Vlad, riding him reverse cowgirl. Her head was thrown back and she had a beatific smile on her face, obviously enraptured. He inhaled again and could smell Valerie’s perfume. Of course there was no hint of vaginal odour but there was a slight muskiness in the front of the panties, the result of Valerie’s dried ejaculate.

He put down the viewer, the picture of Valerie riding reverse cowgirl burned into his brain, except that in Yuri’s mind Valerie was riding him not Vlad. He took another deep breath; Valerie's panties pressed to his nose, and took his manhood into his hand. He stroked his now fully-erect penis, one, twice, three times and felt his balls churn, ready to discharge their load.

He wrapped Valerie's panties around his throbbing cock, the cool slippery nylon felt like gossamer on his tender organ and he discharged himself into them, stifling a cry. His knees shook with the intensity of his orgasm. The sexy red panties bloomed darker as they soaked up his semen. In his mind he was thrusting his cock into Valerie and she was pushing back on him.

The tableaux began to fade as Yuri’s orgasm began to subside. The lust and lechery he had felt looking at Valerie’s pictures while he relieved himself into her underwear dissipated and was replaced by guilt and shame. He jammed the semen-drenched panties into the little bin, pushing them down deep and put a layer of tissues over them. He put his cock away, zipped and washed his hands and put more paper towels over the incriminating garment.

When he left the toilet he looked calm and confident, nodding to one of the delegates who looked up from the paperwork he was studying, but inside he was in turmoil. He would be glad when the convention was over and Valerie was out of his life forever. Then of course there was that to deal with. It would be his job to dispose of her once the mission was complete.

Yuri eased himself back into his seat and saw that Valerie was still fast asleep and as beautiful as ever. He viciously elbowed her awake.

“Wake up! We have work to do,” Yuri made a show of opening his briefcase to take out some dossiers.

He slipped the viewer inside its case and put it away.

Valerie stretched and her skirt rode all the way up her legs, momentarily exposing the white satin panties that she was wearing and Yuri became overcome with guilt. He poked her again.

“Pull down your skirt, you look like a slattern!” he growled.

“Your people designed these clothes not me!” Valerie countered angrily and immediately regretted it.

Yuri slapped her across the cheek. It didn’t really hurt that much but the shock and shame that Valerie felt was worse than any pain. She demurely pulled down the hem of her skirt as far as it would go and sat upright.

“I’m sorry I snipped at you sir; it was uncalled for,” Valerie whispered and Yuri felt deep regret for hitting her but he would never show it.

He put down Valerie’s tray table and put a file on it and opened it to a picture of a man leaving the Pink Parrot nightclub in Washington. Yuri tapped the picture.

“Colonel Steven Braxton USAF, member of the US science and technology contingent. Has a thing for transvestites. He’s my first target and I am to take pictures of him compromising himself with me,” Valerie stated as if by rote.

“Ok let’s discuss options,” Yuri went over their plan again and Valerie, who had the options firmly in her brain, dutifully followed Yuri’s every word.

It gave her the opportunity to study his face which was interesting. There was no doubt that he was handsome; his eyes were deep blue and his skin tanned; his hair thick and wavy. The long thin scar that began under his left eye and curved away across his cheek to his neck and ended somewhere under his collar didn’t distract from his attractiveness; instead it made him look ruggedly handsome and dangerous. He was a strange man who could be gentle and kind in one minute and lash out brutally the next. Valerie felt nothing for Vladimir Golubev who was also handsome and had taught her how to make love; but she felt something for Yuri Godekin. She just didn’t know what it was.

The Ilyushin Il-62 touched down at John F. Kennedy International Airport and the passengers began the scramble to take down their carryon baggage.

“I’ll see you tonight. Remember your mission,” Yuri said curtly as he stepped into the aisle.

Valerie was to wait for Professor Mikhail Blavatsky to come up from Coach and disembark with him. From now on, whenever they were in public, she was to present as his aide and interpreter. Mikhail ambled down the aisle and gave Valerie a withering look then thrust his overstuffed briefcase into her midriff and walked ahead of her. She followed dutifully behind him carrying Mikhail's briefcase and her handbag.

There was to be no limousine ride for Valerie this time. The primary delegates were ushered into a waiting convoy of limousines once the formality of greeting the Soviet Ambassador to the United States of America was completed. This included Professor Mikhail Blavatsky. Valerie and the other aides, administrative staff and most of the security detail boarded minibuses and were soon speeding along the Van Wyck Expressway with most of passengers rubbernecking to see the marvels of capitalist America.

None of the delegates were free to leave the hotel unless accompanied by a Soviet security agent and every excursion had to be approved by the head of the delegation who was a KGB stooge. There were cultural events outside of the hotel to attend of course and organised tours and even a supervised shopping expedition but the hotel entrances would be under close scrutiny by both the KGB and the FBI. The convention would be a disaster for the USSR and an embarrassment to the USA if any of the Soviet delegates were to defect.

When the delegation arrived at the Plaza Hotel they were directed to a huge ballroom that had been designated as the main conference room for the bilateral convention. Several smaller ante rooms led off the main room so that the delegates could break down into their specialist contingents and where private meetings could be held. The US State Department had booked two floors for the Soviet delegation and once the keys to the rooms were handed over the KGB went through every room and swept them for listening or recording devices.

The room assigned to Valerie Sokolova was a little more opulent than her station deserved. It was located on the VIP floor but she had been assigned the room for a reason. A KGB specialist had only this morning installed a miniature video recording device which could be activated from the adjoining room which was assigned to Yuri Godekin. The camera could record for four hours without replacing the video cassette.

The delegation was given a final briefing and warned for the thousandth time that they could not under any circumstances leave the Plaza hotel without permission and then they were given their room assignments. They were told that their baggage would be delivered to their rooms directly.

Mikhail Blavatsky was peeved when he found out that Valerie was assigned a room on the VIP floor the same as him. He grunted at her to follow him to the elevator and made her carry his heavy briefcase. When a valet attempted to relieve Valerie of her burden Mikhail snapped at him and Valerie interpreted that it was ok, it was Valerie’s job to carry the Professor’s briefcase, although what Mikhail had said to the valet in Russian didn’t bear repeating. He had sworn at the valet in Russian and told him that Valerie was his servant.

They made their way to the elevators, the Professor rudely stepping into the car ahead of her and indicating for Valerie to stand next to him. He continued to berate her in Russian in the crowded elevator car.

“You may be Yuri Godekin’s little toy outside of the conference but during the day you work for me,” Mikhail snarled at Valerie when they got to his room.

“Do you get it; you useless little tchotchke in a skirt suit!” Mikhail growled.

“Make sure you are at my side throughout the opening ceremony and the meet-and–greet this evening to interpret for me,” Mikhail added before Valerie could answer.

The elevator arrived at the VIP floor and Valerie followed Mikhail down the corridor.

“Comrade Godekin has assigned a task for me to undertake this evening Professor,” Valerie said demurely as they entered his room.

“Ah! You are to start fucking the Americans immediately. A whore has her duties to perform I suppose but you better make your service to me your number one priority,” Mikhail stepped into Valerie, his face inches from hers.

“My duty is to the United Socialist Soviet Republic, Professor. I am merely a tool,” Valerie replied levelly.

Mikhail reached around her body and grabbed Valerie by the buttocks and pressed himself against her. He squeezed her breasts through her suit. She could feel his erection pressing into her but she remained stoic.

“You are a pretty little whore indeed but you are not a patch on my Petra. I can see why they recruited you,” Mikhail thrust his hand under her skirt and squeezed her buttocks.

“You stay close to me this evening until you have to perform your task. You work for me not Comrade Godekin,” Mikhail’s hand slipped around the front of Valerie’s skirt and found her pantied pudenda.

It was a perfect V-shape, smooth and soft through her satin panties. Valerie removed Mikhail's hand before he could discover that Valerie was hiding a secret between her legs.

“I believe my duties do not include providing you with sexual gratification; unlike Petra,” Valerie hissed.

Mikhail pushed Valerie away from him so hard that she slammed into the wall.

“You are an impertinent little suka! Go to your room and make sure you are on time to escort me to the opening ceremony,” Mikhail hissed dismissively.

Plaza Hotel, Midtown Manhattan, New York City – July 1985 – Day One of the Convention

“There’s Natasha Fatale,” Bob Munsen dug Vince Gruffalo in the ribs and pointed with his nose towards Valerie Sokolova who was standing next to a balding, gangly-tall man with a protruding pot belly dressed in a bad suit.

“That's Professor Mikhail Blavatsky, head of the Rooskie academic contingent. Valerie is his interpreter,” Vince told Bob, who needed no reminding.

“That chick is hotter in real life than she is in her photograph. Check out those pins man; they go forever,” both agents were openly ogling Valerie.

But they weren't the only ones doing so; every red blooded man in the foyer was ogling her.

Vince and Bob had been assigned the job of keeping the members of the Soviet delegation under surveillance whilst they were in Plaza Hotel. If any of them left the hotel the agents were to contact other members of the Special Task Force whose job it was to tail any potential operatives. Later that evening there would be an the opening ceremony and a mixer afterwards but the FBI agents were expressly forbidden from attending any of the conferences or social gatherings. Their task was to provide security. Unless any of the Soviet delegates left the hotel, they could only observe them discreetly in the public spaces.

The KGB security detail was openly going about their business the same as the FBI. They were not being furtive and neither were the FBI, on the contrary they were openly advertising their presence to the delegates. The two agencies had a grudging accord. It served both their interests that the convention run smoothly and to that end there was an informal détente between them.

“I’m going to keep an eye on the Professor. You stay down here in the lobby,” Vince said to Bob.

“You’re going to keep an eye on her ass,” Bob Munson chuckled.

Bob didn’t mind staying behind. Babysitting the Soviet delegates was easy work and he got paid the same whether he was chasing down bad guys or sitting in a hotel lobby sipping coffee and checking out the asses of the passing ladies. He took a seat in the lobby and got to work comparing the asses of the women in the lobby to those on his ‘female cartoon characters I’d like to fuck’ list.

Vince got into the same elevator as Valerie Sokolova and Mikhail Blavatsky with some of the other delegates. Valerie was struggling to carry the Professor’s oversize briefcase as well as her own handbag and for a fleeting second he considered offering to help her but he didn’t want to draw undue attention to himself in the elevator car so he stood against the back wall of the car and checked out her ass and legs.

The photograph in the file did not do her justice. Valerie was quite striking with a pretty face framed by her jet back hair, a curvaceous figure, small but perky breasts, long legs and a squeezable bottom all wrapped up in a nice tight skirt-suit and shimmery nylons. He could smell her perfume from the back of the car. The Professor was talking to her quite animatedly in Russian.

Vince got out of the elevator after them and watched Valerie accompany the Professor to his room and then leave after a little while and proceed to her own room. He wandered down the corridor and checked the room numbers against the list he had been given and satisfied that it was correct, he went back down to the lobby.

That evening Valerie emerged from her room wearing a strapless, floor-length, emerald-green, charmeuse evening gown, matching four-inch high-heeled pumps, accessorised with a faux ruby choker, bracelet, drop earrings and a slim black clutch. Her makeup was daring and sexy: smoky eyes, red lips, rouged cheekbones; her hair had a sheen that glistened under the overhead lighting in the ballroom.

She had dutifully picked up the Professor from his room. He had made an effort and wore a tuxedo and had combed over his balding pate and had smothered himself in cologne. Mikhail almost looked decent but his mood was still foul and he did not compliment Valerie on her appearance but openly leered at her, especially when the side split opened and showed off her nyloned limbs.

The ballroom had been set up with tall tables and stools around the perimeter and a wet bar at one end; the middle of the room was left open so the delegates could mingle. White-coated waiters and short-skirted cocktail waitresses carried trays of champagne and canapés.

Mikhail Blavatsky paraded Valerie around the room, showing her off as if she was his possession. They mingled with their American counterparts; Valerie interpreting Mikhail’s Russian into English, embellishing it to make him sound more refined and funny than he actually was when he told jokes.

When she could finally get Mikhail by himself she whispered in his ear.

“Professor, I have a mission to undertake so I must leave you alone. Mishka Malkovsky is over there with the other academics. She speaks perfect English and can interpret for you,” Valerie pointed to a woman in a cocktail dress who was also an interpreter.

“I don’t need Mishka. I have you!” Mikhail snipped.

“Professor, you know that my work for you is a ruse and that I have important duties to perform,” Valerie said impatiently.

Mikhail grabbed Valerie’s wrist.

“Petra told all about the so called duties that she would be required to perform. You are nothing more than a whore,” Mikhail hissed.

“I am an officer in KGB Directorate Five and you are preventing me from carrying out my duties,” Valerie hissed back at him and tried to pry her wrist from his grip.

“Is there a problem here Comrades?” Yuri Godekin had sidled up to them, looking dashingly handsome in a black suit and tie.

Mikhail begrudgingly released Valerie’s wrist and she rubbed the sting out of it.

“I warn you Professor that if you keep Miz Sokolova from performing her duties there will be consequences,” Yuri said levelly.

“Miz Sokolova, your mark is over there in the blue uniform,” Yuri pointed with his chin across the room.

Valerie took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sashayed away across the room.

“What consequences?” Mikhail spat at Yuri.

“You might have a tragic accident. Remember what happened to Petra Donevski,” Yuri gave Mikhail a sinister smile and Mikhail blanched.

He walked away to join the other academics; his eyes now locked on the long pantyhose-clad legs of Mishka Malkovsky. She was no Valerie Sokolova but she was still an attractive woman with great legs.

“Well hello; my night just got better by a thousand percent,” Colonel Steven Braxton said to Valerie when she stopped at his table to put down her drink.

“I just needed to get away from the crowd so that I can have a cigarette,” Valerie gave him her brightest smile.

“And you speak perfect English too. My night has got better indeed. I’m Colonel Steven Braxton United States Air Force,” he grinned at her.

‘As if his uniform and name bar wasn’t a giveaway,’ Valerie thought but returned his smile and introduced herself as Professor Mikhail Blavatsky’s aide and interpreter.

“Well he sure is lucky but I’m afraid you aren't, you can’t smoke in here,” Steve gave Valerie his most engaging smile, knowing it made him look even handsomer.

Valerie knew she couldn’t smoke in the ballroom but she put on her disappointed face and took a half-step so that the hip-high split in her gown opened and showed off all of her legs. She smiled inwardly when Steve Braxton tried not to look but couldn’t stop himself.

“Follow me and I’ll take you to where you can smoke,” Steve said and walked towards one of the ante rooms.

He knocked gently to see if it was occupied and then slipped inside and Valerie followed. He led her to the far side of the room and opened the window.

“Blow your smoke out of the window Valerie,” Steven indicated the window where the curtains were billowing softly in the breeze.

“Want one,” Valerie took cigarettes and a lighter from her clutch, put a cigarette in her mouth and shook the pack at him.

“I don’t usually but why not. I’ve only just met you and already you have me indulging in bad habits,” Steven grinned.

He took the gold lighter from Valerie and lit her cigarette, leaning in so he could smell her perfume and look down her décolletage. He lit his own cigarette and handed the lighter back to Valerie and her fingers lingered on his hand and her smoky shaded emerald eyes held his.

They chatted while they smoked, Steve Braxton turning his charm up to full brilliance, enchanted by this beautiful sexy woman with the Russian lilt to her seductive voice. They tossed their cigarette butts out the window after crushing them out on the sill and Steve Braxton was frantically trying think of a reason to keep this delightful creature engaged when Valerie leaned into him and pressed a keycard into his hand.

“Room 525. I implore you please come up to see me. I need to talk to you about things that I cannot possibly talk to you about here,” Valerie leaned in and softly kissed his cheek, ensuring her pert breasts pressed into his chest.

She turned and walked away knowing that her sheath-dress was giving Steve a great view of her buttocks and legs and slim waist.

Valerie went back into ballroom. Yuri spotted her immediately; he had watched her engage with Colonel Steven Braxton and follow him into the ante room. He was almost proud of her and although he would never admit it, a little jealous of Braxton.

“He has the key. The rest is up to him,” Valerie said leaning on a corner of the bar.

Yuri stood beside her with his back to the bar; both of them appeared to be waiting for their drinks.

“I’ll go up to my room and prepare the camera; make sure you remove the picture covering the lens. As soon as the Colonel enters your room I’ll start the camera. Keep the action on the bed so it is in view of the camera,” Yuri whispered.

“I know what to do,” Valerie's hissed.

She wasn't sure if it was nerves or Yuri’s constant niggling at her that made her angry or was it that she was about to lure a stranger up into her bedroom and fuck him on camera so that he could be blackmailed. She had no sympathy for the married cheating American Colonel who thought he had beguiled the pretty young naïve Russian girl but she did feel a little self-loathing for what she was about to do to him.

Yuri turned to her and gave her a stern expression.

“Remember your training,” he whispered and walked away.

Valerie heard the soft knock on her hotel room door and then the door clicked open and Colonel Steven Braxton stepped inside and softly closed the door. Valerie was standing in the middle of the room with a worried look on her face. He made a show of putting the key down on an occasional table inside the door and then he strode over to her.

“What is it you need to tell me?” Steve took Valerie’s hand in his.

“I think I can trust you because you were so kind to me downstairs so I will come straight out with it. I know that after I tell you what I have to tell you that you will find me repugnant but I also think that you are good man who will listen to what I have to ask you,” Valerie began.

The wheels were already spinning in Steve Braxton’s head. The girl was in some kind of trouble and she needed his help and she trusted him. He had used his position of power and authority before to seduce women or bend them to his needs; it was one his favourite ruses. Pretend to care about a woman’s problems, get her into bed and then abandon her.

This hot Russian chick with the cute perky tits, bubble-butt and long legs would be quite the conquest and once he’d finished with her, who would give a fuck about some low-ranking Rooskie bag-carrier. He could promise her the world, fuck her brains out and then walk away knowing that she couldn’t say a thing and that is exactly what he intended to do.

He put on his caring, serious face and looked into her eyes with empathy and took her hands in his.

“I am not what I appear. I am a transwoman pretending to be a real woman. I stole my sister’s identity papers when she died in an accident and I assumed her identity. We were close, only one year between us, and she knew that I wanted to be woman and she helped me feminise myself,” Valerie let mascara-streaked tears run down her cheeks.

“I know that she would forgive me and be happy that her death meant that I could come out from the shadows and be the woman I always wanted to be but I’m always sacred and terrified that the authorities will find out about me,” she took the handkerchief offered by Steve Braxton and dabbed her cheeks.

“Do you know what they do to my kind in Russia? If they don’t kill me they will send me to an internment camp, probably for the rest of my life. They will find the doctor who did my surgery and he will suffer the same fate,” Valerie dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

“I wish to seek asylum,” Valerie sighed and fell into Steve Braxton’s arms, shaking with fear.

She and Yuri Godekin had rehearsed this many times. The story was implausible but would probably be believed by an American who had no idea how thoroughly the delegation would have been vetted and scrutinised. He wouldn’t ask why Valerie approached an Air Force Colonel instead of someone from the US State Department to ask for asylum. His predatory nature would likely make him brush aside any rational thoughts and questions as he became enraptured with Valerie’s looks and sexuality and how he could use her plight to get into her pants.

They were right.

The wheels were spinning in Colonel Steven Braxton’s brain as to how he was going to turn this to his advantage. He had no power or legitimacy to offer political asylum. This loopy Russian underling had come to the wrong guy if she was looking for compassion and protection. Braxton knew that he should inform the State Department immediately. The American delegation had been thoroughly briefed what to do in event they were approached by a Soviet operative or a civilian requesting asylum.

“There, there, Valerie. You're safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Steve pulled her into his embrace and took the opportunity to feel up her tits before he put his hands on her ass and held her close.

“Oh, thank you Steve, I don’t know how I will every repay you,” Valerie whispered into his ear breathlessly, feeling his cock stir against her hip through his pants.

“You know I will need to verify your story before I talk to my people,” Steve said, his lips pressed to her glossy black hair.

“I’ll do anything Steve. I understand. Maybe it’s best if we just get to the crux of the matter and I show you that I am real,” Valerie whispered and felt Steve's cock twitch against her leg.

She stepped back from him and pretended that she was going to remove her dress but Steve pulled her back into his embrace.

“No need to rush Valerie. I like to unwrap my presents slowly so that I can fully appreciate what’s inside the wrapping,” Steve used one his cheesy lines on her.

Valerie knew that she had Steve Braxton right there. She cleared her mind and let her training take over. All she had to do was let this man use her for his pleasure and he would seal his own fate, which as far as Valerie was concerned he deserved.

Steven kissed her and Valerie responded, opening her mouth to receive his tongue and extending her own. His hands were all over her, caressing her breasts, squeezing her buttocks and stroking her thighs. He knew when to be gentle and when to be forceful; he gently stroked her inner thighs and then squeezed her bottom firmly. He kissed her neck and caressed her breasts though her dress and her nipples engorged as did her cock which was held in place by her pantyhose and tight black nylon panties. She was deliberately not taped.

Steven lowered Valerie onto the bed and stared at her magnificent young body lying on the bedspread with her arms spread out like a beautiful angel. He tore off his clothes and joined her on the bed, climbing on top of her, pressing his cock to her nylon-shrouded thighs, his mouth on hers, his hands squeezing her small firm breasts.

“I should get out of this dress,” Valerie gasped.

She wanted out of the dress for a number of reasons: She didn’t want it ruined; it needed to be obvious to the camera that she was a transsexual woman and the dress might cover her genitals, but more ashamedly she actually wanted to feel Steve’s body on hers when he fucked her.

Steve leapt off the bed and rolled Valerie over. He was now in a rush to unwrap his present and he unzipped the bodice of her dress and then rolled her on her back and pulled the dress off her. The dress had inbuilt cups to support Valerie’s breasts and when Steve tossed her dress aside Valerie lay on the bed dressed only in panties, pantyhose and high heels. Steve could barely contain himself.

He leapt back on the bed and began kissing Valerie who found his kisses to be very sensual and arousing. Now that his flurry of impatience to undress her was over he took his time; teasing her with his mouth and fingers. He kissed her softly but sensuously, his tongue wriggled sensuously inside her mouth. His fingers caressed her breasts, circling her areolas and then softly pinching her engorged nipples. Steve put his mouth on her breasts and she cradled his head while he suckled her teats; teasing them with his tongue and then nipping them with his teeth.

Valerie lay back moaning like a slattern. Her superiors wanted her to be a whore so she might as well be one. This thought flashed across her mind but was forgotten when Steve began to stoke her thighs while his mouth worked her breasts.

His fingers circled the delicate nylon pantyhose, caressing her flesh through the gossamer fabric, starting just above her knees and slowly working his way up each leg, stopping where her legs met her torso. He traced the crease where her hip joined her leg and found her pudenda.

To Steve it felt like a smooth perfect V. The tight nylon panties over the sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose looked the same as it would on any woman but he could feel that there was no labia under the sheer fabric, just soft pubic flesh.

Valerie froze when Steve pushed his hand inside the waistband of her pantyhose and forced his finger between her legs.

“What do we have here?” Steve’s smile was a leer and Valerie lost any compassion she felt for the man.

He found her semi-erect penis wrapped in her empty scrotum and let it spring free. Valerie did the equivalent of a kegel and her testes descended from her inguinal canals and filled her scrotum. Steve arranged Valerie’s penis along the flat of lower belly and snugged the pantyhose and panties back in place.

“Well it seems you are telling the truth,” Steve smirked and began to stroke Valerie's cock through the layers of silky fabric and Valerie groaned.

She reached for him and found Steve’s engorged manhood leaking precum which she used to lubricate the shaft as she stroked him. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her as they slowly stroked each other’s penises. Valerie felt rings of delight as Steve circled his fingers around her hard phallus and jerked his hand up and down. She reciprocated and wrapped her fingers around Steve’s hard spongy mass, her fingernails tracing the thick veins, her fingertips fluttering on his fraenulum, causing him to gasp.

Then she gripped his cock and began to stroke it.

Steve could only endure the pleasure for so long before he was close to extremis and he pushed Valerie’s hand away and lay on top of her, kissing her, pressing his cock against hers through her panties and nylons but hardly moving.

“I don’t want to cum yet,” he gasped.

They lay like that, kissing and caressing, hardly moving until Steve’s feelings of ejaculatory inevitability dissipated and then Valerie disentangled herself and made her way down Steve’s body, stopping to lick then to nip his nipples, causing him to gasp, her tongue slid across his flat belly where she poked it in his belly button and licked up his salty sweat and finally down to his thatch of pubic hair.

His erection had subsided a little and his penis was in a semi-erect state. Valerie engulfed it and glided her lips up and down the shaft while her tongue went to work on his glans, flicking the fraenulum and lapping at the corona. She felt Steve shudder and his cock became rampant again. Her crotch was pressed into Steve’s face and he kissed her hard cock through her pantyhose and then began to lick it.

Valerie knew that Yuri would want pictures of Colonel Braxton committing what his wife and superiors would consider depraved acts. The feel of his mouth on her genitals through the layers of her almost transparent nylon panties and sheer pantyhose was exquisite and she wriggled her pubis against his mouth encouraging him while she slavered at his hard cock.

She felt Steve pull aside her panties and tear out the gusset of her pantyhose with his teeth. He guided her erect penis to his mouth and sucked it.

Steve seldom fellated the ‘ladyboys’ he picked up in Asian brothels when he was overseas or the drag queens and transvestites he met in gay bars in America but there was something compelling about this spectacularly beautiful Russian woman. Even though she had the genitals of a man, there was nothing male about her and the way she was working her lips on the shaft of his penis, her tongue on his glans and her fingers tickling his scrotum inspired his to reciprocate.

Valerie had ensured that they were lying across the bed when she began to fellate him so that the camera caught everything and now Colonel Steven Braxton USAF was being filmed fellating a Soviet transwoman. She knew her job was done but she was so sexually driven that she wanted more.

She spat out Steven’s penis and snuggled up to him and began to kiss him while she stroked his now massively engorged penis. Steve knew that he close to climax but he didn’t want to cum in her hand; he wanted to possess this woman.

He threw Valerie onto her back and tore off her panties. He opened her legs and lifted them over his shoulder and spat on his erect member and pushed it into her tight sphincter.

Valerie was now very well versed in anal sex and she was able to relax her sphincter just before Steve thrust his cock into her anus. It still hurt but she believed that she deserved the pain. She was a whore for her country but a whore none the less. She couldn’t deny the pleasure she was feeling but she also felt guilt. She pushed the guilt from her mind but it was still there like an undercurrent. She pain she was feeling was justified. It was her punishment. She deserved it!

Valerie wrapped her legs around Steve's torso and lifted her buttocks off the bed and pressed back against him as he thrust, driving his cock all the way inside her, spearing her on his phallic weapon. The pain became searing but only for a second. Steve’s cock was leaking copious amounts of pre-ejaculate and it began to lubricate Valerie's tight passage.

Steve could not believe how snug Valerie’s anus was; it gripped his cock like a silken glove, her sphincter spasming around the base of his cock when he pushed it all the way inside her.

He looked down at her beautiful lipstick-smeared face and saw the grimaces of pain and tears of distress rolling down her cheeks leaving trails of black mascara. But all that did was incite him. He felt no pity for this Russian whore.

He slammed his cock all the way in her and Valerie began to whimper. At first he thought she was crying and then he realised that her cries were the sighs and mewling of a lustful slut. She wrapped those magnificent silken-clad limbs around him and rose to meet his thrusts. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him viciously; all the tenderness replaced by lechery.

She wrapped her arms and legs around Steve and he guessed that her muffled screams were Russian obscenities that could only mean ‘fuck me’ in English because she was fucking him! Valerie raked her nails down his back and dug her heels into his flanks as he fucked her hard and fast.

The pain had long dissipated and Valerie could feel Steve’s cock driving in and out of her tight slick anus. His glans crashed in her prostrate, his thick shaft massaged her sphincter, his cock filled her and she was delirious with desire. She surrendered to her lust and kissed him, nipping at his lips, driving her tongue into his mouth, amplifying the pleasure that radiated from her battered rectum.

Steve pushed Valerie into the mattress and fucked her as hard as she was fucking him. He drove his steely sword into her tight, pilous tunnel, feeling it pulse and shudder around his cock.

Valerie began to scream obscenities in Russian and Steve covered her mouth with his to stifle her screams and moans, his tongue deep inside her. He was a little scared that she might bite him as her whole body began to tremble, her nylon-shrouded limbs fretting against his tender flesh. Then Steve felt the warm, glutinous mess on his belly and he realised that he could feel her cock juddering against his flesh and he knew that she was climaxing.

It triggered his own orgasm and he drove his cock all the way inside her and hung on to her as she shook and convulsed beneath him. The intensity of her orgasm was astounding and he rode along with it. His cock erupted, filling her rectum with his searing ejaculate. The rings of pleasure radiating from his cock as Valerie's tight anus expressed his juices from his juddering organ were like nothing he had ever felt before.

Steve pushed Valerie down on the bed and knelt between her thighs while he pounded his cock in and out of her tight tunnel, Valerie's cock standing proud, erupting like a volcano as the last spurts of her climax spattered on her belly.

For a split second Valerie could only think of what a brilliant moment that must be when it was caught on camera. There would be no doubt to anyone watching that Steven was fucking a transwoman.

Then he fell on her, not caring that her semen was smeared all over his belly. It soaked into her pantyhose but there was so much of it that it clung to his belly in a viscous puddle. His own spunk was dribbling from Valerie's anus as her sphincter relaxed and his cock fell out of her with an audible plop.

Steve lay on top of Valerie and was suddenly consumed by post coital regret. He needed to get out here before anyone discovered him.

He leapt from the bed, stopping briefly to kiss Valerie on the forehead with an almost fatherly peck.

“I’ll just take a quick shower,” he said brusquely and ran to the bathroom.

He wasn’t in there long before he came out with a towel wrapped around his body. Valerie noted cynically that he had made sure not to wet his hair so could return to the meet-and-greet. He dressed hurriedly, hardly looking at Valerie at all. She had wrapped a sheet around herself but not before displaying her full body to the place where she knew the camera lens was hidden. There could be no doubt about the sexuality of the woman that Colonel Braxton had just fucked.

“When can we begin the asylum process?” Valerie asked meekly.

“Well it’s not that simple Valerie. I’ll have to go through my contacts in the State Department,” Steve stuttered the lie as he laced shoes.

He could hardly bring himself to look at her now that he was finished using her.

“But you promised me that you would help me,” Valerie whined.

“And I will my dear. You just have to be patient. I’ll get back to you soon,” Steven gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and bolted for the door which he ripped wide open and bolted out into the corridor.

Valerie stood up with the sheet wrapped around her body and then dropped it as she approached the pinhole drilled in the wall.

“I trust I performed my duties to your satisfaction,” she spoke dryly in Russian but she looked forsaken and forlorn.

Then she waved meekly at the camera and replaced the small daguerreotype picture over the aperture.

On the other side of the wall Yuri Godekin had been watching the video on a small screen. Valerie’s final gesture was not lost on him and he wondered whether he felt sorry for her or if he hated her.

Out in the corridor Steve Braxton brushed past Professor Mikhail Blavatsky who was angry and frustrated because Mishka Malkovsky had declined his invitation to accompany him to his room and had done so quite rudely. He became even angrier when the American officer barged past him and Mikhail was about to berate him when he realised that the door to Valerie Sokolova's room was open but slowly closing.

He saw her standing, facing the wall, naked except for her pantyhose and high heels, her hair was messed up, her makeup ruined, and her belly glistening with what he assumed were sex juices. What made him immediately lose his anger and become dumbfounded was that the beautiful woman who had obviously been recently ravished by the American airman had a penis between her legs. He stood with his jaw wide open as the door to Valerie’s room silently shut.

Plaza Hotel, Midtown Manhattan, New York City – July 1985 – Day Two of the Convention

Colonel Steven Braxton USAF told the head of his delegation that he had been recalled to Washington on important business and would not be able to attend the rest of the Convention. It was merely an excuse so that he wouldn’t have to see Valerie Sokolova again. It had nothing to do with guilt because Steve didn’t feel sorry about lying to her in order to get her into panties. He just didn’t want Valerie pestering him regarding the progress of her claim for political asylum. He had fucked her and now she was of no further use to him.

On the train to Washington Steve was approached by a Soviet operative who showed him a series of still photographs of him having sex with a Russian transsexual in a room at the Plaza Hotel and advised Steve that the video was available should he wish to see it. At first Steve was terrified that both his career and his marriage were over but then his true nature came forth.

Of course he was willing to provide the Soviets with information regarding the Strategic Defense Initiative and hand over propriety technology in the fields of high-energy physics and supercomputing. But he wanted to be paid for it. He needed to support his expensive habits somehow, so why not sell his soul to the Rooskies if they were willing to pay him a good price.

The next day Valerie awoke feeling remorseful and dirty. She felt guilty about having enjoyed the sex with Steve Braxton and even guiltier about knowing that Yuri had filmed it from the adjoining room. She had not a shred of sympathy for Colonel Braxton; he was a user and a liar and would get what he deserved but now she was on film for anyone to see if Yuri were so inclined.

She showered, put on her makeup and squeezed into a miniskirted, low-cut business suit and four-inch fuck-me pumps and swung by Professor Blavatsky’s room to pick him up for breakfast as previously arranged. There was something different about the Professor this morning. He leered at her openly as he usually did but he said little; his mind seemed to be elsewhere; his eyes however remained fixed on her tits, legs and ass.

Over breakfast they discussed the day’s program and Mikhail gave her an exhaustive list of chores that he told her was important research but was mainly busywork as punishment for abandoning him at the cocktail party even though he knew it was her duty to do so. He went back up to his room to retrieve his briefcase and Mishka Malkovsky slid into the seat across from her. Mishka too was dressed in a skirt-suit but it was not cut as provocatively as Valerie's although it did show off her legs to advantage.

“How can you stand working for that pig?” Mishka glared at Mikhail Blavatsky's back as he left the dining room.

“I was assigned to him,” Valerie replied.

Mishka and Valerie had formed a loose loyalty being two of only five Soviet women attending the Convention. The other three were middle-aged scientists who looked down on the two interpreters as run-go-fetch assistants.

“I couldn’t rid myself of him last night and he kept trying to paw me and made indecent proposals,” Mishka poured coffee.

“I saw you duck out with the handsome American Colonel. Did you rendezvous later?” Mishka had a conspiratorial grin on her face.

“We went out for a smoke and I left the party not long afterwards because the fucking Professor had work for me to do,” Valerie lied.

“At least we get to wear decent clothes and have nice American pantyhoses and lingerie. The USSR can’t have their women portrayed as sloths,” Mishka smiled.

“I wonder if the American women have to live under such subjugation.” Mishka nodded her head at a table of well-dressed American female delegates.

The Americans had deliberately stacked their delegation with women in an effort to present themselves as equal opportunists. Mishka and Valerie were conversing in Russian so they were not afraid of being overheard.

“Uh oh. Here comes your handsome knight in shining armour. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you and he have a thing going on,” Mishka winked at Valerie and stood up to leave.

“Good morning Comrade Godekin,” Mishka nodded curtly at he brushed past her.

Yuri Godekin did not sit instead he nodded at Valerie.

“Wait five minutes and then go back to your room. I will debrief you and discuss further tasking,” he said curtly and walked over to the bank of elevators.

Valerie waited five minutes and went back to her room and was not surprised to find Yuri already inside, sitting in a chair near the window.

“Do you have keys to every room?” Valerie asked leaning into the mirror refreshing her lipstick.

“The KGB has duplicate passkeys to all of our delegates’ rooms,” he replied stiffly.

“The American delegates too?” Valerie said sarcastically.

Yuri did not answer. He sensed Valerie’s mood by her tone.

“You did well yesterday. The rezidentura will approach the American Colonel today and as the American’s say: make him an offer he can’t refuse,” Yuri said instead of answering Valerie’s question.

“He will become a spy for the glorious Soviet Republic,” Valerie said snarkily.

“Yes, or he will suffer the consequences of his actions,” Yuri replied taking out his cigarettes and then remembered where he was and put them away.

“Pictures and movies of him fucking a Russian transsexual. That won’t go down well at home or at work,” Valerie said sarcastically.

“Why are you so emotional? You knew what the job was and you have been trained for it. The American is nothing to you,” Yuri snapped.

“I feel nothing for the American. He will get what he deserves. I just can't get over this feeling of self-loathing,” Valerie was close to tears.

“And when you were fucking Vladimir Golubev back in Novogorbovo?” Yuri rubbed salt into her wounds.

“As you said; it was part of my training. You and Ivan Petrov have turned me into a whore and I’m performing my role perfectly,” Valerie turned and glared at Yuri.

“Yes. You are merely a tool to be used and you are indeed performing perfectly,” Yuri spat back at her rising out of his chair.

“Fuck you, fuck Ivan Petrov and fuck the KGB!” Valerie hissed and instantly regretted it.

Yuri strode across the room and pulled back his hand and Valerie braced herself for the blow.

The blow never came.

Yuri gently placed his hands on Valerie's shoulders.

“I know what we do is dirty work. Don’t you think I’d rather be at the front in Afghanistan or working out of one of our embassies as an operative instead of being here pimping you out?” Yuri said; his voice emotionless.

“Don’t you think I hate having to watch you perform? Don’t you think I hate what I have made of you?” some emotion crept into Yuri’s voice.

The couple stood gazing into each other’s eyes, searching for words that neither of them would ever say.

“You have an eyelash,” Yuri placed a finger on Valerie’s cheek and gently picked up a mascaraed eyelash with his fingertip.

He showed it to her, the long eyelash balanced on the pad of his fingertip.

“Blow and make a wish,” he whispered.

“That’s a silly superstition,” Valerie said meekly.

He smiled at her and Valerie smiled back and gently blew the lash from his fingertip.

“You are a good woman Valerie Sokolova. Don’t berate yourself for doing something that you have no choice but to do,” Yuri breathed.

He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth and Valerie closed her eyes and for a second she felt herself floating above the room looking down at them.

Yuri cleared his throat and was all business.

“Today you have only Convention duties. You will have another mark tomorrow. I’ll leave you the file,” he said gruffly and walked to the door.

Valerie waited for Yuri to wipe his mouth or spit away the kiss but he didn’t. He gave her a wan smile and closed the door behind him.

In the corridor Yuri’s mind was in turmoil. Valerie was to be taken to a secluded place and executed on her return to the USSR and he was to be the executioner.

FBI Field Office, New York City – July 1985

Special Agents Vince Gruffalo and Bob Munsen sat in a briefing room drinking coffee. They had been called away from the Plaza Hotel to the Field Office for what they were told was a special briefing.

The door burst open and the Station Chief and another man wearing an impeccable Saville Row suit and polished brogues entered.

“Gentlemen meet Agent Brice Bronson from MI6. Special Agents Vince Gruffalo and Bob Munsen,” the Station Chief made the introductions and left the room because he was not cleared for the operation.

“I believe you chaps know this lady,” Brice laid a series of photographs of Valerie Sokolova out on the conference table.

They were of pictures of Valerie Sokolova taken in the foyer of the Plaza Hotel and later that evening at the ballroom. From the resolution it was clear that they had been taken covertly.

“I didn’t know that we had invited the Limeys to the party,” Vince said offhandedly to Bob Munson but it was clear that he was pissed.

“The Convention is not an opportunity for the Brits to run a covert operation or conduct surveillance,” Bob Munsen made no attempt to hide the anger in his voice.

“Steady on old chap, there’s more,” Brice said in a clipped British accent and smiled sardonically.

He laid out another series of photographs, this time taken outdoors at night but the woman in the picture was clearly Valerie Sokolova but she was wearing a cheap ladies skirt-suit and appeared to be in a park of some kind and was wearing a blonde wig.

“So what?” Vince was getting angrier and wanted the Limey to get to the point.

“One more set chaps,” Brice said, nonplussed.

He laid out a third set of photographs, one of them a young slim man with black hair wearing a uniform. Then another three of the same man, this time dressed as a civilian with his black hair worn longer.

“Get to the point!” Vince said angrily.

“This is Valéry Sokolova an analyst in KGB Directorate Five,” Brice tapped the photographs of the man in the uniform and the man in the cheap business suit; he pronounced Valéry in the masculine tense as ‘Val-errey’.

“And again; so what?” Bob Munsen joined in.

“And this is also Valéry Sokolova,” this time the MI6 agent pointed at the pictures of Valerie taken at The Plaza and in the park.

“These pictures were taken in the park adjacent to Valéry Sokolova’s flat in Moscow,” he pointed to the pictures of the woman with blonde wig.

“I don’t get it,” Bob said, sounding confused.

Vince Gruffalo couldn’t hear a thing; his head was ringing with a noise that sounded like an approaching train. The noise dissipated and then Vince picked up the pictures and looked at them closely.

“They're the same person,” Vince handed the pictures to Bob.

“They can’t be! This guy is, well… he’s a guy. And this… this is the pretty young interpreter who is accompanying Professor Mikhail Blavatsky,” Bob sounded incredulous.

“A little dickybird told one of our operatives in Moscow about a low level KGB staffer who likes to play dressup and walk around the local streets and park near his apartment at night. We too were surprised when we saw how convincing he was at presenting as a woman,” Brice explained.

“We were going to blackmail him. Give him the choice of either working for us inside the KGB or facing a firing squad but then he disappeared,” Brice continued.

“We had the Convention under surveillance of course and don’t get all uppity; the CIA does exactly the same thing in London,” Brice said to Vince as his face reddened in anger.

“Imagine our surprise to find that Valerie Sokolova is part of the Soviet delegation and appears to have greatly enhanced her feminine, shall we say je ne sais quoi,” Brice smirked at the two Americans.

“Ain’t no way that chick is a guy!” Bob Munsen banged the pictures of Valerie.

“Well I’m not sure she is a guy any longer. It appears she’s had some work done, our analysts believe those breasts are real,” Brice tapped the newer pictures of Valerie.

“The question is gents, where did Valéry Sokolova go to when he disappeared for nearly two months and why is Valerie Sokolova attending the Convention here in New York?” Brice Bronson pronounced Valéry in the masculine tense and Valerie in the feminine.

To be continued

Plaza Hotel, Midtown Manhattan, New York City – July 1985 – Day Three of the Convention

Valerie attended the morning and afternoon academic seminars with Professor Mikhail Blavatsky. They ate lunch with the academic contingent and Mikhail had very little opportunity to fondle Valerie so he didn’t try.

Mikhail was still stunned by what he had seen the previous evening. The beautiful young interpreter assigned to him was not what she appeared. She had all of the trappings of a pretty girl with her long legs, a great ass, perky tits and a beautiful face but she had the genitalia of a man.

Mikhail had thought long and deep about it overnight. He was a distinguished professor so he was no idiot. He had soon figured out what Valerie was all about or at least he thought he had. Petra Donevski had told Mikhail about how she was going to be used as a honey trap at the Convention by the KGB to ensnare unwitting American men and blackmail them into spying. One of Petra’s favourite pastimes was to taunt Mikhail with lurid details as to how she intended to seduce these strangers.

It was obvious to Mikhail that Valerie had been sent on the same mission but her being a transwoman made blackmail more conclusive and inescapable. A wayward husband could fall on his sword and admit that he had been seduced by a beautiful young woman, but when that woman had a cock and balls the wife would be less likely to forgive him and government agencies, especially the military would never forgive him and would drum the gullible fool out of the military or lock him up.

This thing! This violation of nature had taken the place of his beloved Petra. Petra who was beautiful, intelligent and quick witted and always wore those shiny, silky nylons on her long legs that drove Mikhail wild. Petra, who had been cast aside and killed when a better instrument for blackmail had come along. And even worse... he knew that Petra only let Mikhail make love to her to keep him on a leash but this beautiful young transvestite was off limits to him and was treated better than he was by her KGB masters.

But now he knew her secret. What could she do if he fucked her? She had to keep her dirty little secret confidential or else she was useless. If she ran to Yuri Godekin and told him that Mikhail knew her secret she was likely to be punished for giving away her reason for being. Besides, she was a gorgeous young ingénue who Mikhail ached to possess. Why should the fact that she only had one hole between her legs prevent him from using her? It would be the spoiled little transvestite’s turn to feel humiliated. Fucking Valerie would not only sake Mikhail's lust; the pleasure he got from debasing her would be priceless. He would have his revenge!

He just needed to pick the right time and the right place.

“Valerie, you have no, shall we say – extracurricular activities this evening,” Mikhail had been uncharacteristically pleasant all day.

“No. I am free to attend the dinner being hosted by the Georgetown University faculty this evening,” Valerie replied.

“It is imperative that I continue to present myself as your interpreter and aide throughout the convention, as you know Professor,” Valerie added.

Mikhail bristled at Valerie’s condescending tone but outwardly he just smiled at her with his yellowed teeth.

“I need to spend some time with Comrade Godekin but I will be ready in plenty of time for the dinner,” Valerie smiled at Mikhail and he nodded curtly.

“I’ll see you in the lobby at seven,” Mikhail stood aside and allowed Valerie to exit the elevator ahead of him.

Valerie was wearing a charcoal skirt-suit and Mikhail’s eyes locked on her buttocks and her legs and he inhaled the scent of her perfume that she left trailing behind her. He became semi-tumescent, even though he knew that under that skirt she hid a secret. How could something so beautiful, feminine and sensually provocative be such an abomination? Mikhail had noticed that most of the men attending today’s seminars had gawked at Valerie and most of the women seemed more than a little jealous of her when they first met her.

Of course Valerie had been nothing but congenial and had flirted just a little with the men and garnered friendships with the women. She had spent most of the day dutifully interpreting for Mikhail and tending to his needs; anticipating when he might need an academic position paper, a finding or a reference source. She attended to him almost like a faithful servant but all that did was incite Mikhail further. She was what did the Americans say – Goody Two Shoes, too pretty and too attentive to be credible as far as he was concerned. It was all a charade and he hated her for it.

Valerie ordered coffee when she got to her room. She kicked off her heels and massaged her feet. There was a runner in the heel of her pantyhose and they would need to be replaced. She marvelled at the decadence she had come to accept as commonplace. Not that long ago she would have been thrilled to own pantyhose like these and she would have carefully darned the ladder and coated it with clear nailpolish to stop it from running. Now she was prepared to toss them away and simply open a new package.

She looked at her red-lacquered toenails looking for the culprit: a hangnail or a burr, but she couldn’t find one.

Room service arrived at the same time as Yuri Godekin who sat patiently while the valet poured coffee. He tipped the valet the equivalent of two day’s pay for a Soviet proletariat and waited for her to leave before he spoke.

“A productive day Comrade?” Yuri put cream into the two cups of coffee and offered one to Valerie.

Valerie blew the bangs out of her eyes and smiled wanly.

“Very. Professor Mikhail Blavatsky was pleasant enough and I didn’t have to keep slapping his hand away from under my skirt,” Valerie sipped her coffee, leaving a red lipstick imprint on the rim.

“Glad to hear our academic illuminatus has finally got the message. Did you study the file I left you?” Yuri looked at Valerie over his coffee cup; she looked tired but still stunningly beautiful.

“Dexter Folger, advisor to several Senate committees, in particular the Congressional Oversight Committee. Secretly has a penchant for cocaine and high-class callgirls,” Valerie summarised the contents of the file in one sentence.

“Tomorrow night he is hosting a dinner for select delegates and we have manipulated the guest list to include Professor Mikhail Blavatsky and of course his interpreter,” Yuri nodded.

“This fish might not be so easy to catch. He is staying in the Plaza overnight but he is unlikely to accept an invitation to your room. We suggest that you do what you do so well and encourage Mister Folger to invite you up to his room. He will be more comfortable with such an arrangement I’m sure,” Yuri put down his cup and poured more coffee but Valerie declined.

“As you say sir, I’m to do what I do so well,” Valerie sighed.

“That’s what you here for Valerie,” Yuri patted her knee, his fingers lingered a little longer than would be considered polite.

Valerie put her fingers over his and leaned into him, her lips almost touching his earlobe.

“I will do my duty Comrade,” she whispered and stroked the back of Yuri’s hand softly with the tips of her manicured fingernails.

Then she took his hand in hers and firmly removed it from her knee.

Yuri blushed and stood up, adjusting the fall of his jacket to hide his semi-tumescence.

“Enjoy your evening Comrade Sokolova. I will drop by just before midnight to inform you of any updates. Re-familiarise with the Minox. Put in fresh film and make sure the auto-advance and timer are functioning correctly,” Yuri said curtly.

“Don’t get up; I’ll see myself out,” Yuri about-turned with almost military precision and walked to the door and let himself out.

Valerie attended to her toilette which had become a routine regimen, a morning and evening ritual ingrained into her at Novogorbovo. Shave (although she had very little facial or body hair), brush her teeth and use mouthwash, douche until the water runs clear, shower, fix hair and makeup, dress and accessorise. This evening she settled on a little black cocktail dress. She tucked and taped because the dress was so short and she was not expected to have sex. As usual she wore her panties over pantyhose: black glossy fifteen denier sheer black nylons and bold red satin panties. She knew that she should really wear black panties but she decided to give anyone who deemed to look up her dress a thrill. It was her way of being a little rebellious.

The dinner was a boring affair but Valerie played her role, sitting beside Professor Blavatsky, embellishing his stories to make him sound witty, enduring the leers of old men and the spiteful looks of their wives and partners. She was glad that the dinner was over early at nine-thirty. The edict that the Soviet delegates were not to leave the hotel meant that the dinner was held in one of the many private dining suites in The Plaza.

Professor Blavatsky behaved himself again but he drank heavily and spent most of the night taking furtive glances at the red V of Valerie’s panties because her hem refused to stay put and kept riding up her glossy nylons.

Mikhail once again let Valerie precede him out of the elevator and he watched her walk to room 525, his head swirling with drunken lust.

Valerie had not even had time to take off her heels when she heard a knock on her door. She guessed that it was Yuri Godekin and she was thankful that they could conclude their business early and she could go to bed. She too had been a little overindulgent with the champagne.

She opened the door and was surprised to find Mikhail Blavatsky standing there instead of Yuri.

“May I come in briefly, there are just a few points I want to discuss with you about tomorrow’s program,” he gave her his best smile.

Valerie was not really in the mood but she couldn’t go to bed until after Yuri’s final briefing anyway so she swung the door open and turned her back on Mikhail to let him know that she had only let him in begrudgingly.

Valerie was stunned when Mikhail kicked the door closed and propelled her into the room, pushing her in the back, making her stagger on her high heels.

“Get in the bedroom you whore!” Mikhail hissed, pushing her though the door leading to her bedroom.

She fell on the bed and Mikhail jumped on top of her, pinning her down. He might be a gangly old man with a pot belly but he was far stronger than Valerie and she struggled beneath him, whimpering with frustration when she couldn’t fight him off.

He punched her once in the ribs and knocked the air out of her.

“Shut up and stop struggling you transvestite whore,” Mikhail hissed into her ear.

Valerie froze when she heard the word transvestite.

“Yes, I know your dirty little secret. You will be useless to Comrades Petrov and Godekin if I expose you. You will be of no further use to them and they will dispose of you as they disposed of my Petra,” he growled.

“They will dispose of you too!” Valerie said petulantly and hated the sound of her whiny powerless voice.

“Don’t be stupid you shlyukha. I am a preeminent academic and if anything was to happen to me it would raise brows in the hallowed halls of the Party room. Even the KGB are not immune from oversight under General Secretary Gorbachev’s newly revised Communist Party. The KGB has only limited freedom to act as they wish,” Mikhail sounded like he was lecturing a student.

In fact Mikhail Blavatsky was bluffing but he sounded convincing and Valerie was terrified because he knew her secret.

Lying on top of Valerie Mikhail had already become erect, feeling her body beneath him; her buttocks pressing into his groin, her pretty face inches from his; the feel of her body and the smell of her perfume were overwhelming.

“What do you want?” Valerie spat into the pillow, already stained by her colourful makeup.

“You know what I want. I’ve made it quite clear. Of course I didn’t know that you were a transvestite before; but now that I do it changes nothing,” Mikhail felt Valerie relax and used the opportunity to flip her over on her back so that she was facing him.

“No!” Valerie cried.

“You deny me what you give away so freely to the Americans and God knows who else!” Mikhail slapped Valerie across the face.

“Not my face Comrade Professor. You can’t mark my face!” Valerie cried.

Valerie might be in the direst of situations but she knew that no matter what happened she needed to keep her pretty face unmarked for her to be an effective operative.

“Ok, I won’t mark your face. But I need you to cooperate,” Mikhail knew that he had Valerie’s full compliance if she was still worried about her looks.

Valerie issued a sigh of relief and that angered Mikhail. He tore open the top of Valerie's dress and pulled her breasts from her brassiere and twisted a nipple cruelly.

“But there is nothing to stop me hurting you elsewhere,” Mikhail growled.

Valerie stifled a scream.

“I’ve told you what I want. Give it up and your secret remains safe with me. Comrade Godekin need not know that I know about you,” Mikhail leered at Valerie and twisted her nipple again.

“Of course Professor; just don’t hurt me,” Valerie surrendered.

Mikhail ripped off his shirt and lowered his face to Valerie’s and she turned away. Mikhail punched her in the ribs again and Valerie grunted and turned to face him. He looked down into her beautiful face, if anything made more beautiful by her smeared makeup. It made her look vulnerable… fuckable.

He put his liver-lips on her plump lipsticked lips and kissed her. Valerie did not respond but she did not turn away either. She simply surrendered and allowed Mikhail to ravish her. He unzipped his fly and Valerie felt his cock pressing into her belly through the slinky material of her cocktail dress. His cock was hot and pulsing and alive and felt as evil and terrifying as the Professor himself.

Mikhail rubbed himself against Valerie, crushing her lips with his, pawing at her breasts, tweaking her nipples until she winced but he was astute enough to realise that her ripe berry-like nipples had hardened and he attempted to thrust his tongue into her mouth, slapping her face when she refused to open her lips. Valerie whined and complied.

“Not my face!” she whimpered again as she opened her mouth wide and allowed Mikhail to slide his slithering eel-like tongue into her mouth.

He covered her mouth with his and waggled his tongue whilst still molesting her breasts and rubbing his rampant cock on her belly. Valerie felt helpless and debased.

But she also felt something else. She felt that she deserved it.

She was a whore, a slattern, a transvestite, an abomination of nature that no man could ever love. She had been fabricated and trained to be a common harlot, to entice men into her bed and lead them to their doom. She knew the effect that she had been having on Professor Blavatsky and she had done nothing but tease him and provoke him and now she was getting what she deserved.

She might as well use her skills to give him what he wanted; the sooner the better. Let him use her as a vessel for his lust and send the repugnant man away satisfied and he would leave her alone. At least until next time.

Valerie offered Mikhail her tongue and he smiled around his lewd wet kisses. The bitch had given in! But he would not make it easy for her.

Valerie put her arms around Mikhail and lifted her legs so that her nylon-sheathed thighs pressed on his pale skin. She knew that men liked the feel of soft silky stockings caressing their flesh. She got the result she wanted when the Professor began to hump her belly faster and his tongue wriggled in her mouth. Could she make him come this way?

No.

The Professor was wise to Valerie’s ruse. Petra Donevski had used similar tactics when she wanted to make him come without entering her but with this transvestite whore he would have none of it.

Just when Valerie thought that she would be able to escape any further intimacy with the Professor he rolled off her and lay back with his head on the pillows and entwined his bony fingers in Valerie’s head and dragged her face to his groin. His gnarly cock stood erect, poking out of his flies. Valerie swallowed her bile and lowered her mouth to it. Best to get it over with. She was an accomplished fellatrix and she knew that she could make him blow his load quickly.

Mikhail slapped her face again.

“Undo my trousers you useless bitch, I want you to suck my balls,” he shook Valerie’s head, holding her by the roots of her hair, making her feel a little dizzy.

She unbuckled Mikhail’s belt and opened his pants. Although he had showered before dinner he had been sweating all evening and the reek from his groin was bilious, made worse by his cloying cheap cologne. Valerie took a deep breath and lowered her face to his pubis and lapped at his furry scrotum which was covered in grey wiry hairs. She began to gag but she used her tongue to slurp up the sweat and swallowed it until his ballsack was clean enough for her to suckle without gagging.

“Be careful you bitch… oh my god!” Mikhail moaned as Valerie expertly took his scrotum in her mouth and softly suckled it whilst using the tip of her tongue to tease his testes.

Mikhail pawed at Valerie's breasts while she suckled his balls. He tweaked her nipples and fondled her baps and Valerie suddenly became aware that she liked what the Professor was doing to her. The self-loathing, shame and humiliation that she instilled in herself fostered a mindset that she deserved to be used this way and that thinking somehow dissolved her revulsion. She was getting what she deserved so she might as well enjoy it.

No! She couldn’t think that way surely? Her face still stung from Mikhail's blows, her ribs ached from his punches. She would not take a scintilla of pleasure from what he was forcing her to do.

But her body betrayed her. She sensed Mikhail's hard penis looming over her face as she sucked his scrotum. She opened her eyes and saw his nodulous manhood, painfully erect, pre-ejaculate running freely from the eye and down the throbbing shaft.

She engulfed it and sucked it, swallowing the sweet nectar of his pre-seminal fluid which washed away the lingering fetid taste of his ballsack. She heard him moan and his fingers twisted tighter in her hair, guiding her bruised lipsticked lips up and down his proud erection.

Mikhail felt Valerie using her tongue on his glans and circling his fraenulum while her lips undulated back and forth along his shaft. He nearly surrendered. Valerie was stoking his scrotum with her fingertip while her mouth suckled his phallus bringing him close to the point of no return but he saw through her ruse.

He ripped her face away from his groin and threw her down on the bed, pushing her face into the pillows.

“I don’t want to see that filthy organ while I’m fucking your ass you whore,” Mikhail put his hand around Valerie’s neck and held her down while he pawed at her panties.

He hooked them aside exposing her sphincter than then he tore out the crotch of her pantyhose with a snaggled yellowed fingernail. Valerie was choking, fighting to breathe as Mikhail prodded at her sphincter with his distended cock and finally he forced his glans into her puckered bud.

Valerie squealed when Mikhail pushed himself inside her. She was raw and unlubricated and it felt like a red hot poker had been pushed into her bowels. She reached out her fingers and found the bedside table and was able to open the drawer. She scrambled blindly until her fingers found the tube of KY-Jelly. She took a deep breath and tried to talk.

“Here, use this. It will be better for us both,” Valerie waved the tube of lubricant in front of the professor’s eyes.

He snatched it, releasing her throat. His cock felt like it was fucking sandpaper because Valerie’s anus was so dry.

“You do it!” he rolled Valerie over so that she was facing him and handed her the lubricant, tearing his cock out of her as he did so, causing nearly as much pain as he did when he pushed it inside her.

Valerie unscrewed the cap of the KY-Jelly with shaky fingers and squeezed a dollop of the cool, slippery gel on her fingertips. She placed a gobbet of the gel in her puckered bud and smeared the remainder on Mikhail’s thick tool.

Then to Mikhail’s surprise she thrust two pillows under the arch of her back, lifted her legs and opened them wide and took Mikhail’s rampant penis in her hand. If she was going to be violated she might as well be violated with as little pain as possible. Valerie guided Mikhail’s prong to her glistening aperture and tried as hard as she could to relax her sphincter.

Mikhail’s cock slid slowly into her rectum until he had her fully impaled.

She suddenly wished that it did hurt. She wished that she had fought harder. She wished that she was not conditioned to be a slattern.

Although she detested the man lying on top of her, his glans pressed on her prostate and the girth of his shaft stimulated the sensitive nerves in her sphincter and she couldn’t suppress a groan of lusty pleasure. Having this repulsive man violate her had somehow triggered something suppressed deep inside of her that she had no control over.

She clung to Mikhail and crossed her ankles behind his back and rose up to meet his thrusts. She opened her mouth and welcomed his vile kisses as he fucked her hard, slamming her into the mattress, pounding his cock in and out of her tight channel. The more it hurt, the more Valerie loved it. She moaned like a slattern, dragging her fingernails across Mikhail's back, digging her high heels into his flanks, encouraging him to fuck her harder.

The bedsprings protested and the headboard shook as Mikhail’s cock jackhammered in and out Valerie’s anus. Mikhail marvelled at the tight velvety duct clinging to his cock as he fucked her, it seemed to be gently squeezing his cock; milking it almost. The sensation was amazing and he drove his tongue into Valerie’s mouth, tasting her, smelling her perfume, feeling her soft body under him, her nipples hard against his flesh.

He couldn’t see it, which was just as well, but Valerie’s cock had sprung free from her tuck and was rock hard. Unbeknownst to Mikhail every time he thrust into Valerie his fat belly rubbed on Valerie’s cock through her satin panties which were saturated with lubricant and pre-seminal fluid.

Mikhail drove Valerie into the bed and roared as his scalding semen erupted from his rampant cock and filled her void. Valerie released into her panties, her orgasm wracking her body, causing her to shiver and shake as she moaned around Mikhail's slobbering kisses. She clung to him, holding him tight, feeling his cock quiver in her anus as he deposited his vile load deep in her bowel. She felt disgusted with herself but the pleasure she felt was almost unimaginable and she just surrendered to it. She continued to ejaculate into her panties, spurting her issue as Mikhail's issue filled her anus.

She lay under Mikhail, his weight crushing her, his sweat dripping on her face, his foul breath almost making her gag. She felt his cock slide out of her anus and his semen dribble between her legs. Her arms and legs were spread wide on the bed. She no longer wanted to hold him, she no longer wanted to kiss him; she felt disgusted with herself as the afterglow of her orgasm diminished.

Mikhail too was feeling post-coital regret. Yes he had accomplished what he set out to do: he had fucked his pretty assistant but the reality of what she was and what he had done to her made him feel dirty and depraved.

He climbed off Valerie without saying a word and she lay there silently staring at the ceiling while he dressed.

“See you tomorrow at breakfast. Don’t be late and don’t say a word about this,” he poked her in the ribs and smiled when she winced.

When Valerie heard the door close she ran to it and locked it and then raced into the bathroom and ripped off her clothes and jumped into the shower turning the water on full and as scalding hot as she could stand it.

FBI Field Office, New York City – July 1985

FBI Special Agents Vince Gruffalo and Bob Munsen and MI6 Agent Brice Bronson sat around the conference table talking intensely.

“So London and Washington have agreed to conduct this as a joint operation?” Bob Munson ruminated, swirling coffee grounds around the bottom of his cup.

“Yes, although I don’t know why. She’s operating on our turf,” Vince Gruffalo growled.

“I think MI6 are being very generous old chap. If not for us you Americans would have no idea that the Soviets were running an operative at your little Convention,” Brice sniffed.

“There was supposed be détente during the Conference. No defections and no covert operations from either side. Spirit of cooperation and all that bullshit,” Vince’s distaste for such an arrangement was evident in his tone.

“You never can trust the Ruskies. Now look here; we need to turn her. Find out who she has already lured into her honey trap and then get her working for us. If she’s still employed as an analyst in KGB Directorate Five, when she returns to Moscow she’ll be an invaluable source of information,” Brice said smugly.

“And if the Rooskies continue to run her as a field operative she will be just as valuable,” Vince countered.

“It’s win/win. We just have to nab her and turn her,” Bob Munsen piped in.

“I think it’s a job for the Limey; she’ll have seen you and I around the hotel conducting our security detail and the KGB know who we are too,” Bob continued.

“I hate to say it but you’re right Bob. Don’t forget Agent Bronson, she’s a shared asset once she’s turned,” Vince turned to Brice Bronson and pointed an accusatory finger at him

“Oh, of course old chap. That’s the agreement. Now let’s figure out how we are going to lure the spider out of her web,” Brice replied and three men got down to business.

Room 525 Plaza Hotel, New York City – July 1985

Valerie spent as much time in the shower as she dared. Her fingers and toes were starting to prune when she finally stepped out. She used her douche and squirted Professor Mikhail Blavatsky's seed out of her body. She looked at herself critically in the mirror.

Most of the blows to her face had been slaps and the flushing on her cheeks was dissipating but the front of her lower lip was a little swollen and she had a small bruise under her left eye. Her ribs still ached and there were purple bruises on her abdomen and her nipples were still tender.

She got to work with her makeup and covered up the damage to her face. There was nothing she could do about the bruises on her body. She stepped into fresh pantyhose and pulled on a pair of high-waisted nylon panties to cover her belly, tucking herself but not taping.

She picked up the pantyhose and panties that she had been wearing when Mikhail Blavatsky violated her and threw them in the trash. She was ashamed that her own semen was comingled with the Professor’s but recriminations would have to wait until after Yuri Godekin’s visit. The black cocktail dress followed. It was a shame because she really liked the dress but if she kept it, it would forever remind her of the evening’s events.

She slipped into a silk nightgown and brushed her hair and examined her face in the mirror. Her makeup was heavier than usual to disguise her swollen lip and the bruise under her eye but she always wore heavy makeup so no one was likely to think anything was wrong.

Valerie looked at the mantle clock and saw that it was just after eleven. She opened the minibar and poured two miniature vodkas over ice and drank them. Then she started on the scotch. She hoped that alcohol would numb the pain, both physical and psychological.

She was dozing when Yuri tapped politely on the door before letting himself in.

“How was the dinner?” Yuri asked as he entered, waking Valerie from her slumber.

“Boring but mercifully over quickly,” Valerie forced a smile.

“You should have called my room. I could have come earlier and you could have gone to bed early and rested up. You’ll be busy again tomorrow,” Yuri placed a file down on the side table and then he noticed the empty vodka and scotch bottles.

“You were having a party?” Yuri frowned at the miniatures and the empty glass in front of her.

Valerie recalled the Professor lying on top of her, pounding her into the mattress and she winced.

“Hardly,” she replied.

Yuri had seen her wince and his sixth sense kicked in. He strode over to Valerie and helped her to her feet. She wobbled a little and flinched at the pain in her ribs.

“Are you drunk?” Yuri searched her face.

Valerie shook her head.

“I might have had one drink too many,” she corrected herself.

Yuri studied her face and then he tenderly reached out and touched her cheek and try as she might Valerie couldn’t help wincing when his finger touched the contusion under her eye. He gently wiped at the concealer, foundation and powder and revealed the mauve bruise. Then he wiped her lipstick with the back of his hand and revealed the swelling on her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry. It was my fault. I can still complete the mission. Please don’t beat me,” Valerie lifted her chin stoically.

Yuri took a step back and Valerie braced herself for the blow but instead Yuri opened her nightgown and gasped when he saw the yellowing bruises on her ribs and belly.

“I’m sorry. I deserved it. I should have just given him what he wanted,” Valerie tried her hardest to supress a sob.

“Given who?” Yuri looked perplexed.

Before Valerie could answer storm clouds brewed in Yuri’s eyes and he clenched his fists.

“Professor Blavatsky!” Yuri hissed.

Valerie lowered her head and said nothing.

Yuri turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

He returned half an hour later and found Valerie curled up on the bed quietly sobbing. He took off his jacket and shoes and climbed on the bed and cuddled her, spooning her tiny body into his. He stroked her hair and whispered to her.

“Nothing was your fault. No one should ever harm you. I am so sorry that this happened to you; I blame myself,” he murmured and pulled her closer.

He stroked her hair and her cheeks. Just before she fell asleep, finally feeling safe, she noticed that Yuri’s knuckles were skinned and bleeding.

Plaza Hotel, Midtown Manhattan, New York City – July 1985 – Day Four of the Convention

When Valerie awoke Yuri was already up and about. He had returned to his own room, showered and changed into a fresh suit. A full breakfast awaited Valerie on a room service trolley.

“I am sorry that I allowed myself to be damaged. I can still perform my mission. You saw last night that if I apply my cosmetics carefully I can conceal the wounds to my face. I’ll wear a corset or a chemise to hide the bruises on my body,” Valery said, her voice sounded like she was pleading.

“Please don’t send me back to Russia until after the Convention. Until after I have completed my mission. I must save my family,” she whispered.

“Come and have some breakfast,” Yuri held out a hand and helped Valerie off the bed.

She winced a little but was steady on her feet. Yuri held her at arm’s length. The bruising under her eye was almost purple but a little concealer would take care of that. The swelling on her bottom lip was not as bad. Valerie’s lips had been injected with collagen before she left Russia to plump them so the wound was hardly noticeable unless you looked for it. Astute application of lipliner and lipstick would hide what swelling remained.

“I’m sorry Yuri,” Valerie apologised for what seemed to be the hundredth time and tears ran down her face.

Yuri pulled her into his arms and held her close, feeling her heart beating against his chest and her soft breath on his neck. He lifted her face and saw fear, anxiety and helplessness.

He lowered his face to hers and kissed her softly, acutely aware of her bruised lip. Valerie stiffened and then she melted in his arms. For the first time since she had been marched out of her dingy apartment by the State Security goons Valerie felt safe.

Yuri felt Valerie tense up and then relax. She put her arms around his broad shoulders and clung to him and returned his kiss. The kiss was soft, warm and tender without a hint of salaciousness. Yuri could hardly believe that he held this woman in his embrace knowing what he knew about her. He had tried his best to despise her, to detest her for what she was but his hatred had worked against him. Valerie’s true nature had overcome his animosity towards her.

She clung to him and he felt her helplessness and he wanted to protect her. He had taken revenge for her; probably at the expense of his career and possibly his life.

He kissed her a little more ardently and despite the sting, Valerie returned the kiss and opened her mouth a little. Yuri slipped the tip of his tongue inside her lips and tickled her mouth with it. Valerie sighed. She could feel herself becoming aroused and she was untucked but luckily was still wearing her pantyhose and high-waited panties. She thought that Yuri would find her repugnant if he felt her genitals becoming engorged.

She could feel that Yuri was becoming aroused too. She could feel the girth of him though her diaphanous nightgown.

Yuri knew that he could take Valerie whenever he wanted and part of him wanted to. But that would make him no better than Ivan Petrov and Professor Mikhail Blavatsky both of whom had taken advantage of Valerie’s vulnerability. Yuri would be committing exactly the same sins because there was no doubt that Valerie was feeling the most vulnerable she had ever felt.

Instead Yuri gently eased Valerie out of his embrace and led her to a comfortable chair next to the little dinette and rolled the room service trolley over and placed the breakfast tray on the table in front of her.

“Eat. You will need your strength,” Yuri said, his voice choked a little with unstated emotions.

“Are you having some?” Valerie lifted the lid off a plate loaded with a full American breakfast.

A rack of toast and pot of coffee accompanied the feast.

“I’ll take some coffee,” Yuri pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.

Valerie thought that she would be unable to eat but once she started eating she realised that she was ravenous. She’d hardly eaten the night before, substituting champagne for sustenance.

Yuri drank coffee and watched her eat amusingly. He knew that Valerie had been told to limit her food intake to ensure that she kept her figure and for the practicalities of anal sex. A thousand thoughts bounced around inside his head and eventually he decided what he must do.

“I am late already. I must get dressed and join the Professor for today’s activities,” Valerie said once she was sated.

“The Professor will no longer be participating in the Convention,” Yuri said sombrely.

“I have rearranged your schedule with our organising committee. Mishka Malkovsky will undertake interpreter duties today. Professor Ukoff will take over as head of the academic contingent,” Yuri added.

“Then where is Professor Blavatsky? What am I to do for the remainder of the Convention?” Valerie sounded panicked.

Yuri held out a hand to Valerie and once again she noticed the skinned knuckles. She stood up and searched his eyes and saw that the coldness that she usually saw there was gone. The coldness had been replaced with something softer but she was not sure what it was until he leaned in and kissed her again. This time he made no attempt to hide his passion for her. He held her tight and pressed himself into her and kissed with ardour and desire. He had one hand on her buttock and another around her waist and Valerie fitted against him like she was made for the purpose.

Valerie imagined that she was dreaming. What had brought about this change in Yuri Godekin?

Yuri broke the kiss and looked into Valerie’s emerald green eyes; his face as serious as she had ever seen it.

“I have done something that has placed us both in grave danger. You have a small window of opportunity to save yourself at my expense. Go and see the head of the delegation and tell him that I and Professor Blavatsky fought over you and that I killed the Professor,” Yuri breathed.

“Tell him that I was jealous and became enraged when I found you both together. You have the bruises to show him where I beat you before I went to the Professor’s room and beat him to death,” Yuri sighed and lowered his head.

The enormity of what Yuri had done washed over Valerie like an arctic wave; chilling her to the bone.

Valerie put her fingers under Yuri’s chin and lifted his head. She traced the fine scar down the side of his face with her fingertip and then lifted her face and kissed him softly.

“Whatever you have done, we are in this together,” Valerie whispered.

“Are you sure?” Yuri searched her face.

Valerie did not reply verbally. She simply kissed him again and nodded.

“The convention committee is easily fooled and they will not miss Professor Blavatsky for a day or two but the KGB will become suspicious unless you continue with your mission which is all they care about,” Yuri said.

Valerie nodded again.

“I hate to ask you to do this but you must keep your assignation with Dexter Folger this evening,” Yuri said gravely.

“You don’t have to ask me; just tell me,” Valerie replied.

“You are not my chattel any longer Valerie. I have broken that bond,” Yuri said.

“Then I will do it for you. It is only you that can save us now but I have every faith in you Yuri,” Valerie gave him a wry smile and pecked his cheek.

“Maybe you have too much faith in me. Stay in your room until I return. I have much to do before tonight’s festivity,” Yuri was suddenly all business and he released Valerie and strode to the door.

He turned back to Valerie and saw her looking after him with both vulnerability and hope on her face. He strode back into the room and kissed her passionately, taking her breath away.

“Now I really have to go,” Yuri said and this time he did not look back.

Yuri had been a field officer for many years and disposing of body was an easy task for him, although this time it was made a little more difficult because he was in the Plaza Hotel in the middle of Manhattan. Yuri cleaned Mikhail Blavatsky’s room of all evidence of the battering Yuri inflicted on the Professor and packed up the Professor’s clothing and personal affects. He put Mikhail Blavatsky’s body in a laundry cart and used the service elevator to take it down to the basement and then went back for the suitcases. The hotel’s parking facilities were off-site but Yuri had acquired a nondescript looking van and to anyone looking on it would appear that Yuri was loading laundry; he was wearing coveralls and a watch cap.

Mikhail Blavatsky’s naked battered body would be fished from the Hudson River the next day. He was never properly identified and assumed to be a vagrant or a tourist who had been robbed and beaten to death. Either way, with nearly nine hundred murders to solve that year, Mikhail Blavatsky was quickly designated a John Doe and his murder stacked in the cold case files.

Yuri’s possessions went into a dumpster and ended up at Fresh Kills Landfill on Staten Island. Yuri would have been amused by the irony if he knew.

Yuri hung a do not disturb sign on the Professor’s door and directed the switchboard not to disturb the Professor. The story that Mikhail Blavatsky had taken ill was accepted graciously by the head of the delegation. Nobody like the arrogant, angry buffoon anyway so his absence from the Convention was considered a blessing.

Having done all he could to conceal his crimes, all Yuri could do was wait. He had an inkling of a plan but it depended on people over whom he had very little control. All he could do was to send Valerie on her mission tonight and while she was busy with Dexter Folger he would make his play.

Having done everything he could for now Yuri returned to Valerie’s room. She was still dressed in the satin dressing gown, pantyhose and panties and was curled up on a sofa studying Dexter Folger’s file.

She smiled when Yuri came into the room and her smile lit up his heart.

“I have done everything I can for now. I want you to pack a bag with just the essentials. We need to be ready to move at short notice,” Yuri poured himself a vodka noting that room service had replenished the minibar and taken away the breakfast tray and trolley.

“Where are we going?” Valerie looked perplexed.

“Do you trust me?” Yuri scooched onto the sofa, putting Valerie’s feet in his lap.

“Yuri, there has been no one else in my life except you for so long. Of course I trust you,” Valerie replied.

She liked that Yuri was absentmindedly stroking her feet.

“I mean do you trust me as a person, not as your boss,” Yuri continued to massage Valerie’s feet; he liked looking at her pantied toenails through the gauzy nylon.

“I trust you completely,” Valerie gave him that heartbreak smile and Yuri felt his heart flip.

“Then you will just have to have faith in me Valerie. Go and do your duty tonight and I promise you this will all be over soon,” he waggled her little toe and Valerie squealed.

“Stop that, I’m ticklish!” she giggled like girl.

“What about this then?” Yuri held Valerie’s foot and tickled the sole and she squirmed and squealed.

“Stop that!” Valerie tried to sound serious but her wry grin gave away her frivolousness.

“Or what?” Yuri leaned into her but not threateningly.

“Or this,” Valerie planted a sloppy kiss on his mouth.

“Really?” Yuri grabbed her ankles and pulled her down on the sofa and lay on top her.

“Now what girly?” Yuri grinned, his lips nearly touching hers.

“Now this,” Valerie put her arms around him and kissed him passionately.

Yuri opened Valerie’s nightgown and gently cupped a breast. He felt the nipple harden when he caressed it. Valerie could feel his heart beating and she felt both yearning and trepidation. She knew that she was young and beautiful but she knew that Yuri had only shown distaste for her because of her gender. Would he baulk if he continued to explore her body?

He lowered his face to Valerie’s small, firm breasts and licked and then gently nibbled her nipples, listening to Valerie’s breathing quicken and her heart beat faster. He couldn’t stop kissing her and his lips left her breasts and sought her mouth while his hands went back to her breasts.

Their kisses started out passionate and became fiery and urgent. Their lips smashed together and tongues intertwined, Yuri’s hands slowly journeyed from her breasts to her ribcage down to her flat belly. She winced when they touched her bruises and Yuri jerked his hand away and Valerie took hold of it and placed it back on her belly. The feel of Yuri’s gentle caress was worth a little pain. They communicated without talking.

Yuri’s hand slid past her hip and found her legs. He slowly and sensuously stroked Valerie’s thighs and she groaned into his mouth around their passionate kisses. Yuri delighted in the feel of her silky nylons on his fingertips and he stroked and fondled her legs until he could no longer stand the uncomfortableness in his groin. He picked Valerie up in his strong arms and carried her to the bed and gently lowered her onto the comforter.

He took in her rare beauty as he disrobed. Her small lithe body seemed longer as she lay on the bed, her perky breasts were proportionate to her size, the curve of her hip and her bountiful bottom drew his eyes to her legs that seemed to go on forever clad in the diaphanous pantyhose. The gauzy black chemise accentuated her smooth unblemished alabaster skin. Then there was her gorgeous visage. Her full and glossy centre parted raven-black hair with the severe straight fringe cut across her brow which framed her heart-shaped face with its flawless creamy complexion accentuated by her full red lips and bright emerald-green eyes.

Valerie gazed up at Yuri. She knew that he had a powerful body under the suits he wore but seeing it for the first time took her breath away.

He was incredibly handsome with deep blue eyes, tanned skin and thick wavy hair. The long thin scar that began under his left eye and curved away across his cheek to his neck and ended beneath his collarbone gave him a dashing appearance, like a pirate from a romance novel. His lean body was smooth and muscular with hardly any body hair; his shoulders were broad, his chest muscular, his belly flat and six-packed, his legs strong. There were numerous scars on his body earned during service to his country. Between his legs his magnificent member was fully engorged, long and thick with a smooth bulbous glans. A bead of pre-ejaculate glittered in the eye.

Valerie reached out and softly caressed the magnificent member and felt the velvety firmness and heat of it and she felt her own penis uncoil between her legs. She could barely get her fingers around the shaft and Yuri looked down and smiled at the contrast between her graceful long fingers with her bright-red fingernails and the pale flesh of his shaft. Then she slowly traced the veins with her fingertip and he gasped.

He lay down beside her and they kissed and Yuri’s hands went back to Valerie's legs where they had left off and stroked her delicate flesh. She had her hand around his magnificent organ and was softly caressing it, teasing it; afraid that if she stroked it too hard it would explode.

Yuri had never been so aroused. Valerie’s sweet mouth, lips and tongue evoked the most sensual passionate kisses, her deft fingers caressed his manhood and rings of pleasure radiated from his groin and he was glad that Valerie was using only a featherlight touch. He adored the feel of her legs and buttocks swathed in those diaphanous pantyhose. He had always admired her legs and bottom and now he was actually touching them.

But in the back of his mind was the surprise that she kept in her panties. Yuri wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with that so he kept his thoughts elsewhere and concentrated on the delightful feelings that Valerie was eliciting from his flesh.

Valerie too was anxious about how Yuri was going to react when they had to face the reality of her gender. Her cock was rampant and had sprung forward and was tenting her pantyhose and panties. It ached to be touched but Valerie knew better than to direct Yuri’s fingers to it because he would likely recoil and the moment would be ruined.

She froze when Yuri’s fingers caressed the crease at the top her leg and then began to drift towards her groin. She shot her hand down there and grabbed his wrist.

“You don’t have to do that. I can satisfy you orally or you can bend me over so you never have to see it,” Valerie whispered.

Yuri looked down into Valerie’s eyes and saw the conflicting emotions: the fear, the anticipation, the expectation of revulsion, the rejection she expected.

Yuri brushed her hand away and continued to explore her groin. The back of his hand brushed her erect penis through her panties and pantyhose and he was surprised when he wasn’t repulsed by it. It was long and sleek. Not as big as his but handy and it was warm and spongy under the layers of nylon. It actually felt quite exotic.

Yuri abhorred homosexuals and homosexuality but this was different. Valerie was not a man and he was not a homo; he was a man infatuated with a woman who was uniquely different and exotic.

Yuri kissed Valerie with even more passion and took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around her nylon-shrouded penis. He was not repulsed. It was undiscovered territory for him but as he gazed at Valerie’s beauty and her magnificent body, the appendage between her legs did not seem out of place. He realised that he was comfortable with it for now and decided to explore further.

He began to stroke Valerie’s cock through her panties and he felt it quiver and her whole body shudder and she gasped into his mouth and she matched his rhythm and stroked him in return. They would have gone on like that, masturbating each other as they kissed but Yuri crawled on top her and rubbed his manhood on her panty-clad mound; the frottage eliciting a rapture that both of them felt almost overwhelming.

Valerie locked her arms around Yuri’s neck and her legs around his waist and rubbed her calves on his flanks and Yuri shuddered. She could sense that he was close and realised that she need not dread him rejecting her, because coitus might not occur. She humped against him, her cock feeling his steely rod press on hers through her panties. She was close to extremis too and soon they would climax together and it would be over.

But Yuri had no such intention. He tore open the crotch of her pantyhose, slipped his cock inside her panties and nestled his glans in her puckered bud.

“No!” Valerie whispered into his neck.

But it was too late.

Yuri pushed forward and his long thick cock slid inside her tight cleft and he ejaculated immediately, his semen providing the lubricant which allowed him to thrust his magnificent sword all the way into her scabbard.

Valerie felt him fill her and stretch her void. His hard belly pressed on her groin as he did so and a wave of intense pleasure washed over her as she ejaculated into her panties.

Yuri kissed her hard and drove his tongue into her mouth, his cock quivering as he planted his issue deep inside her. He had never felt anything as rapturous as Valerie's tight anus clenched and unclenched around his manhood, expressing his essence. He could feel her warm slippery semen on his belly and smell the muskiness of it. Far from being revolted he was delighted that he had brought Valerie to climax.

They lay like that hardly moving, clinging to each other, joined at the pubis and the mouth. After what seemed like an eternity…

“I can’t believe I'm still hard,” Yuri whispered.

Valerie could feel his steely phallus embedded deep inside her. Her anus had dilated to accept his girth and ringlets of delight fluttered from the nerves ringing her sphincter. The head of Yuri’s penis was pressing on her prostate and driblets of pre-seminal fluid dripped from the eye of her cock into her already saturated panties.

“Well fuck me again then,” Valerie giggled and looked up into Yuri’s face, the lust and devotion evident in her emerald eyes.

“If you insist,” Yuri smiled down at her and kissed the tip of her nose.

He began to move slowly in and out of her, building to a crescendo which evoked another earth-shattering orgasm in them both. He collapsed on top of her after and Valerie held him close and whispered endearments in his ear.

Yuri nibbled her earlobe.

“Is too early to tell you that I love you?” he whispered in her ear.

Valerie began to cry.

Plaza Hotel, Midtown Manhattan, New York City – July 1985 – Day Four of the Convention

Special Agents Vince Gruffalo and Bob Munsen were strategically placed in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel. Vince nudged Bob with his elbow when Valerie Sokolova exited the elevator wearing a strapless red minidress that left nothing to the imagination. Her small but perfect breasts heaved as she walked on those long legs clad in glistening flesh-toned pantyhose, her feet shod in red satin fuck-me-pumps. Her glossy black hair was perfectly centre-parted; her eye makeup bold and those sensuous lips painted the same red as her dress and her fingernails.

She looked stunning and had hidden the contusions on her face and body perfectly.

All heads turned as she exited the elevator and strutted across the lobby to the ballroom for another round of the seemingly endless meet-and greets which were really just boozefests.

Valerie was doing her job perfectly: keeping the eyes of the intelligence agencies on her as well as the male Convention attendees and in particular one Dexter Folger. As soon as Valerie entered the ballroom Dexter broke away from the group of attendees that he was standing with and made a beeline for Valerie.

By agreement the Soviet and American security and intelligence services were not to enter any of the conferences, meetings, discussion groups or social gatherings so that the delegates could mingle and talk freely. They were confined to the periphery where they could monitor security.

This suited Special Agents Vince Gruffalo and Bob Munsen as they were providing picket duty for Brice Bronson whose job it was to confirm their suspicion that Valerie Sokolova was in fact Valéry Sokolova so that they could begin the process of recruiting her.

Upstairs in room 525 Brice Bronson was carefully inspecting the contents of the drawers and cupboards in Valerie’s hotel room looking for evidence of her duplicity. He was currently sifting through her lingerie drawer and couldn’t help but bring a pair of her red satin panties to his face so that he could inhale the vestiges of her perfume.

Brice had already found the lens of the camera hidden behind the daguerreotype picture hanging on the wall facing the bed. Its purpose was obvious and if he had time he would break into the room next door and find the camera and hopefully some film stock that he could use to further blackmail Valerie.

“I don’t think you’ll find what you are looking for there, Brice old chap,” Yuri Godekin had used his passkey and silently entered Valerie’s room and sat in an overstuffed armchair facing Brice.

He was holding a silenced 9mm Makarov pistol and had it pointed directly at Brice Bronson.

The mocking British accent that Yuri had used was not lost on Brice and he was not sure if he was more embarrassed about actually being caught committing espionage on foreign soil or sniffing Valerie Sokolova’s knickers. He dropped the panties and reached for his own weapon but Yuri put a bullet close to his left ear; the action of the Makarov making more sound than the ‘phut’ of the projectile which imbedded itself in the wall behind Brice.

Yuri waved his pistol at Brice indicating that he should drop his weapon and Brice took his Walther PPK in a two-finger grip and placed it on the coffee table and slid it across to Yuri. Yuri waggled his pistol indicating that Brice should sit down opposite him.

“I thought you and the Yanks had an agreement that there would no espionage or intelligence gathering during the Convention,” Brice smiled at Yuri.

“Oh come on Brice. You are a British MI6 field agent conducing espionage on foreign soil. Do the Americans know what you are up to?” Yuri returned his smile.

Yuri Godekin and Brice Bronson had never met face to face but they were well of each other, bring operatives in opposing intelligence agencies. It was as if two old friends were catching up after a long absence.

“Oh, we’re cooperating old chap,” Brice remained stoic.

“This is quite the little honey trap that you have going and quite a clever little scam using Valerie Sokolova to bait it,” Brice’s smile widened.

Yuri bristled when Brice motioned Valerie in the context of the honey trap and Brice saw the storm clouds gathering in Yuri’s eyes and knew that he had hit a nerve.

“Sorry old boy; didn’t realise there was a thing between you two,” Brice twisted the knife diplomatically.

“I take it you were looking for evidence you can use to blackmail Valerie and turn her,” Yuri would not be distracted.

Brice just smiled his diplomatic smile.

“Of course you’d have to be working alongside the Americans,” Yuri continued.

Brice said nothing.

Yuri placed his Makarov on the table deliberately and stood up and went over the refrigerator, turning his back on Brice, giving him the opportunity to seize the upper hand.

Brice was intrigued and remained seated while Yuri poured two vodkas and dropped in ice cubes.

“Sorry about the ice old chap but I prefer my vodka chilled,” Yuri used his mocking British accent again and smiled at the joke as he handed Brice a drink.

“Oh don’t worry old chap. Ever since the colonials have become fixated on the stuff I’ve rather gotten use to diluted icy drinks,” Brice snapped back.

“Now to business,” Yuri made no attempt to pick up his gun.

“What if I was to make you a better offer?” Yuri smiled, clicked his glass against Brice’s and took a sip.

“A better offer than what?” Brice was intrigued.

“A better than offer than whatever the deal is that you have the Americans,” Yuri continued.

Room 712 Plaza Hotel, New York City – July 1985

Valerie had found it even easier to seduce Dexter Folger than she had Steve Braxton. He was a braggart and a scoundrel and had drooled all over Valerie, practically raping her with his eyes. She used a similar tactic and lured Dexter away from the main ballroom into an ante room and told him her dilemma of being a transwoman in the Soviet Union and requested political asylum.

Dexter was not at all turned off by the fact that Valerie was trans. In fact it fascinated and excited him. He was as duplicitous as Colonel Braxton and insisted that Valerie come up to his hotel room and prove to him that she was telling the truth.

He verified Valerie’s story by having her perform fellatio on him and then buggering her, bent over a chair, with her dress hiked up and her panties and pantyhose pulled down. He was mercifully quick and once he was finished with her he couldn’t wait to get Valerie out of his room, lying to her that he would take her claim for political asylum to the relevant authorities.

Before the sex and while Dexter was in the toilet Valerie had strategically placed the Minox miniature camera on a bureau so that it took a series of photographs of Valerie performing sex acts on Dexter Folger and ensured that her genitalia was in full view while Dexter was sodomising her. She surreptitiously snatched the camera up on the way out of his room and secreted in her clutch.

As she had been directed by Yuri, she made her way back to the party and mingled with the guests.

Vince Gruffalo had followed Valerie and Dexter to his room taking a separate elevator. He guessed what was occurring in room 712 but was helpless to do anything about it. He just hoped that Brice Bronson was gathering the evidence they needed to blackmail Valerie. He was thinking it might be to his advantage if he were the one to confront her; alone and somewhere private where she might offer him a similar service for leniency. He became tumescent when he imagined sliding his cock into Valerie’s pert little derriere.

Yuri went down to the cocktail party and found Valerie surrounded by a circle of men eager to engage with her. He made his apologies and whisked Valerie away back up to her room.

Craftsman’s Cottage, Aylesford, Kent Southeast England – June 1986

Valerie lay snuggled under the comforter looking out the window at the spectacular view bathed in rare bright British sunlight. She could just make out the symbolic 14th century stone arched bridge crossing the River Medway and the spires of St Peter and St Pauls Churches through the trees.

Yuri ducked his head under the low mantle of the doorway as he entered carrying a tea tray loaded with a teapot, crockery, a toast rack, and jam pots.

“It’s such a beautiful day, come back to bed and we’ll drink tea just like the English,” Valerie extended a leg outside the comforter.

Her leg was still clad in sheer nylon because Yuri liked Valerie to wear satin chemises and pantyhose or stockings to bed. They were still in the stage of their relationship where they made love at least twice a day.

Yuri put down the tea tray and sat on the bed and placed the nylon-shrouded limb in his lap and stroked it gently.

“I have to go into London to Century House and continue being debriefed and if I get back into bed with you I won’t want to get out,” Yuri, now known as Stefan, continued to stroke Valerie’s long leg.

Stefan and Valerie Petrović were a married couple who had immigrated to the UK from Crimea and with their considerable wealth had purchased Craftsman’s Cottage in the Kentish town of Aylesford. They had assimilated into village life and Stefan’s accented English often brought a chuckle to some of the locals in The Kentish Quarryman which the Petrovićs had adopted as their local pub.

Stefan and Valerie had all of the legal documentation to establish their bona fides, a benefit of which was that Valerie was legally a woman. She kept her trans identity a close secret. Finally being able to live openly as a woman enjoying the freedom of the quaint British town and nearby London was everything Valerie could hope for.

Yuri had assured Valerie that with glasnost and perestroika firmly on Gorbachev's agenda, it was not in the interests of the KGB to come after them; they had more important items on their agenda like how they were going to maintain power when the Union of Soviet Social Republics collapsed.

Valerie had been able to contact her family in Russia and they had assured her that they were safe. Her mother and father had retired to a little farm near the Ukraine border and her sister Valentina was happily married to her soldier husband and was expecting a baby. Valerie was not able to disclose her location or tell her family that she was now living as woman. They still though of Valerie as Valéry, their son and brother respectively.

Century House was MI6 headquarters and both Yuri and Valerie had spent countless days there being debriefed, handing over everything they knew about KGB operations. Yuri was a goldmine of information regarding the inner workings of the KGB and had revealed the names of two high ranking British government officials who were spying for the Soviets.

Yuri had been astute and had insisted on a comfortable life for himself and Valerie and guarantees for their safety and their secret identities.

“If you won’t come to bed, at least pour me a cup of tea and hand me a slice of toast and marmalade,” Valerie pouted.

“Toast and fucking marmalade and fucking tea! You’re becoming more English every day,” Stefan Petrović teased his wife.

Valerie threw a pillow at him which resulted in a wrestling match on the bed.

Needless to say that Yuri was late arriving at Century House that day.

The End

Novogorbovo, Russia – June 1985

Valerie was required to stay in her room and recover for five days following her breast augmentation surgery but it wasn’t really bed rest. She was tended to by Anya, who encouraged Valerie to get up and walk around as soon as the most severe pain passed which wasn’t long and she was visited daily by Yuri Godekin who began to put together the missing pieces of the puzzle as to why she was here.

“Can I see?” Yuri asked, blushing a little with embarrassment.

Valerie lifted the satin chemise that she had chosen as bed-wear and showed Yuri her new breasts. The bruising was fading and they were perfectly shaped, smooth and proportionally perfect for her slim frame. They were B-cup sized, with perfectly round pink areolas and little nubbin nipples.

Yuri was impressed and gently touched one, teasing the nipple until it hardened and then he lifted her left breast and saw the fading incision in the crease.

It was Valerie’s turn to blush.

“They did a good job. The surgeon says that scar will be almost invisible,” Yuri commented as he withdrew his hand and Valerie covered her breasts.

“I can’t say that I’m disappointed but I thought I might have been consulted before my body was subjected to surgery,” Valerie said petulantly.

Yuri leaned into her and for a moment Valerie thought that he was going to kiss her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that but his face stopped inches from hers and his hand snapped up and gripped her throat.

“Don’t think for an instant that you are some sort of a princess in a play. You are an abomination. An abomination that belongs to the Soviet state! You are a tool to be used against the West. Tools can easily be replaced. In fact you are only here because you are a better tool than the one you replaced. The one I personally disposed of,” Yuri said through gritted teeth.

“Do you understand?” Yuri tightened his grip on her neck and his face was so close that his lips were almost touching hers.

Valerie wasn’t choking. Yuri didn’t want to hurt her; just frighten her. But she was shivering with fear and she remembered the threats made to her by Ivan Petrov in his office and she nodded her head in acquiescence.

“There’s a good girl,” Yuri released the grip on her throat and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

He leaned in and softly kissed her cheek.

“You told the psychiatrist that you thought that you should have been born a woman and now you are a lot closer to achieving that goal curtesy of the Soviet Republic. We can’t do anything about your undercarriage yet and to be truthful we don’t intend to. You are perfect just the way you are Valerie,” Yuri said in a soothing tone.

He was speaking English and so was Anya. Valerie had been told to speak English from now on unless she was told otherwise or was addressed by anyone who only spoke Russian. She was to practice her English skills to perfect them.

“I have brought you some files to study while you recover from your surgery. The first one I want you to read is a dossier regarding Professor Mikhail Blavatsky. He is the man that you will be interpreting for,” Yuri pointed to the stack of files he had placed on the coffee table.

“The rest of the files are profiles of Americans who will be attending the Convention,” Yuri sat on the edge of the bed and straightened his jacket.

“What Convention?” Valerie asked and immediately regretted asking a question after the warning Anya had given her.

Yuri smiled at her and to her surprise he answered her question.

“Our new President has new ideas regarding how our glorious Republic should function. He is intent on expanding our diplomatic and economic relations with the west,” Yuri stroked Valerie’s hand as if she was a small child.

“The Soviet Union is sending a delegation to the United States ahead of a proposed agreement between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics on exchanges in cultural, technical, and educational fields. Professor Mikhail Blavatsky is heading up the academic contingent and you are to be his interpreter,” Yuri patted her hand.

“But despite Mister Gorbachev’s proposed changes to our political outlook, the KGB is still functioning as usual and will always function as the sword and shield of the Communist Party and such an exceptional opportunity as this series of conferences, meetings and social events must be mined for every piece of intelligence that can be garnered,” Yuri squeezed Valerie’s hand.

“There will be others conducting intelligence gathering and exploiting situations presented to them but they are of no significance to you,” he squeezed Valerie’s hand a little harder.

“You will be doing the most important work of all. You will be using your great beauty and, shall we say, unique physiology, to help some of the American delegation look on the USSR more favourably,” Yuri stopped squeezing and patted Valerie’s hand gently.

“I’m to be a whore? To be a honey trap?” Valerie whispered.

“Better you be a whore working for the KGB than your sister Valentina being forced to fuck Spetsnaz soldiers in a military brothel. Remember the promise Ivan Petrov made you. When this is over we may even consider further, shall we say, corrective surgery, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yuri leaned into Valerie once more.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just study the dosiers for now. The rest will all be explained before you leave,” Yuri smiled at her.

“Even lying here in bed without the aid of makeup you are a beautiful woman Valerie. It would be a shame for such beauty to go to waste,” Yuri leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.

Valerie was stunned and she tingled all over as Yuri held the kiss for what seemed like an eternity. Then he broke the kiss and smiled at her and stroked her cheek once more.

He alighted from the bed and walked to the door and stopped and turned to Valerie and smiled.

Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spat on the floor and looked at Valerie with a spiteful sneer and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Valerie silently sobbed for a while and then she regained her composure and got out of bed and reached for the files.

Novogorbovo, Russia – June 1985

Besides working her way through the personnel files, Valerie was educated in other ways. Anya began by giving her makeup and deportment lessons.

“You have reasonably adept makeup skills but your makeup is a little heavy and although suitable for an evening social event, it needs to be toned down for the daytime when you are presenting professionally,” Anya said, standing behind Valerie who was sitting at the vanity.

They spent some time finding the most flattering palette for Valerie’s face for business meetings and conferences, for social events and to compliment her evening wear.

A hairstylist was brought in to cut and style Valerie's hair.

“I love your hair. It is so black and glossy and it compliments your alabaster skin,” the stylist fussed around Valerie’s hair until she finally went to work with a flurry of scissors and combs and brushes.

The stylist cut very little but she straightened Valerie’s hair, gave it a centre part and cut a severe straight fringe across her brows. It was full and glossy and when Valerie applied bright red lipstick to her lips she looked stunning. Her heart-shaped face with its flawless alabaster complexion; her red lips and bright emerald-green eyes framed by the black off-the-shoulder bob were strikingly beautiful.

“Ok, you look gorgeous. Now we have to dress you,” Anya threw open the wardrobe.

Valerie had already explored the contents of the wardrobe. Everything was top quality and imported, right down to the lingerie and hosiery. No more mass-produced, cheap white panties and bras, no more Brest Stocking Mill lustreless drab pantyhose. One of the drawers was full of silky, shiny, sheer pantyhose and nylon stockings. The range of lingerie was overwhelming.

Valerie thought briefly about the cheap, mass-manufactured, hand-altered suit and the tatty knock-off high heels she had been wearing when she arrived at Novogorbovo. She never wanted to see them again.

“During the day you will need to dress professionally but stylishly. You need to show the Americans that Russian women are not all frumpy matrons with hairs sticking out of their stockings,” Anya said.

“You need to project respectability and probity but also your sensuality,” Anya began to lay out business suits on the bed.

“Because I am a honey trap who is to seduce stupid American men so they can be blackmailed,” Valerie said petulantly.

Anya took three steps across the room and slapped Valerie across the face.

“Who do think you are? What do you think you’re doing here? Thousands of Soviet women would gladly be in your position. You are not only in a position of privilege; you get to serve the State and undermine the Americans who think the world must bow to their every whim,” Anya said solemnly.

“But I am a prisoner with no control over my life,” Valerie said, holding her scalding cheek.

“Stop whining and look on the bright side. You wanted to be woman! Well now you are one so behave like a true socialist woman and do your duty!” Anya said, turning her back on Valerie and began rummaging through the wardrobe.

Anya matched blouses to suits, tops to skirts, and shoes to the ensembles. Then she opened a large jewellery case and matched accessories.

“Ok. We have daywear, eveningwear, work wear, formal wear and casuals, note which item goes with which. Of course you will be able to use your own discretion but I’m just trying to give you some fashion sense before you leave,” Anya was very pleasant again; as if nothing had happened.

Finally Valerie was allowed to dress in something other than the chemises she wore to bed. Her breasts had healed sufficiently to wear a bra and with Anya’s help she selected a black satin and lace brassiere and matching panties.

Putting on a bra for the first time with real breasts felt amazing; she felt so feminine, so womanly. She guessed that her implants, like everything else, were an import. Soviet factories produced agricultural machinery, munitions, warships, tanks and warplanes. They likely made prosthetic limbs for the poor soldiers being blown apart in Afghanistan but she doubted they made silicone breast implants for cosmetic surgery.

She had felt the heft of her breasts many times since the implant surgery but feeling her breasts being supported by a brassiere was a totally different experience and she liked it. Opening the package of Calvin Klein Daytime sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose nervously, Valerie marvelled at their lustre and silkiness.

“Be careful with your nails. Even with them manicured it’s possible to snag those pantyhose and they are expensive. Here use these hosiery gloves,” Anya handed Valerie a pair of thin cotton gloves.

The pantyhose felt absolutely wonderful as they glided up her freshly shaved legs. Valerie had been instructed in how to properly tuck and had been practicing pushing her testes inside her inguinal canals, then wrapping her penis in her empty scrotum and pushing it between her legs. Taped in place she could endure it for a few hours. Untaped her tuck needed the support of her pantyhose gusset which she now had. She shimmied into her panties and delighted in the feel of them gliding along her legs over her silky pantyhose.

“No need to tell you to always wear your panties over your pantyhose for obvious reasons. When you are wearing stockings and suspenders you will have to rely on wearing your tightest panties to keep everything in place,” Anya said matter-of-factly.

Anya stopped Valerie there and made her walk around the room in high heels. Valerie was very proficient but Anya taught her how to sway her hips seductively and to thrust her buttocks out. Once she had mastered the walk she was allowed to dress in a business suit.

She tried on everything in her wardrobe to ensure it fitted correctly and was delighted with the results and her laughter was like music in the air as she tried on garment after garment. She was taking daily speech lessons, not to improve her English which was perfect, but to help her develop a smoky seductive voice that suited her Russian accented English.

Yuri came in during the fitting session and had Valerie walk around the room for him whilst chatting to an imaginary gentlemen.

“Can you dance?” Yuri asked and Valerie blushed and shook her head.

Yuri looked at Anya and Anya blushed too.

“You should have thought of that Anya. Get her started on dance lessons. Nothing fancy, enough for her to be led around the dance floor whilst some fat American lecher feels her up,” Yuri said offhandedly and Anya nodded.

Dancing was added to Valerie's daily routine of deportment, study of the American delegation and becoming familiar with the Moscow University where she was supposedly employed in the Cultural Development department where she wrote dissertations on western literature for the professors and acted as an interpreter when needed.

During her final weeks Valerie’s routine changed. She was considered absolutely competent at passing as a woman to be employed in the role she had been assigned. It was now time to introduce her to the world of intrigue and espionage. She saw less of Anaya and a lot more of Yuri Godekin who met with her privately.

At their first session Yuri was blunt with her.

“You need to learn how to fuck,” he said quite plainly.

Valerie blushed and couldn’t hold Yuri’s gaze.

“You are a seductress and a spy. I will teach you how to a spy but I have no intention of teaching you the arts of seduction and lovemaking. I’ll bring in someone else to teach you,” Yuri turned down his mouth in disgust.

“During your psychological exam you claimed to be virgin. Is that correct?” Yuri asked directly.

Valerie finally lifted her gaze from the carpet and looked him in the eye.

“I was confused about my sexuality as I was about my gender. I sometimes found myself attracted to women when I presented as Valéry and as Valerie I sometime found myself attracted to men. It was confusing so I never consummated a relationship,” Valerie admitted.

“What about before we left Moscow? The evening in Ivan Petrov’s office? He made me wait outside. I have waited outside Ivan Petrov’s office before while he interrogated young women. I know what he does in there,” Yuri reached for cigarettes.

Valerie’s face blushed scarlet and she turned away and shook her head.

Yuri lit a cigarette and then reached out and gently turned Valerie’s face to his. He studied her. The woman was astoundingly beautiful with her jet black hair, pale flawless skin, full red lips and green eyes; her small breasts heaving as she fought not to cry. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. A single tear escaped and streaked mascara in a thin line down her cheek.

Yuri reached for his handkerchief and reached out to dry her tears and Valerie flinched and turned away expecting a slap. Yuri turned her to face him again and gently dabbed his handkerchief on her cheek. Valerie’s frown turned into a wan smile and her eyes sparkled and in that moment Yuri thought he could actually care for this woman.

He placed the cigarette between her lips and Valerie inhaled the sweet American tobacco.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“He made me fellate him,” Valerie whispered.

“How was it?” Yuri asked nonplussed.

“How do you think it was?” Valerie hissed.

“I mean it in a practical sense. You obviously complied and saw the act through to completion. Just how disgusting was it?” Yuri asked.

Yuri genuinely wanted to know. Valerie’s body and her beauty were weapons and she was going to have to seduce and have sex with strangers. He needed to know that she could deal with the consequences of having detached, emotionless sex with men she despised. She needed to be able to do it remorselessly and resolutely while she used her guile to bring about their downfall or steal their secrets.

Valerie took another drag on the cigarette.

“He made me suck his penis. I had no idea what I was doing so he, shall we say, instructed me. When I finished he seemed satisfied. He told me I wasn’t bad but would get better. Is that what you wanted to hear,” Valerie’s tears had retuned and now both cheeks were streaked with mascara.

Valerie didn’t tell Yuri that she had ejaculated into her panties during the act and that despite being terrified she found it a little empowering.

Yuri pulled Valerie into his arms and hugged her, feeling her small body nestle into his hard muscled frame. He felt her small breasts pressing into him and smelled the shampoo in her hair and her perfume and despite the revulsion he felt for what she was, he found himself becoming concupiscent and he gently disengaged and handed her his handkerchief so she could dry her cheeks.

Valerie was suddenly intrigued by Yuri. She couldn’t work him out. He ran hot and cold. Sometimes displaying affection for her and sometimes unable to hide his disgust. When he had comforted her in his arms she felt safe and secure and something else… affection? She wasn’t sure but she thought she felt a bulge growing in his trousers before he eased her out of his embrace.

“Ok. Let's get to work,” Yuri was all business.

He opened a pelican case and extracted a small camera and showed Valerie how to use it. It was tiny and designed to be hidden in her purse and when an opportunity arose she was to photograph every document she could lay her hands on.

“Don’t worry about whether or not the document is important. Just take the pictures and of course don’t get caught doing so,” Yuri gave her a rare smile.

“Using this button here the camera will take timed still photographs. Place it somewhere unobtrusive and aim it at the bed or wherever you are going to have sex. The aperture will change automatically,” Yuri explained.

“Practice with it tonight,” Yuri said matter-of-factly, which sent a shiver down Valerie’s back.

“In your hotel room in America I will mount a video camera that will be undetectable. It will be aimed at your bed. You must encourage your target to undertake sexual congress on the bed. Try to encourage him to engage in anything that might be considered by some to be deviant,” Yuri said, causing Valerie to blush for the umpteenth time that day.

“How will I know which targets to select?” Valerie asked.

“You have read the dossiers. Every one of those files represents a potential target but also use your intuition. We won’t know every participant at every event. If someone appears to be a suitable target and shows interest in you that way, do what you have to,” Yuri patted Valerie's knee and for a second she was repulsed by him.

The day was spent discussing tradecraft and fieldwork until late afternoon when Anya returned. They had eaten a light lunch together. The food was splendid; far better than her usual diet but the portions were small. Anya told Valerie that she had to watch her diet and keep her figure.

Yuri said a formal goodbye and then said something quite out in left field.

“Good luck tonight Valerie. Learn quickly. I’m sure will enjoy it more than you think,” he gave her a salacious wink which Valerie found disturbing.

“What did Yuri mean by that?” Valerie asked, ignoring Anya’s directive not to ask questions.

“Tonight you are going to a cocktail party here in the facility. Most of the Soviet delegates travelling to USA will be there along with some invited guests,” Anya said and Valerie's smile lit up the room.

She hadn't been outside of the room since she came to the ‘facility’ except to use the gymnasium which was always deserted except for her and Anya when they used it.

“You will be formally introduced to Professor Mikhail Blavatsky as his interpreter and assistant for the cultural exchange conferences and you will be introduced to rest of the delegation. It will be an opportunity for you to test your backstory and to present yourself as a woman in a crowded, formal setting,” Anya continued.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Valerie could not contain her excitement.

“Among the guests will be a KGB agent disguised as an ordinary citizen. He knows who you are but will feign ignorance. Your job is to identify him as a potential source and entice him up this room and set your honey trap,” Anya said brusquely and Valerie paled.

“Don’t be coy. You know why you are here and not in some re-education camp in Siberia,” Anya snapped.

“Ok. I believe I can entice him to my room. Then what? As Yuri so plainly put it; I don’t know how to fuck!” Valerie snapped.

“That’s when the agent will take over. He will teach you the art of seduction and introduce you to the joys of sex,” Anya was her pleasant self again; she sounded almost jealous.

“Now there are some practicalities that you need to take care of. Come with me to the bathroom,” Anya took Valerie by the wrist and let her to the ensuite.

Valerie's head was spinning and she allowed herself to be led along like a rag doll.

“Use this. Keep going until the water runs clear. Another reason for you to limit your food intake in America, the less you eat, the less time you spend doing this,” Anya handed Valerie what appeared to be a pump ball with a spigot attached.

“Make sure you lubricate before you insert it and a take a shower after and make sure there are no errant hairs on your body, you need to be perfect tonight,” Anya handed Valerie a tube of water-based lubricant and Valerie stood there holding the douche in one hand and the lubricant in the other, a stunned look on her face.

“Don’t be coy. You do it or I’ll do it to you and I won’t be gentle!” Anya put her hands on her hips defiantly.

Valerie came out of her reverie and pushed Anya out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Thirty minutes later she emerged freshly showered and clean inside and out. Anya just nodded and ripped off Valerie's shower cap and tossed it in the bathroom and led Valerie to the vanity to assess Valerie’s makeup skills.

Director of Foreign Operations Office, KGB Headquarters in Lubyanka Square – Two Days Earlier

“Comrade Professor Mikhail Blavatsky, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Ivan Petrov indicated for Mikhail to sit in a chair in front of his desk as he rose to pour vodka.

“Such a senseless waste. I loved her,” Professor Blavatsky began to blubber.

Mikhail had been inconsolable ever since his lover Petra Donevski had been killed in a hit and run outside of his University-provided apartment.

“She was perfect in every way. I don’t know what I will do without her. I know that she was assigned to me by your Directorate and was only doing her job, but I felt so much love for her,” Mikhail put his face in his hands and began to sob loudly.

Ivan put the two glasses of vodka down on his desk and turned to Mikhail Blavatsky and put his arms around him. When Mikhail looked up Ivan took a step back and slapped Mikhail across the face. Then he did it again and again, knocking the Professor out of his chair and then Ivan kicked him in the ribs.

“Get up you blithering fool. Petra Donevski was merely a tool and you were merely the man who was going to take her to the workplace. You were her cover and you knew it. We told her to fuck you so that you would be besotted by her and keep her identity safe,” Ivan leaned down and offered Mikhail a hand.

Mikhail waved the hand away and managed to get his feet and leaned on the back of the chair grimacing with pain.

“I couldn’t help falling in love with her,” Mikhail whimpered.

Ivan handed him the full tumbler of Vodka.

“You are a clerical rat and she was a wolf. Petra would have eaten you eventually,” Ivan looked at Mikhail knowingly.

“You knew her personally?” Mikhail was incredulous.

“I knew Petra. I selected her myself for this assignment and I always taste the wine I am about to serve to others,” Ivan raised his brows and chuckled.

“Anyway; enough of Petra. We have found you a new interpreter even better; even more beautiful but you are not to touch her,” Ivan downed his vodka and poured another.

Suddenly Professor Mikhail Blavatsky had something else on his mind beside the loss of his lover.

“More beautiful? When do I meet her?” he asked petulantly.

“In two days’ time you will be taken to a facility in Novogorbovo which resembles the hotel where the conference will be held in New York; what our American friends call a ‘meet and greet’. Valerie Sokolova will be introduced to you during the event. You will of course claim to be very familiar with Valerie and her work at the University to anyone who asks about her,” Ivan explained.

“As I have said before, she is off limits to you, other than in performing her duties as an interpreter and as your assistant,” Ivan glared at Mikhail who nodded meekly.

“Now go and pack for your journey Mikhail. Don’t mourn Petra any more than you have to. I’m sure there are students at the university who are willing to trade favours for grades, and if not, you are free to sample the delights of the Intourist Hotel. I’m advised by my sources that all of the hookers there favour pantyhose,” Ivan chuckled.

Mikhail’s face burned red. That bitch Petra Donevski had been reporting back to her bosses and told them about Mikhail’s obsession with pantyhose!

Ivan took Mikhail's glass and guided him to the door.

Mikhail stopped and turned as he was about to leave.

“Petra’s death. It was an accident?” Mikhail asked; his face full of scepticism.

“Matters for wolves and bears Mikhail; best that rats like you scurry along and do your duty unknowing of what the wolves and bears have planned,” Ivan patted Mikhail's shoulder and then closed the door on him.

Mikhail stalked away seething but he displayed no emotions to his two KGB chaperones.

Novogorbovo, Russia – June 1985

Valerie’s heart was beating fast. She was alone in her room with the handsome man she had picked up from the party which was still in full swing one floor below them. He had been relatively easy to spot as the KGB plant because he was the youngest and most handsome man there. He had told Valerie that he was part of the security detail and she had pretended to be interested in his work and used the subtle gestures that Anya had taught her to show the man that she was interested in his attention.

He was in the bathroom and Valerie was rummaging in her purse trying to find the miniature camera. She knew exactly where it was but because she was so nervous her long red fingernails kept clicking on everything except what she desperately wanted: the fucking camera!

She found it and clicked the little button that engaged the timed photography mode and set it on the vanity amongst a clutter of makeup and perfume. Valerie was adjusting the camera so that it was aimed directly at the bed when Vlad came out of the bathroom.

He was naked.

Valerie pretended to be looking for perfume and she raised the little bottle of Poison, her favourite, and sprayed herself liberally. She turned to face Vlad and blushed.

“You didn’t waste any time,” she said very nervously.

“You have achieved your objective Valerie Sokolova. You have lured me up to your room. You were a little clumsy but your beauty will make anyone forgive any little transgressions. Also you should be a little more subtle about placing the camera, remember you won’t be in your own room,” Vlad smiled at her and Valerie nearly swooned.

“I’m here to seduce you and show you how to make love so why don’t we start. As you can see I’m more the ready,” Vlad smiled and looked down at his long thick engorged penis.

“Come here,” Vlad reached out and pulled Valerie into his arms.

She was nervous but also very inquisitive and excited. Being amongst the crowd at the cocktail party had boosted her confidence after being confined for so long. Her beauty and poise had made her a popular conversationalist. She put her encounter with Professor Mikhail Blavatsky out of her mind; that had not gone well. Anyway Vlad had just put his lips on hers and all thoughts of anything else faded into oblivion.

She was wearing a low-cut red satin evening gown split to the waist on one side. It showed off her creamy décolletage and her long legs clad in shimmering flesh-toned thigh-high stockings.

Valerie could feel Vlad’s cock pressing on her leg as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. It was all happening so fast, the feel of Vlad’s muscular body pressing against her satin-clad body was so sensual, his tongue in her mouth so insistent and his cock rubbing on her leg was exciting.

Once again those feelings of being desired, being wanted, being feminine and being powerful coursed through Valerie's psyche. She opened her mouth and extended her tongue into his and mimicked the movements he was doing to her. His lips pressing on hers felt deliriously wonderful and his tongue was doing things she couldn’t explain but it felt lovely.

She was experiencing pleasure returning his kisses and instinctively she pressed her body against his a little firmer and shimmied, reaching for his cock and feeling the girth of it.

Valerie knew where that cock was going and it frightened the hell out of her but it also excited her. She could feel the pulse of it, the silkiness of the flesh, the power of it and she knew subconsciously that she wanted it.

Vlad broke the kiss and was panting with desire.

“I have so much to teach you Valerie but first I want to pleasure myself with your body. Lessons will come later,” Vlad said breathlessly and pushed Valerie onto the bed where she lay shocked with her legs akimbo.

Vlad fell on her, crushing his mouth against hers, his hands roaming freely over her body. He was insistent, almost frantic the way he pawed at her.

He pulled down the neckline of her dress and freed her breasts from the strapless bra, tearing it from her body and casting it aside. He tweaked a nipple between his fingers and Valerie gasped as freshets of pleasure radiated from the sensitive nubbin. Vlad moved his head down to her breasts and suckled them, stroking the smooth soft globes with his fingers while his lips and tongue alternated between her nipples. He nipped them softly with his teeth and Valerie hissed, but with pleasure not pain.

Having Vlad suckling on her brand new bosom validated Valerie's femininity and she was thoroughly enjoying being kissed and caressed but when Vlad’s hand drifted down inside her dress she began to feel a little perturbed. She was uncomfortably tumescent inside her panties. Because she was wearing stockings rather than pantyhose her tuck was held in place by a pair of tight red almost transparent nylon full-cut panties which kept her tuck tight but didn’t spoil the lines of her sheath dress.

Those panties were in danger of being breached because Valerie had become aroused by Vlad's ministrations and her testes had descended and filled her scrotum and her penis had become engorged.

Her cock became harder as Vlad began to stroke her legs, his fingers caressing her silky nylons sending wavelets of intense pleasure up her thighs. He stroked her thighs softly then firmly, alternating between soft caresses and insistent squeezes. Valerie was overcome with lust and desire but when Vlad peeled her out of satin sheath she felt vulnerable lying on the bed dressed only in her panties, stockings and heels.

She cupped her genitals to hide them as Vlad knelt on the bed and gazed at her magnificence. He started at her heart-shaped face with its flawless alabaster complexion; her bright emerald-green eyes highlighted by black eyeliner and mascara and mauve eyeshadow, her perfect cheekbones subtly highlighted with rouge, those full sensuous lips red lips; all framed by her strikingly glossy black bob.

His eyes roamed down her petite body, her prominent clavicles above her small but exquisite breasts, the areola pink and her nipples like berries, her flat belly and slim waist, her legs long, well-turned, swathed in glossy tan stockings, the dark welts contrasting with the milky flesh of her thighs and finally those sexy red four-inch stiletto heels.

“Move your hands,” Vlad whispered.

Valerie froze, unable to move.

“I can’t. I’m embarrassed,” she whispered.

“You can’t be. Your uniqueness is what makes you a weapon. Some men will be repelled by what you have between your legs and some will be attracted. You are so gorgeous and sexy that some who initially find you repellent will change their minds,” Vlad said softly, tracing a fingertip along the length of her right leg.

“I have been sent to train you. I know what is there. I will admit to you that I am usually only attracted to women but you beguile me and all I see is a woman. A special woman,” Vlad leaned down and kissed her softly as his finger stroked the welt of her stoking and then moved along her creamy thigh until it came to her pubis where Valerie’s hands cupped her genitals.

He hooked his finger under her hands and prised them open and then moved them away. He lay down on top of her and kissed her passionately and stroked her hard penis through her transparent nylon panties and Valerie moaned like a slattern.

Frissons of intense pleasure radiated from her cock as Vlad softly caressed it through her slinky panties. She felt droplets of pre-ejaculate begin to leak from the eye and soak into her panties. She kissed him harder and reached for his manhood; it was hard, throbbing and hot and felt both magnificent and dangerous in her hand.

Vlad lifted her legs and put them over his shoulders and searched under the pillows for the tube of lubricant that Valerie had placed there as instructed by Anya.

Valerie knew what was coming and was filled with trepidation.

“Let me suck it! I’m good at that I’ve been told,” she looked up into Vlad’s handsome face pleadingly.

“Oh you will; but later. I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you,” Vlad grinned down at her.

Valerie began to struggle but she was no match for Vlad’s strength. He held onto her legs and allowed her to writhe on the bed while his fingers reached for the tube of lubricant. He unscrewed the cap with his teeth. Holding Valerie’s calves either side of his neck with one arm, he squeezed a dollop the slippery lubricant onto the fingers of his free hand and hooked aside the gusset of her panties with his thumb and smeared the emollient on her puckered sphincter.

Valerie wriggled like a stuck fish, no longer filled with desire; she was instead full of dread. She wondered why she had agreed to this, why she had allowed them to mutilate her body and turn her into a freak. She wasn’t a woman and she wasn’t a man. In that moment she felt despair.

“If you keep fighting me it’s going to hurt. I know what I'm doing so just relax,” Vlad said in a soothing tone.

He dropped Valerie's legs and lay down beside her and pulled her to him. He held her tight and kissed her.

“I really don’t want to fuck you Valerie. I want to make love to you. I have never been with a woman as beautiful as you. I have made love to many women because I desired them and I have made love to a few men because I was ordered to do so but you are different,” Vlad stroked her cheek.

“You have such radiant beauty and you exude sensuality and sexuality. You don’t even understand how desirable you are and your naïveté makes you all the more adorable and irresistible. Did you see the way that all the men were looking at you at the cocktail party? They were coveting you and all the women were jealous of you,” Vlad kissed Valerie softly.

“But none of them know how unique you are; how special. That is what draws me to you and makes me want to possess you,” Vlad kissed her harder and stroked her nipples which became hard again as did her penis.

Valerie stroked Vlad’s muscled chest and then moved her hand down to his hip and finally she found his rampant penis. Vlad had quelled her terror and once again she was feeling lascivious and powerful. When Vlad stoked her penis through her panties it quivered with expectation.

“Let me take you before you make me orgasm in your hand,” Vlad eased Valerie's hand off his penis and rolled her onto her back.

She looked up at his powerful body as he loomed over her and lifted her legs, resting her ankles on his shoulders. Valerie closed her eyes and quivered in expectation of intense pain as Vlad eased aside the gusset of her panties.

She felt him nestle his glans in her tight bud.

“Relax,” Vlad whispered and lowered his face to hers and kissed her as he slid his glans inside her.

Fire! That’s what it felt like at first when the bulbous head of Vlad’s cock pierced her sphincter. But not for long. Vlad rained kissed down on her face and stroked her milky breasts leaving just the tip of his penis inside her anus.

Then something wonderful happened.

Instead of fire, the pain became a dull throb and then it transformed into ringlets of intense delight that radiated from her tight sphincter. Vlad felt Valerie relax a little and she sought his mouth and kissed him. She began to lift her legs off his shoulders and he tried to hold them there.

“Let me,” she whispered softly and longingly and Vlad understood.

He let go of her legs and Valerie wrapped them around his waist and he gasped at the feel of her diaphanous stockings on his tender flesh.

She smiled up at him and he lowered his face to hers so he could kiss her and she kissed him back, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his strong back and he felt her grimace as she slowly impaled herself on his long thick cock.

There was some pain but not as much as Valerie expected and once he was fully inside her Valerie relaxed and kissed Vlad and stroked his face and shoulders and rubbed her legs on flanks, the feel of her cool slinky stockings giving her as much pleasure as she was giving her lover. She felt full and stretched but her anus had lit up like a dim bulb that gradually became brighter which was what the indescribable but delightful feelings felt like.

Vlad knew better than to move. He knew that Valerie was taking her time accommodating his hard cock and he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Valerie’s anus was so tight, velvety and slick that he knew that he would orgasm within seconds if he began thrusting.

But he needn’t to worry because after what seemed like an eternity of soft kisses and caresses, Valerie smiled up at him impishly and slowly began to buck her hips, easing his cock almost all of the way out of her tight crevasse and then pushing it all the way back inside her so that his scrotum slapped on her soft pretty ass.

“This is good,” Valerie sighed.

“No, it’s not, it’s wonderful,” she smiled at him and pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply and scissored her legs on his body to encourage him.

Vlad needed no encouragement; he began to fuck Valerie with long slow strokes which were all he could manage without inducing an orgasm. He could feel her cock pressing into his belly, swathed in her nylon panties. When this happened with men he was repulsed but with Valerie it excited him even more.

Valerie was delirious with pleasure: wave after wave of delectation radiated from deep inside her anus as Vlad fucked her, his glans nudging her prostate and the girth of his shaft massaged her tight sphincter. Her cock was pressing against Vlad’s tight belly and her silky nylon panties rubbed on the underside of it and it quivered as it came close to exploding.

Vlad sensed Valerie's urgency as she began to buck underneath him and rise off the bed to meet his thrusts as she clung to him and whimpered and moaned with desire.

She felt Vlad’s cock balloon to full girth and shudder as he ejaculated deep inside her tight anus and her own penis quivered as she released and the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced wracked her body.

They clung to each other, thrusting, and mewling, moaning and nipping; Vlad's cock filling her with his hot load as he jackhammered it in and out of Valerie’s tight hole. He was almost overcome with the pleasure of it as he felt Valerie’s anus squeeze his rampant cock and milk every drop of his issue. He felt her slippery semen spread across his belly when Valerie filled her panties with her searing load.

They lay in each other’s arms afterward without speaking, just kissing and canoodling for about thirty minutes until Vlad’s refractory period expired and Valerie felt him becoming tumescent again. She made her way down his body and began to suckle him and Vlad gave her directions on how to do it better, with variations of technique.

The final instalment of Valerie’s education had begun.

Novogorbovo, Russia – June 1985

Valerie fell asleep that night, her anus a little sore and her jaw aching but fully satiated and content, cuddled up in the arms of Vladimir Golubev and dreamt of the cocktail party she had attended as her first night as a woman, interacting with other people without the constant fear and shame hanging over her head.

Vlad was correct about all the men looking at her at the cocktail party and some of the women did stare at her with open jealousy. Valerie had been terrified but she was accompanied by Yuri Godekin who told her to relax and to try to enjoy herself. They drank champagne and Yuri led her around the room introducing her to the other members of the delegation and eventually Valerie became more confident.

“Remember your backstory. Practice it with them. Also try to identify the man I have planted here as your target and use your skills to entice him up to your room,” Yuri whispered in her ear and sent her on her way.

Valerie chatted with as many members of the delegation as she could. It was relatively easy because most of the unaccompanied men formed a circle around her and competed with each other to talk to her. It was good to be using her native tongue again and she was genuinely interested in what some of the men had to say.

She identified Vladimir Golubev as the KGB plant early on because he stood out like a sore thumb amongst the middle aged besuited Russian delegates. When he came over and introduced himself as a member of the security detail that would be accompanying the delegates, Valerie used her new-found feminine wiles to engage with him, leaning in to listen to him so he could look down her décolletage and smell her perfume, standing with one foot forward so the split in her dress remained open showing off the acres of nylon-sheathed perfect leg and her apple-bottom, touching him gently and smiling when he made a witty comment.

Valerie doubted it would be this easy in the field but she had to admit to herself that it was fun. When she leaned into him conspiratorially and whispered in his ear that he was welcome to come upstairs and join her in her room she knew she had the right man but she was suddenly filled with dread. She was actually relieved when Yuri Godekin came over and interrupted them.

Yuri was with a bespectacled man wearing an ill-fitting suit whom she guessed was nearly twice her age. He was gangly-tall and balding but with a protruding pot belly; his teeth were yellow and there were tiny food stains on his shirt. He was quite repugnant and he glared openly at Valerie’s legs making her feel uncomfortable and causing her to self-consciously put her feet together and close the split in her dress.

“Valerie Sokolova, this is Professor Mikhail Blavatsky but of course you know each other because you work together,” Yuri said winking conspiratorially, grinning at the entendre he had made.

“Follow me both of you,” Yuri took on a serious tone and led them both to a small ante room off the main hall and closed and locked the door.

Valerie could feel Mikhail Blavatsky’s eyes on her legs and her ass during the short walk and even thought she had just met the man she felt revolted by him but decided then and there that she would force herself to be pleasant and accommodating to him because that was her job. Well to be entirely accurate it was her cover; her job was to be a seductress.

When the three of them were alone in the room Mikhail approached Yuri and glared at him.

“I am Professor Mikhail Blavatsky head of Moscow University’s Cultural Development and leader of the academic contingent of our glorious leader’s cultural exchange delegation to the United States of America and I will not be ordered around by an underling,” Mikhail spat.

“This tchotchke in a red dress cannot hold a candle to Petra Donevski. I can tell that she doesn’t have the intellect or the experience for the position in which she has been placed,” Mikhail pointed a dirty fingernail at Valerie who just stood there saying nothing.

Yuri grabbed Mikhail's outstretched finger and bent it back. The pain was excruciating and Mikhail fell to his knees begging Yuri to stop but he didn’t. He bent it further and Valerie watched, cringing and waiting for the finger to snap but it didn’t. Yuri stopped when Mikhail began to cry.

“Get up you buffoon!” Yuri yelped.

“The only reason you are going to America is as a ruse for our agent provocateur. It was to be Petra Donevski but as you know she met with an unfortunate accident so we have replaced her with Valerie Sokolova. Unlike Petra, Valerie has not been tasked with seducing you to keep you trained and under control. There will be no need. Despite your peacocking you know that you are a mere foil. Valerie is an officer in the KGB’s Fifth Directorate and you will respect her authority,” Yuri's face was so close to Mikhail’s that his spit flecked Mikhail’s glasses.

“Valerie will play her role in public pretending to be your aide and interpreting for you but if you so much as try to touch her I will cut off your dick and shove it down your throat you puffed-up baboon,” Yuri took a step back from Mikhail, repelled by his rancid breath.

“We leave in three days. The two of you will spend two hours a day getting to know each other better so you can both play your parts and so Valerie can better understand her duties,” Yuri straightened his jacket and glared at Mikhail.

“You may return to the party Professor,” Yuri unlocked and opened the door and indicated for Mikhail to leave.

Yuri and Valerie could feel the resentment radiating off Mikhail like a heat lamp. Yuri closed the door and turned to Valerie.

“You have identified your mark?” Yuri asked her.

“It was easy. It’s Vladimir Golubev who claims he is providing security for the delegation. I doubt it will be that easy in America,” Valerie said.

“Of course not and Vlad’s role was not to make it difficult for you. It was for you to practice your skills on an easy target. Just pretend he is some American who is taken by your beauty. Set the honey trap. Use the camera to take incriminating pictures of you both together. Just remember this is just a practice run,” Yuri took out cigarettes and offered her one and lit it before lighting his own.

“There is only one problem,” Valerie took a long drag on her cigarette.

“Your seductress doesn’t know how to seduce,” Valerie blew smoke from her nostrils.

“Don’t do that, it isn’t ladylike,” Yuri said, and reached out playfully tweaked Valerie’s pretty nose.

“Vlad will take over once you have lured him to your room. His job is to teach you how to… how to…” Yuri seemed lost for words.

“How to fuck?” Valerie said coldly but couldn’t help breaking into a grin.

Yuri said nothing so Valerie broke the silence.

“You told the Professor that we leave in three days. Am I to take it that you are coming with us?” Valerie asked.

Yuri did not reply. He opened the door for her and stood aside.

“Thank you,” Valerie whispered as she slid past him.

Yuri looked around the room and saw that no one was watching. He playfully slapped Valerie on her behind.

“Go get him you vixen,” he whispered and quickly closed the door.

Valerie’s confusion mounted. Sometimes Yuri treated her like dirt and other times he was pleasant, almost playful with her. She couldn’t work him out. She saw Vlad smiling at her from across the room and put Yuri out of her mind and concentrated on the task in hand. She was about to be deflowered and she had to go over and lure the man who would do the deflowering up to her room.

J. Edgar Hoover Building, 935 Pennsylvania Avenue NW in Washington, D.C. – June 1985

Special Agent Vince Gruffalo sat at his desk. He was bored. He had reviewed the files on all of the members of the Soviet academic contingent and with the exception of the file on Petra Donevski, whom he found fascinating, they were boring. They were as likely to be spies as his lunch in the cafeteria was likely to be appetising.

“Enjoying your work?” the Special Agent in Charge, Mike Shilling, parked his ass on the corner of Vince's desk.

“A babysitting shit sandwich. Just like I thought it would be,” Vince looked up at his boss.

“The Russian’s have made a change to the delegation. The Donevski broad isn’t coming. She’s been replaced,” the SAC dropped a slim file in front of Vince.

“Jesus, she was the only person in the delegation that tickled my toes,” Vince whined.

“Never mind Vince. The new broad is a looker too. We haven’t got any surveillance footage of her because she’s a last minute replacement but if the picture the Rooskies supplied is anything to go by she’s a stunner. Far out of your league,” the SAC chuckled and lifted his ass off Vince’s desk and walked away.

Valerie Sokolova’s CV read pretty much the same as Petra Donevski’s had. Sokolova was also employed at the Moscow University in the Cultural Development department and was to be Professor Mikhail Blavatsky’s assistant and interpreter. The CIA and FBI had, just like they did with Petra Donevski, assessed Valerie as low risk.

Vince carefully studied the portrait provided by the Soviet Embassy. The woman was indeed stunning. The Rooskies, through the Soviet Embassy in Washington, had provided a colour photograph of Valerie Sokolova to the US State Department who was responsible for convening the conference.

Vince stared at Valerie’s heart-shaped face with its flawless alabaster complexion; her bright emerald-green eyes, her perfect cheekbones and full sensuous lips red lips. Her jet-black hair was striking: worn off-the-shoulder centre parted with severe straight bangs cut across her brows.

“Ok squirrel – where is moose?” a voice from behind Vince said in a pitifully bad Russian accent.

Vince tuned around and saw Bob Munsen, another agent assigned to the conference, looking over his shoulder at the picture of Valerie Sokolova.

“What the fuck?” Vince looked up at Bob like he was insane.

“The chick in the photograph,” Bob pointed to Valerie Sokolova's portrait.

“She looks like the chick in that old cartoon ‘The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle’. What was her name? Natasha Fatale! Not quite Betty Rubble in my ‘chicks in cartoons who I’d fuck’ spank bank, but right up there,” Bob chuckled.

“Let me get this right. You keep a list of female cartoon characters who you’d fuck if they were real and you rate them?” Vince said incredulously.

“A threesome with Jane and Judy Jetson is currently on top of the list but I’m thinking of moving up Betty Boop because she’s got great legs,” Bob Munson chuckled.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Vince grunted and turned back to the picture of Valerie.

But Bob was right. Valerie did kinda look like Natasha Fatale but this girl was no cartoon. In the portrait he could just make out her tits in the tight suit jacket she was wearing. They looked small but perky. Vince was a leg and ass man but he liked perky tits too. Maybe this detail wouldn’t be too bad if he could make an excuse to follow this chick around?

Novogorbovo, Russia – July 1985

For Valerie, the next three days seemed to race by. Most of the day was spent with Yuri Godekin, fine tuning her tradecraft or in the facilities conference room where the delegation was briefed on travel and accommodation arrangements, the cultural exchange programme and of course security. She sat beside Professor Mikhail Blavatsky throughout the briefings and had lunch with rest of the delegates sitting beside him in her role as his aide. She spent most of the meal slapping away his hand as he tried to fondle her legs under the table.

Valerie knew that if she told Yuri he would take retribution on Mikhail but she was smart enough to know that whatever Mikhail did he would still get to attend the conference because they needed him to give Valerie validity. As she had to work with Mikhail every day she put up with his persistent groping.

Valerie and Mikhail spent two hours together every day away from the other delegates so that Mikhail could explain to her the intricacies of the Cultural Development Department at Moscow University and provide insight that was not available to her through the dossiers that she had read.

She was always in the company of Anya or Yuri during those sessions so Mikhail had little opportunity to try to grope her but when they sat together he seldom looked her in the eyes but allowed his eyes to wander over her body, lingering on her breasts and gazing for long periods at her legs.

It was uncomfortable for Valerie because she was now wearing the wardrobe that she would take to America and the business suits she would wear to the conferences and meetings during the day had been deliberately tailored to show off her assets. They were tight-fitting with the blouses cut low and the hems of her skirt cut high.

As much as Valerie tried, it was difficult to keep her skirt down and Mikhail spent most of the their time together staring at her thighs, making no attempt to hide the erection in his trousers, adjusting his pants to hide it only when Yuri or Anya were near.

Evenings were spent with Vladimir Golubev who educated her in the delights of uninhibited sex. He taught her every perversion that he knew and if Valerie was honest with herself there weren't many that she didn’t like. She was a quick learner and after three evenings with Vlad she was an accomplished fellatrix and an even better practitioner of coitus.

On the final day Anya helped her pack. Valerie was both nervous and excited and she was a little surprised when Anya took her in her arms and hugged and kissed her and wished her luck.

Yuri came to her room to escort her to the waiting convoy of vehicles that would be taking them to the airport where an Ilyushin Il-62 long-range jetliner, specially fitted out for the delegation, was waiting on the tarmac. Her suitcases would be looked after by a valet.

Professor Mikhail Blavatsky had carried his own suitcases downstairs to the lobby and then humped them out to the truck that would deliver them to the airport. He stood at the door to the bus he would be boarding, crowded with other delegates and watched Yuri escort Valerie to a black GAZ Volga sedan where he helped her into the back seat. His anger seethed.

His beautiful Petra had been taken away from him. Yes, he knew that Petra despised him and only tolerated him because it was her duty to do so but this bitch Valerie behaved as if she was his superior rather than a mere underling. She was being given preferential treatment and Yuri Godekin had belittled him in front of her. He would have his revenge!

To be continued