Nightmare In Terror

             

  This story contains 16,076 words.

                                                                  NIGHTMARE IN TERROR



It was well known that the international terrorist, known only as Roberto, had been involved in the bombings of two US embassy buildings, the hijacking and destruction of flight 117 in Spain and numerous assassinations over the past five years. He was a master of disguise, an expert in explosives and his services available to anyone for the right price. He was like a shadow in the night; he was everywhere and nowhere. It was reported that he had been seen in Libya, Argentina and Germany on the same day. Like a ghost, disappearing and reappearing in various places worldwide at the very same time. So, after three years of constant searching the Bureau was no closer to finding him than when he first appeared on the scene.

Roberto was born out of wedlock in Lebanon, the son of a wealthy Arab father and a woman of East German descent. He had been raised in France and attended the best schools which re-enforced his radical upbringing. At the age of twelve his father had been killed in an unsuccessful raid against a Jewish encampment in the Golan Heights, which resulted in he and his mother losing their monetary support from his father's family. Consequently, his mother turned to prostitution and died from an overdose of heroin when he was fifteen. Left on his own, he became very bitter and blamed the West for his parent’s deaths and his homeless and penniless situation, vowing revenge on all the Capitalist pigs. He was eventually recruited and joined a radical anarchist splinter group of the French underground Communist Party, which sent him to Libya for training in worldwide terrorist activities. His early schooling at the elite French prep schools made him a natural in mixing and hobnobbing with society's upper crust, allowing him to obtain secrets and the goings on of the West's most powerful organizations and leaders. His teen years on the streets taught him how to be ruthless and uncaring toward his fellow man and woman so that his conscience was never a problem when he would casually walk away from the killing of dozens of innocent men, women and children in exacting his revenge on the Western powers.

                                                            ***

The Bureau had been given a tip that Roberto had one weakness that he had kept a secret for many years, but finally leaked out somehow. Nobody was quite sure where the rumor came from or if it was indeed true or not. When it was first reported, there were many smirks and remarks made by those responsible for finding and eliminating him. The Bureau discounted the rumor, thinking it to be just another fabrication in the life of one who generated hundreds of rumors each year since his arrival on the international scene. But somehow the rumor kept popping up now and again, which started to give it some credence. It seemed that the international terrorist had a thing for transvestites and would often frequent the transsexual bars in whatever city he was hiding out in.

After dozens of unsuccessful attempts at locating and disposing of Roberto, someone came up with the idea that maybe they should take a chance and see if the rumor was indeed true. That the Bureau should recruit some transsexuals into the mix and just maybe they would be able to discover and uncover the mystic that was Roberto. The idea did not sit well with much of the top brass in the Bureau; it seemed ridiculous with no precedent, a needle in a haystack, a stab at the night and was destine to fail.

Enter Agent William Benjamin Franklin, Agent Franklin had been with Bureau for seven years, he had turned 34 two months prior but looked all of 25 with his freshly polished boyish features. He had been a stand out at the Academy, specializing in counter terrorist activities and been working on the Roberto case for the past year and a half. The inability to track him down had lead to a lot of frustration for him and the other members of the unit. When the idea first crossed his desk, he dismissed it just as the rest had done.

                                                            ***

The Ambassador from Venezuela was scheduled to meet with the President of the United States regarding the funding for new steps in America's war on drugs. He had spent a week in New York City visiting his daughter, who was entering her sophomore year at Columbia, and finalizing some trade agreements with a large Japanese electronics firm. The August heat and humidity in the Big Apple had been unbearable and he was anxious to get back to Washington where the weather was more tolerable. His entourage had just stepped onto the street in front of his hotel where the limo waited to take him to the airport. There was a rush of foot traffic on the street causing the Ambassador to hesitate and wait for a clear path to the limo. As the various street people strolled by, no one noticed the man in the jogging suit as he stepped in behind the group. Suddenly the Ambassador collapsed to his knees, clutching at the growing red spot that appeared where his heart once beat life into his now lifeless body. The Ambassador's guards pulled and waved their guns causing a panic on the street. Amid the confusion the man in the jogging suit had disappeared in the crowd. Roberto had stuck again.

                                                            ***

Agent Franklin and the rest of the unit had taken a real tongue-lashing as the Bureau's top brass handed down the same chastising they had received earlier in the day. The press had a field day with the story and the specter of international terrorists running a muck in America. It was the lead story on all the local news telecasts that night and the stories carried on into the eleven o'clock news hour. Agent Franklin tried to sleep but the events of the day kept him awake long into the night. He didn't know when the idea popped into his head, but he couldn't shake it. It might be a shot in the dark, but since all else had failed it might be worth taking the shot.

                                                            ***

Cody Daniels lived in the same building as Agent Franklin, two floors below in a small one-bedroom apartment. They had passed each other on occasion on the steps and nodded in recognition when they made eye contact. As the transvestite gambit started forming in Agent Franklin's mind, Cody was the first person he thought of. He knew Cody was a cross dresser because he had seen her coming and going in drag in the early morning hours when he was up late working or getting home after a twenty hour day following one crisis or another.

Cody, who would turn twenty-seven in late November, made quite an attractive woman. She stood only 5'4" tall and couldn't weigh more than 130 pounds, but it gave her a bit of padding and helped fill out her dresses. Her long auburn hair hung three or four inches past her shoulders and the fact that she only shaved about once a week caused her to be often mistaken for a girl even when she wasn't in drag. She had hazel green eyes and long thick eyelashes that didn't need much makeup to be noticed. The first time Agent Franklin saw Cody completely dressed; he admired this vision of loveliness, not knowing who or what she was. She was returning home from her job at the bookstore where the management was more concerned with how much she sold rather than how she dressed. Cody was wearing a navy blue mini dress, nude thigh high stockings and navy pumps with four-inch heels. Cody was entering the building as Agent Franklin was leaving and as he looked back over his shoulder at this foxy little babe climbing the stairs he could see where the tops of her stockings ended and the cream color of her bare thighs just above. He found this very provocative, so much so that he had to stop, turn around and watch her cute little ass sway back and forth as she ascended the stairs. For the next couple of weeks he found himself thinking about taking this hot little number in for some close personal interrogation. When he learned she was a he, he was embarrassed about his thoughts at first, but had come to accept Cody for who she was and never really considered her a man, just that cute little babe he first encountered on stairway that night. He considered himself straight so he even surprised himself when he would occasionally dream about making love to her and wake up with a raging hard on. He wrote it off as just some crazy fantasy and knew that's all it would ever be for several reasons, the most important being that it could jeopardize the integrity of his job with the Bureau. So he kept his little fantasy a secret and Cody at arms length. Now things had changed and he would have to befriend Cody if he was going to get her to assist the Bureau in catching the illusive Roberto.

                                                            ***

Lamont Peterson patrolled the streets and served the people of Deer Park, Long Island for seventeen years. He retired a sergeant with a special commendation after his patrol car crashed into a telephone pole while chasing two car thieves, crushing his pelvic bone and leaving him with a noticeable limp. For the past two years he headed security at the New York City branch of the Long Island Financial Group located across the street from the hotel where the Ambassador had been assassinated. On the day after the incident he was reviewing the surveillance tapes from the security cameras that watched over the main entrance and street in front of the LIFG building. During his second cup of coffee and third donut, he watched in amazement as the previous days actions replayed right in front of him, caught by one of the cameras that had been accidentally jostled by the window cleaning crew the prior week and hadn't yet been repositioned. His call to the Bureau had caused quite a bit of excitement and when William Franklin entered the office; everyone was talking about their first break in the Roberto case. The camera had caught three good shots of Roberto in his jogging suit. One profile as he approached the Ambassador's entourage and two full face shots as he looked back to make sure his work had been successful just before disappearing into the growing crowd on the street.

                                                            ***

Roberto was still reeling from the adrenaline rush he got from completing his deadly mission, when he ducked into the alley, removed his baseball cap, pulled off his break away jogging suit, and the phony Van Dyke chin piece. He stuffed the disguise along with the 9mm and silencer into the large trash bin and slowly returned to the street dressed in khakis, a light blue dress shirt and a different pair of sunglasses. He crossed the street and returned to the scene of the crime, confident that he had not been seen or followed. The sirens were getting louder and closer as the police cars began to arrive on the scene where the murder had taken place only minutes earlier. He stopped and watched the confusion along with dozens of other street people, wondering what all the excitement was about, from the safety of the steps into the LIFG building. As the first patrol car stopped and it's officers started pursuing crowd control, Roberto strutted down the street, wanting to skip and bound with self satisfaction as the blood once again rushed to his head. Two blocks away he took the stairs down to the subway and returned to the hotel he was staying. He locked himself in his room, ordered a late lunch with a bottle of chilled Merlot and watched the news as the story unfolded. The police had no clues and no suspects at this time, but figured this was a political action by some desperate Latin American radical faction. Roberto sipped on the wine, smiled and congratulated himself on a job well done. He knew that the airports, train stations and bus depots would be under surveillance looking for possible suspects, so he would stay in New York for a week or so playing tourist until the heat blew over and then just walk away like he had done so many times before.

                                                            ***

Cody had seen Agent Franklin on the stairs a number of times and thought he was a well groomed, well dressed, good looking young man, probably an associate at one of the many New York law firms or a trainee at one of the brokerage houses on Wall Street. The agent was tall, blond and had a cute boyish face, which made him look younger than he was. He was always dressed in a dark suit with well-polished shoes and an expensive looking tie. He looked like somebody who knew what he wanted and was on his way to getting there. He exuded the confidence one must have to be a successful intelligence agent.

Cody had moved to New York three years prior from Cleveland where she grew up in a middle class neighborhood with her mother and two older sisters. Her father had left the family when Cody was only four and moved to Seattle with his secretary, pursuing his second childhood with a woman twenty-two years younger. Cody had tried to keep her father in her life but gave up when she was twelve after many unsuccessful and heartbreaking attempts. Her mother never remarried and developed a natural hatred for men in general. As a result, she had been raised in a matriarchal environment and developed a taste for fashion and all things feminine. Curiosity started her cross-dressing about the same time she had given up on her father, wearing her older sister's clothes and makeup every chance she got. At first, it was purely a masturbation fantasy but in time grew to be a natural feeling and a secret way of life.

Although she was on the smallish side, she was popular with the ladies and dated quite a lot in high school and college, always keeping her fetish in the closet. She liked the company of girls and always enjoyed the sex, but felt like there was something missing in her life. For the longest time she considered the feeling to be a result of growing up without her father.

In her first year out of college she discovered there was a club on the outskirts of the city that catered to alternate life styles and was frequented by many guys that, like herself, enjoyed dressing in women's clothes. After half a dozen attempts, she finally worked up the courage to make the trek and check things out for herself.

She had been collecting women's attire, which she kept carefully hidden, for past three years. Taking dresses, undergarments and shoes that her sisters had left behind when they moved away from home and using mail order to obtain the other things she needed, she had developed a very nice wardrobe.

It took her nearly three hours to get her look just right. She wore a black mini cocktail dress, strapless bra, garter belt with sheer off black stockings and a pair of four-inch Mary Jane pumps. Topped off with a strawberry blond page boy wig and carefully applied makeup, she thought she looked really sexy and alluring as she checked out her reflection in the floor length mirror for the umpteenth time on her way out the door.

As she pulled into the parking lot, her stomach did a flip-flop, she wasn't sure she could gather up the courage to make the trip from the car to the door of the club. A couple of swigs of Southern Comfort from the flask she had in her purse and a few tokes off the joint she’d brought along helped steady her nerves and she almost floated to the front door in a semi-dream like state of mind. Once inside, it was as if she found her Mecca and knew her life would never be the same. The rest of the night went uneventful as Cody watched the goings on from the safe shadows of the club.

The next week found Cody in a fog, going through the motions, her thoughts focusing on the coming weekend and another venture to her newly found home away from home. By Friday, she had already picked out the ensemble that she would wear the following night.

On Saturday night Cody once again pulled into the parking lot next to the club, this time not needing anything to induce the courage she needed to make the walk across the lot to the entrance of the club. She felt as if she was walking on air and a few wolf whistles from the passing cars bolstered her confidence even higher.

Half way through her second Long Island Ice Tea, she emerged from the safety of the shadows, feeling ever so much like a sweet young debutante at her coming out party. She had always been a good dancer, probably a result of the tap lessons her mother made her take in kindergarten and first grade, and now found herself bopping to the non-stop hip hop sounds the DJ was laying down. The effects of the Ice Teas were now taking hold. Her inhibitions waned and she found herself bumping and grinding with a muscular young man in a tight white T-shirt and jeans. He introduced himself as Justin and they spent the next two hours dancing, talking and to Cody's surprise, even flirting as they brushed legs under the table. Cody stared into his dark brown eyes and twirled the long wig hairs around her finger when listening to Justin like she had seen her sisters do when they brought their dates home for dinner or to meet their mother. Even though she had never been with a man, she had often fantasized about being taken by one and made love to like a woman. Now, feeling the effects of the alcohol from her third Long Island, she found herself on the verge of having this fantasy fulfilled. She was both excited and scared shitless by this possibility.

                                                            ***

Justin St. Claire traveled to Cleveland two, maybe three times a year to peddle the whatchamacallits produced by the Toronto manufacturing firm he worked for. He was French Canadian, a stand out in tennis and swimming in high school and kept himself in great shape. He had been offered a couple of college scholarships but his father's alcohol problem kept his family one step above the poverty line and consequently he had to forgo college and become one of the working class directly out of high school.

Two weeks before his twenty-second birthday his long time girl friend told him that she had met somebody new and during a night of heavy drinking he stumbled into a bar he had never been to before. His vision and judgment being a bit fuzzy he latched on to the first skirt he encountered. She took him back to her place where he discovered she was a tranny. But the alcohol and the rejection left him vulnerable so he stayed and was rewarded with a night of unbridled passion.

As the sun broke through the window the following morning, Justin's head was beating like a bass drum and the parade was just beginning. When he finally opened his eyes and seeing the forty something queen without her wig and makeup, the night's activities all came rushing back to him faster than he could rush to the bathroom for his first session of driving the porcelain bus. After splashing some water in his face he couldn't get out of there fast enough. He was sick and disgusted with himself for what he thought was a momentary loss of judgment. But as the weeks passed by he found himself reminiscing about that night and it always caused a stirring in his loins.

He finally came to terms with himself and determined that he was not gay but the she male experience was a desire he wanted to explore in more detail. So on out of town business trips he would often frequent the alternative bars, which lead to his being in the club that night.
       
                                                            ***

The hotel in which Justin was staying was only about half a mile from the club. As Cody followed Justin's rental, she was having one anxiety attack after another and twice almost turned around and high tailed it back home. But, buoyed by the confidence alcohol can give, she was determined this would be the night. After all, all cross-dressers have fantasized about having sex with a man at one time or another while dressed as a girl and here was a nice looking hot young stud that was obviously willing and wanted it just as bad.

It was after two in the morning and there wasn't much activity in the lobby as they walked hand in hand to the elevator. A few intoxicated out of towners gave them admiring and envious glances while they waited for it to return to the main floor. When Justin opened the door to the room Cody's stomach did a flip-flop. But she took a deep breath and high heeled her best feminine sway into the room knowing that Justin was standing at the door and watching her walk the walk. Cody started to sit on the bed but thought that might be a bit presumptuous and sat in one of the overstuffed arm chairs by the small round table next to the kitchenette.

"Nice wiggle," smiled Justin as he stepped into the room and turned on the small wall light over the dresser, leaving the room dimly lit.

Justin was quick with the match as Cody pulled a cigarette from the Channel purse she was carrying. She took a deep pull on the Virginia Slim and set it in the ashtray, giving him a nervous little smile and a quiet, "Thank you."

"Would you care for anything to drink? I have Diet Coke, some white wine, vodka and OJ," Justin asked.

"A screwdriver would be fine, easy on the screw," quipped Cody.

Justin laughed; he had a great laugh, natural, easy, not at all forced.

"Coming right up," he said.

As he bent over to get the orange juice from the back of the small fridge, Cody got her first good look at the tight butt in his faded jeans and felt a little flush rush to her cheeks.

This guy has a fantastic body, I'm going to just relax and try to enjoy this, she thought to herself. She felt her pulse race a bit and the room seemed to heat up a couple of degrees.

Justin served up the drinks and sat on the bed a few feet from Cody. He raised his glass and said, " Elle flotte, elle hesite; en un mot, elle est femme." (French for, “She floats, she hesitates; in a word, she's a woman.”)

Cody had no idea what that meant. She knew elle and femme related to women in some way. But it was French, it was sexy and she assumed it was a compliment. As they touched the edges of their plastic hotel cups, they looked into each others eyes and the temperature in the room rose a couple of more degrees.

Cody was so locked into Justin's dark eyes that she almost missed her mouth with the drink and dribbled a few drops down her chin and on to her pushed up cleavage. She blushed at being such a klutz, breaking the romantic moment with a bit of embarrassed laughter. Ever the cool one, Justin reached over and wiped the OJ up with his finger, which he then sensually licked off with his tongue. Then to ease the moment, he took a swig from his cup and missed his mouth intentionally. The cup hitting a little below his lower lip, spilling the concoction all over the front of his white T-shirt, causing them both to erupt in a fit of laughter. Proving once again that laughter is the best medicine for just about anything or any situation.

Standing up Justin removed his stained T-shirt, proudly revealing his six-pack abs and well-defined chest. The temperature again rose a couple of degrees. Cody sipped her drink trying to cool down a bit.

The tension in the room had eased because of Justin's clowning, so Cody reached into her purse's hidden compartment and pulled out a joint of high quality pot.

"Do you indulge?" she asked, holding the reefer out for Justin's inspection.

"Oh, oui. It's been awhile, but it's my drug of choice. I love the way it heightens my senses."

Cody finished the rest of her drink and moved to the bed beside Justin, who again quickly produced a match and lit the joint that was now resting between Cody's lips. They sat in the silence and each took a couple of deep tokes of the pot and watched the smoke as it lazily drifted across the room.

She decided it was time to make her move. She reached over and lightly ran her fingers across Justin's bare chest. She loved the way his hard muscles felt under her fingertips. Taking this as a sign, Justin turned toward Cody and kissed her lips, lightly, softly biting her bottom lip before pulling back.

Cody felt like she had been hit with a tazer gun, electricity shot through her entire body causing every nerve to awaken and explode like tiny fireworks on the 4th of July. She was overwhelmed by the feeling and leaned in for an encore. This time she opened her mouth and allowed Justin's tongue to enter. He was an excellent kisser and his tongue darted in and out like a hummingbird, dancing with hers. When his taster was about half way in she sucked on it like a baby sucking a bottle. She reached out and held his head with both hands, she didn't want him to leave her mouth. She wanted this moment to last forever.

The effects of the alcohol and pot were really taking control now. He placed one of his muscular guns around her shoulders and pulled her into him. With their tongues still playing their sensual game of hide and seek, they feel back on the bed. He rolled her over on top of him and the passionate kiss finally ended. They looked into each others eyes, smiled, and started round two.

After a few moments, she broke away and proceeded to give him quick little butterfly kisses all over his face, before nestling into the hallow of his neck. Using her tongue like a double zero paint brush, she started drawing little circles up the side of his neck, working her way up to his ear lobe, which she bite softly before sucking on it like she did his tongue. Then ever so lightly she slipped the tip of her tongue into his ear moistening it before gently blowing her hot breath over the damp area. Even though this was Cody's first experience kissing a man, she knew what she liked and was hoping that Justin liked it too. Lying on top of him, she could feel the growing bulge in his jeans and figured that he did.

His strong arms held her tightly and she felt safe and secure. Being on the other side of this make out session was totally new to Cody, but she liked the feeling and knew it was something she could get used to.

Her dress had worked its way up to her waist, revealing her tiny pink bikini covered butt. While Cody was working on Justin's neck and ears, he moved his hands down and gently squeezed her derriere. He then gave it a little nudge, pulling her panty-covered groin onto his ever-growing manhood. Cody responded by grinding her hips into his and Justin pushed back against hers. Their bodies meshed perfectly, they seemed to be made for each other.

The couple rolled around on the bed enjoying each others kisses for about ten minutes. Both of them were breathing heavy. The moment of truth had arrived. But before they went any further Cody felt she should confess her inexperience to Justin.

"You're probably not going to believe this," she whispered, "but I've never been with a man before. In fact this is the first time I've ever kissed a guy."

"Well I've got to say that you're doing a great job, for the first time," Justin responded, not knowing if she was telling the truth or not. But things were going good and he didn't want to spoil this night by pressing the issue.

"You believe me, right?" Cody asked.

"Sure, it's just that the way you look and act does sort of make it hard to think that it's not just a line. Because I've been told that more than once before," he answered.

"Really?" Cody replied. "I would think most people would want to give the impression that they were experienced, even if they weren't."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you," Justin said. "But it doesn't matter to me, I always try to be gentle with whoever I'm with."

"That's all I ask, that and a little patience," Cody responded and kissed him hard on the mouth.

"You've got it. Just relax, go with the flow and have a good time. If things start going too fast and you want to slow down, just say the word, OK?" Justin reassured her.

"OK," Cody beamed and they again feel into a passionate kiss.

Feeling much more at ease, Cody reached down and started rubbing Justin's rock hard cock encased in his jeans, but straining to break free.

Justin let out a muffled sigh at this action and laughingly asked, "Are you sure this is your first time?"

Cody giggled and said, "Yes", then lightly punched him in the chest with her free hand.

She was really getting into this now and could feel her own cock, which was tucked between her legs, starting to get stiff.

Believing that things were going exceptionally well, Justin reached down, undid his belt, and unbuttoned his jeans. He wasn't wearing any underwear and his cock snapped to attention before the last button was undone. Cody stared in awe at his manhood, which was a few inches longer and thicker than she own was. She reached down and touched the velvet helmeted head with her fingertip and felt Justin shudder in anticipation of what was to come.

She wrapped her hand around the shaft and was amazed that her fingers didn't reach all the way around to her thumb. Then she rhythmically started to work her hand up and down the shaft. Justin moaned with pleasure and grabbed her head with both hands and kissed her hard on the mouth.

"That's it, baby," he sighed. "Oh yeah, that feels so good. Yeah, just like that, hmm, owww."

Cody was smiling, pleased with herself for giving this stud so much pleasure.

Justin was lying on his back with his eyes closed, Cody was watching his face in the dim light and she could see that she was doing it right. Keeping up her stroke, she bent down and started nuzzling the erogenous zone at the nape of his neck and he knew what heaven would be like.

Cody's kisses started drifting down Justin's chest to his pecks. She teased his nipple with her tongue, getting it wet and blew softly. Next she lightly bit the hardening nub and then pulled at it with her sucking lips. With her free hand, she played with his other nipple, softly pinching and flicking at it with her fingernail, all the while rubbing her stocking clad foot up and down his leg.

Justin moaned with delight. This may have been her first time with a man, but it was definitely not her first sexual experience, he thought, enjoying every little thing Cody was doing. It's like she's got more than two hands and what a talented mouth, he marveled, drifting back into his pleasure zone.

Then Cody's tongue started down that familiar road, south past the abs, rest stop at the belly button; on through the crush of curly bush, finally getting to the tree that spews life. Holding it firm with her hand, she looked at the helmeted head with the slit on top. With her tongue, she licked the tip and tasted his sticky pre-cum. It tasted sweet, like her own and she proceeded to give the little soldier a quick kiss. She parted her lips and let the head slip half way in, then she pulled back. It didn't feel at all like she thought it would. She wasn't exactly sure what she thought it would feel like, but it wasn't like this. In her mouth it felt much softer and smoother than it did in her hand. She liked it. So, she began to lick and suck on his lollypop cock and cupped his balls with her hand, squeezing ever so lightly.

Still holding his ball sack, she took the dive, wanting to see how much of this monster she could take in her mouth. It stretched her lips to the cracking point and she could only take four to five of his eight-inch cock before the gag reflex kicked in. Justin didn't mind there had been only a few capable anyhow. So, she kept one hand at the base and masturbated his cock into her slut like sucking mouth.

She felt his body tense, heard his breathing get faster, and felt his hands grab her head and hold it down on his pulsing tool. It was that time, his head spun, and the whole world stopped for one split second.

The first squirt hit the back of her throat and she swallowed it. It wasn't as salty as all the pulp stuff she read said it was. It really didn't have much taste at all. She pulled her head back as much as his hands would allow as the rest of his cum came spewing into her mouth. It kind of had a numbing effect, a bit like cocaine; she was thinking when he finally released her head from his grip. It must be those tiny little spermatozoa burrowing into the closest mucus membrane, trying to impregnate her tongue and gums.

She looked up at the smiling, satisfied, shit eating grin on his face and purred like a cat. He pulled her up in his arms and kissed her mouth; she parted her lips and let his tongue sneak in to get a taste of his own medicine. He found that hot and thanked her for the fantastic act she had just performed.

Cody smiled sheepishly and whispered, "Anytime big boy, and I do mean big."

He hugged her and they just lay there quietly in the afterglow for a couple of minutes.

Cody nuzzled up under his arm and felt good about herself. She got off on pleasing others and the proof was in her wet panties.

Justin picked the roach from the ashtray and lit it. They each took two deep hits and drifted off to dreamland.

Cody woke up a couple of hours later; it was still dark outside. Lying there with his strong arm holding her close, she felt safely away from all the troubles that the world has to offer. But it was time to go, back to the daily grind of the real life. She gathered up her things and quietly slipped into the bathroom. She touched up her make up, which all that kissing had destroyed. She pulled out a note card and wrote Justin a thank you for the wonderful time, along with her phone number and "Call me when you're in town again."

She placed the note on the night table and softly closed the door behind her. As she walked down the hall, she wondered if she would ever hear from him again. The experience had been really nice, she thought and wondered why it had taken her this long to find out. One thing she knew, this was the start of a new phase in her life.

                                                            ***

Keeping with his plan, the day after the assassination, Roberto visited the Statue of Liberty, took a walk through Central Park and a tour of the Museum of Modern Art. That night he ate pasta with calm sauce at the Italian Restaurant in the hotel and then back to his room watching the news about the latest updates on the Venezuelan’s untimely death. The latest rumor being that it was the work of a South American drug cartel as revenge for their government's current anti-drug effort.

Roberto chuckled to himself. They had no idea who did it, he thought. Like taking candy from a baby.

Feeling untouchable and secure that he had pulled it off, he decided that tomorrow night he just might venture out to one of the tranny bars and see if he could stir up some action. It had been awhile since he had dipped into the fetish well and he was thirsty and ready to celebrate his latest kill.

Lying down on his king size bed, he switched the television to one of the soft porn channels the hotel offered. On the screen two young ladies tasted each others treasures in a 69 position and the girl on top was getting hammered doggie style by a muscular young stud with a large cock. Roberto pulled down his pants and jacked off to the porn. He then closed his eyes and started thinking about some of the off the wall pieces of art he saw that day before nodding off to sleep.

                                                            ***

The Bureau had been buzzing non-stop for the past twenty-four hours and it looked like it wasn't about to slow down any time soon. With the aid of the latest computer technology, The Bureau was able to alter the photos of Roberto. They removed the facial hair, the sunglasses and the baseball cap to get a better idea of who they were looking for. The fact that they had the photos was being kept a closely guarded secret for fear that if Roberto was still in town; he was surely apt to flee if he knew they existed.

Agent Franklin hadn't been home since the incident and could barely keep his eyes open. The coffee wasn't helping anymore; he was running on pure adrenaline. So as things hit a lull, he decided to take a break, go home, catch a few hours of sleep, shower and into a new set of clothes before getting back on this merry-go-round.

As he walked up the stairs to his building, he saw Cody leaving. They exchanged a polite nod and customary "Hi". As he opened the door, he admired her reflection in the glass and the idea again jumped into his head. He made a mental note to meet with her and see if she would be able to help him out. He decided that if he indeed asked for her help, it would have to be kept in strict confidence.

                                                            ***

The Oyster Bar, or "Big 'O'" as the regulars called it, had seen many changes in the past twenty years. It went from hippie hangout to disco to gay bar and was now a roost for New York's Trannys. It was downstairs, off the street under a fifteen story professional building on West 40th Street. When you walked in, the first things you noticed were the mirrors. It had a bar on the left side that ended where a row of booths extended to the back wall. On the right there were a number of smaller tables and booths that ended at the dance floor. The dance floor was not too large and the back wall and the wall opposite the booths were entirely mirrored. A disco ball hung from the ceiling above the center of the floor. The rear exit opened to a flight of stairs leading up to the alley. Cody was meeting "Gypsy" that night at the "Big 'O'".

"Gypsy" Rose was rumored to be a rich kid from upstate New York. Nobody ever knew exactly where that was; Gypsy liked it that way. She liked to leave just a hint of mystery about who she was and where she was from. She earned her nickname by claiming to have lived in New Orleans, Phoenix, Los Angeles, Palm Springs, San Francisco, Atlanta, Fort Lauderdale, Miami, Dallas, Las Vegas, Lake Tahoe, Denver and now New York at some time in the past twelve years. For someone two years short of thirty that is a lot of moving.

Her story is that her family "kicked the boy out", when at fifteen he started wearing woman's clothes and makeup. Not wanting to wear out her welcome at anyone place, she had been on the road ever since. It was more likely that she had been ran out of the various cities for some sort of prostitution, which was her livelihood. She knew what she was, she wasn't proud of it, but honest enough to admit it to herself and others.

She always had a story to tell about one of her adventures in one or another of the places she had lived. Consequently, she was very popular at the club, holding court at the last large booth in the back. One would never find her wanting for company; there would always be two or three people of various genders listening intently as she spun her tales.

When Cody entered the bar she saw Gypsy in the back booth reciting one of her stories to two girls she had never seen before. As she slipped into the booth, Gypsy stopped her story and introduced the other two girls as Nikki and Cindi and then continued with her tale.

She had heard it before so she went to the bar and ordered a Long Island Ice Tea. She tipped and thanked the bartender and strolled back to hear the end of Gypsy's story.

Standing beside the booth, Cody checked her reflection in the mirrored panels on the opposite wall and smiled with sweet admiration. She had chosen to wear a halter-top red mini dress with Suntan thigh high stockings and 4" platform imitation red snakeskin heels. With her long auburn hair cascading over her bare shoulders, she looked quite yummy.

While she was still admiring her own image, Gypsy finished her story and slithered up beside her.

"Don't worry, sweetie, you look good, like you always do," Gypsy chirped.

She was at least a head taller than Cody and felt somewhat protective of her, knowing Cody's limited drag history. Cody looked up to her like a big sister, envying her "I don't give a shit" attitude and the easy way she made friends.

"I know, I just like looking at how cute I can be," Cody joked.

"Please girl friend, there's too much of that attitude in here all ready," replied Gypsy.

This gave them both a good laugh and they returned to Gypsy's booth before the gathering crowd could snatch it up.

It turned out to be a slow night, but Gypsy left around one with a client and Cody left alone about an hour later.

Back in her apartment Cody wondered where her life was going and if this was how it was going to be for the next twenty or so years. Living this lie, living alone and not much to hope for. She needed more; she needed to put some life in her life and not the kind she'd get from the occasional tranny chaser she'd spend the night with. She took off her makeup, slipped on her purple chemise and crawled off to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be different, she thought. Then closed her eyes and dreamed about sailing the seas in cloud ships.

                                                            ***

Roberto entered the "O" around one thirty and noticed Cody right away. She was really hot and sexy in her red mini dress, swaying to the sounds of Madonna blasting from the jukebox. He watched her dance alone for about fifteen minutes, ordered another Stoli, rocks, with an olive and was about to ask her to dance. As he approached this little vixen, she picked up her purse, said good night to those at Gypsy's booth, and brushed past him on her way out the door.

"Damn," he said to himself.

He asked the bartender about the petite girl in red and she answered, "That's Cody, she's in here all the time."

"Tomorrow night?" he inquired.

"Friday night? Count on it."

Roberto finished his drink and left, but he knew he'd be back tomorrow night. He had his sights set on a new kind of victim.

                                                            ***

After another fruitless night of tracking dead ends, Agent Franklin and the rest of the team were feeling the effects. It had been three days since the assassination and they all figured Roberto must have skipped town by now. Another battle lost, chalk it up on the bad guy's side of the tote board. A little after 10 AM Franklin told the rest of the group he was going to get some breakfast and a few hours sleep and would be back in the afternoon. He grabbed copies of the computer-enhanced photos, stuck them in his briefcase, and left the office.

He stopped at his favorite mom and pop diner where they cooked his eggs just the way he liked them. Sipping on his coffee he rifled through the morning paper. The news media was having a field day with the affair, expounding on the inability of law enforcement to catch the brazen killer.

He slammed the front page on the table in disgust and picked out the sports section. The Yankees and Mets won the night before and the Jets were close to signing the hot young quarterback they picked in the draft. He felt that there was still some hope left in this topsy-turvy world.

After breakfast, he strolled down Lexington Avenue for some fresh air and maybe a fresh attitude. A couple of blocks later he realized he was dead on his feet and hailed a cab.

Climbing in, he mumbled his address and slumped into the back seat. Checking him out through the rear view mirror, the driver said, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, brother, but you look beat, like you just lost your best friend or something."

"Yeah, something like that," the agent exhausted and let his thoughts return to the illusive ghost he was chasing.

Shortly after two, Cody answered the knock at the door. Peering through the peephole she recognized the good-looking young man from their encounters on the steps out front. She opened the door and said, "Yes, what is it?"

She was dressed in black Capri length tights under an oversize Cleveland Indians T-shirt that hung just past her butt and black open toed 4" mules, showing off her well-manicured burgundy toenails. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Even without makeup Agent Franklin marveled at how feminine she looked. Maybe it's just a state of mind, he thought.

"Cody, Cody Daniels?" he inquired.

"Yes, that's me," replied Cody.

"Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes? There is something I would like to talk to you about in private."

Cody thought to herself, "Okay, here it comes, this guy knows what I am and he's either going to make a play or try to get me to change my evil ways and go to church with him on Sunday. What the hell, he is kind of cute."

"I guess so," she said. "Come in."

He entered the room and sat down on the love seat, she in the padded rocker across from him.

"I promise not to take too much of your time, but I have a problem and I think you might be able to help me get to the bottom of it."

"Here it comes," she pondered. But in order to get a few minutes in preparing her response, she asked if he would like something to drink.

"Coffee, black, if it’s not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all, give me a few minutes and I'll be right back."

"Sure, no problem," he replied.

He sat back in the cushioned love seat, still feeling the effects of two sleepless nights chasing the wind. He looked around the one bedroom apartment, there wasn't much in the way of furnishing, but it was clean and looked comfortable. Not at all like his place, two floors up, with empty pizza boxes, dirty glasses and silverware adorning the coffee table, just like you'd imagine a bachelor’s pad would look like. The air conditioner buzzed a white noise that almost had him back to sleep, when she returned with two cups of coffee.

Handing him a cup, she picked up her pack of Virginia Slims, "Do you mind?" she asked.

"Not at all," he remarked.

Daintily sitting back in her rocker she stated, "Now what's this all about, er, you know I don't even know your name."

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's Franklin, William Franklin, call me Will. I haven't had much sleep the last couple of nights and I'm a bit out of sorts," he smiled.

He had a nice easy smile that emphasized his boyish good looks. It made her feel a little less nervous and she let down her guard a bit, still having no idea what had brought this charmer to her door.

"I'll get right to the point. I'm sure you've heard about the assassination of the Venezuelan Ambassador a couple of days ago," the agent asked.

"Sure, it's been all over the news. But what has that got to do with me?" she questioned.

"Well, I work for an organization who's job it is to find the killer and get him off the streets."

"So you're a cop?"

"Not exactly, I work for the Bureau, in the anti-terrorist division."

Agent Franklin sipped his coffee letting this bombshell sink in. It came out of left field and Cody was stunned for a moment. Not knowing what to say she looked in his eyes to see if she could determine whether he was being truthful or not. She couldn't tell for sure but decided to play along and see where this was heading.

"Ok," she chuckled, "but like I said, what has this got to do with me? And how in the world do you think I could be of any help in finding this person?"

"Well, to be totally honest, I'm not sure if you can. But this guy has been our number one target for the past two years and he has eluded us at every turn. Needless to say we're all very frustrated down at the Bureau and to the point of grasping at straws."

"He sounds pretty slick."

"Oh yeah, he's a master of disguise, speaks half a dozen languages and seems to be able to disappear at will."

He took another sip of his coffee; looking at her face, he could see he had peaked her interest. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he thought. Figuring he had laid enough on her for the time being, he changed the subject. "Cleveland Indians," nodding at her T-shirt, "You a fan?"

"I'm from Cleveland, but not really a fan, unless they're playing the Yankees or going to the World Series. I'm more of a Browns fan, football is much more exciting."

He nodded in agreement, still sipping his hot java.

"So back to your problem and what's it got to do with me?"

"Well," he braced himself knowing he had to be careful here so as not to disrespect her life style and consequently alienate her. "It's been rumored that this guy has a thing for individuals such as yourself."

"You mean queens?" Cody assumed.

"I'm not sure what the correct PC terminology is and I don't want to step on any toes. But, yes that's what I mean."

"And you want me to help you catch this guy?" She couldn't help but laugh at this crazy proposition.

"In a word, yes."

"Look at me, I'm all of 5'4" tall, 125 pounds soaking wet, I've never been in a fight in my entire life and I don't even know how to hold a gun, much less shot one. How can I possibly help you catch this guy? I am no James Bond, hell I ain't even Austin Powers."

"No, no, don't get me wrong," he laughed. "All I would like you to do is look at a few photos and see if you recognize him. He's probably all ready fled the city by now anyway. I'm just trying to substantiate this rumor, which may give us an advantage in our effort to catch this guy. He's really done some bad things, killed a lot of innocent people, blew up a plane in Spain that killed everyone on board, for what reason, only he knows. We only know him as Roberto, I'm sure he goes by many different names."

They sat there for a quiet moment, both sipping from their cups. She lit up another cigarette and watched the smoke do a crazy dance in the cool breeze coming from the air conditioner.

Finally, she broke the silence, "Okay, let me see the pictures, but I can't promise anything."

"Oh, I understand completely and appreciate any help you can give me."

He took the photos from his briefcase, explaining about the computer enhancement and placed the three best-altered images on the coffee table in front of her.

She picked them up one at a time and examined each one against her memory.

"No, I'm sorry but none of them look like anybody I've seen at the bar lately."

She heard him sigh softly and thought he sounded tired. He must not be kidding about the sleepless nights. She felt like she had let him down, dashed his hopes against the rocks of failure. He gathered up the photos, stuffed them back in his case, and finished the remains of his cup.

"Well, thanks for listening to my story and I'm sorry for taking up your time. It was kind of a shot in the dark anyhow. I better get going. It was really nice to finally meet you. I've got to admit I think you're quite lovely and it's too bad it has taken me this long and this situation to finally get acquainted."

Cody blushed, thanked him for the compliment, and walked him to the door.

"Here's my card, if you think of anything that might be helpful, give me a call."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Now that we've made our introductions, don't be a stranger; feel free to stop by any time. I'd like to hear how this thing ends up."

"Ok, I'll do that. So I won't say goodbye, I'll just say au revoir."

As Cody started to close the door, Agent Franklin turned and stated, "Oh, by the way, did I mention that the various governments have put up a million dollar reward for information leading to his capture?"

"You're kidding, of course," she replied.

"No, I'm serious. But if you do happen to run into this guy, remember he's a very dangerous man, a very bad man. He wouldn't think twice about throwing your lifeless body off some bridge. So don't do anything stupid, call me and let me handle it. That's what I'm trained for, that's what I do." He said flashing his best boyish smile.

"Don't worry, I ain't no hero," quipped Cody. "But, good luck, I hope you catch this guy."

"Me too," the agent responded turning down the hallway to the stairs that lead to the street and back to the office of dead end leads.

Since he had left his car at the office that morning, he hailed a cab. Sitting in the back seat, he thought that wasn't too bad at all. She, he found himself referring to Cody as she, was really very pleasant. Maybe he would take her up on her offer and pay her a visit when this mess was over.

Cody closed the door and was somewhat giddy about the possibility of making a new friend away from the inconsistencies that prevailed her life style. He was kind of cute, she thought, and a secret agent too. Maybe things were changing; maybe this was the something she needed to make her life more worthwhile, more real, even though espionage was a somewhat unreal reality in itself. She picked up the empty cups, placed them in the kitchen sink, lit up another Virginia Slim and turned on the news. Now that she had some involvement in the killing of the ambassador, the story seemed much more relevant. She closed her eyes and said for no one to hear, "A million dollar reward, wow."

                                                            ***

The night had just about taken hold of the city when Cody strolled into the Oyster. She didn't see Gypsy at her usual booth and figured she must have had an early appointment. So she hopped on an empty bat stool, ordered a Long Island Ice Tea and exchanged pleasantries with the bartender and those close. After a half an hour she was ready for another tea. As the bartender placed the alcoholic concoction down in front of her, a voice behind her said, "Let me get this one for you."

She turned to thank the gentleman and at once recognized the face from the photos she had looked at earlier that day. Her jaw dropped as she recoiled in semi-shock. It wasn't exactly like the photos but close enough so that she knew who he was. "Get hold of yourself, don't give it away," she told herself.

"What's the matter?" Roberto inquired.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else. I had a bad experience with some guy in here a couple of months ago and at first I thought you were him. Here in the dark you kind of looked like him at first glance, but he had a mustache," she lied.

"The guy must have been a fool. I would never give you a bad time," he responded, taking her for her word. After all there's no way she could possibly know his real identity.

"My name is Stephan, I'm in town on business for a couple of days and I couldn't help but notice you sitting here alone."

"Pleased to meet you, Stephan. My name is Cody. So where are you visiting from?"

"Detroit. Originally from Portugal, but been living in the states for about eight years. And you, are you a native New Yorker?"

"No, I've been living here for about three years now. I was born and raised in Cleveland."

"I hear that's a good place to be from," he laughed.

"Hey, you're talking about my home town."

"Oops, I am sorry. I was just trying to make a joke, break the ice, you know."

"Oh, that's Ok. It's just that I've heard that too many times and the freshness has worn out."

"Ok, let's start over." He turned a complete circle while standing in the same place and said, "Hi, my name is Stephan and I think you are the sexiest girl in this place."

"That's better, would you care to join me? We can move over to that empty table, it would be easier to talk."

"After you," he declared.

She picked up her drink and they slipped into the empty booth across from the bar. It was still early and the bar wouldn't get wall to wall for a couple of hours. She had to admit that Roberto was quite the charmer, but she had to keep in mind that this man was a cold-blooded killer. After a few minutes, she excused herself and headed to the ladies room to powder her nose. Once she was safely inside she searched her purse for Agent Franklin's business card. It wasn't there, damn; she must have left it on the coffee table. Now what was she to do? If she took off to retrieve it, he would probably be gone by the time she contacted Will at the Bureau.

She quickly devised a plan of action. She would get him to take her to his place and then contact the Bureau and tell them where he was staying. She was almost shaking from nervous anxiety as she sashayed her way back to the booth where he was waiting for her. He had ordered fresh drinks and they were being served as she sat down.

"Are you trying to get me drunk so you can have your way with me?" she smiled shyly.

"That's one of those questions where I lose no matter which way I answer," he declared.

They both laughed at that.

"Care to dance?" Roberto/Stephan invited.

"Okay." Cody replied.

They made their way to the back of the bar where the dance floor was filling up. The disco ball was flashing over the faces and gyrating bodies. They were almost touching, as the crush of the other dancers didn't leave them much room to move. Roberto/Stephan was smooth and moved like a pro on the dance floor. He spun her around and under his arm and she came to rest next to him, held close by his strong grip. They danced two songs worth and then Cody said that was enough for now feeling the heat the crowd was producing.

They retired back to their booth but had to kick out another couple that had hijacked it and was playing touchy feely games under the table. After finishing their drinks, Roberto/Stephan suggested they go some place where they could be alone.

"How about your place?" he inquired.

"I can't. My roommate is cool with the way I am as long as I agree not to bring any strangers over, kind of paranoid, but that's what this city can do to you. If you know what I mean," she lied again. "Since you're just visiting, I'm sure you probably have a nice hotel room some where. I find hotel rooms extremely erotic, I can let go and be my wild self without any worries."

Roberto/Stephan hesitated for a moment, but he had become so enchanted with by this little she male fox, he relented and said, "Let's go."

He was staying at one of the nicer, but smaller hotels off Times Square. She had never been there before but knew of it. So far so good, she thought, as they rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor and entered room 1106.

As soon as he closed the door, he grabbed her arm, turning her toward him, kissed her hard on the lips, and started pulling at the straps of her burgundy slip dress.

She broke his grip, stepped back and said, "Slow down, sweetie, we've got all night."

"I just can't help it, you're so beautiful."

"I'll bet you tell that to all the girls," she smiled.

He laughed and said, "Oh, you think you've got me all figured out, don't you." Not knowing that she really did.

He turned on the TV, switched channels to the soft porn station, and muted the set. He then turned out the table lamp that had been the only light in the room.

"Do you have anything to drink?" she asked.

"A bottle of white wine left over from dinner."

"That sounds good. Why don't you pour and I'll make myself comfortable."

He returned with the glasses of wine, handing her one. She pulled a joint from her purse and asked if he'd like to smoke some pot.

"I can do that," he responded.

Knowing there was a lot of drug use in the tranny world, he had picked up a small vial of cocaine earlier in the day. He pulled it out of the dresser and offered it out for her inspection.

"Well aren't you the man," Cody vamped, as he poured out a pile on the nightstand. "Is it coke or speed?"

"It's supposed to be coke, at least that's what I told the bellhop I wanted."

She tasted a small pinch and felt her tongue and gums start to go numb.

"It's coke, the real thing," Cody said matter of factually.

"Help yourself," Roberto/Stephan said handing her a rolled up one hundred-dollar bill.

"My experience is that it does nothing to enhance my performance. It makes me go soft, but you can do as much as you like. I will smoke some of that reefer though."

Sitting on the bed, they sipped the wine and smoked the joint watching the muted porn on the television. He put his arm around her, pulled her close and as she opened her mouth to accept his tongue, he exhaled the smoke he was holding in his lungs. She inhaled the smoke and then felt his tongue probing deep into her mouth. She sucked it softly, relaxing from the effects of the pot and the wine, but she was still aware of the position she had placed herself and had to be on guard as to not make any mistakes and blow this golden opportunity. He broke off the kiss and looked into her eyes hoping that the sensual act would inflame her passion.

"So, what do you do in Detroit?" Cody inquired, trying not to get caught up in the heat of the moment and the excitement of the situation.

"Computers," he answered. "I'm here in New York to purchase some hard drives for a new line my company is hoping to make."

"Do you like it, what you're doing?"

"It pays the bills, but I thought we were through with all this small talk at the bar."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sometimes the weed makes me a real scatter brain and I forget where I am."

"Well then I think you've had enough. I want you to remember this in the morning."

"Ok," she said and made the imaginary gesture of zipping up her lips.

She leaned over, picked up the rolled up bill and snorted an edge off the pile of coke on the nightstand. Almost immediately, she felt the tingling sensation, her pulse quickened, and the blood rushed to her head.

"Whoa," she let out, rocking back to her seat on the bed.

Seeing this, Roberto/Stephan figured she was ready for the fun to begin. He stood up removed his sport shirt, undid his belt and unzipped his trousers. He let them fall to his ankles and stood before her like a gladiator with his hands on his hips. His boxer shorts tented from his state of semi arousal.

She knew what he was expecting, what was coming next, and she dropped to her knees. She reached up and pulled down his shorts. Like a pro she took the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked on it like a baby. He wasn't overly large and she could almost take the entire length at one time. He grabbed her hair and guided her head back and forth over his hardening manhood.

She licked and sucked for all she was worth. She wanted to kill this assassin with pleasure that would make everyone’s job a lot easier.

He pulled her up to her feet and slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The dress slide down to the floor revealing her favorite black corset with eight garters, four on each side, holding up her light transparent burgundy hose, over which she wore a pair of black satin panties. He stepped back and took in the entire picture of this pretty she male as she stood there in the semi dark hotel room lit only by the porn streaming from the TV set.

"Nice, very nice," he admired.

She took her index finger and twisted it in her cheek while giving him a coy little smile.

"You're just too cute," he whispered to her as he pulled her to him and kissed her passionately on the lips. She opened her mouth and let his thick tongue slip in. Their tongues played tag while he pulled her close and she felt his hard cock flatten out against her corseted stomach. Her own she male cock was starting to twitch and strained to be released from it's tucked position between her thighs. He pulled down her panties and it sprang forward like a garage door. He pushed her back on the bed and was immediately at her side, his hands grabbing her over sized clit and putting it in his mouth.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Your pre-cum tastes so good, it's almost sweet."

He slurped at her cock, bathing it in his spittle. He reached up and squeezed her padded corset where her tits would be. She folded down the top of her corset exposing her small pert A-cup titties. He pinched and mashed at them like they were molding clay. He was a bit rough but she had been with worse. As long as he kept sucking on her clit, she would let it go a little longer.

Suddenly he stopped, got up, went to the bathroom, and returned with a bottle of lube. He opened the bottle, squirted some into his hand, and placed the bottle on the nightstand.

Cody just lay there, not knowing what was coming next. He returned to his position on the bed, took her clit back in his mouth and slide a lubed finger past her taint area and up into the soft pucker of her ass.

"Oh yes," Cody moaned. "That's what I like."

He worked the finger in and out, then two as she wiggled in excitement on the bed. When he had both fingers in as far as they would go, she felt that bubbling sense of urgency building up in her loins. Before she could tell him to slow down, she exploded in his mouth. Grabbing his head, she held it down over her swollen clit until she collapsed from her ultimate release.

She lay back on the bed breathing heavy, trying to get her rhythm back.

"That was nice," she expressed. "You've done this before."

"That and a whole lot more," he joked.

"Give me a minute to recover, K?" she requested.

Roberto/Stephan replied, "Okay, but just a minute. Look what you've done to me," pointing to the stiff six inch cock protruding up from his lap.

She reached for one of her cigarettes and he lit up the roach. They each took a couple of puffs off their chosen poison and sipped on the white wine. She snubbed out the VS in the ashtray, took another snort off the pile of cocaine and gulped down the last of her wine. Squirting some lube in her palm, she grabbed his cock with both hands. He fell back on the bed and enjoyed the milking she was putting on his stiff tool.

"Easy, baby," he uttered. "I don't want to cum just yet."

"Otay," she said, trying to be cute, imitating Buckwheat.

While still massaging his cock with one hand, she dipped into her purse and pulled out a rubber. Ripping it open with her teeth, she placed it in her mouth, bent over, put his cock in there too and then proceeded to go deep. When she came up, his manhood was encased in it's own snug little raincoat.

She picked up the lube and coated the outside of the "jimmy hat", then stuck two of her lubed fingers up her she male cunt, greasing up the hole. Next she threw a leg over his prone body and guided his missile into docking position with her body. Slowly she slide down on his cock, working it in a bit, then up until only the head was left in and back down an inch lower than the last time. Up and down she worked until her butt cheeks were sitting flat on his crotch. With his cock now all the way up her ass cunt, she started rocking back and forth. Then she bent forward and started kissing his bushy chest and neck with quick, light kisses. She had a feeling of pride at the acting job she was doing, matching wits with this cold-blooded killer.

After a couple of minutes playing like a rocking horse, she pulled her feet up under her hips and slowly started bouncing up and down on his stiff pole. She was moaning from the pleasure she had learned to appreciate from getting ass fucked. He was moaning too. Then he started breathing heavy and bucking up to meet her downward thrusts. She knew he was close. Cody squeezed her butt cheeks on her downward movement and released the pressure on the up.

"Arggg," he moaned, sounding a bit like a pirate. "Oh, oui. Oh, yes. I'm cumming," he shouted. He realized that he almost resorted to his native tongue in the pangs of ecstasy. His body jerked three or four times before it went still. She held his cock tightly in her ass until it wilted back to its flaccid state. She rolled off of him and lay next to him on the bed, both of them silently staring at the ceiling.

She had to make a decision, wait until he was fast asleep or get out of there now. She figured that if she waited until he was asleep she could sneak out without too much drama.

"That was great," he whispered to her. "You're fantastic."

"I try to do my best," she replied. "Do you mind if I have a little more wine? The coke has got me sort of amped."

"Help yourself."

She got up went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and peed. Then she wiped the remaining lube from her ass. Checking herself in the mirror, she combed her hair and touched up her makeup so that when she felt it was time to go, she could get up and leave quickly.

When she got back to the bed, it appeared that he had fallen asleep. She poured another glass of wine and smoked the rest of the joint, figuring she would give him a good half an hour to fall deep into his sleep.

She lay down in the bed next to the killer and started watching the couple on the TV go at it hot and heavy. His rhythmic breathing, the whir of the air conditioner, and coming down from the nights excitement proved too much and soon she too was taking the trip to dreamland.

                                                            ***

The pull on her wrists caused her to open her eyes with a start. Water was slowly dripped down her forehead and she saw Roberto/Stephan standing over her with a glass slightly tilted, letting only a small drop escape at a time. Laughing, she thought this was some kind of game. She tried to roll out of the way but couldn't move, her wrists and ankles had been tied to the bed frame.

"What the hell?" she demanded.

"Shh, you'll wake the neighbors," he said as he forced a wadded up washcloth in her mouth.

Her eyes were wide open now, her heart was beating hard and fast, she was scared, really scared. She thought she had everything under control. What happened?

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk in your sleep, Cherie?" his voice now indicating his European background. "You really had me fooled. I would have never thought one of your stupid agencies would come up with a plan like this to trap me. Who are you working for? CIA?"

She shook her head no.

"FBI?"

Again no.

"Scotland Yard?"

No.

"Interpol?"

No.

"Well it really doesn't matter who you're with. Because you're going to die and I'm going to get away, just like I always do."

He pulled out a stiletto knife; the blade went "pop" as it sprung from the housing. In the stillness of the situation it sounded like a gunshot. She started shaking with fear, jerking her arms and legs trying to get free. He had a fiercely, sadistic crazed look on his face as he approached the bed.

"I've got to say, you're a nice looking bitch and a hell of a lay, and I really hate to do this. We could have had a lot of fun together. So don't take this personally, it's just business."

He raised the knife above his head...

…Brringgg!  Brringgg! The telephone called out to her.

She looked around; she was sitting in the rocking chair in her living room. The late afternoon summer sun was streaming in through the window. She looked at the clock, it was almost six, and she was dripping wet with perspiration.

Brringgg! The answering machine started recording the message.

"Hey girlfriend," it was Gypsy. "I guess you're not in, I'll talk to you tonight. I've got some business at eight, so I've got to run. I'll see you at the Big 'O' around tenish. Ciao."

A dream. It was all just a dream, she thought to herself. No, it wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. Whatever thoughts she had about playing the spy game were suddenly put out to pasture.

Cody's nightmare had really shaken her up. She considered staying home, but thought what are the chances of something like that happening. Agent Franklin said himself that Roberto was probably sipping a Mai Tai and sunning himself on some Caribbean beach by now.

                                                                        ***

As she walked out the door of her apartment, she suddenly stopped, went back inside, picked up the agent's business card, and put it in her purse. You never know, she said to herself, you can't be too careful.

She walked through the door of the Oyster Bar and a blast of cool air hit her in the face. It was almost ten and she didn't see Gypsy at her booth. So she stepped up to the bar, ordered her favorite drink and zigzagged her way back to Gypsy's booth. Sitting down she lit up a Virginia Slim and watched the dancers making love to the music echoing from the jukebox. She had her back to the door and didn't see him approaching the booth. Before she could make a move, he sat down directly opposite her.

"Oh, my God," she almost screamed. She pinched herself hard on the thigh to make sure she wasn't dreaming again. It was him, the co-star of her earlier nightmare, the illusive Roberto himself.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he inquired smoothly.

"I don't know. I'm meeting someone and she should be here any minute," she replied. Her legs were shaking like crazy under the table.

"That's okay, I'll split when she gets here. But I just wanted to say that I saw you in here last night and the only reason I'm here tonight was in hopes that you'd be here again." He smiled his killer smile.

She realized that she should try and keep him here until she could contact Agent Franklin.

"Well, I guess that would be okay."

"You know you're very beautiful and I was really turned on watching you dance last night," he said laying on the charm.

"What are you drinking? And would you like another?" he asked.

"Sure, that would be nice. It's a Long Island Ice Tea."

"I'll be right back," he said.

"Okay, I've got to use the ladies room anyway."

"Then I'll meet you back here in a few minutes."

"Okay."

She tried not to look like she was running to the restroom, but felt she couldn't get there fast enough and that he was watching and knew her plan. She was almost panting when the door finally closed behind her and she was safely inside. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed the phone number on the card.

"This is William Franklin," he answered.

"Will, this is Cody Daniels. I'm at the Oyster Bar on West 40th Street and that guy you're after, Roberto, he's here. He's trying to pick me up. I'm really scared, what should I do?"

"Keep him there, don't do anything heroic, but do whatever you can to keep him there. We're on our way. We'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay, just hurry, I'm really scared and I don't know how long I can keep up this act."

"Don't worry, Cody, the Calvary is on the way."

She hung up the phone and put it back in her purse. Took a couple of deep breaths and tried to shake that nervous lump in the pit of her stomach before it got to her throat. She checked herself in the mirror, she looked all right. She could do this. All she had to do was stay cool, calm and collected. Pretend he's just another guy out looking for a good time. She had played this role many times in the past; another fifteen minutes would be no problem.

As she exited the ladies room, her thinking suddenly changed. Run, she thought. Get away, get out of there as fast as she could. Maybe he won't see me. She looked over at the booth. "Oh shit," she said to herself. Gypsy was there. Her back to her and Roberto looked to be listening intently as she rattled off one of her stories. As soon as he saw Cody, he stood up and waved for her to come over.

                                                            ***

"This is it folks, we got him. The Oyster Bar on West 40th Street. Let's go people, let's move," Franklin shouted.

There was a mad rush for the door. In no time at all two cars with four agents in each were on the roll. In minutes the blue print of the Oyster Bar flashed on the Bureau's main computer screen and the information about the entrance and exit transmitted to the agents in the cars. They devised their plan of attack on the fly, communicating via two-way radios. They hooked up their headsets and pulled up in front of the bar exactly twelve minutes after receiving the call.

The plan was that Agent Franklin's team would take the front door and Agent Jackson's would cover the back stairway and alley. Since Franklin was the only one who knew Cody he would go in first and survey the situation. A few minutes later Agent Matt Brody would enter and hook up with Will. The other two agents would position themselves to cover the front door in case Roberto was able to slip past Franklin and Brody.

As he walked down to the front door, Franklin said to himself, "Okay Cody, come through for me, doll, be the one that brings this scum bag down."

He removed his tie and stuck it in his pocket. He opened the door and stepped inside. Only then did he remember he forgot to tell the other agents what kind of a bar this was.

"Oh well, I guess it shouldn't make any difference," he thought.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, he moved to the bar and ordered a Heineken. As he sipped the beer his eyes wandered to the back booth. He saw the back of Cody's head and the back of another queen, but couldn't get a good look at the man seated across from them. He picked up his beer and quietly moved to the other side of the bar, staying out of sight as best he could, he nonchalantly gazed at the booth again. Beyond the dancers, in the dark corner, the disco ball’s light rays hit the face of the man talking to Cody and her friend.

There he was, the illusive ghost, Roberto, casually chatting up these lovelies like he was one of the regulars. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world. Franklin hoped this meant his guard would be down and they would be able to take him without much trouble.

Brody came up along side Franklin, holding a bottle of MGD. Franklin nodded toward the back booth and Brody nodded his recognition. Even though he looked at ease, the agents figured he was probably armed. They had to move carefully to keep this from turning into a gun battle and the possibility of a lot of innocent people getting hurt.

The plan was for Franklin to somehow get the girls away from the booth by saying there was someone he wanted them to meet. Once he had the girls safely away from the table, Brody would slip into the booth across from the killer and Franklin would hop into the same side as Roberto, essentially trapping him.

Matthew Brody was only 5'8" tall and somewhat self-conscience about his height. Here he was standing in a bar where most of the girls had to look down to see his face and he was really feeling small. While they waited for the song to end and the dance floor to empty out a bit before they made their move, Brody turned to Franklin and said, "I guess you forgot to inform us what kind of place this was."

"I forgot, sorry. With all the excitement it must have slipped my mind," said Franklin. "But look on the bright side, you can always hide behind them or maybe get one to cover your back."

"Literally," quipped Brody.

The song played its last refrains.

"Ready," inquired Franklin.

"Let's roll," said Brody.

"We're moving in, everybody get ready," Franklin said into the sleeve of his coat.

                                                            ***

Cody was getting antsy; surely it had been fifteen minutes. Where was the Calvary, she was thinking, when she suddenly heard her name being called from across the dance floor. She turned her head and saw Agent Franklin approaching their booth.

"Cody, hey girl, how's it going? I've been looking for you. Listen I've got something special planned later on and I was wondering if I could talk to you and your friend outside for a minute." Agent Franklin was all smiles, playing his role like he was auditioning for a movie.

Cody's face beamed. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life.

"Hi Will, I'm so glad you showed up. This is my friend Gypsy that I told you about and this is Max, he's in town for one of the trade shows."

"Nice to meet you. Listen Max, you wouldn't mind if I steal these ladies away for a few minutes. I promise to bring them back shortly, good as new."

Roberto/Max shrugged his shoulders, but his survival instinct started tingling and the hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end.

"Damn, Cody, two in one night, you've been holding out on me," joked Gypsy as they piled out of the booth.

They had only taken a few steps when Gypsy realized she had left her purse on the seat. She abruptly stopped, turned around and went back for it before Will could stop her. She bent over and reached for it just as Agent Brody was closing in.

Like a magician, Roberto seemed to produce his gun out of thin air and fired two shots before Brody could get his weapon out of his shoulder holster. The first shot whizzed over Gypsy's head and hit Brody in the right shoulder. Instinct caused Gypsy to jerk back at hearing the explosion of his first shot. She never heard the second one. It hit her just above the right temple and she was gone before she hit the ground.

People started screaming and running for the front door. Brody scurried for cover in one of the now vacant booths closer to the bar.

Roberto was up in a flash and headed for the rear exit. Agent Franklin had his piece in one hand and pushed Cody behind him with the other. Roberto fired in their direction, but the shot went high. Cody heard the bullet zing above their heads and shatter the mirrored panel on the wall behind them. Then the sound of Franklin's Glock fire three times. The first bullet hit Roberto in the side just below the armpit of his out stretched arm, spinning him around. the second and third got him in the chest directly above the heart. He smashed into the mirrored wall and slide down slowly as his illustrious life passed before his eyes. The second bullet had passed completely through his body, dissecting a main artery and cracking the mirrored panel that was now shimmering a dark red as the punctured artery pumped blood out of the hole it left.

Cody fell to her knees screaming and crying and crawled over to the spot where Gypsy lay dead.

Agent Franklin ran over and kicked the gun out of Roberto's hand just in case he really was a ghost and came back to life again.

Agent Jackson's team burst through the back door, guns drawn, ready for trouble. The agents out front tried to push their way into the bar but found they were no match for the horde pushing to get out.

Will Franklin stood over Roberto's lifeless body and said half out loud, "Checkmate, you son of a bitch." He then turned and yelled for everyone to calm down. It was over. They were all safe now and should exit in an orderly manner. He walked over to Cody and helped her to her feet. She went limp and he held her up in his strong arms. He guided her to the booth where Brody was holding his blood red shirt and coat. As he sat Cody in the seat, he asked the agent, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just a flesh wound. But damn, this was my favorite suit," Brody replied forcing a smile.

"How about you Cody?" Franklin said looking into her watery eyes. Her mascara was streaking down her cheeks. "I'm really sorry about your friend. I tried to grab her, but she moved too quick, it all happened so fast."

"No, I'm not all right. I think I'm going to be sick," she answered. Then got up and ran to the ladies room where she left her dinner in one of the stalls.

                                                            ***

The following day Cody stayed in bed. She didn't eat, watch TV or answer the constantly ringing telephone. She just laid in bed and smoked cigarettes, the image of Gypsy's head erupting like a mini volcano replaying over and over in her mind. The news media was all over the story. It had all the makings of 'sin-sational' reporting. An international terrorist fingered by a local queen and gunned down at a bar that was frequented by transvestites after eluding capture for years. They couldn't have invented a better ending to the Ambassador’s assassination story. They camped out in front of the Oyster Bar for a couple of days. Video taping the girls coming and going and interviewed anybody willing to talk about the incident. Gypsy's death got lost in all the hoopla. It sickened Cody and she wanted no part of it.

For the next three days, when Agent Franklin wasn't busy tying up the lose ends, he was at Cody's place doing his best to shelter her from the constant media barrage, everybody wanted to hear her story.

Four days after the incident, Cody finally came out of her apartment for Gypsy's memorial. For all of the so-called friends she had made at the bar, only a few showed up to bid her farewell.

Cody got there early and was sitting in one of the back pews trying to avoid the press that she knew would be there chomping at the bit. Just before the start of the service Agents Franklin and Brody slipped in beside her. Will put his arm around her and let her cry on his shoulder until well after the service ended. Brody had to leave to get the bandages on his shoulder changed.

She knew the press was lying in wait outside and wasn't leaving until they had gone. Agent Franklin said he knew the back way out and shielded her from view as they left out a rear exit to a waiting black Bureau Explorer and got away without much trouble.

"I've got the rest of the day off and nothing planned," he told her. "Would you be up for some company?"

"I've cried so much the last couple of days, I think I'm all cried out, but I still don't feel any better. How long does this last?" Cody asked.

"There's no answer to that, we all grieve in different ways," he said, sounding like a big brother. "If I knew Gypsy as well as I think I do, she would have wanted us to have one hell of a wake."

"We could do that."

They stopped at a liquor store, picked up a couple of bottles, a pack of Virginia Slims, some munchies, and were then dropped off at the rear entrance of their building. As they walked through the door of her apartment, she turned to him, looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Thank you for being here. I don't feel like being alone right now."

She looked so frail and helpless in the shadows of the darkened room. She put her arms around him and gave him a big hug. "Thank you, Will," she whispered to him.

They had spent a lot of time together over the last week, during which they got to know each  other on a personal rather than sexual basis. In the last twenty four hours there was obvious flirting and the sexual tension was mounting. Without thinking, he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She looked up at him and he kissed her on the mouth, long and soulful, with meaning and emotion. He was shocked to realize how easy it was to kiss her. Was he was falling for this cute little she male? She melted into his arms and suddenly he didn't care who she was under the clothes. He placed the bags from the liquor store on the love seat, scooped her up in his arms, turned and knelt so she could retrieve the bag, and carried her off to the bedroom.

                                                                        ***

Sometime after midnight, Will woke up parched, the alcohol and wrestling in the sheets with Cody had dehydrated him. He eased himself from her grip, swung his feet to the floor and out of habit started to put his boxers back on. The movement of the bed woke Cody and she sat up just as he started to pull up his underwear.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I need some water.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But now that I think about it there is one thing I need to take care of as soon as possible.”

Cody crumbled to the bed and sighed with disappointment, after all that happened, he was going to be a jerk like so many others. She figured now that he had got his rocks off, he has come to his senses, and was about to give her the old “Wow, look at the time, I got to go” routine.

"Don't get upset, it's a good thing." He said, noticing her frustration.

She gave him a puzzled look.

"Where do you want me to send the reward money?"

She threw her arms around him and kissed him excitedly. Catching him by surprise, her tongue danced into his open mouth and he greedily accepted it.

"Oh, Will." She cooed.

In that moment, they both knew their lives would never be the same.

This story contains 16,076 words.