Volume 3: Ladies Night

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tirepanted3
Posts: 1934
Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2017 11:40 am

Volume 3: Ladies Night

Post by tirepanted3 »

Melissa leaned back in her large office chair and closed her eyes.

She felt the cool breeze from the fan against her olive skin. The soft ripples in her raven-black hair. The slight ruffles in her slate-grey power suit.

She considered propping her high heels up on her desk, but, not knowing if any unwanted visitors would enter her office, decided against it. As one of the most successful businesswomen in the state of Florida, she needed to appear collected and professional at all times.

Her cell phone buzzed. Melissa opened her eyes and smiled. Right on time.

She lifted the phone to her ear. "Is everything ready?"

A deep female voice responded. "Just about. We go into action tonight."

"Excellent," Melissa smiled. "Is there anything I should know before you begin?"

"Just let us take care of everything," the woman replied. "Continue your day as if nothing's out of the ordinary. And tell no one you hired us."

"Of course," Melissa nodded. "Good luck, Sloane."

"Just have the money ready," came the cold response. The woman hung up.

Melissa leaned back in her chair once again. It was a risky plan... perhaps the riskiest she had ever formulated. And of course, it wasn't exactly a legal one. But that was not her concern.

She wanted money... wealth... power. And if her plan succeeded, she would get all of them in spades.

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

Maxine tapped her foot impatiently as she stood at the curb. What the hell was taking so long?

Crossing her arms over the chest of her blue microfiber pantsuit, and shaking a few strands of red hair out of her eyes, he checked her watch again. The limo her employers at Vito Investments had commissioned was supposed to have arrived ten minutes ago. At this rate, she would not make the meeting on time.

She was about to call the limo driver and give her a few choice words when a pair of headlights flickered into view. A sleek black limousine pulled up to the curb.

"About damn time," Maxine muttered as she opened the rear door and slid inside. "You're late, you know. Don't expect a tip."

The driver, a blonde woman in black uniform and cap, smiled at her through the rearview mirror. "Sorry for the delay. Had a little difficulty convincing the driver to loan me her uniform."

Maxine stared at her strangely as she buckled her seatbelt. "What?"

At that moment, a black-clad figure sprang up from the space behind the backseat and pressed a damp rag over Maxine's nose and mouth. With a muffled "HMMPH," Maxine was jerked back. She tried to struggle, but a swift yank on the seatbelt by her assailant locked it in place, thus restricting her movements.

"Pipe down, sweetheart. And don't worry... We're the good guys."

Maxine felt the energy drain from her. A few more heaves and gurgles and she lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Strip her quickly, Cora," the driver said. "She wasn't lying when she said we were late."

"Keep cool, Diane," her friend replied. "It's a standard pantsuit - shouldn't take long to get it off her body and onto mine."

Cora was correct. A mere six minutes later, she had fully dressed herself in Maxine's suit and heels.

Diane, meanwhile, had tightly bound and tape-gagged Maxine, who now lay in just her lime-green silk underwear. "That should hold her."

The duo carried the well-secured Maxine over to the back of the limo and popped the trunk. Inside lay an unconscious woman with dark skin and purple underwear. She had been bound and gagged just as thoroughly as Maxine was.

Diane rolled the real limo driver to one side of the trunk and Cora dropped Maxine in next to her.

"Thanks for the disguises, girls," she whispered. "And trust me... we're the good guys."

"You keep saying that," Diane noted. "Are we really the good guys? We just mugged and stripped a pair of innocent women. Doesn't seem very admirable."

"But we're doing it for a good reason," Cora replied. "They'll thank us when they wake up."

"No, they won't."

"Whatever! Let's go. We're already late."

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

The nightclub was unusually crowded, even for a Saturday night. Dozens of young men and women ate, drank, and danced to the low music. Pretty waitresses in skintight silver outfits carried drinks from one table to the next. The bright lights overhead contrasted sharply and invitingly with the dark night outside.

Lucille shielded her eyes slightly as she entered the club. A dark-haired, wiry woman in her mid-thirties, she turned her nose at the soundtrack playing over the nightclub's speakerphones.

"New Age trash," she murmured.

She moved forward into the club, flanked by a pair of well-built female bodyguards in white sweaters, black pants, and sneakers. Sonja, an icy blond Russian, and Chandra, a tall, tan Indian. The two women moved in lockstep behind their boss.

Lucille navigated her way through the crowd, closer to the club's bar and away from most sober ears. "I'm having second thoughts," she said.

"Ma'am?" Sonja asked.

"This is not a good place for a private meeting. Especially not one that could be worth millions. Lots of prying eyes around. Someone could be eavesdropping on us."

"Shall we leave?" Chandra asked.

"No," Lucille said stoically. "The phone call said to meet here, and there's too much money at stake to back out now. And we'll be meeting in a private back lounge, so there's less chance of anyone listening in."

She looked around suspiciously. "Still, I didn't get where I am today without being cautious. My intuition says that someone in this room - perhaps more than one person - is a spy from a rival company."

Sonja looked around the room. "There are more than a hundred people here," she noted. "It would be impossible to identify all of them."

Lucille nodded. "Perhaps... but there must be some way to try."

At that moment, a woman's voice from the nearby bar made her ears perk. "Excuse me? Do I look like I'm under 18?"

The voice belonged to an older woman trying to order a drink. She did not seem happy.

"I'm sorry, miss," the female bartender said. A tall woman with blonde hair tied in a professional bun, she was dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt with black bowtie, red waistcoat, black skirt, and shiny black heels. "Saturday night policy. Everyone ordering alcoholic beverages must show ID. The club makes us keep track of how much our patrons are drinking. Legal purposes."

The woman grumbled, but handed over an driver's license. The bartendress checked it and entered some information into a small laptop computer on her desk. "Thank you, miss. I'll have your drink ready in a moment."

Lucille eyed the laptop for a moment. Then a cunning smile spread across her lips. She turned back to her bodyguards. "The club's computers will have info on nearly everyone in the nightclub tonight. Maybe we could cross-reference the names in the system with the employment lists of our corporate rivals."

Chandra nodded. "Good thinking. But the club won't allow us to look at their files. They probably limit access to employees only."

"Yes... Employees only..." Lucille said. She eyed the blonde bartender, who was busy polishing a row of glasses.

Lucille beckoned her bodyguards to lean in close. "Chandra," she whispered craftily, "that bartender looks about your size."

Chandra smiled. "Indeed she does..."

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

"All aboard!"

The train conductor flipped open her golden pocket watch and eyed the time.

"The late-night express is departing in precisely two minutes!"

Most passengers had already boarded, but a few late stragglers hurried to make the train.

The conductor watched them enter approvingly. A tall, chestnut-haired woman in regal blue, gold-buttoned uniform jacket and pants, with matching peaked cap and black sensible shoes, she had the unenviable job of ensuring that the trip from Orlando to Miami ran smoothly and without incident.

As the last patrons boarded, the train whistle sounded, and the doors closed. Before long, the engineer had it rolling out of the station.

It was the conductor's job to walk through each car and inspect every ticket, to ensure that there were no unwanted guests on the train. First, however, she retreated to the luggage car at the back, to grab a quick smoke and prepare herself for the long night ahead.

She maneuvered herself around the large suitcases and duffel bags and found a comfortable spot to stand. She lit a cigarette and began puffing nonchalantly.

From behind her, a large black suitcase began to shake ever-so-slightly. Then it began unzipping, seemingly on its own.

A pair of legs extended from the suitcase, quietly touching the floor. Slowly, smoothly, the rest of the woman's body slid out of the suitcase, untwisting itself with nary a sound.

Adelaide stood up straight, stretching her lithe, trim figure, swaying her hips until the muscles once again regained their firmness. Though she was quite skilled at bodily contortion, it was always a relief when she could once again move about freely in the open air.

A wisp of cigarette smoke blew past her face. Without meaning to, she coughed.

The conductor whirled in shock. She saw the catsuit-clad woman and opened her mouth to cry out.

Adelaide's foot quickly closed the conductor's mouth, and sent her to the floor. The conductor lay there, out cold.

Adelaide breathed in relief. Close call. She'd have to be more careful in the future.

Stripping the conductor was difficult, as the train car wobbled along a particularly rough track. Still, Adelaide moved skillfully, taking caution not to tear the uniform as she worked it from the woman's prone body.

Once the conductor was down to her beige bra and panties - an anticlimactic color, mused Adelaide - she was bound with tape from a shelf in the luggage car. Adelaide wound more such tape over the woman's peach-painted lips, entrapping her long hair in the process.

On went the uniform, shoes, and cap. A decent fit, considering the uniform had obviously been tailored for its original owner. A bit tight in spots, but if she played the part convincingly, no one would notice.

Adelaide folded the real conductor into a ball and shoved her into the suitcase, zipping it up tight, but leaving the woman with just enough air to breathe. She pushed the suitcase behind some larger bags; no one would view it as anything other than another piece of luggage.

As Adelaide prepared to exit the luggage car in her new disguise, she felt a pang of concern eating at her. What if she was wrong? She had been playing a hunch in assuming her target would be on this train. If she turned out to be incorrect, she'd be stuck on this train for the next two hours, having botched a valuable job.

Adelaide shook her head. "Chin up, girl. This has gotta work."

So saying, she adjusted her cap and headed forward.
Last edited by tirepanted3 on Fri Mar 15, 2024 5:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
FeMilImpos
Posts: 247
Joined: Thu Mar 03, 2016 4:00 pm

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by FeMilImpos »

Looks like another great story!
rufusluciusivan
Posts: 1224
Joined: Thu Feb 02, 2017 5:08 pm

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by rufusluciusivan »

A promising beginning. Loved the scene with the conductor, and I'm impatient to see what will happen in that bar.
tirepanted3
Posts: 1934
Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2017 11:40 am

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by tirepanted3 »

Glad you're both enjoying it so far.

And don't worry, you won't have to wait long for the bar scene... ;)
tirepanted3
Posts: 1934
Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2017 11:40 am

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by tirepanted3 »

Prema hunched over her desk as she surveyed the employee hours for the day.

She sipped her coffee as the computer screen continued to process new accounts, and casually glanced at her watch. It was going to be a long night.

Still, Prema didn't mind the extra work. Following the arrest of Meredith and Lucinda two weeks earlier, Dennison Drilling had been forced to rearrange its management from the top down. Prema had been promoted from ground-level employee to workplace supervisor, in part due to her help in capturing her larcenous bosses. It was a job she was all too happy to accept, especially following the chaotic events that had destabilized Dennison.

Prema was not a power-grabber, but she appreciated her increased responsibility. Not least because it kept her in the office, away from fieldwork. And her last time in the field had led to her kidnapping at the hands of one Bridget Baxter. Prema wrinkled her nose; how she despised that woman.

A knock came at the office door. "Enter," Prema said offhandedly.

The door opened, and in walked Nita. The young redhead was formerly Meredith's secretary, but had been pulling multiple jobs since her employer was jailed.

"Good evening, Miss Khatri," she said. "Just letting you know that the security team has arrived."

Prema smiled. "Perfect. Tell them to clock in and get started immediately."

Even before she had taken the job as work supervisor, Prema had noticed a distinct lack of security on Dennison grounds. A little Googling had found her the name of an all-female security firm (male guards, to her mind, were lazy and unreliable), and she had placed a call to them. The firm's prices were expensive, but the added benefits - particularly during nighttime - were worth some extra spending from the corporate budget.

The gates were opened, and in marched a dozen tall, athletically-built women, dressed in black body armor, helmets with face-concealing visors, and tall combat boots. Several Dennison employees stepped back as the twelve security guards stepped toward the building.

The team leader, an ice-blonde woman named Alex, turned to her cadre. "All right, ladies, take positions. Keep weapons handy and radios on."

The women fanned out, each heading to another position in or outside of the building.

Prema watched from the window. She felt safer already. These women were trained professionals, the website had said. They were ready for any trouble.

Prema returned to her computer, not at all anticipating the trouble that would befall Dennison that night.

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

The blonde bartender had been juggling drinks for several hours now. After serving a particularly fussy couple, she glanced at her watch. Time for a break.

She stepped away from the barroom, locking the door behind her. She headed for a side exit marked "Employees Only."

Stepping out into the alley, she breathed in the crisp night air. The nearby dumpster had an unpleasant whiff, but it hardly registered in the cool breeze.

"Lord, what a night," the bartendress murmured. "Wish I could nap the rest of it away."

"That'd be my cue," chuckled a voice from behind her.

The blonde turned to see a tall, almond-skinned woman advance from the shadows. "Sleep time, my girl," she said.

The blonde opened her mouth. Whether it was to ask a question or to scream never became clear, for Chandra quickly shut her jaw with a strong uppercut. The bartendress was unconscious before she hit the ground.

Chandra blew on her fist. "Damned if white girls don't have the hardest chins," she mused. "Oh well... Let's get you out of that uniform, shall we?"

Off came the bowtie, waistcoat, and shirt. Chandra removed the woman's heels, then slid her skirt down off her legs. This left the bartender in her salmon-pink bra and panties, as well as a pair of black tights. After a moment's consideration, Chandra chose to remove the tights as well.

"Devil's in the details," she explained to her unconscious victim.

Within minutes, Chandra was buttoning the crisp white shirt up to her neck. She donned the waistcoat and straightened the bowtie. Finally, she slipped the tights over her legs, pulled the skirt over her waist, and slipped her feet into the heels. They pinched, but only slightly.

"Glad I'm not planning to walk much in these," she mused, tying her hair back into a professional bun.

Using a roll of duct tape Lucille had given her, Chandra tightly bound the bartender's wrists and ankles. Some tape over her mouth would keep her quiet. After testing the bonds, Chandra picked up the blonde and carried her over to the dumpster.

"Enjoy your nap," she whispered, dropping the woman in. She shut the lid, propping it open just enough for the woman to breathe. Then she returned to the side entrance and slipped through.

Getting behind the bar, she covertly spoke into her wristwatch. "Sonja, I'm in position. Will let you know if I find anything..."

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

Karima drummed her fingers on the table impatiently. She stared blankly out her window at the starless sky.

A lot of things were going well for her. The Bombshelles, along with Malika, were behind bars. Dr. Chen was gone, presumably forever. And she had a new job lined up for the night ahead.

But something still bugged her. Perhaps it was that Zuhal was still alive. Perhaps it was that Bridget Baxter had not yet received her comeuppance. Perhaps it was the threat of a new group of freelance bombers that had emerged in recent weeks.

A knock at her office door, and Sabira stuck her head in. "Hey, boss. Everything's prepped. We're just reviewing the plan."

Karima nodded. "I'll join you in a minute."

Sabira nodded and exited. Karima took a deep breath.

Whatever the reason for her anxiety, she forced herself to ignore it. There was a busy night ahead.

She stepped out of her office and surveyed her squad. Sabira and Nadyne were seated at the center table, going over the night's plan with Haleema and Yasmin.

Having lost two of her previous henchwomen, Karima had thought it best to recruit some new ones. Haleema was tall and strapping, with high cheekbones and short black hair. She added some much-appreciated muscle to the team. Yasmin was shorter but still athletic, her ponytailed dark hair and youthfulness belying her expertise in munitions.

"Evening, ladies," Karima said, causing all four women to look her way. She smiled, pushing any doubts to the back of her head "Shall we be off?"

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

"There have got to be some bigger uniforms around here," Whitney muttered.

"There aren't," Cassandra replied. "Squeeze your ass into that one and let's get moving." She had already donned the skintight orange jumpsuit over her ebony body and was now lacing up the accompanying red boots.

"These outfits are so ugly," Whitney complained, ruffling her hair as she rolled her own newly-acquired jumpsuit over her alabaster legs. "Orange hasn't been a thing since the late 2000s."

"This isn't a fashion runway," Toshiko said from the doorway. "Just suit up. We're on a time budget."

Another factory worker strolled down the hallway, marking off some notes on a clipboard. Toshiko's arm encircled her neck, pulling the startled woman into the side room.

Whitney sized up the new arrival as Toshiko put her in a sleeper hold. "See, that woman's about my size. Can I have her uniform instead?"

"No," her friends replied in unison.

The factory worker lost consciousness, and her tall Japanese assailant began stripping her.

Whitney finished zipping up the uniform, ruffling out her hair once again. "Well, that was a picnic."

"Great job," Toshiko replied dryly, rolling the underwear-clad woman over to her. "Mind tying this one up while I get dressed?"

"Sure, why not." Whitney reached for the roll of duct tape.

Before long, the unconscious woman had been securely bound and gagged. Whitney dragged her over to the closet to join her two friends. By unusual coincidence, all three workers had worn pink bras and panties that day, although one had a slightly darker shade than the other two.

"Guess they can have fun admiring each other's wardrobe when they wake up," Whitney smiled as she shut the door.

"Hilarious," said Toshiko, who was now fully dressed in her new uniform. "Come on, girls, let's go. We're already behind schedule."

The three women exited the room and headed down the hallway.

No one stopped them as they entered a door marked "Authorized Personnel Only." Nor did anyone notice when they exited the building ten minutes later, with Cassandra very carefully carrying a small black box beneath her arm.
esercito sconfitto
Posts: 7096
Joined: Tue Jan 12, 2016 12:06 pm

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by esercito sconfitto »

a new story by Tirepanted is something of immense value to our board :D

knowing his style, we know that train will run for at least a whole year- what as moderator of this board and first fan of his saga and novels and stories I am really glad and happy of- :)

it means countless women or girls stripped of their clothes and stashed somewhere tied up in their undies! :lol:

...if only we knew where the train departed from... :?
rufusluciusivan
Posts: 1224
Joined: Thu Feb 02, 2017 5:08 pm

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by rufusluciusivan »

"Devil's in the details." A phrase which could apply to these first posts, as I like the little details you add to describe the scenes. ;)
tirepanted3
Posts: 1934
Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2017 11:40 am

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by tirepanted3 »

The music continued to pulse through the nightclub. The dim lighting made it difficult to navigate through the crowd.

Nevertheless, Bridget did her best. Dressed in a waitress uniform and balancing a tray of drinks, she weaved expertly through the dancing and drinking couples around her.

The skintight silver uniform was designed to draw attention; nevertheless, there were over a dozen waitresses working the floor that night. No one suspected that one of them was an impostor.

Bridget raised her watch to her lips and spoke into the concealed radio. "Next time, remind me to borrow an outfit that isn't so... circulation-restructing."

From inside a dark-blue tinted van parked in the corner of the nightclub lot, Felicia chuckled. "You look gorgeous, Bridge," she responded.

"Definitely a knockout," Bobbi agreed. She turned to the unconscious, underwear-clad blonde who lay bound and gagged on the van floor. "Ooh, sorry... Poor choice of words."

"When the real waitress wakes up, maybe recommend her a new career," Bridget radioed. "These uniforms are so degrading. Especially when you get chloroformed for one of them."

"Any luck spotting the target?" Felicia asked.

Bridget looked around. "Hard to say," she said. "It's a big place. Lots of people milling about. I'm going to try scanning the perimeter."

She maneuvered her way through the crowds, ignoring the stares of dancers and drunk patrons. One man whistled her way; she shot him a dirty look.

"Hey, watch it!"

Bridget bumped into a young woman in a tight purple dress, causing the ashy blonde to spill her drink.

"Clumsy bitch," the blonde glared at Bridget. "You almost ran me over."

The woman's friend, a honey-skinned woman with dark hair and a glitzy green outfit, chuckled. "Like I told you, Amelia. The service here sucks."

Bridget cleared her throat. "Apologies, ma'am. Would you like another drink?"

Amelia drew herself up and met Bridget's eye. "I could call the manager on you," she said with a wicked smile. "I've gotten waiters fired for less."

Bridget kept her cool. "There's no need for that, ma'am."

Amelia eyed her, then turned her heel. "Come on, Rachel. Let's find a corner of this dump where the losers can't reach us."

Bridget watched them leave, biting her lip resentfully. Then she continued maneuvering through the crowd.

Finally, she reached the bar. The bartendress, a tall Indian woman with a bob haircut, smiled at her. "Need to refill your tray?"

"Yes," Bridget said. She stared oddly at the uniformed woman. "What... happened to the other bartender?"

"Her shift ended," the woman explained, filling up some new glasses with non-alcoholic beverages. "I'm taking over for the night."

Bridget nodded as she placed the drinks on her tray. "Best of luck."

"Thanks, dearie," the taller woman smiled.

Bridget stepped away from the bar and spoke into her watch. "Something's up. The bartender shift is supposed to be an all-nighter. I don't think I'm the only one here working undercover."

"What's the plan?" Felicia asked.

Bridget looked around. "Lucille may have ducked into one of the back rooms. I'm going to try that area. But I need an extra set of eyes on the club floor."

Her gaze settled on another waitress - young, redheaded, freckle-faced, wearing a silver jumpsuit identical to hers. She looked to be about Bobbi's size.

Bridget approached the woman with a smile.

"Hi," she said. "There's a blue van parked illegally outside. The manager wants me to tell the driver to move, but I've got my hands full... literally."

The redhead nodded. "No problem. I'll take care of it." She headed for the exit.

Bridget radioed once again. "Bobbi, I'm sending another uniform your way. Try to get changed quickly."

"Copy that," Bobbi responded.

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

"Please have your tickets ready."

Adelaide moved slowly across the aisle, from one car to the next, inspecting each ticket. This gave her the opportunity to play up her disguise, as well as subtly inspect various passengers for signs of her target.

Most of the luxury cars were quite crowded, apart from one near the front that was empty - presumably due to a blown fuse. The lights and heat were off, and no one had bothered yet to fix them.

Immediately past that was the first-class car. Here, passengers stared at their phones, hardly paying her any attention. Most had their tickets out, and she moved cautiously through the aisle.

Finally, her eyes fell on one woman seated near the front of the car. She was dressed in a dark blue three-piece pantsuit and a pair of shiny black Louboutin pumps, and her blonde hair was tied into a tight bun. She wore a Rolex that cost more than most people made in a full year. Her blue eyes were currently fixated on an iPad, as her fingers swiped from one onscreen transaction to the next.

It had to be her. Adelaide approached with a smile.

"Ticket, please," she said.

The woman looked up. "Oh... Of course, dear."

She held out a ticket. Adelaide pretended to inspect it, but her eyes glanced at the woman's screen. The name in the upper right-hand corner - "Janelle O'Ryan."

'Ding ding, we have a winner,' Adelaide thought.

"Everything okay?" Janelle asked.

Adelaide cleared her throat. "All fine, madam. Enjoy your trip."

"Thank you." Janelle smiled and returned to her iPad.

Adelaide retreated to the rear of the car. When no one was looking, she slipped an "Out of Order" sign on the door of the car's restroom.

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

The redheaded waitress strolled through the cool night air to the far end of the parking lot. Sure enough, a dark blue van was there. It did not seem to be parked illegally, but who was she to question the manager?

The waitress reached the van. Though no one was in the front cab, she could hear dull noises coming from the rear. She strode up to the rear doors and knocked twice. "Someone inside? You need to move. Parking here is illegal."

The rear door opened, and a smiling Felicia stuck her head out. "Sweetie," she laughed. "Parking is the only legal thing we're doing tonight!"

The waitress caught a glimpse of another woman on the floor, bound and gagged in her underwear. She gasped. "What the hell is..."

The sentence went unfinished as Felicia grabbed her upper arms and pulled her up and into the van.

The doors shut once again, and the van rocked back and forth for several seconds. At last, it settled once again.

"Start undressing," Felicia said. "I'll get this outfit off her." She began pulling the silver boots off the unconscious waitress.

Bobbi nodded and began stripping. "Don't think I've ever been a waitress before. Hope the uniform is comfy."

Bridget's voice crackled in over the radio. "It pinches like crazy. But put it on anyhow."

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

Alex strode confidently across her sector of the Dennison compound. Employees tried to avoid eye contact with her - between her black body armor and two loaded guns, she was not someone to be trifled with.

Not that she needed the weapons - with her karate training alone, she had crippled men twice her size. She took crap from no one, and expected her girls to follow suit.

"Um... boss?"

Alex groaned. She knew that voice.

Turning, she sighed, "What is it, Eliza?"

The young women before her was dressed in a similar uniform, her long chestnut hair drawn up into a ponytail. Even behind her dark sunglasses, her soft hazel eyes betrayed her as the newest member of the team.

"I was... wondering if I could... switch sectors tonight? Y'know, Bianca always gets to patrol the southwest corner. I was wondering if I could trade with her... or maybe with Wanda? Y'know, a change of scenery?"

Alex scowled. "This isn't a sightseeing cruise, rookie. Do your damn job."

"But..."

"Get your ass back to your sector before I get annoyed," Alex said through gritted teeth.

Eliza gulped. "Y... yes, ma'am."

She turned and quickly walked off.

At this moment, Bianca was calmly patrolling the southwest corner of the Dennison perimeter. There wasn't much to guard in this area - it was a fenced-in section filled with crates that housed spare burrowing equipment. Nevertheless, it was her sector, and she paced carefully across it.

As she approached the edge of the perimeter, a distant loudspeaker crackled with a message for the factory's employees. Static noise made it difficult to discern the message. She turned and strained her ears.

It was but a momentary lapse of concentration, but one that would cost her dearly. A hand immediately clamped over her mouth, and she was pulled behind some spare crates.

"Stop struggling, bitch," a woman's voice hissed into her ear. "I need your clothes and weapons. Surrender and you won't be hurt."

Frightened, Bianca began bucking wildly, trying to shake her assailant.

"You were warned." The woman's arm encircled Bianca's neck and gripped tight, cutting off the blood to her brain. Bianca felt the oxygen seep from her head, and she grew dizzy... weak... silent.

Darla considered silencing the guard more... permanently... but it seemed unnecessary at this point. Instead, she lay the unconscious guard on the ground and began unzipping her uniform.

"This better be one-size-fits-all," she muttered.

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

Lucille had reserved the quiet back room earlier that day. The room was sparse but sophisticated - two satin chairs flanking a porcelain table, upon which sat a platter of mints and a tall bottle of sparkling water. Lucille sat comfortably in one of the chairs, while Sonja stood by the door.

"Any updates?" Lucille asked.

Sonja shook her head. "Chandra is working the bar, but she hasn't radioed in anything suspicious."

Lucille tented her fingers pensively.

"Perhaps there are no spies?" Sonja offered. "Just people enjoying themselves at a nightclub."

"Perhaps..." Lucille murmured.

A knock at the door made her sit up straight. "Ms. Weldon-Grant?" a voice asked. "This is Maxine."

"Open it," Lucille ordered, and Sonja quickly obliged.

In walked a red-haired woman in a blue microfiber pantsuit, holding a suitcase. Behind her in lockstep walked a blonde woman in a black chauffeur uniform.

"Maxine Ventriss," Lucille smiled. "Please, have a seat."

The redhead sat down across from Lucille. The blonde stood by the door, trying to avoid eye contact with Sonja.

"Let's get to business," Lucille said. "I suppose you've brought the money?"

Cora nodded, trying to look convincing. She placed the suitcase upon the table, facing Lucille, and opened it. Inside were several stacks of unmarked thousand-dollar bills.

"Be still, my heart," Lucille chuckled.

"Have you brought the files?" Cora asked. She was relieved that Maxine and this woman had only communicated through email - that saved her the trouble of having to imitate a voice.

"But of course." Lucille removed a manila folder from her attache case. "So many corporate secrets in these few pages. I expect you'll want to peruse them?"

Cora smiled. "Just for a few moments."

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

It was supposed to be a routine job.

Officers Lora Clarke and Violet O'Hara always handled the prisoner transport without any trouble. Both were strong, well-trained policewomen, able to handle difficult criminals even without the aid of their weapons. Their uniforms, consisting of blue button-downs, blacks skirts and boots, and dark jackets, marked them as women who meant business. They had been working together for nearly three years, and had never had a serious problem on the job.

They didn't think much when the chief assigned them to transport two female prisoners to the Lowell Correctional Facility. Just another night's work, driving across the long and winding upstate road.

But these were no ordinary prisoners. And one of them had proven herself an expert at escaping handcuffs.

So it was that halfway through the journey, the prison transport truck made an unscheduled detour into the woods.

And it was that Lora and Violet now sat uncomfortably handcuffed to a pair of large trees, their backs rubbing painfully against the bark. Stripped to their underwear and bound hand and foot, they tried crying out, a feat prevented by the thick tape over their mouths.

Instead, they could only watch helplessly as their two prisoners smilingly buttoned up the uniforms they had so recently possessed.

"I told you I'd get us free," Lucinda chuckled.

"That you did," Meredith replied. "I never doubted you, honey."

Lucinda fastened the watch she had stolen from Violet around her wrist. "It's late. We should get moving."

"Freedom," Meredith smiled. "Just you and me. We'll find some nice European country and settle in before the authorities can catch us."

"That we will," Lucinda said. "But we'll need money first. I have some bills stashed away in my office at Dennison... at least half a million, probably more."

Meredith's eyes lit up. "Sounds amazing. But... do we really want to go back there? What if we get caught?"

"We won't," Lucinda assured her wife. "Besides, being at Dennison will allow us to have another... conversation... with that Prema bitch."

Meredith scowled. "That traitorous little skank. I'd love to get my hands on her..."

Lucinda grinned as she laced up her boots. "Fear not, m'love," she said. "Revenge will be sweet."

So saying, she drew a finger across her throat, making a low guttural sound as she did so.

Both women laughed as they climbed into the cab of the prison transport vehicle, leaving their two uniform donors squirming helplessly in the cold.
tirepanted3
Posts: 1934
Joined: Thu Jul 13, 2017 11:40 am

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by tirepanted3 »

The van doors opened, and Bobbi jumped out. She winced as the tight waitress outfit dug into her waist.

"Bridget wasn't kidding," she muttered.

"She usually isn't," Felicia replied, not looking up as she continued to bind and gag the underwear-clad redhead. "Better get a move on. I'll keep our two guests from raising the alarm."

Bobbi nodded and headed off.

The nightclub had grown even wilder in the past thirty minutes, and Bobbi more than once found herself bumping into a tipsy patron. Nevertheless, once she picked up a tray of drinks and began striding around the perimeter, she immediately blended into the background.

She approached the bar with caution. The bartender, a tall Indian woman with dark bangs, was perusing a laptop on the counter. She looked up as Bobbi approached.

"Hi!" Bobbi smiled "Think you could give me some refills?"

The bartender eyed her suspiciously. "You have seven full drinks on your tray."

Bobbi blinked. "Er... so I do. Guess I didn't think it was full enough."

She quickly turned heel and walked off, suddenly nervous and trying her best not to spill any of the drinks.

Chandra's eyes narrowed as Bobbi headed off, striding awkwardly through the crowd.

She lifted her wristwatch to her chin and spoke quietly. "Sonja, be alert. Lucille may be right about there being spies in the area."

From the back room, as Cora inspected Lucille's documents, Sonja listened closely to her earpiece. "The spies might be posing as waitresses or other employees," Chandra's voice came through. "Don't trust anyone."

At that moment, there came a knock at the door. Lucille looked up with a start. "Give me back the papers!" she hissed to Cora.

Sonja opened the door, Diane behind her. Standing there was a tall black woman in waitress uniform, holding a tray of drinks.

"Compliments of the establishment," Bridget said with a smile.

Sonja was about to tell the waitress to get lost when Lucille's voice sounded behind her. "Drinks? Excellent! Come in, please!"

Bridget sailed through the doorway, ignoring the frigid look Sonja leveled at her. She approached the table.

As she set down the drinks tray, Bridget covertly checked that her watch was set on "Record." This backroom deal would make a juicy morning headline.

Cora glanced absent-mindedly at the waitress before returning her gaze to Lucille. "I believe we have a deal. I just need..."

She suddenly turned back to Bridget. "Wait... I recognize you!"

Bridget blinked. She stared at the indignant redhead, and then slowly started to recognize her. "You... you're not Maxine Ventriss..."

"What!" Lucille blinked. "Who the hell are you?" She immediately glanced at Sonja, and signaled not to reach for her gun. "I... think I should go."

"Wait!" Cora said. "We have to finish our work." But Lucille was already on her feet, brushing past Diane as she and Sonja headed for the door.

"Damn it!" Cora cried after they left. Then she grabbed Bridget's arm. "You! You ruined our operation!"

Diane glared at her and shut the door, trapping Bridget inside.

It had been two weeks since Bridget had seen the pair - tied up in her apartment closet - but they certainly hadn't forgotten.

Cora pulled out her police badge. "We were working undercover, and you ruined everything!" she said. "In fact, I still don't believe you're a real SWAT officer. Where's your ID?"

Bridget swallowed. Despite her penchant for careful planning, she hadn't counted on this. "I... I don't know what you're talking about..." As she spoke, she covertly pressed a little button on the side of her watch.

In the main hall, Bobbi's watch buzzed, thrice. The signal. Bridget was in trouble.

She noticed now that Lucille and her bodyguard were moving toward the exit. Lucille made a brief gesture to the bartender, who nodded and then stepped away from her post.

Bobbi quickly radioed Felicia. "I think the targets are on the move," she said. "You follow them, I'll find Bridget."

"Copy that."

Felicia exited the van and looked around the parking lot. It did not take her long to find Lucille's car - Bridget had memorized the make and license number when she had disguised herself as Lucille's driver a few months ago.

There was no driver in the car - presumably the bodyguards had driven her tonight. Felicia approached the car and weighed her options.

"Answer me," Cora hissed. "Who are you?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Bridget saw Diane reaching for her gun.

"Ladies, please," Bridget said. "We're civilized women. Let's talk."

"Then start talking," Diane said. "Before I... uggghh!"

The door flew open, knocking her to the ground and causing her gun to skitter across the floor. Bridget quickly picked it up and held it at Cora.

"Was hoping you'd show up," she smiled at Bobbi.

"We can never have a smooth assignment, can we?" Bobbi asked. As Diane started to rise, Bobbi felled her with a neck chop.

Cora glared at Bobbi. "You... you're one of the girls who mugged us... stole our uniforms!" she spat. "I knew something was up with the SWAT agents who freed us!"

"Yes, yes, congratulations," Bridget said impatiently. "Ladies, I'm going to ask you both to strip to your underwear now. We need to make sure you don't have any concealed weapons. Then my young associate will tie you up. Let's get to it, girls."

Cora glared at her. "You bitch, I'll..."

"Do as she says, Cor," Diane said, unbuttoning her uniform, eyes trained fearfully on her own gun.

Grumbling, Cora began stripping off her suit as well.

As they did so, Bridget turned to Bobbi. "Where's Felicia?"

"I told her to follow Ms. Weldon-Grant," Bobbi said. "Not sure how that's going..."

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

Lucille reached the Rolls-Royce in frustration, Sonja right behind her. "Goddamn it!" she muttered.

Chandra joined them, still dressed in her stolen bartendress uniform. "What happened back there?"

"We'll talk later," Lucille snapped. "Right now, we've got to move. Sonja, you're driving."

"How come she gets to drive?" Chandra protested.

"Because she wasn't standing next to large bottles of alcohol for the past hour and casually pouring herself shot glasses."

"Hey, I just had a few..."

"Shut up! Let's go."

They piled into the car and drove off.

Little did any of them know of the stowaway in their trunk.

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

Janelle's eyes scanned her iPad, rarely looking away. She still had plenty of work to do before her meeting, and was intent on arriving as prepared as possible.

Still, she mused, even the hardest-working businesswoman needed the occasional break. Perhaps a trip to the powder room would refresh her.

Standing up, she smoothed down her three-piece pantsuit, and strode over to the rear of the car. She wrinkled her nose at the "Out of Order" sign on the restroom door.

Annoyed but resigned, she opened the rear door of the car and stepped across the platform to the adjoining one.

As the door shut behind her, Janelle looked around. The car was dark and cold, and nearly empty. She spotted the ticket collector seated at the far end of the car, flipping through a paperback novel.

Adelaide looked up and smiled. "Ah! I was worried you wouldn't show. But I guess nature always calls on these long trips."

Janelle eyed her strangely. "Excuse me?"

"One moment," Adelaide said, returning to her novel. "Just want to finish this chapter. I just love mysteries, don't you?"

Janelle didn't know how to respond. She simply walked past the woman and entered the small restroom at the end of the car.

Adelaide continued reading, then slipped a bookmark between the pages and stood up. "Wish I had more time to read," she mused. "But I'm on the clock."

Thirty seconds later, Janelle exited the restroom. She was surprised to find Adelaide blocking her path.

"I'd like to get back to my seat," she snapped.

"Sorry, girlfriend," Adelaide said. "You'll be staying in this car a while."

Before Janelle could react, she felt Adelaide's stiff hand slam against the side of her neck. With an "ugghhnnn..." Janelle keeled over. Adelaide gracefully caught the woman as she fell.

After checking to ensure her victim was unconscious, but unhurt, Adelaide dragged her into the restroom for extra privacy. Not much room, but it would suffice.

Off came the woman's blazer, vest, and pants. Adelaide unbuttoned the woman's crisp white shirt and slid it off. The Louboutins were worked off, revealing peach-painted toes that matched Janelle's fingernails. The professional businesswoman was now dressed in a red-and-black checkered bra and matching panties.

As the train lurched around a turn, Adelaide steadied herself. "Better change quickly."

Fortunately, her speed and skill in donning other women's clothes was unmatched. She quickly changed into the white shirt, vest, and pants. She buttoned up the blazer and squeezed her feet into the heels. After a brief debate, she also slid the woman's Rolex onto her wrist. Details, details.

"Wish this place had a mirror," she muttered. Nevertheless, she did her best to tie her long hair into a professional-looking bun.

The luggage compartments were mostly empty, but Adelaide found some spare cables she could put to good use. They served as good binding material for the woman's wrists and ankles. Some thick paper towels from the restroom made for effective mouth packing.

Not wanting to restrict the use of another restroom, Adelaide hoisted the immobilized Janelle up and stashed her in the overhead luggage compartment. She grinned; those compartments were fast becoming her favorite hiding place for her victims.

Returning to the main car, Adelaide took Janelle's seat. As she'd suspected, no one paid her any heed. And no one noticed that she looked nothing like the woman who's sat in that seat a mere fifteen minutes earlier, wearing her precise set of clothing.

She leaned back in the comfy seat and sighed. A quick rest, and then it would be time for the real work to begin...

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

Lucille was fuming the entire trip.

"Someone," she growled. "Some traitorous ass set me up. Someone at Cerberus set me up... and when I find out who!"

Sonja and Chandra remained silent. They had learned from experience that it was best to let their boss air her grievances before returning to her office.

From inside the trunk, Felicia did her best to stay silent. Hard to do when the vehicle rode over a pothole every two minutes, but she tried.

Finally, the lights of Cerberus Chemicals came into view.

"We're back," Sonja announced.

Lucille thought. "Someone in that building is a traitor." She snapped her fingers. "Sonja! Don't enter the premises. Drive us to the woods behind the factory. I need to think."

Sonja obeyed. Felicia remained quiet, wondering what was up.

After Sonja had parked the car in a clearing, Lucille got out and began pacing.

"Someone in Cerberus knew I was taking that meeting... Must have informed the authorities. But how do we find out who?"

She turned to Sonja and Chandra. "You two... I need you to investigate. Be my inside women. Find out which of my coworkers set me up."

"But..." Chandra said. "But ma'am, we don't work for Cerberus. We're just your private bodyguards, remember?"

Lucille paused, then nodded. "True, true. You won't be allowed to just wander around the building." She smiled. "Wait here. I think I have an idea..."

Just outside the south exit of Cerberus were the dumpsters, which were currently filled to the brim with chemical waste products. At this moment, two employees were exiting the building to take out the trash.

Both women were tall and broad-shouldered, their strength emphasized by the heavy bags they carried. Both were dressed in standard-issue uniforms of blue-green jumpsuit, knee-high black PVC boots, and green baseball cap. One woman had a light complexion and red ponytail, while the other was dark-skinned with a black bob.

The women turned to reenter the complex when they heard a voice behind them. "Girls... ladies, help! Help, please!"

The workers turned to see a dapper woman in a smart business suit and heels running toward them. They quickly recognized her as one of the partners at their firm.

"Girls, please help," Lucille said, gasping for breath. "Some ruffians are trying to break into my car. I want to stop them, but I need some big... strong helpers. Please?"

The women looked at each other, then back at Lucille. They nodded and followed her beckoning finger, quickly racing ahead of her.

As they reached the clearing, both factory workers raised their eyebrows in confusion. Two women, about their size, stood beside the car, but neither was attempting to break in.

From behind them, they heard Lucille laugh. "Now, girls... As your superior, I order you to remove your uniforms."

The workers looked at her in confusion. Then they looked back at the two well-toned women, who were now advancing toward them.

"You heard the lady," Sonja grinned. "Strip off those clothes. Nice and peaceful."

The workers glared at the two bodyguards, then quickly rushed them.

"Looks like they don't want things to be peaceful," Chandra commented.

Sonja cracked her knuckles. "Lucky us."

The fight, such as it was, did not last long. Lucille watched in satisfaction as her bodyguards used their black-belt karate skills to dispatch the two workwomen.

Within moments, the two factory employees were down for the count, lying unconscious on the dewy grass.

"Let's go, ladies," Lucille said, tapping her watch. "Time's-a-wastin'. Strip these bitches and jump into their uniforms."

Obligingly, Chandra and Sonja knelt down, rolled the two women on their stomachs, and began unzipping their jumpsuits. They pulled off the tall PVC boots, then worked the suits down and off their bodies. This left the workers in their white bras and grey panties and woolen grey ankle socks.

"Not very interesting underwear choice," Sonja observed.

"If they'd known they were getting mugged, maybe they'd have chosen something more fashionable," Chandra quipped.

They began undressing themselves - Sonja removing her white tracksuit, Chandra shedding her bartender uniform. Then they quickly zipped themselves up in the jumpsuits. The material was a high-polymer fabric developed by Cerberus - thin and tight, yet still warm.

Sonja and Chandra pulled on the caps and boots while Lucille retrieved some cables and duct tape from the glove compartment. "Here, these should do the trick."

Sonja and Chandra's knot-tying techniques were given a workout as they skillfully bound the women hand and foot, then wrapped layers of tape over their mouths.

"Where do we stash them?" Sonja asked.

"The trunk seems like a good place as any," Chandra replied. She moved toward the Rolls.

From inside the trunk, Felicia held her breath. If she was discovered now...

As Chandra put her hand on the trunk, Lucille spoke up. "The car is company-owned. Can't have anyone in the factory stumble across these two jokers ahead of time. Drag them out to the middle of the woods and tie them to some trees."

Felicia exhaled. She was safe... for present.

Before long, the two workers had been safely secured and hidden well away from the factory grounds. Sonja and Chandra found a pair of all-access keycards in the uniform pockets.

"Good luck, girls," Lucille said. " I'll head in through the main entrance; you too enter through the back. Remember, keep a low profile. I doubt anyone will recognize you, but it's best not to draw attention."

Sonja nodded. "We'll let you know if we find anything."

Lucille nodded and strode off. Sonja and Chandra approached the rear entrance of Cerberus.

"So... what exactly are we looking for?" Sonja asked.

Chandra swiped her keycard. The door buzzed. "Guess we'll know when we find it."

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

Olive carefully made her rounds across the northwest corner of Dennison. She stifled a yawn. Another dull night at an incredibly dull factory.

"So not how life was supposed to go," she muttered.

She had joined the military nearly a decade ago, at the fresh age of nineteen. At the top of her class for several years, she prepared for plenty of combat in her future. Alas, a brief fling with a pretty blonde lieutenant had essentially ended her army career, and she was now stuck working in security.

Olive reached for her phone. "Wonder what the wifi password is around here..."

It was her last coherent thought of the evening. A judo chop from behind sent a numbing pain through her body. Her legs turned gelatinous, and she crumpled helplessly to the ground.

Scooping her up by the underarms, Cassandra dragged the unconscious guard behind a stack of oil drums.

She spoke quietly into her wrist communicator. "Northwest corner neutralized. How are you girls doing?"

"Ha!" Whitney's voice came in triumphantly. "Too slow, Cass. I had my guard knocked cold at least five minutes ago."

Indeed, across the perimeter, another Dennison guard lay unconscious at Whitney's feet, clothed in nothing more than her pink bra and high-waist white panties. Whitney was now in the process of squeezing into the woman's appreciably warm uniform and boots.

"Good for you," Toshiko responded over the radio. "But I'm afraid I have you both beat. Not that it's a competition, of course."

She was over at the western sector, having already donned a uniform and tying up the redheaded woman who previously owned it.

"Oh, you love beating us at these things, Toshi," Whitney egged. "Such a show-off."

A fourth voice suddenly cut in, its coolness betraying just a hint of menace. "If you girls are finished... I need you to get to work."

Whitney nodded. "Yes, boss."

"Stripping this gal as we speak, Sloane," Cassandra agreed. "I'll be there."

"See that you are," Sloane responded.

She lowered her wrist and turned to Darla and Marina. "Are we ready?"

Both henchwomen were similarly attired as she was - head-to-toe in black body armor, combat boots, and dark helmets with reflective visors. From afar, they were completely indistinguishable from the real Dennison guards; up close, their helmets would hide their identities.

"All set," Marina said. "Our uniform suppliers are all nicely packaged." She pointed to a trio of crates stacked at the corner of the warehouse. Inside each crate was a Dennison guard, stripped down to her underwear, bound with thick nylon cords and gagged with brown packing tape.

"All right, girls," Sloane said. "You know your jobs. I'll disable the alarm system. You two sneak into the vault and steal the package. Toshiko, Cassandra, and Whitney will plant the explosives."

"So funny that we're attacking Dennison," Marina said. "You guys get the irony, right?"

"I'm not in the mood for comedy," Sloane said. "Is your head in the game or not?"

Marina stood straight and nodded. "Yes, boss."

"Then let's go."
rufusluciusivan
Posts: 1224
Joined: Thu Feb 02, 2017 5:08 pm

Re: To Steal a Spacesuit, Vol. 3: Ladies Night

Post by rufusluciusivan »

And so with the reveal of the two undercover police agents the first twist of the story happens. ;) Perhaps it's only an impression, but it seems to me there are more detailed descriptions of the victims' aftermath compared to your previous story (one per post at least). Not that I'm complaining of course, because I really like these details! :D Some nice lines once again, especially the occasional one-liner after a victim's been mugged. Guess the story has reached its cruising speed, all we need is watch where all the plotlines will lead.
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