The Spy in Sunglasses ( incomplete)

[esercito sconfitto]

The Spy in Sunglasses


by tirepanted2


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A soft wind whistled through the trees of Seneca Forest. It was a peaceful morning, the kind that heralds a beautiful spring day.

Secret Service Agent Marianne Cole would have taken more time to appreciate the blissful weather, if not for the fact that she was given strict orders to concentrate on scouting the surrounding area. Fresh out of college, the young blonde had only begun her job as one of the President’s security agents six weeks ago, and she was determined to make a good impression. Which meant following what her boss called the “3D Plan” – Determination, Dedication, and Devotion.

She was certainly dressed professionally for the job – black pantsuit over white shirt and black tie, with sensible black shoes and sunglasses. The clothing lent her an air of professionalism, and she felt like a serious member of the Secret Service while wearing them.

A butterfly landed on Marianne’s shoulder. She smiled.

The sound of jogging feet alerted her. She looked up to see a dark-haired woman in a blue jumpsuit and white trainers heading her way. The woman was staring worriedly at her iPhone when she caught sight of Marianne.

“Hi!” the woman smiled. “Listen… you think you can do me a solid? I’m lost… Got separated from my friends back at the museum.” She held up a road map. “Can you point me the way to the Morning Glory Inn?”

Marianne was under strict orders not to engage in conversation with any passerby. But the woman’s big brown pleading eyes made her pause. Marianne smiled and consulted the map.

“It’s not far… in fact, you just need to clear the forest and pass the Seneca trail – uuuuggghhhhh!”

A viselike arm clamped around her neck, cutting off the blood flow to her brain.

Marianne tried struggling, but her dark-haired assailant was stronger than she looked. She held on tight, determined not to let the woman get free and call for help.

For about forty seconds, the two women struggled in the woods, Marianne trying vainly to gain the upper hand. Her struggles grew weaker, and her reflexes slowed. Finally, she lapsed into unconsciousness.

Janet took a moment to regain her energy. Then she dragged the insensible SS agent deep into the forest and near a small alcove in the bedrock. She paused for breath and checked her watch. Her timing was impeccable.

Janet kicked off her trainers and stripped off her jumpsuit. Then she began divesting Marianne of her clothes. The shoes came off first, followed by the pantsuit, white shirt, and tie. This left the woman in a pair of pink bra and panties, and white tights. After a moment’s pause, Janet removed the tights as well.

The tights were cut down the middle and used for binding material – one stocking bound the poor girl’s wrists behind her back, the other mercilessly secured her ankles together. A length of duct tape was wound around her pretty pink lips, gagging her.

It took a matter of minutes for Janet to dress herself in the ex-Secret Service agent’s clothes. The shirt and pantsuit were just about the right fit, and she was soon lacing up the shoes and fastening the stolen tie around her long neck. The sunglasses effectively completed her disguise.

With a malicious smile playing on her lips, Janet produced a small syringe from the pocket of her discarded tracksuit. She pressed the needle into her victim’s left ass cheek and squeezed the plunger. The drug which now coursed through Marianne’s veins would keep her unconscious and immobilized for forty-eight hours – more than enough time for Janet to carry out her plan.

As an added precaution, Janet dragged the bound captive into the alcove and rolled a heavy boulder over the entrance. In this manner, she could leave her identity donor out of sight with the assured knowledge that the woman would not soon be found, and would not interfere with her plans.

Janet returned to the post that had so recently been occupied by Marianne. As she glanced around, she noticed a stain on her jacket – one which had likely been there for a few days.

“Couldn’t someone at least dry-clean this?” she muttered. “I swear. People can be so inconsiderate.”

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The Los Angeles airport was crowded, even for a regular Sunday morning. It was thus that Kris and Maura found themselves scrambling to get on their flight.

“Let’s go, girl. The plane doesn’t wait for stragglers,” Kris called to her friend.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Maura replied. “It would help if you carried some of the bags, though.”

Maura took another step and staggered, knocking into the carry-all of a woman who sat on one of the terminal benches.

“Oh! Gosh, I’m sorry,” Maura blushed as she staggered to her feet.

The woman simply nodded curtly, not looking up from her newspaper.

Maura hurried to join her friend.

Vera continued glancing at the headlines, but occasionally glancing above them at the passerby. Her venomous eyes scanned the area. She was looking for a flight attendant – any one would do, so long as she was about her size.

The task had proven difficult. Vera was a broad, muscular woman, with a more impressive physique than most. And the airline seemed to thrive on small, petite flight attendants. Her short blonde hair flicked from side to side… and someone caught her eye.

The woman was tall, though a bit slim. She dressed in the standard-issue uniform of the airline’s flight attendants. Dark blue jacket and skirt, white shirt, black high heels, and blue pillbox hat over her dark hair, which had been pulled back into a bun. The woman headed across the airport terminal and stepped into the restroom.

Vera nodded to herself as she stood up and headed toward the Ladies’ Room herself.

The restroom consisted of eleven stalls along one wall, and a table with nine sinks along the other. A short woman in a business suit stood rinsing her hands at one sink. Once finished, she dried them with a paper towel and passed Vera on her way out the door. Somewhere above, an air conditioner vent hummed.

Vera bent down and pressed one knee to the well-tiled floor. She could see beneath the partitions of the restroom stalls. All were unoccupied, save one at the far end – which boasted a shiny pair of black high heels.

Vera rose to her feet again. She was now alone with her prey.

She crossed the length of the restroom swiftly and silently, stopping just to the side of the occupied stall’s closed door. She waited, calm as the morning sea.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was in actuality no more than thirty seconds, Vera heard the sound of a toilet flushing from within the stall. Moments later, the lock turned, and the young stewardess opened the door.

She balked at the sight of the tall, muscular, and imposing woman before her.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

A grin slowly spread across Vera’s face. “You will.”

She advanced on the young woman, who slowly and fearfully began backing into the stall. “What… what are you doing?”

Vera said nothing as she stepped into the stall and closed and locked the door behind her. Then, as she backed the poor girl up against the wall, she whispered something ever-so-softly.

The noise from the air-conditioning vent drowned out her words; however, the stewardess could have sworn Vera’s reply was, “What I do best.”

The noise from the vent also masked the vicious punches and futile cries for mercy which followed.

Vera propped the unconscious stewardess onto the toilet bowl and stripped her. Once the heels, skirt, jacket, shirt, hat, and black tights had been removed, the woman was gagged with tape and bound with flex. She was left secured to the toilet bowl pipe, clad only in her blue plunge bra and matching panties, her pert ass pressed down into the bowl.

The uniform, as Vera had anticipated, was a couple of sizes too small, but this was no time to get picky. The buttons would hold so long as she didn’t take any deep breaths, and the skirt would remain intact as long as she didn’t have to bend over. Vera placed the pillbox hat atop her head and did up her hair.

The toilet was locked from the outside with Vera’s pocketknife blade, and the words “Out of Order” were scribbled onto the doorway. The flight attendant would have plenty of time to catch up on her beauty sleep – although even Vera had to admit she didn’t need very much of it.

Vera crossed the terminal and headed for the plane her clothing and identity donor was scheduled to accompany. She stepped onto the plane rather gingerly, partially to avoid suspicion, and partially to avoid tearing her ill-fitting stolen uniform.

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Janet scouted the perimeter of the large amphitheater. The currently-empty stands could conceivably hold over nine hundred spectators. And it was expected to be packed that evening, when the President of the United States would be giving a grandstand speech to the public.

Janet checked her watch again. The services weren't due to start till one that afternoon. That gave her three hours to ensure that everything would be ready. Three hours till it was time to go into action. She felt the gun at her hip and smiled.

Her earpiece crackled to life with a stern-sounding woman's voice. "Agent Cole, do you read? Please respond."

Caught a bit off-guard, Janet regained her composure and responded in her best imitation of Marianne's voice. "This is Agent Cole. Go ahead."

"Please report to base at once. That is an order."

Janet suddenly felt nervous. She hadn't counted on making face-to-face contact with the Secret Service head. What if she was recognized as an imposter?

She quickly calmed herself. After all, she had specifically chosen to replace an agent who was both similar to her in looks and relatively new to the Service. She could pull it off. All she needed was a new blonde hairdo...

"I'll be right over," she responded into her com-link, causing the woman at the other end to promptly cut the conversation short.

A sound alerted Janet as she exited the amphitheater. Tuning, she saw a blonde woman in a skimpy sundress walking around the bend. The woman was dressed in a cloth bikini top, a colorful flowing skirt, and pink stiletto high heels. She was admiring the craftsmanship of the large amphitheater and did not notice the young woman who had hidden herself in the bushes, a wicked smile on her face.

All it took was a single neck chop, and the blonde crumpled in Jane's arms. Janet dragged her into the bushes and stripped her naked. As she had suspected from the hair, the woman was not a true blonde. Placing both her hands on the woman's blonde locks, she pulled until the wig came off, revealing her victim to have natural short brunette curls.

"Trying to fool the world, honey?" Janet chided. "Don't fret... You look lovely either way."

After cutting up the skirt into bondage-appropriate strips, Janet proceeded to bind the poor naked woman hand and foot. The cloth bra was an effective gag. Janet found a suitable secluded spot deep in the woods and secured her victim hammock-style between two trees.

"Pleasant dreams, darling," Janet called back without looking over her shoulder.

She retrieved the wig and placed it over her dark hair, arranging it into a hairstyle similar to the one sported by Marianne. The gorgeous high heels were tempting, but she resisted, knowing that they would look suspiciously unprofessional with her Secret Service uniform. She hid them in some bushes, with the intent to come back and retrieve them after her job was complete.

Half an hour later, Janet stepped out of Marianne's - or rather, her - car and approached the Secret Service headquarters.

If she had been expecting trouble, she was pleasantly surprised. The female gate guard waved her in with only a passing glance at her ID card. Janet made her way to the main office and knocked on the door. She was promptly rewarded with a "Come in."

Janet entered. Sitting at the large oak desk was a brunette woman in her forties, dressed in a dark business suit. Seated across from her in dark pantsuits were two female Secret Service agents in their early twenties - one a slim, tall blonde, the other a striking redhead.

"Hello, Marianne," Secret Service Director Sue Ann Bishop addressed Janet, gesturing to the two seated women. "Have you met Catherine and Brie?"

Janet hadn't, of course, but before she could decide whether or not to admit that, a cell phone ringtone loudly sounded off.

"Mine!" the blonde girl announced. She pulled out her phone and spoke into it. "Hey, Ricky, darling. Oh, just a meeting. Want to go out tonight? I know this great place near-"

"AHEM," Sue Ann scowled.

The blonde looked up.

"Catherine, are you honestly taking a call now?" Sue Ann snapped. "Show some respect for this office."

"It'll just take a minute," Catherine responded. "Ricky didn't call me since this morning, and I-"

"How is Ricky?" Brie interrupted. "I'm going out with Ken tonight. Wanna double date?"

"Sure," Catherine smiled "Let me just double-check with him."

Sue Ann banged her fist on the desk. The room grew silent.

"Girls," Sue Ann said slowly. "I called the two of you in here because, quite frankly, you're the worst Secret Service agents I've ever had under my command. You care more about dates than the fate of this country."

Catherine opened her mouth to protest, but Sue Ann held up a hand.

"You're fired," she said tersely. "Both of you. Leave your guns and badges with the front desk."

"But-"

"LEAVE!" Sue Ann shouted.

The two girls got up and shuffled out the door, right past a speechless and confused Janet.

As the door closed, Sue Ann turned to Janet. "Hello, Agent Cole. I've asked you here today because it turns out you'll need to work a bit harder than usual."

Janet kept quiet, then slowly nodded her head. "Those two agents..."

"...were incompetents," Sue Ann replied. "Thankfully, we have more dedicated women on the force." She eyed Janet forcefully. "Can I count on you to do your job?"

Janet nodded and smiled, her eyes twinkling behind her dark glasses. "You can," she said simply, with a near-undetectable hint of mystery in her voice.




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Kris gazed out the plane's window. "Check out the clouds!" she said. "Don't they look adorable?"

Maura didn't look up from her fashion magazine. "Yup," she said.

"I love flying," Kris sighed as she settled back into her leather seat. "Wish we could do it more often."

"Not me," Maura replied. "One cross-country vacation is enough, thanks."

"Oh, you're no fun," Kris smiled. "You need to lighten up. Excuse me!" she called to a passing flight attendant. "Could you get my friend a tall cool Bloody Mary?"

The tall, imposing attendant wordlessly nodded, and headed to the back of the plane.

Maura eyed her receding form suspiciously. "Funny... I could've sworn I saw that woman back at the terminal."

"Duh! She works for the airline," Kris replied.

"But... she wasn't dressed as a flight attendant then. And doesn't her uniform look a little small for her?"

"Slow down, Maura. You're getting a little carried away," Kris responded. "Been reading too many spy novels, if you ask me."

Maura didn't say another word... but she eyed the expressionless stewardess suspiciously when her drink was brought.

***************

Kendra maneuvered herself across the dining hall of La Maison Alimentaire, balancing the tray on one hand while avoiding diner patrons and tables on her way to the kitchen. A glance at her watch told the perky, dark-haired waitress that her shift for the morning was almost complete. She smiled as she looked over her uniform of red waistcoat over white button-down shirt, black pants, and shiny black flats. She had succeeded going the whole morning without getting any food stains on her uniform.

Sidling through the large double doors, Kendra smiled at one of the chefs. "Hey, Brian. Have you seen Claire and Danielle?"

"Break room, I think," the chef replied above the thump-thump of the gas oven's pipes.

Kendra walked briskly through the kitchen and out the back doors to the employee sector. It had been a long morning, and she was in the mood for some female companionship.

The lights in the break room were off as Kendra entered. She felt for the switch. "Claire? Danny?" she called out.

A faint, muffled moaning met her ears.

Her fingers found the switch and flicked it on, flooding the break room with light. Kendra gasped.

At the other side of the break room, seated on the floor with their backs against the wall, were her two coworkers. Both blondes had been stripped down to their bras and panties, revealing that Claire had opted for Spartan white that day, while the well-endowed Danielle had chosen a light green. Both were also gagged with duct tape and bound with tight nylon rope, which restricted their movement to vain struggles and their speech to the slightest "Mmmmpppphhhhh"s.

Before Kendra could visibly react, she heard a clicking noise, and a gun was leveled at her head.

"Strip off your clothes, dear," a woman dressed all in black ordered. "Do it quickly, and we let you keep your underwear."

Kendra was scared, but she tried not to panic. Instead, she reached up and began unbuttoning her waistcoat. Once that was off, she removed her white shirt, revealing a large pink lace bra. Then the shoes came off, followed by the pants.

"Tights, too," the assailant ordered, her face emotionless behind a ski mask.

Kendra gripped the waistband of her white tights and shimmied out of them. Hardly had she handed them to the woman when two other women grabbed her and pulled her to the floor, where they proceeded to gag her with tape and truss her up with rope.

Kendra's two underwear-clad friends were dragged over to the break room closet. The closet was only big enough to hold the two of them, so Kendra was dragged behind the large couch and ordered to stay quiet.

Helplessly, Kendra watched as the three black-clad women shed their clothing, donned the waitress uniforms they had successfully stolen, and exited the break room, shutting the lights, closing the door, and plunging the room into complete darkness.




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Catherine kicked a pebble angrily. "They can't fire us!" she fumed.

"Apparently, they can," Brie replied. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Catherine said. "But we've got to do something. Maybe issue a complaint."

"I don't think that's how the Secret Service works," Brie replied. "Once you're out, you're out."

"But we've only been part of the team for a few weeks! How can they fire us without giving us a chance?"

Brie shrugged, then smiled. "Listen, hon. We can complain about that Sue Ann b*tch as long as we want... but how about we do it over a nice, cold beer?"

Catherine smiled. "I'm so lucky to have you as a friend, Brie."

"You sure are."

Both women laughed as they headed towards the bar.

******************

The plane landed gracefully at Dulles International Airport. Kris and Maura were among the first to exit.

"Wanna see the Mall?" Kris asked excitedly.

"I don't believe it's what you think it is," Maura replied. "Let's first find our hotel and get settled in."

The flight attendants were the last to exit. Vera brought up the rear.

After making her way into the terminal, her eyes scanned the surroundings. The flight attendant uniform had been useful in getting her aboard the plane, but it was uncomfortable, to say the least. She needed to move to the next phase of her plan - and for that, she needed a new set of clothes.

Vera's gaze fell upon a female chauffeur near the terminal entrance. The woman was dressed in a black uniform jacket and knee-length skirt and a white shirt beneath a black tie. She wore polished, low-heeled, knee-high black boots, sheer black tights, and a pair of rimless sunglasses adorned her eyes. A peaked black cap was perched upon her blonde hair, which had been tied back into a ponytail. Her hands, clad in black leather patent handgloves, held a whiteboard sign on which was inscribed the words "VAN DOREN" in black marker.

Eyes gleaming with malicious intent, Vera approached the slim but well-endowed chauffeur.

"Excuse me," she said courteously. "Are you waiting for Stephanie van Doren?"

The chauffer looked surprised, then nodded. "Was she on your flight?"

"Yes, she was," Vera lied. "She stepped into the powder room to freshen up, and she asked me to fetch her chauffeur to help her carry her bags,"

The lady driver sighed. "One of those shallow rich types, huh? All right, lead the way."

Grinning broadly, Vera guided the chauffeur to the west end of the terminal, away from the hustling crowds, and motioned her into the powder room. The young chauffeur did not notice the "Closed for Renovations" sign that hung near the door. She entered the dark room, and Vera followed behind.

Had anyone passed by the supposedly empty powder room at that moment, they would have been treated to some rather peculiar sounds from within. Some crashes, a few thuds, and the muffled sound of a woman screaming for help... only to have that scream cut short. They would have heard the sound of a perfect set of teeth biting down on a hand and the angered scream which followed. They would then have watched as a uniformed lady chauffeur suddenly burst out the door as fast as her low-heeled boots could carry her... which wasn't fast enough, as the next moment, a hand grabbed her collar and forcefully yanked her back into the room.

Then, our imaginary passerby would have heard... silence. Perhaps just the faintest sounds of clothing being unzipped, boots being pulled off shapely feet, buttons being undone... then ropes being tied and tape being smoothed over full red lips. Were they patient, they would hear the faint sounds of cruel female laughter.

Fifteen minutes later, Flight 117 touched down at Dulles. Stephanie van Doren checked her watch as she descended the stair-car. Not bad, she thought, but nowhere near the ETA.

The elegant red-haired woman glided through the terminal, brushing some stray dust bunnies from her business suit. As she elbowed past a young couple, she was greeted with the sight of a tall, well-built chauffeur in a black uniform that seemed a couple of sizes too small for her. The blonde was holding a sign with "VAN DOREN" inscribed on it.

Stephanie approached. "Hi," she said. "I believe I'm the woman you're looking for."

Vera grinned. "You certainly are."

They headed out to the waiting limo. Moving with practiced ease, so as not to tear her skirt, Vera got behind the wheel. "Where to?" she asked her passenger.

"The hotel," Stephanie replied. "I need a moment to relax. I've got a big day ahead."

She did not notice that her driver had shut off the two-way radio that came equipped with the limo.

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Janet exited the Secret Service headquarters, trying to process all she'd heard. Sue Ann was taking the utmost precautions in ensuring the President's safety that day. Agents were instructed to work around the clock. Sue Ann had even taken the extra step of having three agents subdue and replace some waitresses at the restaurant where the President was planning to eat lunch. Nothing would be left to chance.

But Janet knew she was the prime variable. She had just entered the lion's den and emerged without a scratch. In fact, Sue Ann had promoted her to the head of her sector.

Janet knew her plan was risky. But she could pull it off. She knew she could.

Absent-mindedly, Janet fingered the stain on her jacket. She looked at it and frowned. Stains were unprofessional. Looking about, she spotted a dry-cleaners across the street.

Janet was all for handing in her suit to be properly cleaned, but she wasn't carrying any spare clothing on her to wear while she waited. Quickly formulating a plan, she skulked into a nearby alley and merged with the shadows.

She didn't have to wait long. After letting a few women pass by due to significant difference in size, Janet spotted a girl in a sleeveless red shirt, blue jeans, and brown riding boots. The tall brunette was texting on her phone and did not notice the growing, grinning shadow that loomed behind her.

With a "hmmmmppppphhhhh", the young woman was pulled off-balance and dragged back into the alley, where Janet's fists invited her into a deep slumber. Stripping off the woman's clothes, Janet was satisfied that they would make a proper fit, she changed into them, folding her Secret Service uniform up and setting it aside.

The insensible brunette was dragged into the deepest recesses of the alley, away from any passing eyes. Janet bound her with some discarded cord she found. The gag was constructed from the girl's own tights. Janet allowed the girl to keep her underwear, but that did not stop her from squeezing her into a metal garbage can and slamming down the lid.

"Pleasant dreams, beauty," Janet said in her most honey-filled voice. On her way out of the alley, she retrieved the Secret Service uniform and headed for the dry cleaners.

****************

The hotel was crowded, largely in part to the mass reservation from some Islamic women's support group. Women in full-length burkas wandered the lobby, making anyone else in the area feel at least a tad claustrophobic. The best place to get some space, then, was the pool.

Maura leaned back in her comfortable lawn chair and tried to relax. Yet despite wearing nothing more than a bikini, she felt restrained. Something was bothering her, and she couldn't figure out what.

"Mo, c'mon in! The water's lovely!" Kris called from the hotel's indoor Jacuzzi.

Maura sighed. She was about to rise from her chair when something made her pause. Glancing out the window, she saw a limo pull up to the front of the hotel. The chauffeur rolled down the window to speak with the valet.

Maura gasped. The chauffeur looked familiar... too familiar. In fact, she looked exactly like the flight attendant who had served them on their plane!

The chauffeur looked around, and her gaze caught Maura's eye. Maura quickly shrank back and turned around. She headed over to the Jacuzzi.

"You okay, Mo?" Kris inquired. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Maura didn't reply. But even more than before, she could see that something strange was going on.

Perhaps it was time she got to the bottom of it...

*****************

Andrea sat in her apartment's lounge chair, her feet propped up on the coffee table. Although she lived alone, the twenty-three-year old redhead would rarely be pressed to call her life "boring". Even now, as she sat reading an old Jane Austen novel, the girl's mind was racing with the need for sating adventure. Besides, she had work to do.

Andrea whipped out her cell phone and dialed a local number. After two rings, a male voice responded, "Pott's Pizzeria. How may we help?"

"Hi. I'd like a thick-crust pepperoni pie, delivered to 463 Seventh Street. Oh, and one other thing..."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Could you have Betty make the delivery? She's so efficient. I'd be willing to pay extra..."

"No problem, ma'am. Betty will have your pizza delivered in under 20 minutes."

"You're a dear. Toodles!"

Andrea hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, a tigress awaiting her prey... And she wasn't referring to the pizza.

Fifteen minutes later, a white van with its logo in bright gold lettering pulled up in front of Maura's flat. Out stepped a young woman in a red-and-white striped uniform shirt, red shorts, white sneakers, and a red baseball cap atop her ponytailed blonde hair. The girl delicately balanced a pizza box with one hand as she strode down the walk.

Andrea picked up a rag from the nearby table and reached for a bottle of chloroform.

Betty rang the doorbell. She rocked on her heels for a few moments before the door swung open.

Betty put on her brightest smile. "Thick-crust pepperoni! WHAT THE FU--"

She had no time to react as the grinning woman grabbed her collar and pulled her through the doorway. The pizza box fell to the ground as the door slammed shut.

"HELP! HEELLLMMMPPPPHHHHH!!!" The chloroform pad fit snugly over Betty's mouth and nose. A sharp intake of breath, and she began to suddenly feel woozy.

A soft, singing voice sounded in her ear.

"Rock-a-bye, Betty, have some chloroform/ It's not personal, I just want your uniform/ Once you're knocked out, you'll be gagged and bound/ Left nearly naked where you'll never be found."

Betty's eyes fluttered. Her windmilling arms began to slow. Her breathing slowed. A few more heaves and gurgles, and she was blissfully unconscious.

Andrea dragged her victim over to the sofa and lay her down. She kicked off her own trainers and removed her T-shirt and jeans. She stood now in just a white exercise bra and matching panties, the color standing starkly out against her dark skin.

Then Andrea turned her attention to the angelic form of Betty. Off came the sneakers, followed by the shorts. The shirt was unbuttoned and eased off alabaster shoulders. Betty's red bra and panties were on full display. Andrea licked her lips.

"Guess you're about ready for packaging, honey-pie," she mused. She flipped the unconscious woman onto her back and headed toward the kitchen.

A search of her closet uncovered a thin yet firm coil of white nylon. A used washrag was also hanging from a hook.

Andrea set to work. Her victim's arms were bent back behind her and crossed over the cheeks of her curved ass. One end of the rope secured her wrists together. Andrea took the other end and looped it around the girl's ankles. She pulled tight. Then she hooked the rope under the wrist-bindings and pulled again, bringing her ankles up to meet her wrists and confining the girl to a most uncomfortable hogtie. The washrag was stuffed between her cheeks, and some strong adhesive was used to keep it in place.

"Hope you're not afraid of the dark," Andrea chuckled as she locked the girl inside the cramped space of the closet.

It was the work of a few moments for Andrea to work her trim figure into Betty's shirt, shorts, and sneakers. She tucked her dark hair beneath the logo-emblazoned baseball cap. The uniform was an excellent fit, as she knew it would be.

Andrea exited her home and locked the door. She picked up the fallen pizza box from the ground and carried it back to the waiting delivery van. Tossing the box into the back, Andrea got behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Now the fun begins," she grinned to herself.




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Stephanie lay on her bedspread and perused her laptop. Having just gotten settled into her hotel room, she wasted no time getting to work. She had tipped her chauffeur generously, and had just now phoned Housekeeping to send a maid up to her room.

Fingers flying dexterously over the keyboard, Stephanie got to work. She hacked into the hotel's security feed and perused the camera footage. Then she gained the access codes to the various "Authorized Personnel Only" rooms. Stephanie committed them to memory, knowing it would be too much trouble to write them down and keep the paper on her.

A soft knock came at the door. Stephanie rose from the bed, nearly knocking over the black attache case which rested at its side. "Yes?" she called.

"Housekeeping," came the reply.

Stephanie strode over to the door and opened it. She gazed out at the Latina maid who stood there. The young woman was clad in a light blue blouse and skirt, a white apron, and sensible white flats. Her dark hair was pulled back into bun. Stephanie looked her over.

"You're just about the right size," she smiled.

Before the maid could think to respond, Stephanie grabbed her by her shoulders and yanked her into the room.

The maid tried to cry out, but Stephanie wrapped a viselike arm around her neck. She shut the door with her foot.

"Calm yourself, my girl," Stephanie whispered into the struggling maid's ear. "The less you struggle, the less it will hurt."

Whether the maid chose to heed her advice or was simply running out of oxygen was unclear, but in a few seconds, her struggles began to ease. They soon ceased - her arms flopped limply to her sides, her head lolled uselessly over her left shoulder.

Stephanie applied pressure for several seconds longer, then relaxed her grip. She dragged the maid over to the king-size bed and lay her down. Then she began relieving her unwilling "guest" of her uniform, beginning with the flats and carrying over to the apron, followed by the blouse and skirt. The maid wore a cream set of bra and panties which showed off her impressively feminine physique.

Stephanie fetched a towel from the bathroom and tore it into strips. These were used to bind the maid hand and foot. A spare scrap was stuffed into her mouth, which was then taped shut.

Stephanie dragged the maid into the bathroom and lowered her gingerly into the tub. She drew the curtain in order to give the young woman some privacy.

After exiting and locking the bathroom, Stephanie removed her clothes and hastily dressed in the maid's uniform. She picked up the small attache case from the bedside and checked her appearance in the full closet mirror before exiting her suite and hanging a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. Then she was heading down the hall to the elevator, having hidden the attache case in the folds of the squeaky-wheeled laundry cart.

****************

Catherine sipped the last of her drink before putting her head onto the table. "I'm a failure," she muttered.

"No, you're not," Brie replied. "You're a strong, capable, beautiful young woman."

"Like hell," Catherine replied. "I was just fired from the Secret Service... and I deserved it."

"No, you didn't," Brie replied. "You're an excellent field agent... Far better than that Marianne Cole girl."

Catherine sighed. "I'd never succeed at a field assignment. I'm too dumb."

Brie frowned. She happened to glance out the bar window at the bank across the street.

"Cath," she nudged her friend. "What say we put your practice field skills to the test?"

"Huh?"

"Follow me." Brie motioned for her friend to join her outside.

As they stepped out of the bar, Brie produced a wad of dollar bills from her pocket.

"Five hundred dollars," she declared. "I want you to have it."

Catherine was puzzled, but held out her hand to take the money. Brie promptly jerked her own hand back.

"Uh-uh, sweetie-pie. It's not that easy."

Catherine stared at her in confusion.

Brie pointed to the bank. "I want you to walk into that building, head into the diamond vault, and snatch up three gold bars. Take a photo to prove you've been there. Then exit the bank and give the bars to me. Do it all without getting caught or raising the alarm."

Catherine blinked. "What? But... there's no way I can do that!"

Brie held up a hand. "Easy, babe. Yes, you can do it. Not because of the money, but because you are a strong, capable, beautiful young woman."

Catherine was silent for a moment. Then a determined expression came over her face. "Three bars?"

"And one more thing," Brie smiled. "You've got to be in and out in twenty minutes."

Catherine was off. She circled around to the back of the building. Perhaps it would be easier to gain unnoticed access through a rear door.

She approached the side door and tried the handle. No luck. As she stood pondering her next move, the handle jiggled. Catherine gasped and quickly hid herself behind the outward-swinging door.

A female bank guard stepped out. The woman was dressed in a blue uniform shirt and black pants, along with polished black boots. A blue peaked cap sat upon her dark hair. The guard shut the door, but did not turn around and thus did not see Catherine standing a few feet behind her. She lit a cigarette.

Catherine tried backing away without making any noise, but she accidentally stepped on an empty soda can.

The guard turned and her eyebrows raised in surprise. Her hand went for her gun.

Catherine lunged desperately at the woman, determined to keep her presence at the bank a secret. The guard fell backwards, hitting her head against a pipe that jutted from the ground. She was out cold.

Catherine bit her lip. "Sorry," she whispered. "I know you were just doing your job."

She looked at the door out of fear that the rest of the bank's security would come barging out and begin shooting her. They did not. As she turned back toward the unfortunate guard, an idea entered her mind.

Five minutes later, Catherine was buttoning up the custom uniform of the bank's security staff. She fitted the cap over her hair and then bent down to pull on the boots. Once her disguise was complete, she turned to check on the underwear-clad guard, whose hands had been lashed to a pipe fixture. After making sure the woman would indeed soon recover unharmed, Catherine used her key ring to unlock the back door and slipped inside.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vera leaned against the parked limo, her pert rear resting on the hood. The parking garage was largely empty at this hour, which gave her plenty of opportunity to go over the details of her plan in her mind.

No doubt Stephanie had begun carrying out her own plan upstairs by this time. Vera had hacked into her file days earlier and learned everything that the private investigator was planning. For the moment, though, Vera could do nothing but wait.

A sound alerted her ears. Someone was watching her.

Vera pulled a compact mirror out of her pocket. She pretended to check her make-up, but was in fact looking over her shoulder. Yes, a young woman was watching her while hiding behind a Ford Pinto.

Vera kept quiet, her hand calmly and coolly reaching into her jacket. Her fingers closed around her gun.

In one swift move, Vera pulled the gun from her jacket and pointed it in the direction of the Pinto. To her surprise, however, there was no one there.

Vera heard the sound of a door slam. She cursed under her breath and headed toward the direction of the sound as fast as she could... which was not very fast, thanks to her constricting uniform.

Maura's heart pounded as she headed up the stairs. She didn't want to think about what the chauffeur would do to her if she were caught.

She entered the lobby and dodged past several burka-clad women in her quest to find a good hiding spot. She settled on a small anteroom situated away from the hustle and bustle.

Peeking out through a crack in the door, Maura could see the tall chauffeur enter the lobby, clearly on the search for her. She was now beginning to check the small rooms situated along the walls of the lobby.

Maura shut the door and headed for the anteroom's only window. To her dismay, it wouldn't budge. Panic began to grow inside of her. She grabbed a metal candlestick from the coffee table and pondered smashing the window.

At that moment, the door to the anteroom swung open. Maura nearly jumped from fright... until she saw it was one of the Muslim women from the lobby.

The woman was dressed in a full-flowing black gown. Only her hazel eyes were visible beneath the fabric. After shutting the door, the girl said something in a language which Maura guessed to be Arabic.

Maura didn't understand, but she didn't much care to. She was in danger of being discovered... and only as she looked at the burka-wearing woman did a plan form in her brain. A desperate plan, perhaps... but this was a desperate time.

A smile on her face, Maura slowly approached the girl. From behind the burka, the girl said something in an inquiring voice.

Maura didn't know what to say, so she just pointed to the left. As the girl turned to look, Maura swung the candlestick toward her head.

Vera approached the door to the anteroom. She gripped the knob and swung the door open.

A woman in a burka pushed past her on her way out the door. Vera gave her a brief glance, then turned her gaze toward the room. Empty, like all the others. Vera exited and shut the door.

Had she stopped to check the room's small closet, she may have been surprised. Situated inside the cramped space was a young Muslim woman, bound and gagged in only her pink bra and panties.

The burka was hot. But Maura didn't mind.

***************

Brie stood by the curb, fingering a lock of hair. She checked her watch. Two minutes to go. Perhaps she shouldn't have...

"Hey, there." A smiling Catherine approached, holding up her iPhone.

Brie's eyes widened. "You did it?"

"Sure did. See the pic? I even got myself into frame so you know I'm not lying."

Brie smiled, impressed. She held out the five hundred dollars, but Catherine shook her head.

"You restored my self-confidence, Brie. I can't take your money."

"Wow. I'm beyond glad." Brie embraced her friend. "So tell me... did you have any trouble getting into the bank?"

"Not really. I simply, er, borrowed a uniform from one of the guards, tied her up out back, and it was smooth sailing from there."

"Did you gag her?"

"What?"

At that moment, a woman's scream erupted from behind the bank.

Catherine winced. "Run!"

The two women made it three blocks before they were out of breath. Then they paused, looked at each other... and started laughing.

**************

Congresswoman Roberta Garrison sat in her hotel suite and studied her reflection in the mirror. Although in her late thirties, she was still fit, trim, and wrinkle-free. Her lush dark skin and jet-black hair signified a dazzling beauty, and her black business suit gave her a professional look.

A soft knock came at the door. Roberta straightened her tie. "Just a minute," she called.

She approached the door and swung it open. Standing there stood a maid dressed in the hotel's official uniform. The maid smiled. "Good day, ma'am. I'm here to replace the sheets."

Roberta gestured her and her cart inside. "Go ahead. I'm leaving in a few minutes, anyway."

"Oh? Where to?" the maid inquired in a seemingly innocent voice.

"Well, you know how the President will be delivering a speech at the local amphitheater? I'm supposed to be there. Preferably a few hours early." She looked in the direction of the mirror as she spoke. "It's going to be a game-changing event. I want a front-row seat." She laughed.

"Afraid I can't accommodate you there, dear," the maid said.

Roberta turned and was shocked to see the maid pointing a gun at her.

"What... what is the meaning of..."

"Do shut up," the maid said crisply. "And start wriggling your body out of that business suit. The faster you comply, the less painful I'll make your bonds."

"My suit? But... why would you want my clothes? Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm something of a freelance PI." Stephanie flashed two rows of white teeth. "I'm working a case, and it involves replacing and impersonating you."

"Replace me?" Roberta had begun unbuttoning her jacket, although her gaze did not waver from her assailant. "But... you don't look at all like me. You'll never pull it off."

"Let me worry about that," Stephanie replied. "You just concentrate on getting that ample derriere of yours out of those pants."

Angrily, but wordlessly, Roberta complied. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her pants down long, shapely legs. She then unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it on the bed.

"You're doing excellently," Stephanie stated. "Now for the tights.'

Roberta suppressed a sigh as she bent down to roll off her tights. She balled them up and tossed them at Stephanie's feet. Now the congresswoman stood resplendent in her lacy pink bra and panties.

"I suppose you want to steal my underwear, too?" she snapped.

"Not exactly," Stephanie replied. "Your panties will make for sufficient mouth packing, so please remove them. As for your bra... well, you might as well get completely naked."

Roberta glared at her, but she stuck her thumbs in her panties and shimmied out of them. Then she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting her last barrier of intimacy flutter to the floor.

Roberta's arm draped over her breasts to preserve her modesty, but a smiling Stephanie shook her head. "Sorry, darling. I'll need you to cross your wrists behind your back. The quicker we do this, the quicker I can stow you someplace where you won't be found for a while."

Roberta was trembling by now, but she allowed herself to be submissively bound hand and foot with white nylon rope and gagged with packing tape.

"Comfy?" Stephanie asked as she knotted Roberta's bindings to a crotchrope.

Roberta let out a squeal that assured Stephanie that no, she wasn't comfy.

"Que sera sera," Stephanie shrugged. She then stripped herself. Roberta kept silent as she watched her assailant cast off all her clothes until she was just as naked as her prisoner.

"Like what you see?" Stephanie winked. "Well, you haven't seen anything yet." So saying, she produced a small, filmy latex ball and held it up to the light. "Yes, this should do."

She proceeded to unroll the ball, letting the humidity of the air expand its shape, until it had taken on the appearance of a thin latex bodstocking.

Roberta watched, wide-eyed, as Stephanie stepped gingerly into the outfit, pulling it up her body and over her head an smoothing out every last wrinkle. She smiled in satisfaction. The latex had transformed the look of her skin from white to black.

A quick search of Roberta's closet revealed a dark wig. Stephanie cut up her own discarded stockings, then pulled one leg over her hair as a makeshift hairnet. The wig was then glued on top.

Stephanie slithered into Roberta's tights, uniform, and shoes. She then approached the dresser mirror and compared her reflection to that of the bound-and-gagged woman behind her.

"Perfect," she whispered.

She turned with a smile to the "mmmmppphhhhh"ing Roberta. "Rest up, dearest. And don't worry... I'll be sure to partake in that 'business transaction' you have scheduled for today." She had practiced her voice for months, and it was now an exact replica of that of the bound-and-gagged Congresswoman.

Roberta's eyes widened... both at the excellence of her assailant's disguise, and at the way she apparently knew about the Congresswoman's dealings.

As she was leaving, Stephanie hung a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob. Her footfalls faded down the hotel hallway.



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The pizza van silently pulled up in front of the large glass and concrete building. Andrea gazed up at the front entrance. The words "Takoma Aquatic Center" were spelled in silver lettering above the doorway.

Andrea retrieved three pie boxes from the rear of her van and, hands full, she casually strode up to the main entrance. She pressed the doorbell with her elbow.

The guard at the front desk glanced over her copy of "Designers Weekly". With a resigned sigh, she hit a button on her desk.

Andrea stepped through the door, a sunny smile on her beautiful face.

"What do you want?" the guard snapped.

Andrea studied the guard. She was tall, with short red hair and dark green eyes. She wore a black jacket over a blue uniform shirt, as well as a black skirt and glistening black tights. Her long legs were crossed and her shiny black low-heeled PVC boots were propped on the desk. A pistol was holstered to the belt around her slim waist.

"Pizza delivery," she announced in a voice inflected with a sense Valley Girl naivete. "One of the swim teams ordered lunch, y'know?"

The guard sighed. "How can those b*tches eat so much and stay so thin?" she muttered. "Leave the pies on the desk. I'll send someone to bring them up."

Andrea smiled sunnily. "I could totally bring them myself."

"Sorry, Hot Fudge. Members only."

Andrea frowned. She didn't like this guard very much, and was liking her less every moment.

"Fine," she said. "But could you just sign the order form?" She brandished a clipboard, and set it on the desk.

The guard sighed, but reached for a pen. "Where do I sign?"

"Right here." Andrea pointed to the bottom of the form.

The redhead bent forward, exposing the back of her long and pretty neck.

All it took was one perfectly aimed neck chop. The guard slumped onto her desk, unconscious.

Andrea wasted no time in dragging the unconscious guard into a nearby utility closet. She briefly pondered appropriating the woman's uniform, but the guard was several inches taller than she. Besides, she was already pressed for time.

A quick search of the guard's belt revealed two sets of handcuffs. One snapped about her wrists, the other around her ankles. The gag was a behind-the-cheeks washcloth and a strip of duct tape from the closet.

"Enjoy your day off," Andrea grinned as she locked the door.

She had, however, forgotten to remove the guard's key ring.

She reached the pool she was looking for with no difficulties. Peering through the wall-length glass window, she grinned. There they were - six young women in black bathing suits and white rubber caps, laughing and playing in the chlorinated waters. Some folded monogrammed towels nearby read "WWS".

The swimming coach sat on a nearby beach chair, lazily watching the proceedings. The woman was clad in a red swimming leotard, and wore blue goggles and a green swimming cap, from beneath which a few wisps of black hair could be seen. A whistle was tied with a string around her long neck, and a clipboard was tucked under her left arm. Her long dark legs were stretched out before her, ending in ten peach-painted toenails.

No one else was around. Andrea grinned. She stepped over to the small room where the fuse box was housed, taking care not to be seen by the women behind the glass.

Moments later, cries of frustration came from within the pool area. "What the hell?" "Where are the lights?" "Ow, watch your elbow!"

Then the well-proportioned coach set down her clipboard and stood up. "Ladies, calm down. I'll fix this. Be right back."

Slipping on a pair of white high-heeled sandals, she stepped elegantly out of the pool area and walked over to the fuse room.

"Ah, here we are." She smiled as she located the pool room fuse box. She reached for the switch.

A powerful hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her sudden cry of shock. She was roughly pulled backwards, her long legs flailing.

Andrea tightened an arm around the coach's slim neck, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. The woman struggled and mewled, her eyes wide behind her goggles. Then slowly, those same eyes glazed over, and her unconscious body gave itself over to Andrea's mercy.

With some difficulty, Andrea removed the swimsuit from the woman's body. The swimming cap and goggles followed.

Although disappointed that there wasn't much to strip off her victim, Andrea marveled at the sight of the coach's athletic yet statuesque figure. Then she grabbed some electric cables from the nearby shelf and began securing her victim's ankles and wrists. She crossed the bindings in a strict hogtie and used her panties and some moldy cloth for a cleavegag.

After shimmying out of her own attire, Andrea squeezed her voluptuous figure into the constricting red leotard. Tucking her hair beneath the cap, and slipping the goggles over her eyes, she did a practice strut and decided the swimsuit was indeed a good fit. The high-heeled sandals were also surprisingly comfortable. Draping the whistle around her neck, and blowing her unconscious victim a kiss, she switched on the lights and stepped out of the fuse room.

With the lights back on, the six young women resumed their fun, frolicking in the deep end with a beach ball. Their fun stopped, however, as a shrill whistle blast pierced its way across the room.

The girls looked up at their lifeguard standing at the pool's edge, hands on her hips.

"All right, ladies," Andrea said in her best imitation of the real lifeguard's voice. "Playtime's over. Time for some surface exercises."

The girls looked puzzled.

"One at a time," Andrea said. "I want you each to enter my office. I'll perform a quick physical to make sure you're fit for next week's tournament."

She picked up the clipboard. "Carrie!"

One of the taller girls waded out of the pool. The well-proportioned young woman followed Andrea to a small, windowless room at the side of the pool area.

Andrea ushered Carrie inside and shut the door with a smile. "Right, my dear. Now let's see about getting that uncomfortable swimsuit off, shall we?"

The girl had no time to react as Andrea locked her in a chokehold. She tried to cry out, but the hand over her mouth prevented that.

"Stop struggling, sweetie," Andrea whispered in the desperate girl's ear. "You're mine."

The girl moaned helplessly, her eyes wide in terror. But Andrea's grip refused to relax. Slowly, the girl's strength ebbed away, and she went limp in Andrea's arms.

Andrea stripped her victim naked. The swimsuit was used for hogtying purposes, while the white rubber cap made for sufficient mouth packing. The girl never stirred as Andrea dragged her behind the large oak desk.

Andrea poked her head out the door. "Sophie!"

Dealing with the next four girls was simple and routine for a professional like Andrea. She would invite them in, one at a time, and invite them to a not-so-pleasant sleepover, after which they would be stripped, bound, gagged, and added to the increasing pile of unconscious women behind the desk.

The sixth girl, however, was a more difficult contender. Ever the impatient type, she burst through the office door just in time to see the last of her fortuneless friends disappear behind the desk. The girl's eyes locked with Andrea's for a moment... and then she turned and ran.

Andrea cursed as she chased after the girl. "Give it up, honey curves. You're only drawing out the inevitable!"

Meanwhile, the redheaded guard had successfully freed herself, and was heading up the corridor, gun drawn.

Hearing noises, she turned the corner... and ran smack-dab into a swimsuit-clad girl with a frightened look in her eyes. The gun flew out of the guard's grasp, arced through the air, and fell directly into Andrea's palms.

"Thank you kindly," Andrea smiled as she pointed the weapon at the two dazed women, who immediately threw up their hands in surrender. "Looks like you got free, Red... Can't have that, can we? Looks like I'll have to resort to more drastic measures." She smiled. "Into the closet, both of you." She gestured with the gun. "I want all those clothes off. Hurry up, I feel an urge to scratch my trigger-finger."

Angrily, yet helplessly, the two women were herded into the closet. There, they performed an impromptu striptease, much to Andrea's delight.

"Excellent, dears," she smiled. "Simply captivating. And speaking of captives..." She tossed a roll of green tape to the swimmer. "Do be so kind as to mummify our dear security friend here. Make sure she'll be completely immobile. Chop-chop!"

"You b*tch," the guard glowered as the swimmer reluctantly taped her up. "You won't get away with this. The police will catch you..."

Andrea smiled. "The police have been trying to catch me for four years. No luck so far. Probably because I've never stood still long enough for them to get a clear picture of my face."

"You b*tch," the guard sobbed. "You fuuuummmmmppphhhhhhh." The swimmer stuffed the guard's mouth with her panties and smoothed the tape over it.

After ensuring the guard had been well and truly immobilized, Andrea hogtied the hapless swimmer, holding back some loose cords to use for crotch and breast bindings.

"You tried to escape," she explained to the teary-eyed girl, "so you get the royal treatment."

After dressing herself in the guard's uniform and tights, Andrea picked up both women, carrying one over each shoulder as she headed down the hall.

"Let's join your friends," she chuckled. "We're all about to take a little trip."

[esercito sconfitto]

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"You're amazing," Catherine laughed.

"No, you're amazing!" Brie countered.

"No, you're..." Catherine's voice trailed off. She looked across the street.

Brie followed her gaze. She frowned. "Oh, great. It's Princess Marianne. C'mon, let's go before she sees us."

"No, wait," Catherine said. "What's she doing?"

The woman they believed to be Marianne Cole was out of uniform and was chatting on a disposable cell phone. Brie and Catherine watched from seclusion and tried to hear, but all they made out was "disposing of the President" and "all according to plan".

The woman got into a red sports car and drove off.

Catherine turned to Brie. "Are we sure that was actually Marianne?"

"I don't know," Brie replied. "But whoever she is, it sounds as though she's planning to... assassinate the President!"

Catherine gasped. "Wh-what are we going to do?"

"Simple," Brie smiled. "We're going to stop her."

Janet was oblivious to the fact that she was now a conversation topic. She retrieved her uniform from the cleaners' and admired how well it had been pressed. She thanked the girl at the counter and left. Finding a nearby alleyway, she redressed herself, discarding her "temporary" stolen clothes.

Her radio crackled to life. "POTUS is on the move. Heading to lunch now. All units report to assigned positions."

Feeling the gun in her side pocket, Janet smiled. She returned to her car and drove off in the direction of the amphitheater.

*****************

Maura reached her room without incident. A swipe of her keycard, and she was inside.

Kris jumped. "Who... who the hell are you?" She reached for the phone to call security.

"Calm down, Kris. It's me." Maura whipped off her burka. "I had to... borrow... some clothes from another guest."

Kris sighed. "Mo, you are one strange girl." She smiled. "How about we get our picnic lunch ready? My stomach's starting to rumble."

"Good idea," Maura said. "The sooner we get out of this hotel, the better."

*****************

Vera frowned. She hadn't caught the little b*tch who had been spying on her earlier. Still, she mused, she reckoned she had given the girl a good enough scare that she would no longer interfere with her plans. She now sat in the driver's seat of her limo, perusing several hacked government files on her phone for what seemed like the hundredth time.

A text message buzzed in. Miss Van Doren was asking her to give a limo ride to a Congresswoman friend of hers, who would be down in the parking lot in a few minutes. Vera chuckled to herself. The Congresswoman, she knew, would be Stephanie in disguise. Vera had spent weeks studying Stephanie's case files and spying on her operations, and knew that one of her favorite mission techniques was to go in disguised.

Vera could relate, despite the fact that she often had trouble finding well-fitting clothes. Even now, her stolen chauffeur tights were riding up her crotch. Still, Vera grinned, she guessed things were worse off for the real chauffeur, who had been crotch-roped, as well as bound and gagged and locked away in the storage closet of a disused airport restroom.

The sound of footsteps snapped her to attention. "Congresswoman Garrison" strode up. Few would have been able to realize she was actually a white woman disguised, but Vera's trained eye never missed a trick.

She held the door open. "Good afternoon, Congresswoman."

Stephanie smiled inwardly. If she could fool her chauffeur, she could fool anyone. She stepped inside, going over the details of her plan in her head for what seemed like the hundredth time.

******************

"This looks like a lovely spot!" Kris beamed.

Maura looked around. They were in a rather scenic clearing in Seneca State Forest, not far from a large concrete amphitheater. Already she could see people filing into the amphitheater, after the uniformed female guard at the entrance checked their ID.

Kris had opted for a bright yellow ensemble that afternoon, with a sun-colored tank top and matching shorts, as well as white sneakers. Maura was dressed more conservatively, with a green button-down shirt and blue jeans, as well as brown riding boots. Both girls also wore ball caps and sunglasses.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Maura remarked to her friend. "There's probably going to be a lot of noise here soon. Lots of speeches, and public cheering..." She winced.

Kris rolled her eyes. "Mo, you are the literal definition of a stick-in-the-mud. You know that?" She spread the picnic blanket. "We get to have this nice clearing all to our pretty little selves, and we may even catch a bit of the President's speech! All without even paying."

Maura sighed, but said nothing. Part of her mind was still on that intimidating chauffeur. She also felt a pang of guilt over the woman she had subdued and stripped - even though, she rationalized, it had been a desperate time.

"Have a seat, Mo. I brought egg salad!" Kris grinned.

Maura managed her best smile - which admittedly, wasn't very much - as she sat down.

******************

Brie and Catherine rushed breathlessly up to the entrance to the amphitheater. The guard, a blond woman dressed in a dark blue uniform pantsuit and polished black boots, eyed them suspiciously. "Where's the fire, ladies?"

Brie caught her breath. "Special Agents Brie Carter and Catherine Benz. Open the gate."

"Let me see your passes," the guard replied tersely.

Brie prayed inwardly that Sue Ann had not deactivated their security codes as she and Catherine handed the guard their Secret Service passes.

The guard ran them through her computer, then frowned. "These aren't processing."

Brie's heart sank. She looked at Catherine despondently.

"Would you like me to notify your boss?" the guard asked.

"No! I mean, no, that's fine." Brie did not want any unnecessary conflict. "I'll just... we'll just go notify them ourselves."

Once they were out of the guard's sight, Brie turned to Catherine. "We're officially screwed."

"No, we're not," Catherine replied. "Why don't we just tell them what we overheard?"

"Cath, dear. We need to stop this Marianne impostor ourselves! That's the only way we'll get our asses out of the fire with Sue Ann." She scowled. "Maybe if we found some inconspicuous clothes..."

The sounds of young female laughter diverted her. They were coming from a nearby clearing. Peering through the bushes, Brie and Catherine noticed a pair of college-aged girls cheerfully enjoying a picnic. There was no one else in sight.

Catherine turned, smiling, to Brie. "Found some."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Kris and Maura sat chatting with one another when they heard a rustle in the nearby bushes. Turning, they saw two women in dark suits and ties step out of the underbrush.

"Hi!" Kris smiled. "You ladies look hungry. Can I interest either of you in some tuna fish?"

Maura shot her a look, then turned to the two newcomers. "Don't mind my friend. She's got a bit of an impetuous streak." She eyed the women's clothes, noting that they appeared to be Secret Service. "Is everything okay? Are we not allowed to picnic here?"

Catherine grinned slyly. "Oh, no, girls, there's no law against picnicking on these grounds... It's perfectly legal... So long as you pay the appropriate price."

"Price?" Maura asked. "What price?"

"Why, you clothes, girls. Start stripping, please." Catherine's eyes twinkled.

Maura stared at her in shock. "What the hell... What are you talking about?"

"Seems like you've got some hearing issues, Miss Gingersnap," Catherine said tartly. "My friend and I need your clothes and your student ID passes, so I suggest you both start wiggling out of your wardrobes. Don't worry... we'll hide you both someplace safe... bound and gagged, of course, but relatively unharmed."

Kris nodded, and began pulling off her tank top.

"What are you doing?" Maura whispered, shocked.

"They want our clothes," Kris replied as she kicked off her sneakers. "It's a weird request, but... clearly, they have a good reason for needing them. I can't just turn them away." She wriggled out of her shorts, and stood resplendent in her cream-colored bra and panties.

"The reason is that they're insane!" Maura snapped. "We need to call for... hhhllllmmmpppppfffff!!!!!!"

Brie had lunged at her, and now had her handgagged and in a sleeper hold.

Maura tried to fight back, but Catherine pinned her arms to her sides. Together, the two agents forced Maura to the ground.

Skilled a fighter as she was, Maura had been caught off-guard, and she didn't stand a chance. In forty seconds, she was unconscious.

Brie mopped the sweat from her brow. She turned and gasped.

Kris was sitting on the ground, and was currently in the process of binding her legs together with some fishing line. Once that was done, the college girl looked up.

"You'll have to bind my arms. I can't do it myself." She smiled.

Brie was speechless as she crossed the obliging girl's wrists behind her and began tying them. Meanwhile, Catherine began stripping off Maura's shirt, boots, and jeans.

"Be careful not to hurt her," Kris called.

Brie finally found the words. "Why are you being so helpful?"

Kris shrugged. "You seem like nice gals. You must have good reason for needing our clothes. I didn't want to disappoint you."

Brie smiled. "Thanks for understanding. And... I'm sorry. We both are." She smoothed a piece of duct tape over Kris' lips. Kris nodded in consent.

Once the pink underwear-clad Maura had been similarly bound and gagged, the two girls were dragged into some thick bushes where Brie and Catherine were reasonably certain they would not be found. Then they dressed in the clothing of their identity donors, complete with face-masking hats and sunglasses, and headed toward the amphitheater.

**********************

Andrea whistled to herself as she maneuvered the security van along the dirt road. The vehicle was more accommodating than the pizza van, and would be given more leeway at any checkpoints. After all, she mused, with the President in the area, she would need to take extra precautions in performing her job today.

A moaning sound alerted her. She glanced in the rearview mirror at the seven bound, gagged, and naked women piled up in the back of her vehicle. They glared at her, struggling futilely against excellently tied bonds.

"Sorry, girls," Andrea remarked. "But cheer up. I'm sure my client will sell you to some very rich Africans."

The girls moaned. Some sobbed. Andrea hummed to herself as she pulled to a clearing and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. A sleek black limo pulled into the clearing. A tall blonde chauffeur stepped out and opened the back door. Out stepped the woman Andrea had been waiting for.

Andrea jumped out of the van and headed over. "Congresswoman Garrison," she smiled. "An honor to do business with you."

The woman shook her hand. "Do you have the merchandise?"

Andrea nodded. "Seven beautiful bimbos, all packaged and ready for the white slave market. I trust you can send them all through back channels?"

The client nodded "They'll never be traced back to you."

Andrea grinned. "Around the back." She motioned the Congresswoman to follow her. "Voila!" She threw open the doors.

The seven girls gazed fearfully at their captor and her companion.

"You can inspect them if you wish," Andrea said. "No bruises, peak physical condition - six of them are Olympic-level swimmers, you see..."

"I think I've seen quite enough." Her client pulled out a gun.

Andrea gave a start. "Wh-what..."

The woman pulled off her mask. "Stephanie van Doren, FBI. I hereby place you under arrest."

Andrea gaped. "You... What did you do with Garrison?"

"She'll sleep it off," Stephanie smiled. "And she'll soon be joining you in prison. That's a nice security uniform you've got... I assume it comes with handcuffs?"

Andrea scowled. "You think I'll be caught so easily? You're crazy!"

"Maybe," Stephanie smiled, "but I'm the one holding the gun."

There was a soft Phht! and a small dart suddenly hit her in the neck. Stephanie gave a gasp of pain, and then crumpled to the ground.

Andrea turned to see the chauffeur wielding a tranquilizer pistol. She smiled at the muscular woman. "Thanks! You saved my - "

Phht!

Andrea fell, unconscious, just beside Stephanie.

Grinning, Vera stripped the two women and then dragged them over to a nearby thick tree. She bound them back-to-back, their arms and legs circling the trunk and intertwining each other. She gagged each with the other's panties and duct tape, just to ensure the two women would be too preoccupied to get free.

Once that was done, Vera squeezed her body into the tight-fitting security uniform before climbing into the van and grinning at the seven fearful women in the back. "Not to worry, ladies," she said. "I'll treat you very well."

A quick search of the glove compartment found a paper with a hastily scribbled address. Vera smiled to herself and started the engine.

*****************

"See her yet?" Catherine asked.

"No," Brie replied. "I think she's a bit closer to the stage."

Their disguises had gotten them through security, but it was tough to fight their way through the crowds in the amphitheater.

"We better hurry," Catherine whispered worriedly. ""Otherwise, someone else might stop her from assassinating the President - and we won't be heroes!"

Brie nodded. "Listen... You scout the crowd and look for anyone suspicious. I'm going to try to get onto the stage."

Catherine nodded. "But how?"

"There's always a way." Brie glanced at a nearby poster. Due to a last-minute scheduling conflict, the White House had hired a professional dance troupe to entertain the crowds before the President made an appearance. They were due to appear onstage in fifteen minutes.

Brie smiled. "And I think I've just found it."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing Maura noticed when she cam to was the cool breeze against her body. She was in her underwear - bound and gagged, with only a minimal level of slack in the rope. Nearby, Kris gazed at her nonchalantly.

"Mmmmmpppphhhh?" Maura inquired. She hated the way those girls had taken her down so easily, but more importantly, she hated how Kris had so willingly subjected herself to their will.

She struggled angrily against her bonds. No use. After several minutes of futile straining, she fell back to the grass, panting.

Something bright and pink caught her eye. She looked a bit closer. Could it be? A pair of stiletto high heels, concealed in the nearby bushes alongside her.

An idea entered her mind. With a bit of difficulty, she managed to maneuver herself over to the heels, and grasped one in her bound hands. Slowly, she began using the sharp end to cut away at the restraining ropes. Kris watched in silence.

After a few minutes, Maura was rewarded with the satisfying snap of frayed cord. With her hands free, it was a simple task to untie her feet and pull off her tape-gag. Then she turned to Kris.

"I ought to leave you trussed up here. We could've taken out those two ladies if you hadn't decided to be such a Good Samaritan."

Kris shrugged. "Mmmmpppphhh."

Maura sighed and pulled the tape off her best friend's mouth. "What?"

Kris took a breath. "I said you shouldn't be in such a bad mood. After all, we get to be damsels in distress!"

Maura raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, Mo," Kris continued. "This is the kind of adventure we need. All thrills and stuff."

Maura frowned, and carefully untied Kris' ropes. "The only thing I need right now is a new set of clothes. Preferably not a hot burka."

Kris grinned as she rubbed her wrists. "Perfect! And now we get to turn the tables and become more heroic damsels! We can..."

"Shh!" Maura put a finger to her lips. She heard voices.

Peering through the bushes, she spotted the large amphitheater. The guard had just admitted another pair of patrons through the entrance.

Maura's brow furrowed. She had to get inside the amphitheater and figure out what the hell was going on.

At that moment, two women stepped out of the exit. Maura studied them. They were cigarette girls, clad in red strapless dresses and short skirts, fishnet stockings, and red heels. The blonde and the brunette each carried a tray held by a neck strap and wore decorative red pillbox hats with gold bands. The attractive girls were chatting with one another as they exited the theater and headed for their car to restock on cigarettes, gum, candy, and dental floss.

A crafty smile played on Maura's lips as her mind began formulating a rather cunning plan...

**************

Janet stood near the back entrance as Sue Ann walked over.

"The President should be arriving any minute. Are you sure everything is in working order?"

Janet nodded. "Not to worry. It's all under control."

Sue Ann nodded. "All right. Now remember, the Star-Spangled Bannerettes will perform onstage for five minutes. Then the President will show up. You'll stay to the left-hand side the entire time, watching the crowd. If you see anything suspicious, take care of it."

Janet nodded again. "You can count on me, ma'am."

"I know I can," Sue Ann beamed. Her Samsung rang. She lifted it to her ear. "Hello? Yes, this is she. Ah, the President has finished lunch? Good... I trust you had no trouble finding waitress disguises... Excellent! You're a dear, Karen." She walked off, still chatting.

Janet felt the gun in her jacket. She was ready.

******************

Brie quietly made her way backstage, careful to avoid any Secret Service agents. Thankfully, security was minimal in the area, as the President had not arrived yet. She was approaching the door to the dressing room when the knob turned from the inside.

Brie quickly hid around the corner. Out of the door stepped five young women, all dressed in red-and-white striped leotards, blue hats, white tights, and red knee-high boots. The girls laughed and giggled with one another as they walked down the hall.

Brie peeked inside the room. Sure enough, there was a straggler - a tall blonde who was struggling to put on her boots.

Brie stepped inside. "Need some help with your uniform, darling?" She shut the door.

The inner walls of the amphitheater had been designed to suppress any sounds that may interfere with what was occurring onstage. So very few of the sounds of the poor Bannerette having her cares and worries painfully dispensed with for the day - along with the inevitable cries and pleas for mercy - escaped the dressing room.

*****************

The two cigarette girls idled by the trunk of their silver station wagon as they refilled their trays, oblivious to any noise nearby.

"This is so cool," the blonde grinned. "I'm getting some huge tips. We should cater more of these big events."

The brunette nodded. "Think it's because of our outfits?"

"Well," the blonde laughed, turning back toward the vehicle, "we're hot. Super hot. And these uniforms are pretty hot themselves."

The brunette was about to respond when a hand clamped over her cute mouth and an arm slithered around her trim waist. Her eyes bulged in shock.

"Guess we should be getting back inside, huh, Cassie?" the blonde smiled.

No response. The blonde turned just in time to see her friend's long, fishnet-clad legs sliding behind some bushes.

Uneasily, she took a step back.

"Going somewhere, hon?"

The blonde looked up to see a sandy-haired woman dressed in a blue bra and white Lycra panties perched atop the tree branch above her.

"I was kind of hoping you'd stand right there... so I could do this!" With a gleeful smile, the woman gripped the tree branch with both hands and swung downward, her long legs spread wide and speeding directly toward the cigarette girl.

The blonde opened her mouth to scream, but her cry never vocalized. Kris' legs wrapped around the girl's head, pressing her face into the panties.

The girl fell to the ground, with Kris right on top of her. The blonde tried to struggle free, but Kris kept her legs locked around her head with steely determination.

The blonde's nose and mouth were buried in Kris' panties. Her horrified eyes looked up at Kris' smiling face.

"Hope you're not wearing lipstick, sweetie... I'd hate to smudge my underwear."

The girl's face was turning blue. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her long lashes fluttered closed.

The brunette's upper half burst from the bushes as she tried to escape her fate. Kris watched with a triumphant grin as Maura's hand grabbed her hair and once again pulled her back into the underbrush.

The brunette's long, peach-painted fingernails dug into the soil, tearing little ruptures in the dirt. "No... no... please, I..." Her gasps were cut short with a THWACK.

Kris looked down. The blonde had at last slipped into unconsciousness. She got off the woman and checked to ensure she hadn't caused any permanent damage. Then she flipped the woman over her shoulder and carried her into the bushes.

"Awesome takedown, Mo!" she smiled, eyeing the unconscious brunette at her friend's feet. "I like your stealthy approach - Little Miss Beauty Queen never knew what hit her."

"Stop smiling, Kris," Maura replied "She's an innocent girl. I only hurt her because there was no other option."

Kris shrugged. "Suit yourself. Personally, I'm having fun." She bent down. "Now let's strip these hotties. I sure hope those lovely heels fit me..."

The two women worked diligently, divesting their unwilling victims of their dresses, heels, stockings, and hats. The clothing fit well, although Maura's breasts felt rather constricted. Still, Kris assured her that she looked lovely.

Maura glanced at the two white-underwear-clad beauties. "Guess we should tie them up."

Kris grinned slyly. "Leave it to me."

She dragged the women over to a large tree and had them each face one side of the trunk. She intertwined their arms and legs with one another. Then she retrieved her picnic blanket and tore it up into strips, which she then rendered into strong bondage ropes . She knotted the women's wrists and ankles together before gagging them with the remaining strips. She even made sure each girl's hands reached around the tree and rested on the other's breasts.

"Figure they should be allowed to have some fun," she explained to a speechless Maura.

After uprooting some ferns to conceal their two playmates and then retrieving and restocking their trays, the two women headed for the amphitheater.




----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brie opened the door of the dressing room cautiously. She peered out, making sure the coast was clear.

Satisfied that she had aroused no suspicions, she stepped back inside the dressing room and gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She struck a statuesque pose and admired the way the figure-hugging leotard and red boots complemented her body.

To be on the safe side, she unlocked the closet and looked inside once more. Inside, still unconscious, was the real Bannerette, gagged and bound to a chair. Brie had chosen to relegate the girl to a seating position, and had knotted her wrists to the armrests and her ankles to the legs.

The girl gazed up tearfully at Brie, whimpering into her tape-gag. Brie leaned over and stroked her cheek sympathetically. "Sorry for all this, honey. I really wish there were another way."

The girl's head drooped, and she sobbed. Brie tuned out the noise as she tested the chair bindings and ensured that the dancer would not be able to free herself. With a last look at the helpless maiden, she shut the door. The click-clack of her new boots faded into the distance.

************

Maura smiled appreciatively as the guard allowed her and Kris through the entrance. Their disguises were working perfectly.

"What now?" Kris inquired as they headed for the crowd.

Maura shrugged. "I'll take the left side, you take the right. Play your cover and serve refreshments. But keep an eye out for the two women who mugged us."

Kris saluted. "You're the boss."

"Uh-huh." Maura stepped away and headed into the crowd.

"Cigarettes," she called out. "Anyone care for a smoke?"

She winced saying that - after all, she had advocated against tobacco use numerous times in college.

"Maybe I should've mugged the popcorn girl," she muttered.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" an announcer's voice reverberated through the amphitheater. "Please welcome the Star-Spangled Bannerettes!"

From stage left, five young women pirouetted their way before the audience. The crowd cheered.

As the girls began dancing, a sixth one hurried out to join them.

Brie had taken ballet lessons in her younger years, but she was out of practice. She tried her best to mimic the other Bannerettes.

The brunette dancer next to her turned in a patented spin move and caught sight of Brie's face. She eyed her suspiciously. Brie turned away nervously.

In the fifth row, Catherine squinted. Could that dancer be... ?

So busy was she in discerning the dancer's identity that Catherine did not notice the cigarette girl rapidly nearing her row.

Maura was about to call out her "Cigarettes!" line once more when the woman in the aisle seat caught her eye. She gasped. The woman was wearing a green button-down shirt, blue jeans, and brown riding boots. Her face was concealed by a hat and glasses, but Maura could tell those were hers as well.

Angrily, Maura tapped the girl on the shoulder. Catherine turned.

"Yes, can I help... oooommmmffff!!!" Catherine's head jerked back as Maura's fist collided with her jaw.

With catlike instinct, Catherine reacted. She dove at Maura furiously.

Nearby spectators gasped as Maura and Catherine struggled in the aisle, each woman determined to gain the upper hand. Maura got Catherine in a headlock, but Catherine flipped her over onto the ground.

Kris was on the other side of the auditorium, too busy flirting with a guy in the audience to notice.

A pair of female security guards rushed over, grabbed Catherine and Maura, and hoisted them to their feet. The girls tried to struggle, and were tasered for their efforts.

The guards dragged the insensible girls off. One calmed the audience. "Nothing to see here, folks... Just enjoy the show and all."

The other put a handheld radio to her lips. "Get a squad car down here."

Two minutes later, the dance ended. The Bannerettes took a bow to rapturous applause. Brie was out of breath.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen... the President of the United States!"

"Hail to the Chief" played as the President stepped out onto the platform.

Brie glanced to one side. She gasped. There was Marianne! She was standing to one side as the President took his place before the podium... and reaching into her jacket.

It happened with the speed of thought. Brie charged directly at the woman she believed to be Marianne Cole, who had just pulled a gun from her inside pocket.

Brie launched herself at the woman, tackling her. Janet was stunned, but reacted swiftly. She brought the butt of her gun down on Brie's head, knocking the girl out cold. Then she aimed at the President and fired.

Pandemonium erupted. Janet got to her feet just as the President fell. She ran to the stage wings.

Sue Ann was horrified. She pulled out her own gun. "Stop, Agent Cole! You... ooommmpphhh!" She buckled over as Janet let loose a kick to her waist.

With the skill of an Olympic athlete, Janet climbed up the backstage wall toward the open roof of the amphitheater.

With the wind knocked out of her, Sue Ann couldn't get to her feet. But she summoned the strength to raise her pistol... aim... and fire.

The bullet whistled past Janet's left ear. She swallowed. Two inches to the right, and... But there was no time to think of that. She vaulted over the top of the wall.

The opposite side of the wall was a sheer forty-foot drop to the concrete below. But there was a banner... a large banner advertising the night's big event. Janet grabbed the banner's edge, which tore from its fixture. She swung, pendulum-like, toward the ground. She let go at precisely the right instant, breaking her fall in a patch of tall grass. Winded, she got to her feet. The guards would be outside within moments, ready to shoot her on sight. She ran.

As she passed a nearby lake, she dropped her wig in the waters. They would be looking for a blonde, and her dark hair could buy her a precious few extra seconds.

She flagged down the first car she could find, a blue Hyundai Elantra. The driver, a young blonde in a pink sweater and black pencil skirt, as well as sheer hosiery and shiny black heels seemed sympathetic and concerned for Janet.

"Are you all right, honey?" she asked, opening the passenger door.

Janet clambered inside. "Fine, thanks." She delivered a neck chop that sent the woman to slumberland.

The Elantra was maneuverable on dirt terrains. Janet appreciated this as she drove off the road and into a thickly wooded area.

Janet recognized the loveliness of the woman, and if circumstances were better, she would have undoubtedly taken an extra-long amount of time to strip her. But time was something Janet did not have. Once the girl's sweater, grey blouse, skirt, black heels and stockings had been removed, Janet dragged her to a small alcove not unlike the one she had stashed Marianne. She bound the poor girl hand and foot before gagging her with her tie and squeezing her body into the tight space of the cave. She rolled a heavy rock over the small entrance. Once that was done, she changed into the girl's own clothing, tights, and shoes and headed off.

Better refill on gas, she thought as she drove the car back onto the main road.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brie rubbed her head. Around her, people were screaming. She tried to get to her feet, but the throbbing in her head kept her insensibly grounded.

Slowly, things came into focus. People were evacuating the amphitheater. The President was lying on the ground, surrounded by guards who were bent over and examining him. Sirens could be heard in the distance, getting louder.

Brie scowled. She had let Marianne escape! How could she have been so careless? How would she ever be a heroine now?

Three ambulances pulled up to the amphitheater. The back doors of the first one sprung open, and a pair of paramedics jumped out. They helped load the President on the stretcher and into the ambulance. Then they sped off.

Brie watched the ambulance disappear into the distance. Then she noticed the paramedics from the other two ambulances were examining a few straggling patrons in the theater who had been hurt in the pandemonium. Slowly, she began piecing together a new plan.

A pretty Latina paramedic in a green jumpsuit, her dark hair tied back into a bun, hurried over to Brie. "Are you okay... Let me help you up."

Brie sized the girl up. They were roughly the same height and of similar build.

"I'm fine... but there's a girl backstage who's been badly hurt. She needs your assistance."

The paramedic jumped up and headed backstage. Brie followed, a sly smile playing on her lips.

The Latina looked around as Brie approached. "There's no one here. Are you sure there was a medical emergency? I don't see mmmmpppphhhh!"

Brie had the girl in a headlock. "Don't fight it, sweetie," she said, "or you'll be the one with the medical emergency."

The Latina hadn't a prayer. Brie made sure she was well and truly unconscious before releasing her grip and dropping the girl to the floor. She began stripping her swiftly and methodically.

"Wonder where Catherine is?" she muttered.

*************

Catherine glared at Maura, who glared right back. They both sat in the back of a police car, hands cuffed behind their backs. In the front seat, separated from the back by a metal grate, were two policewomen. The blonde and the redhead wore blue uniforms and skirts, peaked caps, and black heels. They gazed in the rearview mirror at the sullen women behind them.

"Got yourselves in a bit of a lover's quarrel, ladies?" the redhead smiled.

Catherine and Maura remained silent.

The redhead shrugged. "Guess you can both tell your stories when we get to the precinct."

Maura bit her lip. What had begun as a simple vacation was now turning into a potential prison stay. She had to escape... but how?

She felt a soft "clink" in the back pocket of her skirt. Curiously, she felt around. Her fingers closed on something metal.

Maura's eyes widened. It was a cigarette lighter. The cigarette girl she had mugged had been carrying it in her uniform... along with a few spare smokes.

Maura's eyes lit up as her busy little brain began cooking up a new plan.

Fingers working dexterously yet discreetly behind her back, Maura lit a cigarette. She then caught Catherine's eye and winked.

Catherine glanced behind Maura's back, then nodded. She opened her mouth.

Maura flicked the cigarette into the air. Catherine caught the unlit end in her mouth. Then she took a puff and blew straight through the metal grate.

The blonde driver's head was caught in a cloud of smoke. She coughed. Catherine blew more smoke. The driver wheezed, trying to regain her senses. The car spun out of control.

The redhead gasped. "What's going on... what are you..." The car ran off the road and skidded in the dirt.

The redhead swiftly shut off the ignition. Then she turned around and glared at Catherine. "You... you stupid girl... Are you trying to get us all killed..."

Catherine shrugged, and blew a puff of smoke directly in her face.

The officer's face turned the color of her hair, and in that moment of rage, she swiftly unlatched the metal grate and slid it open. She reached through the grate at Catherine.

It was her greatest mistake. Maura's legs whipped out and locked around the officer's arms. She pulled the officer over the seat and into the back with tremendous force. The woman's head collided with the shatterproof glass behind the seat. She was unconscious before her face hit the velvet padding of the seat.

Maura grabbed the key ring off the woman's belt and quickly found the right one.

The blonde had just recovered from her daze. She turned around just in time to find a grinning Maura pointing the redhead's Glock 29 at her forehead.

The blonde's mouth fell open. She threw up her hands in surrender.

Maura smiled coolly. "Excellent choice, officer," she said. "I'd hate for things to get any more violent. Now, I hope you don't mind, but my, um... partner and I will be commandeering your vehicle." She turned and smiled at Catherine, who smiled back.

"And a further request... we'll need your uniforms as well. Do be so kind as to strip yourself... and your partner, too. And don't try any tricks... My father was a Persian Gulf soldier, and I know how to use a firearm."

Swallowing hard, the blonde reached for the top button of her uniform jacket.

Twenty minutes later, Maura and Catherine were straightening the jackets, adjusting the caps, and stepping into the heels that comprised their new policewoman uniforms.

They sized each other up. "Perfect," Maura said.

"You, too," Catherine replied. "That was a great plan you worked out back there."

Maura shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure that Heidi and Shannon would agree."

Both women giggled as they glanced over to the trunk of the police car. Lying inside,, back to back, stripped to their white bras and panties, were the two officers they had just dispatched. They had been bound and gagged with yellow police tape - fittingly, their assailants agreed. They mewled helplessly, glaring at their captors with angry yet fearful expressions.

Maura slammed the trunk shut. "Rest easy, ladies," she said. "At least you won't have to file any more reports tonight."

Catherine glanced at her. "So... Listen, I'm sorry about earlier."

Maura waved her hand dispensingly. "Relax. I was a little uptight. But you know what?" She smiled at her newly acquired uniform. "This is turning into a pretty fun night." She looked up. "So... why did you need my clothes, anyway?"

Catherine blushed. "I'm a Secret Service agent... or was, anyway." She explained her story to Maura.

"Fascinating," Maura mused. "So the question is... what now?"

The radio in the police vehicle crackled to life. "All units, take note. The President has just been shot. He's being rushed to Webster County Memorial Hospital. All available units converge."

Catherine's mouth dropped open. "I... I'm too late... I failed." She bit her lip.

But Maura shook her head. "Look, if you want to prove yourself as a strong and competent Secret Service agent, there's no better way than by seeing this through to the end." She grasped Catherine's shoulder. "I think the President could use a couple more ladies to guard him. Whaddaya say?"

Catherine blinked, then smiled and nodded. "I say... Let's go."

They piled into the police cruiser and shot off. The two women in the trunk were bounced and jostled around, but Maura and Catherine paid no heed to their muffled cries.


The security van bounced along the dirt road, prompting gagged squeals of protest from the seven underwear-clad women tied up in the back. Vera ignored them and concentrated on her driving.

Her cell phone rang. Vera lifted it to her ear. "Hello, Janet... How did your half of the mission go?" She listened. "Excellent. I'm well on the way of handling my part. Ciao, darling." She hung up.

She glanced in the rearview mirror, grinning at her seven victims. "Looks like its time to go into action."

She pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. Then she smiled cruelly at the seven captives. "If you ladies want to live to see tomorrow's sunrise, you'll do exactly as I say. Listen closely.."

*************
The hospital was heavily guarded by all measures of Secret Service, but this proved no problem to Maura and Catherine. In uniform and in their police cruiser, they were allowed into the lower-level parking garage with no real fuss.

"That was easy," Maura remarked once they were inside.

"Yes," Catherine responded. "But getting around the hospital itself will be a different story. Sue Ann won't be happy about the idea of a pair of cops poking around - she prefers the Secret Service guard the President alone."

"So what do we do?" Maura inquired. "We've made it this far already..."

"Easy, girl," Catherine replied. "Let's just put our heads together."

As the cruiser rounded a corner of the parking lot, Catherine caught sight of a large white van with the words "Absolute Cleaning" painted n bright gold lettering on the side. Leaning against the front of the van were two maintenance workers, talking and laughing with one another. Both women were dressed in blue overalls over white cotton shirts, along with blue baseball caps and grey sneakers. One of the ladies had long blonde hair and a fair complexion; the other had dark skin with her jet-black hair tied back in a ponytail.

Catherine smiled. "I've got an idea. Follow my lead."

She stepped out of the cruiser and approached the two maintenance ladies. Maura followed.

The two janitresses looked up as Catherine approached. The blonde spoke. "Evening, officer. Something the matter?"

"Security check, ladies," Catherine responded in an authoritative voice. "After tonight's events, we need to run a double-check on all personnel in the hospital."

"But... we've already been checked," the dark-skinned woman protested. "Besides, d'you think we're just a pair of terrorists? That we knocked out the real janitors and replaced them?" She and her friend laughed.

But Catherine's face remained cold. "I'll need to see your ID papers, ladies."

The blonde sighed. "All right. They're in the back." She walked around the side of the van and opened the double doors in the back.

"You, too," Catherine told the pretty black woman.

Wit a resigned sigh, the second maintenance worker followed her partner into the back of the van. Catherine brought up the rear. She turned to Maura and motioned for her to stay put. Then, with a crafty grin on her face, she stepped into the back of the van, shutting the doors behind her.

Maura watched with a smile as the van rocked back and forth violently, the kicks and punches and cries for help effectively muffled by the vehicle's steel frame.

Catherine opened the back door and poked her head out. "Come on."

Maura obligingly entered the van, and was pleased to find that the two maintenance workers had been effectively relieved of their cares and worries for the day. Within a few minutes, they had also been relieved of their uniforms, spared only their pink sets of bras and panties. A quick search of the vehicle yielded a roll of brown packing tape, which was quickly put to good use. Maura and Catherine taped the girls' wrists together behind their shapely backs, similarly taped their ankles, and wrapped several lengths of tape around their elbows and upper thighs. Their mouths were filled with dirty washrags and sealed shut with more tape. Catherine then secured each girl's wrists to the other's ankles and left them there in the back of the van.

"That should keep them on ice for a while," she grinned.

"No doubt," Maura replied. "Now let's suit up!"

The girls shed their police uniforms and donned the janitorial outfits. They were remarkably good fits, straight down to the shoes.

"So far, so good," Catherine said. "Now, to the elevator!"

"You got a major plan here?" Maura inquired.

"As a matter of fact," Catherine said, "I do."

**************

Kris felt a bit dizzy. Perhaps it was the fact that she had inhaled too much smoke. Perhaps it was the fact that her stolen uniform was feeling rather restrictive around her breasts. But most likely, it was the fact that she was swept up in the craziness of the last half hour.

The amphitheater had been evacuated, and Kris now stood by the side, watching people talk nervously with one another. She caught snippets of dialogue - many of the civilians were nervous about the state of the President, and what was currently transpiring at the White House.

The White House. Kris bit her lip. Her adventure-hungry soul had always wanted to visit that place, particularly in crisis mode. But now she likely wouldn't get the chance.

As she began wondering what had happened to Maura, the sound of screeching tires hit her ears. Looking up, she saw a SWAT truck pull up in front of the auditorium. The back doors burst open, and seven agents rushed out. All were female, tall and muscular, and looked rather threatening. The women wore black body armor, complete with elbow and knee pads, as well as sturdy black boots and gloves. Each wore a helmet and a ski mask that left only their eyes visible, and each brandished a submachine gun.

"Fan out, ladies!" cried the leader. "Search for evidence in the surrounding forest!"

The women split, each heading for a separate unexplored area. One of them, a tall woman with green eyes and an impressive chest and physique, brushed past Kris and knocking her off-balance.

"Out of the way, stupid girl ," the female SWAT officer snapped. "I've got work to do."

Kris watched, annoyed, as the uniformed woman disappear into the underbrush, away from her comrades.

Then, slowly, a cunning plan began to form in her brain. Smiling, Kris began to follow the unsuspecting officer.

[tirepanted]

"All right, troops, form up! Let's have one last rehearsal!"

Winona gazed over the seven majorettes who stood before her. The pretty nineteen-year-olds were all dressed in red and blue leotards and polished knee-high white boots. Their long hair - four blonde, two brunette, and a redhead - was tied back into ponytails. They all stood smiling just outside their gymnasium, before their similarly dressed instructor.

"Okay, ladies, we're gonna do one last go-round through the alleyways. I know they're dark and winding, but we've been practicing for weeks, and I trust that none of you will get lost. Ready?"

The seven girls cheered. Winona smiled. "Follow me!" She waved her baton and headed into the alley.

The girls were in high spirits as they practiced their routine over this most difficult terrain -marching, singing, and baton-twirling, they had not a care in the world as they moved, single file, through the narrow and twisting alley.

The last girl in line was the first to go. One moment the tall blonde was singing heartily, and the next, a hand had reached out from behind and stuffed a cloth in her mouth. Thus silenced, she could not cry out in alarm as a pair of hands grabbed her wrists and yanked her sharply down a side alley. Before she even knew what was happening, the girl was clubbed unconscious with her own baton.

Even as the first assailant was stripping the first Majorette of her leotard and boots, another woman was picking off the next girl in line and whisking her off into a deep slumber. And so it went - the third girl was plucked noiselessly from the line, then the fourth, and then the fifth. The attackers worked so quietly that none of the girls ever knew what hit them.

It was only upon reaching the sixth girl that trouble occurred. The girl was a particularly loud singer, so when her voice abruptly cut out, the seventh Majorette turned to see what had happened. She saw her friend flailing about with her baton, the silenced captive of another woman. The seventh girl's jaw dropped and she was about to scream - a scream that would have undoubtedly alerted the residents of the nearby upper-story apartments.

But as luck would have it, the sixth Majorette was so frantically attempting to fight off her captress that she didn't realize where she was swinging her baton. A swift uppercut from the baton's metal base shut the seventh girl's jaw and sent her off to slumberland, ending either girl's hope of being rescued. The seventh girl was quickly grabbed by the seventh assailant, who - not needing to cover the girl's mouth - gave her an affectionate pat on the rear as she pulled her into their designated side-alley.

Winona reached the end of the alley and finished singing. "There, wasn't that wonderful, girls?" She paused, then turned around. "Girls?"

She was alone - and suddenly afraid. "Th... this isn't funny, ladies. Not funny at all..."

Hearing a chuckle, she turned back to see a tall woman standing before her. "You're quite right, my dear. This whole situation is no laughing matter... for you."

Winona had no time to dodge the cloth that was shoved into her open mouth. She was quickly dragged back into the alley.

Vera stripped Winona and donned her leotard and boots. Her seven associates made their selection of attire and dressed accordingly.

The seven naked Majorettes and their equally naked instructor were bound with fishing line and gagged with packing tape. They were stashed in a half-empty garbage dumpster inside one of the side-alleys. The lid of the dumpster was shut tight and bolted in place.

Shortly, eight women exited the alley in Majorette uniforms and began marching down the streets. At the head of the line was Vera, smiling like the cat who had swallowed the cream.

**************

The SWAT officer shined her small flashlight over a small clearing in the forest. She peered closely at the ground, searching for any signs of footprints.

So engrossed was she in this task, in fact, that she failed to notice that footprints were being made right behind her... by a smiling young woman who at this moment was unbuttoning her cigarette girl uniform.

Kris slowly slid the uniform shirt off her own alabaster shoulders. The cloth was thick enough to muffle any potential screams. Kris mentally thanked the cigarette girl she had mugged for not opting for thinner garments.

Quiet as a lamb, Kris slowly crept up behind the unsuspecting officer. Closer... closer...

Overhead, an owl screeched. Kris gave a start. The SWAT lady whirled and was shocked to see Kris behind her. She glared at the girl. "What the hell are you doing?"

Figuring she had come too far to turn back, Kris smiled pleasantly at the woman. "Evening, officer. Sorry to trouble you, but... I really need your uniform."

The woman raised an eyebrow.

Kris continued. "Don't worry, I promise to take good care of it... Unfortunately, I'll need to keep you still and quiet. Can't have a naked SWAT officer running around these woods, can we?" She laughed.

The SWAT woman lifted her submachine gun and pointed it at Kris' chest.

Kris ignored her. "So, I'll just bind and gag you and hide you in some bushes while I assume your identity. It certainly won't be pleasant for you, but if you don't struggle too much, the crotch-rope won't bite in too far, and someone will probably find you in two or three days."

The officer pressed the gun between the two cups of Kris' bra.

"In the meantime, you can use your time to consider being a bit nicer to the women you bump into. And perhaps you can 'enjoy' the company of the two cigarette girls my friend and I replaced earlier in this evening and tied up behind those large ferns."She flicked her thumb to the left.

The SWAT officer's eyes darted away from Kris for a split-second -which was all the time the smaller woman needed. She swiftly brought a judo chop down on the woman's right elbow, forcing her to drop the gun. Then she delivered a few well-placed kicks to the officer's stomach. With each new blow, the officer felt more and more air leave her body.

With no opportunity to fight back, the woman sank to her knees. She grabbed desperately at Kris' ankle, trying to throw her off-balance, but the girl was too swift for her. Kris leaped up and over the woman, then wrapped the cigarette girl's shirt about her head.

Th officer bucked like a mule, but Kris held on tight. The shirt masked the woman's cries most excellently. Finally, Kris felt the woman beginning to tire.

"You've been a good sport, girlfriend. I'll finish this quick." With that, she delivered a solid neck chop below the woman's ear.

Kris dragged the unconscious officer deep into the forest and rubbed her hands together. "Now for the fun part."

Although pressed for time, she took special delight in removing the woman's impressive uniform. The weapons belt, steel-toed boots, and leather gloves were set aside. The bulletproof vest was removed with some difficulty, followed by the elbow pads, knee pads, and helmet. Kris rolled off the woman's skintight leotard, leaving her in a white bra and panties. The latter Kris removed to use as mouth packing, while the former simply because Kris felt that the bra was creatively decorated, and decided to hold onto it so she could shop for (or steal) one in her size.

The weapons belt contained some strong, thin rope, ideal for bondage purposes, as well as some duct tape to hold the woman's panties inside her generous mouth. Kris secured the woman facing a tree, then bent her arms and legs around the trunk and tied them on the other side.

"Hope you like the great outdoors!" Kris chuckled as she shed her clothes and donned the guard's uniform and armor.

Picking up the submachine gun, she ran as fast as her steel-toed boots would carry her back to the SWAT van. She was just in time, as most of the other women had already returned, empty-handed. Much to Kris' delight, no one saw through her disguise. She climbed into the van, found a seat between two of the other SWAT women, and watched as the driver shut the doors and hurried back to the cab. The van roared off, with none of its occupants suspecting that they now had an impostor in their midst.

[esercito sconfitto]

Winona gazed over the seven majorettes who stood before her. The pretty nineteen-year-olds were all dressed in red and blue leotards and polished knee-high white boots. Their long hair - four blonde, two brunette, and a redhead - was tied back into ponytails. They all stood smiling just outside their gymnasium, before their similarly dressed instructor.



happy 4th of july mr.Tirepanted

[tirepanted]

Thanks, but the story takes place in the spring.

[tirepanted]

The green jumpsuit was a bit tight around the chest, but Brie ignored the discomfort. The disguise she had procured had successfully gotten her aboard one of the ambulances which now sped through the city streets. Besides, she mused, her discomfort was still considerably less than that of the unfortunate Latina paramedic, who now lay bound and gagged inside a utility closet back at the amphitheater. Brie guessed that the woman had by now awakened to find herself stripped to her pink panties and bra and was trying uselessly to free herself. But Brie wasn't interested in the luckless paramedic - tonight, she had more important things on her mind.

The ambulance screeched to a halt just outside the hospital. The two other female paramedics jumped out and headed for the entrance. Brie followed.

She stopped short when she saw those two paramedics being carded by security at the gate. Brie swallowed. Her skin was clearly whiter than the woman on the ID photo she had stolen, and the guards would immediately see through her ruse.

Thinking quickly, Brie ducked around the corner and headed for the back entrance of the hospital.

Peering through the bushes, she was delighted to see a trio of nurses on the back patio of the hospital, chatting and smoking with one another.

After a few minutes, the brunette and the blonde stood up and headed for the back entrance. They swiped their passkeys and disappeared through the doors. The redheaded nurse remained.

Brie sized her up. The girl was dressed in a white button-through blouse and knee-length white skirt. She wore off-white tights and soft-soled white shoes. Perched atop her red bun was a petite white nursing cap. Brie gave the young lady a once-over and determined the two of them were about the same size.

So it was that just as the nurse had taken one last puff from her cigarette, she was suddenly handgagged and dragged backwards toward the concealing bushes. She moaned and struggled, but to no avail, and was quickly swallowed up by the shadows. Then came the "thwack, thwack" sound of a heavy tree branch bouncing repeatedly off a tight hairbun, and the girl was down for the count. Brie stripped her to her underwear, and then quickly shed her own clothing and slid into the warm tights and uniform.

Some nearby clothesline provided good bondage material, and the gag was some gauze from an abandoned first aid kit. Brie left the woman concealed in the bushes and headed for the doors. She swiped her freshly appropriated passkey and entered.

*************

Sue Ann checked her watch as she stood in the cold hospital corridor. Just a few feet away was the operating room, where several doctors were operating on the President. Sue Ann scanned the perimeter for any signs of trouble, but the only things she had noticed were a guard talking on a cell phone and a pair of female maintenance workers heading toward a janitorial closet. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Sue Ann mentally kicked herself for not stopping the President's shooter earlier. Although she was forty-two, she still considered herself a strong and powerful Secret Service agent, so to be upstaged by the Marianne Cole impostor was a crushing blow to her ego. Sue Ann tried to relax, however - at least the evening couldn't possibly get worse.

At that very moment, the corridor was plunged into total darkness. Sue Ann's eyes widened, and her hand went to her gun. Suddenly, a sweet-scented cloth was clamped airtight over her nostrils and mouth. Sue Ann tried to pry the dominating arm loose, as her mind quickly registered that she was being chloroformed. But it was no use. Her cries of "Hllllmmmmppppfff! Hlllllmmmmmmmfffff!" were successfully muffled by the thick cloth, and her shoes could gain no purchase on the well-polished hospital floor. Quickly, her younger and stronger assailant dragged her back into a supply closet.

Dropping the now-unconscious Sue Ann onto the floor, Maura mopped her brow. She dusted off her maintenance uniform and looked up. "You sure this is a good idea?"

Catherine smiled. "It's a great idea. Start stripping her!"

"But... she's your boss," Maura said as they began removing Sue Ann's dark jacket and tie.

"Ex-boss," Catherine corrected as she unlaced the woman's shoes. "But if this plan works, she'll not only rehire me... she'll promote me to the head of the Service!"

Working together, the two women divested Sue Ann of her pants and shirt, her silk white slip, as well as her wedding ring, earrings, and wristwatch.

"The devil's in the details," Catherine explained.

Once Sue Ann was down to her white bra and pink panties, Catherine threw her clothes to Maura. "Get dressed. Hurry!"

"But... do we really look that much alike?" Maura questioned.

By now, Catherine was binding Sue Ann hand and foot with flex and gagging her with tape. "No... but that's not such a bad thing," she smiled.

Resigned, Maura began dressing herself in the slip, uniform, shoes, and jewelry of the Secret Service agent, while Catherine stuffed the bound-and-gagged Sue Ann into a small cabinet beneath the utility closet's wash basin.

**************

The SWAT van roared through the streets, the uniformed female driver acing every curve. The seven women in the back held on tight - particularly the disguised Kris, who was beginning to feel a little weak in the stomach.

"Stay strong, girl," she told herself. "Heroines don't get carsick."

Abruptly, the van screeched to a halt. Kris raised an eyebrow. They were nowhere near the White House yet.

"What's going on?" the leader asked the driver.

The driver simply pointed. "A group of girls crowded around on the road... It looks like one of them has been hurt."

Kris looked. There were Majorettes - seven of them, plus the troop instructor. She squinted - why did the instructor look familiar?

"Best lend them a hand," the SWAT commander said. She flung open the back doors, and the women piled out.

Kris remained. Her feminine intuition was telling her that something was wrong with this picture. She peeked through the small tinted window on the side of the vehicle.

"What seems to be the trouble?" the SWAT leader inquired as she and five of her associates, as well as the vehicle's female driver, approached the Majorettes.

The Majorette leader grinned broadly. "Nothing... now that our change of clothing has arrived."

The SWAT soldiers were caught entirely off-guard. A series of fists and feet quickly rendered them unconscious, their waning cries for help unanswered by the lonely city street.

Kris quickly hid from view. Obviously, she would need a change in plans...

Vera clapped her hands in delight. "Excellent job, ladies. Now each of you, pick a girl your size and start stripping!"

The assailants set to work, relieving the beautiful SWAT agents of their uniforms. One Majorette, however, was unsatisfied.

"Eight of us... but only seven uniforms," she mused.

"Check the back of the van," Vera advised. "There may be a spare uniform under the seat."

The blonde associate nodded, then skipped over to the back of the van, out of sight from her friends. She peered inside.

Before she could blink, Kris' arm shot out and grabbed her collar. "Come into my parlor," Kris purred as she yanked the woman inside.

The van rocked softly back and forth as the young woman was rendered hastily and not-too-painlessly unconscious.

Kris divested the girl of her Majorette uniform and tore the garment into strips. These she rendered into useful bondage ropes. She bound the woman hand and foot, before gagging her cute mouth with some leftover cloth.

Footsteps approached. Kris quickly stashed the girl in the cabinet beneath the seats before shutting the door with her foot.

Vera approached, fully uniformed. "Ah," she smiled at Kris. "I see you've found a uniform."

Kris nodded. She decided it best not to speak, lest her voice reveal her as an impostor.

"Let's go, ladies," Vera called to the other six women, who were now fully uniformed - five as SWAT members, one as the driver. "It's time for the next phase in Operation: Overthrow."

As the engine started, Kris' mind began racing again. She had just become embroiled in some incredible conspiracy - and she was the only one who could stop it.

[rufusluciusivan]

If I let nostalgia speak, The Greatest Actress of All would be my favorite Tirepanted stories, but if I don't, I guess that The Spy in Sunglasses would win by a tiny margin (equally placed with All tied up and nowhere to go).

It has the same strengths than its predecessors, but I think that the style has improved again. Once again, I love the amount of details and of variety in the situations and in the descriptions (of the abductions, of the strippings, of the state of the victims afterwards...). All types of uniforms are stolen and it's a marvel to read. Once again, the stories cross path and the interactions between the characters are what make them interesting. (I especially enjoy the duo Kris / Maura).

[esercito sconfitto]

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[rufusluciusivan]

Since esercito sconfitto revived a few old threads, I'm using the occasion to ask a question I wanted to ask for quite some time: I was wondering if one day there would be a continuation to this story?

[tirepanted3]

Lately, I've been devoting all my writing time to the Spacesuit saga (when I have time to write at all). And I've grown attached to those characters and storylines over time, more so than previous stories I've written.

However, I could see myself returning to "Spy in Sunglasses" someday. It's been nearly four years since I last posted a chapter of this story, so I'd need to reread the story and re-familiarize myself with the characters. But if people are interested, perhaps I could finish the story at some point. No promises, though.