Volume 3: Ladies Night

[tirepanted3]

I think I wrote that scene before you posted the pic, but I definitely see the comparison. There's always room for one more.

[tirepanted3]

Toshiko maneuvered the van through the trees to the rear of the Hobson building, navigating past a pair of worn outhouses and parking behind a large generator.

"It's go time," Sloane said. "Ready, girls?"

"This is so boring," Whitney scoffed. "We mugged some Hobson guards and stole their uniforms a few weeks ago. Now we're just gonna do it again?"

"Not as much fun the second time around," Marina agreed.

Sloane glared at them. "Quiet, both of you. You will do the job, and I won't hear another word about it."

She glanced at the rear of the van, where the three captives were still helplessly gagged and bound. "Keep an eye on them. Darla, come with me. Let's get some clothes."

The two women exited the van and peeked around the side of the generator. Two guards stood at the rear entrance, flanking it on either side. About forty yards away, a third guard paced back and forth at the southwest corner of the fence.

Sloane motioned to Darla and pointed at the patrolling woman. Darla nodded and headed off, clinging to the shadows of the foliage.

The space between the generator and the rear exit was about fifty yards of field space, with little to provide Sloane cover. Worse, a floodlight from above illuminated much of the grounds beyond the exit. Sloane could not risk traversing the space without the guards spotting her and sounding the alarm.

As she weighed her options, a stroke of good fortune appeared. One of the guards, apparently feeling the need to "powder her nose," had left her post and was strolling to the outhouses beyond the glare of the light.

As the woman approached the latrine, the sound of rustling leaves perked her ears. She hadn't time to turn around before Sloane's arm encircled her neck.

"Hrrrrgghhh!" The guard's grunt went unheard as she was dragged back into the bushes, the dirt marks from her kicking boots leaving little trace. A quick THUMP, followed by a series of hushed unzipping and unfastening sounds.

The other guard stood bored at the entrance, eyeing the stars above. With a little practice, she had learned how to spot most of the constellations in the calendar. At this moment, she was trying to find Gemini.

From the corner of her eye, she saw what appeared to be her fellow guardswoman approaching.

"Hey, Kate... Pretty long bathroom break, wasn't it?" she smiled. "I was getting lonely."

As the uniformed woman stepped more visibly into the light, the guard gasped. "Who are you?"

Sloane's fist lashed out, connecting sharply with the woman's jaw. She smiled as the guard crumpled to the dirt.

As Sloane picked up the guard by her underarms, Darla reappeared, dragging the third unconscious guard by her collar.

"Any trouble?" Sloane asked.

"Piece of cake," Darla smiled. "Uniform looks good on you, boss."

"I suppose," Sloane responded. "But no time for chitchat. Let's get these bitches back to the van and figure out who can fit into their clothes."

Marina and Toshiko turned out to be the best fits, and were soon slipping into their new disguises - slate-grey sweater, black Kevlar vest, black pants and boots, black cap and Ray-Ban Aviators.

Meanwhile, the two real guards were now down to their underwear - peach-colored contour bra and panties for the redhead, mauve balconette bra and blue boyshorts for the blonde. They joined their brunette coworker, who was left in a more traditional white bra and panty set. But whatever their differences, all three guards were given the same treatment - white rope around their wrists and ankles, black tape over their mouths.

Whitney finished binding and gagging the three women, all of whom now sat uncomfortably behind the bushes. They grunted angrily into their gags.

"Just doing my job, ladies," Whitney smiled.

She stood up, brushing the dirt from her jeans. "Okay, what now? Darla and I need some clothes as well."

"And we need a way to transport our 'guests' inside the building," Toshiko pointed out.

Sloane's eyes turned back to the compound. A pair of factory janitors were exiting the grounds, each carrying a large trash container. Both were tall women, dressed in green jumpsuits, black sneakers, and baseball caps. They were headed toward the dumpster beyond the outhouses.

The women chatted idly as they approached the dumpster, but their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a gun being brought to bear.

"Top of the evening, ladies," Marina smiled. "Zip those lips and unzip those uniforms, would you?"

The women stared at her in fright and confusion.

Sloane stepped forward. "Undress or we kill you."

The women dropped the trash cans and nervously began stripping off their clothes.

"You need to be more clear," Sloane told Marina.

"Roger that, boss."

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

Melissa opened her large mahogany cupboard. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"No, thank you." Adelaide shifted in her seat. "I'm not much for alcohol."

"Please, I insist." Melissa removed two crystal champagne flutes and a glass decanter of Veuve Clicquot from the cabinet. "We need to celebrate our new partnership."

She set the glasses down on a metal tray atop the cabinet and began filling them with the bubbly liquid, her back turned to Adelaide. "So," she remarked. "you're a city girl? Your accent sounds New York."

"Born in Omaha," Adelaide quickly replied. "But I did complete some courses at NYU. Guess I picked up a couple of cues there."

"Interesting." Her body obscuring Adelaide's view, Melissa pressed down on the jewel of her emerald ring. The small compartment quietly popped open. "And you work in Miami now?"

"Orlando, actually. Took the train."

"Quite a trip." Melissa tilted her ring over one of the flutes, emptying its white powdery contents into the champagne. She watched with satisfaction as the mixture briefly swirled and then returned to its normal appearance.

She lifted the tray of drinks and turned to Adelaide. "A toast, shall we?"

Adelaide smiled. "Why not."

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

The small white truck rumbled across the old road, avoiding potholes and broken asphalt as it sped to its destination.

On the side of the truck, emblazoned in lime-colored letters that would glitter had it not been the dead of night, were the words "Evergreen Gardening." The four women inside had founded the business two years ago, and were proud of their commitment to ensuring the growth of healthy gardens wherever they could.

Behind the steering wheel sat Iris, team leader. The chestnut-haired woman had loved plants and gardens since her youth, and was a staunch supporter of forest preservation. Her three coworkers - less employees than equals - were each as committed to the world of plant life as she was. Perhaps it was because they'd all been blessed with names synonymous with flowers, but they took special care in preserving the world of greenery.

There was Daisy, of blue eyes and long blonde hair, who sat beside her and had fought for years to improve government funding of endangered ecosystems. In the back sat Rose, redheaded bombshell who had practically memorized every form of floral life in the encyclopedia. And beside her was Jasmine, dark-skinned beauty whose ability to plant new gardens in the most barren of landscapes was unmatched.

All were dressed in identical uniforms - green overalls, brown shirts, black boots, and green caps with the company logo. The quartet of gorgeous gardeners was on the way to a late-night client, one who'd pay them handsomely for their work.

Daisy checked her watch. "How much longer?"

"Another five minutes," Iris replied. "We're making good time... An early start could mean a bonus."

Rose laughed. "Early... that's hilarious. It's almost one in the morning."

"Hope you're not tired," Daisy replied. "This is a very wealthy customer, and we're not about to lose her."

She glanced out the window. "Hey... what's that?"

By the roadside ahead, a young woman was kneeling on the ground. On the road, strewn among small piles of dirt and shards of broken pottery, were a number of lilacs. The girl had her face in her hands, but she appeared to be crying.

"Pull over," Daisy said. "Looks like a fellow plant-lover in need."

Iris obliged, slowing the van to the road shoulder.

Daisy got out and approached the crying young woman - dark-haired, seemingly of Middle Eastern descent.

"Excuse me, miss?" she asked. "Need some help with your flowers?"

"Oh, you're too kind..." said the girl. Then she looked up, suddenly smiling. "Literally."

In an instant, Yasmin kicked out, sweeping Daisy's legs out from under her. The gardener fell groundward with an "ooupphhh," wind knocked from her.

Before the other three gardeners could react, the van was surrounded by other women - dressed in black, brandishing deadly firearms.

"Out of the vehicle, girls," Karima ordered. "We'll be taking charge from here."

Nine minutes later, Karima, Yasmin, Sabira, and Nadyne were stepping into the uniforms that had formerly adorned the bodies of the Evergreen girls. Nearby, those unfortunate Evergreen girls were in the process of being tightly bound and gagged by Haleema. In addition to identical uniforms, they wore identical underwear - lime-green sports bras and slim panties with white lining.

"Excellent work, Yasmin," Karima smiled, strapping on the overalls.

"Pleasure, boss," Yasmin replied. "I'm really digging this job." She removed a gardening trowel from the overalls. "Get it? Digging?"

Sabira rolled her eyes.

Haleema finished securing the captives and tossed them into some ferns to conceal them from the road.

"Good job," Karima told her. "Unfortunately, there are only four uniforms... and you're too tall to fit into any of them, anyhow. Think you can scout ahead? We'll meet you at the mansion."

Haleema nodded, and jogged off down the road.

"A woman of few words," Sabira mused.

"But plenty of actions," Karima replied. "Come, girls, let's move our weapons into the gardening van."

Sabira and Yasmin hurried to obey. Nadyne stood by, struggling with the zipper on her overalls.

Karima sighed. "Get a move on, girl." She noticed that Nadyne's hands were shaking. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... N-nothing..." Nadyne finally got the zipper up. "See, I'm fine."

Karima nodded, but her eyes narrowed as she turned away.

Nadyne had been acting strangely all night. And now Karima was beginning to suspect things.

And if her suspicions proved correct, Nadyne would not be around to see the next sunrise...

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

The Steele mansion was built shortly after World War I. Despite its age, the structure had weathered plenty of change, and had in fact adapted to more modern technologies than many younger buildings of its stature. The marble walls of the building were equipped with a high-grade alarm system and high-speed Internet connections; the twenty-foot limestone barrier surrounding the grounds was lined with state-of-the-art security cameras. The building had not had any unwanted visitors in many years.

And that was the way Valencia Steele preferred it. Ever since her husband had mysteriously "disappeared" ten years ago - she still chuckled at the naivete of investigative journalists - she had become the sole owner and proprietor of the mansion and all its contents. To that end, she had hired a staff of almost exclusively female employees, from the maids to the butlers to the cooks to the security guards. Women held all the important positions in her life; men were not to be trusted.

She was particularly grateful for her security on this late evening. Her attempted "hostile takeover" of Cerberus was not going as planned. A global video conference call with all the Cerberus boardmembers had been slated for 2 AM Eastern time, and she had hatched a cunning plot to make use of the opportunity. She had hired Karima and her team to bomb Florida's Cerberus facility on the eve of the meeting, in hopes that it would throw the rest of the executives into chaos.

She had further spent her resources in ensuring that fellow executive Lucille Weldon-Grant - herself a power-hungry soul who would doubtlessly challenge Valencia's power grab - would miss the meeting. Some spying had allowed her to discover that Lucille was engaged in shady backroom dealings with Vito Investments. She had thus informed the authorities, hoping they would arrest Lucille - and perhaps even charge her with the Cerberus bombing.

Unfortunately, things had not gone as she'd hoped. No bombs had exploded at Cerberus, and as of the moment, no police reports were in about Lucille's arrest.

As Valencia sat in her large, luxurious second-story bedroom, casually scrolling through her phone, she began to weigh her priorities. Perhaps Karima and her team would deliver the explosion after all. Perhaps Lucille would be caught. But if not, she needed a new plan.

She glanced at the clock. 1 AM. An hour till the meeting.

Pressing the intercom, she spoke. "Willa, please remind Celeste and Genevieve that they're due in my office in thirty minutes. I need to look my best for the camera."

She turned to the mirror, shuffling her curly blonde hair. "Showtime, old girl," she smiled. "You can do this."

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

Valencia would perhaps be a bit less sanguine about her prospects if she knew what was happening at that very moment at the southern wall of her mansion.

Haleema reached the wall with little trouble; she eyed the twenty feet of limestone barrier with steely determination. Then, with catlike grace belied by her six-foot-two athletic frame, she climbed dexterously up the wall, enjoying the use of occasional footholds in broken and subverted rock.

Reaching the top in record time, she peered over. Facing her was the rear grounds of the mansion, barren for the moment. Haleema lowered herself to the grounds on the other side, concealing herself within the bushes.

All was quiet, save for the faint crunching of boots. These belonged to the lone mansion guard patrolling the area. The tall redhead was dressed in a lavender bodysuit with blue weapons belt, dark green elbow-length gloves and knee-length boots, and dark sunglasses. A rifle was slung over her shoulder.

Knowing the value of the woman's outfit and implements, Haleema waited, scarcely breathing, until the boot-crunches were close enough. Then she sprang, catlike, from her hiding place.

The guard had time to draw her breath and reach for her weapon, but nothing else. Haleema's fist slammed across her chin, knocking the woman back. A following knee to the stomach ensured that the guard's shift would not be resuming anytime soon.

Haleema dragged the unconscious guardswoman into the bushes and laid her on the ground. She unclipped the belt, then pulled off the woman's boots and gloves. Unzipping the bodysuit revealed that the guard wore a fairly benign pair of cream-colored bra and panties.

Shedding her own clothing and tights, Haleema pulled on the guard's bodysuit, zipping it up to her chin. She donned the boots and gloves, and clicked the weapons belt around her waist. She donned the electronic glasses, and was pleased to see they provided her with ample night vision.

Turning her attention to the real guard, Haleema withdrew a length of concealed wire from the weapons belt. This she used to hogtie the guard, securing her hand and foot. The gag was Haleema's black tights, their length allowing for a tight knot at the back of her head.

Confident that the guard was safely out of sight, Haleema emerged from the bushes, slung the rifle over her shoulder, and resumed "her" patrol.

Karima and the others would be arriving shortly. And she'd have to be ready for them.

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

"A toast," Melissa said. "To our eternal success."

"Amen," Adelaide responded.

The two women clinked glasses. Melissa then watched with anticipation as Adelaide brought her own drink to her lips...

The intercom buzzed, jarring both women from their concentration.

"Ms. Marinos," Natalie said. "An Elizabeth here to see you."

Melissa frowned. 'I didn't call for any Elizabeth," she said. "Besides, I cancelled all my meetings tonight. Tell her to shove off."

At that instant, the door to the office opened, and a dark-haired woman in a lavender suit walked in. "Hi, Ms. Marinos. My friends call me Betty..."

Melissa glared at her. "How dare you enter this office without permission?"

Natalie ran in. "I'm sorry, ma'am. She brushed right past me..."

Adelaide watched the purple-suited strangely. Was this... the chauffeur who had driven her to Hobson? What was going on?

Betty stuck her hand out to Melissa. "I heard through the grapevine that you needed some help, and decided to offer my services... at a discount! I've done covert work for a drilling company before, maybe I can help you too."

"Want me to call security now?" Natalie asked.

Melissa glanced at her desk. Both champagne flutes remained on the surface, neither one consumed.

She sighed. "It's all right, Natalie. I'll deal with this."

After Natalie exited, Melissa turned her attention to Betty. "Talk. Fast."

"I'm a professional fixer," she said. "I help people in sticky business deals - I'm great at disguises, covert ops, you name it. One of my contacts told me your Texas facility had been bombed, and I figured you might want to investigate who did it? So I mugged one of your chauffeurs and took her place... Sneaked in so I could meet you... Show you I'm your gal."

Melissa eyed her strangely. "I should have you tossed out of the building on your rounded ass."

Betty bit her lip. Had she made a mistake?

Melissa stepped past Adelaide and circled around the desk. "But your brazen attitude intrigues me. Perhaps I can find some use for you after all."

"Excellent." Betty took the seat next to Adelaide. "Hi, Ms. Ryan. Sorry to crash your meeting."

Adelaide managed her best smile. "Think nothing of it."

Melissa surveyed the two women before her. She had little patience for either of them - both of whom had compromised Hobson's security by sneaking in under false pretenses.

It was ironic, Melissa knew, to fear for Hobson's security, when she had minutes ago encouraged a gang of criminals to mug some Hobson guards for their uniforms. Nevertheless, she meant to control Hobson and its various assets on her own terms. And that meant spies and other wild cards could not be tolerated.

She smiled at Betty and Adelaide. "Shall I pour some more champagne?"

Betty shook her head. "No, thanks. I've been sober for years."

Adelaide, wanting more than ever to stay on her guard, nodded. "Think I'll just have coffee."

Melissa's eyes narrowed, but she kept her cool. "Very well, then."

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

"Mmmmppphhh! Nmmmmppphh!!"

The two janitors were obviously displeased about their current situation. And who could blame them? No longer had they their uniforms, or their freedom. The Latina janitress had been stripped to her peach bra and green-striped panties, while her Indian coworker had been reduced to a more tradition pink set of underwear with white edging. Both women were also painfully restricted, with white rope around their wrists and ankles and black tape over their quavering lips. Perhaps most degrading of all, they had been crammed into a large and rather foul-smelling dumpster at the edge of the Hobson plant, watching helplessly as a pair of muscular women dressed casually in their uniforms.

Marina smiled down at the two captives. "Cheer up, girls," she said. "At least we tossed you into the recycling section."

With a chuckle, she grasped the lid of the dumpster and slammed it shut.

Darla and Whitney finished dressing in the janitors' uniforms. Whitney did a little twirl. "How do I look?"

"Like an idiot," Sloane snapped. "Stop treating this mission like a fashion show. We need to finish the job, get paid, and get moving."

Whitney straightened up. "What's the plan?"

"Melissa texted me the details," Sloane explained. "Meredith - that's the tall, dark-haired one - should be delivered to a private office on the fourth floor of the compound. The other two should be left in a cleaning room in the basement."

She looked up. Meredith had been stashed in a large crate with Hobson signage on it. Lucinda and Prema had each been stowed in a trash can. "Darla, Whitney, you two will take care of the trash girls. Toshiko, you and I will transport the crate. Marina, you stay here and keep a lookout for anything or anyone suspicious. Understood?"

Marina nodded. "Copy that, boss."

"Let's move out, ladies."

The women picked up their "packages" and went their separate ways, leaving Marina alone to linger at Hobson's rear exit.

Another security guard passed by. Noticing Marina's uniform, she gave a salute. "Quiet night, huh?"

Marina smiled. "Sister, you don't know the half of it."

[rufusluciusivan]

Still digging the newest posts, especially the recent scenes with the janitresses and especially the florists, the four of whom were given little details in their description. Liked the irony of having them hidden under some vegetation. (Though I'd be curious to read how they were restrained.) (Or the irony of the janitresses hidden in a dumpster for that matter, unlucky them.) In general, I think the descriptions of the victims and their aftermath were good in these latest posts, just long enough to give a quick idea of what they looked like.

Storylines are about to collide, but keeping up with all the new characters that are adding up to the old characters is becoming a little tricky. I should probably read the story in one go from the beginning when I'll have the time.

Marina has to forgive her victims for not realizing that "Zip those lips and unzip those uniforms" means "Undress or we kill you." People tend to be slow when they're pushed out of the comfort zone...

Once again, Karima chose to leave her victims with a bomb instead of finishing them off. I swear, this woman is turning into a James Bond villain every time I turn around...

[tirepanted3]

Yeah, it's been tricky for me to navigate all these different characters as well. Fortunately, I believe Natalie and Valencia are the last two important characters to be introduced. (Most of the new women you'll see from this point on are simply there to have their clothes stolen.) I've never had a story with this many integral characters (many of whom don't even appear in this latest chapter), but it's been fun trying to keep up with all of them.

Glad you like the scene with the janitresses. (I'm still not sure if "janitors" or "janitresses" is the appropriate term. I think i used it once in "Greatest Actress" but never did again. Not sure why.) In any case, Marina's quips are quite fun to write, even if they get on her friends' nerves.

Karima is the closest thing to pure evil I have in the story. I keep trying to find a way to humanize her, but she's pretty inscrutable. She may have one or two character moments before the story is over, though.

[tirepanted3]

An auto junkyard break-in wasn't much of an "emergency" in the strict definition of the word. Nevertheless, it had been a slow night for the precinct, and thus did two squad cars soon pull up at its now-broken gates.

Out of each car emerged two policewomen. The four officers were identically dressed, in crisp blue button-down shirts, black jackets, dark blue skirts, black heels, and peaked caps. The lieutenant, a brown-haired woman in her mid-forties, shined a flashlight at the surrounding area. "Anyone here?"

A few minutes' search by the other three detectives, all in their late twenties, bore no fruit; the junkyard seemed deserted. The detectives were about to take a look at the antique lot behind the yard when one of the officers, a straw-haired woman named Allie, pointed to a nearby warehouse. "What's that?"

Out of the warehouse stumbled a tall blonde woman, clutching a her head. She was clad only in a pair of white bra and panties, and looked as though she'd recently been in a fight. She noticed the officers and began waving frantically.

"Come quick, please! My friends and I need your help!"

Confused, but sensing an intriguing case on the horizon, the four policewomen hurried toward the beckoning call. The lieutenant entered the warehouse, followed by the other three officers.

"All right, miss," the lieutenant said. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Pretty much everything," Alex said. "But that's about to change."

So saying, she delivered a chop to the side of the lieutenant's neck. As the woman grunted and pitched forward, Alex grabbed her gun, aiming it at the other three officers.

"All right, none of you move! I'm running very low on patience tonight."

The officers raised their hands. "Wh-what's going on?" Allie asked.

"This should be clear in a moment," Alex replied. "Girls, come out now."

Kimberly, Wanda, and Eliza stepped in from the other room. They were still rubbing their wrists, having only recently broken free of their bonds.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Wanda asked. "I mean... they're cops."

"And we're supposed to be the good guys," Kimberly added.

"We are the good guys," Alex replied. "But I'm sick of playing by the rules. Our jobs are on the line, and our lives may be as well, unless we start to take this seriously."

She turned back to the policewomen. "Start stripping out of those uniforms. Don't ask questions, just do it."

Perplexed as the women were, they knew better than to argue with the gun. Resigned, they began unbuttoning their jackets.

"I'm sure the police can help us," Wanda added. "We don't need to antagonize them."

"Girls," Alex sighed. "The police can't do this for us. We need to catch the terrorists. If we don't get full credit, our reputation as security personnel is ruined, probably forever."

"But if we get caught for assaulting and forcibly stripping a bunch of law officers?" Kimberly asked. "What then?"

'We won't get goddamn caught," Alex snapped. "Also, would someone get these clothes off this lieutenant? She's in no condition to be stripping herself."

"I'll do it!" Eliza volunteered.

Although the Dennison security team had been weakened, in both numbers and morale, Alex was still intent on stopping the Saboteuses. She was thus more than pleased to see the team's youngest recruit taking initiative.

As Eliza began removing the lieutenant's clothes, she turned to Alex. "So how are these uniforms going to help us?"

"One, we can't run around the city in our underwear," Alex replied. "And two, disguised as police, we'll have more access to the city's resources than in our regular guises. Should make finding those terrorists relatively easy."

By now, the other three officers were down to their light blue bras and dark blue panties. They stood, hands raised, worried for what might happen next.

"Tie them up," Alex told Wanda and Kimberly. "Then pick the clothes that fit you and get dressed. We're wasting precious time."

The duo quickly got to work binding and gagging the three officers with packing tape from the warehouse shelves. Eliza retrieved a roll and did the same for the lieutenant, whose underwear was a more attractive rose-pink color than the pale blues of the younger officers.

"Maybe there's hope for the older generation yet," Eliza chuckled.

Once all four officers had been tape-gagged and bound and stowed away in the same closet the Dennison women had escaped from, the security team donned their uniforms, with Alex fitting comfortably into the lieutenant's outfit.

"So how do we know where to look?" Kimberly asked. "Those creeps could be anywhere."

At that moment, the radios on "their" belts buzzed to life. "Any available units... We received an anonymous tip that a group of female bombers have been spotted at the Steele mansion... Repeat, a group of female bombers... Can any local units investigate..."

Alex brightened. "Perfect!"

She grabbed the radio. "This is Badge 3547. We are available to investigate."

"Copy that, 3547. Radio if you need backup."

Alex shut off the radio. "We won't. Come on, girls, let's go bag us some bombers."

"Are we sure it's the same ones?" Wanda asked.

"Who else could they be? Now stop dawdling with silly questions. Let's move!"

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

Getting into the mansion had been charmingly simple. The guards at the front gate seemed tired at this late hour, and they barely glanced at the ID papers handed to them before they allowed the van marked "Evergreen Gardening" onto the grounds. They were directed to the lush gardens at the front of the mansion and told to get to work.

"Oh, we'll get to work, all right," Karima grinned once the guards were out of earshot. "Girls, do you have everything ready?"

Sabira nodded. "These overalls are a little baggy - great for hiding explosives," she mused.

"Excellent," Karima smiled. "As soon as the coast is clear, we move on the mansion. Sabira and Yasmin will take the first floor. Nadyne and I will cover the basement. We'll plant as many bombs as we can, then come together to find Valencia. Clear?"

Yasmin nodded. "Clear as day."

"Perfect." Karima smiled at Nadyne, who managed to grin back. But it was a weak grin.

No matter the reason, Karima thought. Nadyne wouldn't be a liability for much longer.

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

Cassandra maneuvered the FedEx van up to the front gate of Hobson. She rolled down the window.

"Hi," she smiled at the guard. "I'm here to drop off some packag-"

"Deliveries around back," the guard interrupted, not moving from her post.

Cassandra blinked. "I see." She shifted into reverse.

Driving around the gated perimeter of Hobson, Cassandra was awestruck by how large the facility was. Bigger even that the Texas location, or the Dennison building a few miles off.

"How the hell am I supposed to find Sloane?" she murmured.

Finally, she reached the rear entrance. Two women in security uniforms stood chatting idly by the fence.

Marina put her vehicle in park, stepped out, and approached the gate. Perhaps she could "persuade" one of these guards to hand over her uniform...

"Hi," she smiled. "I'm here to drop off some packages. Can you sign the -"

One of the guards looked up in surprise. "Cassandra?"

Cassandra blinked. "Marina?"

Marina laughed. "Girl, you made it! Wasn't sure if you'd show up!" She drew her friend in for a hug.

"Where are the others?" Cassandra asked.

"Inside," Marina said. "But you can join them if you want."

"Hold on," the other guard interrupted. She looked suspiciously from her fellow security woman to the FedEx driver. "What's going on here?"

"Oh, just a new development," Marina smiled.

So saying, she grabbed the guard, twirled her around, and put her into a headlock. She dragged the struggling woman behind a large stack of crates for some privacy, beckoning for Cassandra to follow.

Once the guard was unconscious, Marina began stripping her, down to her underwear. Interestingly, the guard's bullet bra and panties were designed with blue and white stripes.

Marina and Cassandra enjoyed some light conversation about the guard's peculiar underwear choice as they gagged and bound the poor woman behind the dumpster. They ultimately agreed that the bra was blue with white stripes, while the panties were white with blue stripes. Then, as Cassandra changed disguises, Marina filled her in on what had happened during her absence.

"I'm going to find Sloane," Cassandra said. "Maybe have a word with her about leaving me tied up back at the warehouse."

"Ooh, sounds fun," Marina smiled. "Can I tag along?"

The two "guards" left their post, leaving the FedEx van quietly parked just outside the Hobson exit.

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

In her many years working in the corporate world, Lucille had come to accept that some problems were too big to crawl over. However, she had never met a problem so big that she couldn't simply... crawl under it.

So it was with the wall around the Steele mansion. After scouting the area for a while, she had managed to find a spot where the earth had been softened by constant rain runoff, and the limestone worn almost through. Thus, with the help of a few quiet but effective tools, it was fairly simple to create a hole large enough for even Sonja and Chandra to slip through.

Unfortunately, the three women's clothes were all quite muddy once they slipped to the other side of the wall and crouched in the bushes ahead. But that was a problem they would remedy soon enough.

Sonja and Chandra peered over the bushes, watching for any signs of movement. None came, save for the occasional guard happening past.

"Those outfits are awful," Sonja whispered. "Purple bodysuits? Green boots? Someone call the fashion police."

"I think Valencia Steele designed the look herself," Chandra replied. "Wants to differentiate her guards from the rest of the pack. I think she even trademarked the uniforms."

"Steele uniforms?" Sonja asked.

Chandra smiled. "Yes, let's do that."

The next guard to happen along had her brown hair pulled back into a low bun, her dark blue eyes sweeping the area ahead of her. However, the small earbuds within her ears suggested that she was concentrating more on the music than on her duty.

Her mistake. As she passed by the bushes, Sonja mobilized behind her, quickly pinning the woman in a wrestler's chokehold. The guard had no air to draw a cry for help as she was shuffled backwards into the bushes. Two swift thumps, and it was over.

"One down," Sonja whispered as she began unzipping the woman's jumpsuit.

Chandra moved some branches aside. "And here comes lucky uniform donor number two..."

This guard was a couple of inches taller than the brunette. She had jet-black hair, and a bronze complexion that suggested a Puerto Rican heritage. She, too, was tracing the grounds, though she had no earphones to distract her.

Perhaps the snapping of a twig alerted the guard. Whatever the reason, she turned to the bushes, clearly sensing some sort of danger. However, her intuition came too late; Chandra's hand shot out, grabbed her ankle, and pulled hard, throwing the woman off balance. The guard fell to the soft dirt with a muffled "ooouugghhfff," hardly enough to attract attention. Before she could make any louder noises, Chandra had dragged her into the bushes and introduced the guard to her fists.

"Get changed quickly, girls," Lucille hissed. "There's no telling if someone else might show up."

"But we need someone else to show up, boss," Chandra whispered as she pulled off the guard's boots, letting the woman's bare feet flop back on the grass. "You need a disguise, too."

Lucille scoffed. "Nonsense. I'm a professional businesswoman. I'm much too mature to play dress-up."

"It's not a game," Sonja replied, having now reduced her guard down to an orange demicup bra and yellow panties. "You can't go wandering around here dressed like... like you."

Lucille wrinkled her nose. "But... but wearing the clothes of a lesser woman is so... unbecoming."

"Actually," Chandra smiled, "it can be fun. We do it all the time, do't we?"

"Sure do," Sonja said, pulling on the jumpsuit. "And we look damn fine doing it."

Lucille considered. "Fine. But I'm too small to pass for a security guard."

Chandra peered once again over the bushes. "How about a butler?"

The woman who now exited through a side door of the mansion was of adequate build, dressed in a black waistcoat, long pants, and sensible black shoes. Her red hair was cut boyishly short, but there was no mistaking the beauty of her clean-cut facial features, or the way her porcelain skin glistened in the moonlight. The young woman carried a cigarette in one of her white-gloved hands.

"She looks about your size," Chandra offered.

Lucille grimaced. "A butler? How grossly unfeminine."

"But she's got the right clothes," Chandra argued. "Come on, give it a try."

"This is dumb," Lucille snapped. "I'm not in the mood of changing clothes. Besides, her outfit doesn't look much different from mine, anyway."

"Enough already," Sonja sighed. She reached out, grabbed the startled female butler, and yanked her into the bushes, knocking her out with a single punch.

Stripping the girl down to her electric-blue bra and cream-white panties, Sonja tossed the uniform to Lucille. "Come on, get dressed. A new wardrobe might lift your spirits."

Lucille grumbled to herself, but began changing into the butler's clothes.

Chandra and Sonja dressed in the uniforms of the two security guards. Then they used cords and tape to bind and gag their three prisoners, leaving them helplessly tied together in the bushes.

"Well?" Sonja asked. "How does it feel?"

Lucille dusted down her new clothes. "Waistcoat's a bit tight," she groused. "But it'll do."

"Then let's move," Chandra urged. "Valencia's gotta be somewhere inside the mansion. Better start searching now."

The three disguised women made their way to the side door. From the corner of her eye, Chandra noticed a gardening van parked near the front of the house. Clearly, it was a busy night for the Steele mansion.

She returned her focus to the job as she, Lucille, and Sonja slipped inside the mansion.

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

"You sure no one's noticed us?" Whitney whispered.

"Why would they?" Darla asked.

The two women had reached the lower levels of the Hobson facility and were now carefully carrying their trash cans down to the boiler room.

"I dunno," Whitney responded hesitantly. "It just seems like we're the only two white lady janitors in this building. Feels like someone would get suspicious."

Darla laughed. "You're being ridiculous, girl. Come on, let's stow these bitches and get back to base."

The steps leading down to the boiler room were quite worn, and in fact had not been tended to since the 1980s. So it was that the last step, weakened from age and termite weathering, strained beneath Darla's heavy boot, and cracked a moment later beneath Whitney's.

"Ooooofff!" Whitney stumbled to the ground, dropping her trash can. The can tipped over, causing the bound-and-gagged Lucinda to fall out.

"Butterfingers," Whitney grinned sheepishly.

Darla sighed. "Better pick up your trash," she said. "Don't want to get in trouble for littering."

Whitney chuckled. "Darl, that was a terrible one-liner. I think Marina may be rubbing off on you."

"Perish the thought."

Whitney righted the trash can, patting the fuming Lucinda on the head as she stuffed her back inside. "Sorry for the rough fall, girlfriend. No hard feelings." then she dragged the can over to the corner to join Darla's.

"So what now?" she asked.

"Think that's all," Darla said. "Apparently, Melissa wants these other women in 'reserve' on her premises. This should hide them well enough until she wants to talk to them." She looked at her watch. "Let's try to rejoin the others."

"Last one up the stairs has to refill the coffeepot for a month!" Whitney exclaimed, racing for the stairwell.

Darla sighed. "Grow up, girlfriend."

After exiting the basement, they shut the door, plunging the warm boiler room into darkness.

Lucinda sat in her tight, cramped trash container, seething. The abject humiliation she'd endured in the last few hours - it was almost too much to bear. And now her wife was in deadly danger, torn away from her just as the two of them had escaped their prison confinement.

Now Lucinda was a prisoner again. But she would not remain this way. She refused to be the pawn in someone else's game.

The ropes around her wrists were strong, and she had little slack in her tight quarters. Nevertheless, she pulled - ignoring the pain as the ropes dug further into her wrists, the fatigue as her muscles screamed in frustration.

Lucinda pulled and pulled... until finally, the sound of breaking ropes hit her ears. She had triumphed.

Maneuvering her sore arms, Lucinda wrenched herself free of the trash container, ripping the gag from her mouth. Those bitches would pay. The one who had just called her "trash" would pay most dearly.

She stood now in just her bra and panties, shivering despite the boiler room's excessive heat. Considering her next move...

At once, the trash can beside her own began to rattle. Lifting the lid, she saw Prema, helplessly bound and gagged in her own underwear.

Lucinda grinned. "Well, at least I can take care of one problem right now."

The boiler was one of those older models, with a door built int its rusty metal frame. Lucinda unlatched and opened it carefully, avoiding the blast of steam that emanated from within.

Then she hoisted Prema's can off the ground. "Time to burn, witch."

Prema squirmed as the trash can she was trapped in was carried towards the steaming hot boiler. But it was no use; she was trapped.

"Goodbye forever, Ms. Khatri," Lucinda smiled as she prepared to toss the contents of the can into the fiery furnance.

Then, abruptly, she paused. No, this wasn't right. She had promised Meredith the opportunity to kill Prema. She could not do it on her own.

Lucinda set the trash can down. First things first - she had to find her wife.

Reaching into the trash can, she grabbed Prema's hair and pulled her out. The smaller woman squirmed as Lucinda brought them face to face.

"Listen close, little slut," she snarled, pulling off Prema's gag. "I don't like you. In fact, I'd love to see you ground to dirt beneath my heel. But right now, finding Meredith takes priority. And you're going to help me."

Prema thought about responding, but she was too scared.

Lucinda looked around. Footsteps emanated from the top of the stairwell. She quickly dropped Prema and bounded up the stairs, forcing the lock on the door.

In the hallway above the boiler room was a lone security guard, lazily pacing back and forth. She hadn't paid much attention to the janitors who had entered the boiler room a few minutes ago, concentrating more on the number of cobwebs on the wall.

She did, however, take notice when the doors to the boiler room burst open, and a six-foot blonde woman clad in nothing but her underwear charged directly at her.

On a practical level, the guard was better-prepared to win a fight. She had armor, weapons, and years of physical training, all advantages over Lucinda. But at this moment, Lucinda had her beat in terms of determination and raw strength, fueled by her rage towards those who had humiliated her and a blinding drive to find the woman she loved.

Moments later, Lucinda returned to the boiler room, dragging the guard behind her. She dumped the unconscious guard at Prema's feet.

"Take a look at how easily I beat this bitch," she stated matter-of-factly. "Now imagine what I'll do to you if you don't obey my orders to the letter."

The clearly frightened Prema nodded.

"Excellent." Lucinda began stripping the guard of her uniform. "Like I said - I need to find my wife, and you're going to help me. Cross me at any point, and I'll cut your pretty little throat. If you succeed in helping me, then perhaps... perhaps I'll let you live."

Prema doubted this evil woman would allow her to walk away alive. Still, she was not in a good position to negotiate. She could merely watch in continuing terror as Lucinda stepped into the guard's slim-tight pants, pulled on the grey sweater, strapped on the Kevlar vest, and laced up the boots. The woman before her now looked more intimidating than ever.

Lucinda, for her part, was already enjoying the security uniform. Much like the Dennison security guard uniform she'd stolen earlier that night, this outfit gave her a natural air of intimidation. She flexed her muscles, noting the rustle of Kevlar that accompanied the movement.

She gazed down at the real guard, who now lay supine on the boiler room floor, head lolled to one side, a hint of drool at her mouth. Lucinda couldn't help but chuckle. The guard had chosen an aqua-green bra and pair of panties that were covered with images of popular cartoon characters. In all of Lucinda's years of mugging other women for their clothes, it was the most ridiculous set of underwear she'd ever seen.

"Frankly, my dear," she commented as she began tying the woman up with rope from the boiler room, "if you wear undies like that, you deserve to get your uniform stolen." She laughed as she gagged the security guard with a moth-eaten washcloth.

Then, drawing a serrated knife from the belt now around her waist, she approached Prema, who shrank back in fear.

"Stop being a moron," Lucinda snapped. "I'm cutting your ropes. Hold still so that's all I cut."

Soon, Prema stood rubbing her sore wrists. "What... what now?"

"Now we find you some clothes as well," Lucinda replied. "Shut up... I think I hear someone nearby."

That "someone" was a Hobson mechanic, arriving to perform her weekly checkup on the boiler room. As Hobson employed a lot of power in its drilling equipment, the various boilers had to be checked regularly, and it fell to the young black woman in green coveralls and oil-stained red boots to do the job. She had done it every week for the past three years, always without incident.

Tonight, for the first time ever, she would fail to complete her job. As she opened the door to the boiler room, she was rather surprised to see a tall, grinning blonde woman dressed from head to toe in security gear.

"Excellent," the guard smiled. "Prema, she's exactly your size."

Before the mechanic could inquire about the meaning of the woman's words, the guard had roughly seized her by the collar and pulled her into the boiler room.

[esercito sconfitto]

I keep reading this installment, because I am fascinated by a typical feature of all the "Tirepanted girls"

it looks like they act like wrestlers, and stripping their victims ( "clothes donors") is the usual prize of the winner



the most intriguing part is the absolute lack of allure or desire or any sexual hint. The Tirepanted girls beat ( fists and wrestling and all the rest, it's a very physical thing) other women and girls and strip them because they want to feel strong . Because they want to be winners

the consequence is that they act all the time like clear spirits, light hearts, like sporty women. Even the villainesses aren't very dark... despite being Arab terrorists

I admt it,for a USB character, this is the attitude I prefer, among all the other motivations...; and there is the 'cultural divide'... from an European perspective, this looks to be 'very American'- Of course I am partially led by 'my thing', the 'defeated army' trope

definitely, the Tirepanted Girls are the ones I prefer .

please Tirepanted don't stop . Tell your girls to abandon chloroform and use fists all the times they can

[tirepanted3]

I tend to think the girls chiefly beat and strip other women out of necessity - that is, because they need disguises and don't carry spare uniforms around with them. But you are right that some of the women I write for find the process empowering and therapeutic. When a woman is at her wits' end, a fresh set of clothing is the thing to raise her spirits - and mugging/stripping/binding other women to acquire the clothes is all part of the restorative process.

Another reason why they stay in good spirits, and don't get too dark - the art of disguise (that is, adopting new identities and occupations) is an excellent way for these women to avoid facing whatever harsh realities they would encumber as "themselves." They can take on new identities, appearances, and personalities and accomplish their goals without taking themselves too seriously. Mugging other women just happens to be the most convenient way to acquire new identities, so it's the means they most often resort to.

[tirepanted3]

Yasmin smiled as she admired her reflection in the floor-length mirror. "Much better."

"Definitely less noticeable," Sabira agreed.

The two women had been sneaking through the mansion's main foyer when a quick glance around at the polished and ornate furniture told them that they looked out of place. Their grass-stained uniforms and mud-flecked boots had allowed them to get onto the mansion grounds, but inside the building, they stuck out like a pair of sore green thumbs.

It was thus that they had located the mansion's bustling kitchen and staked out a position just beyond, inside a dark and disused walk-in pantry. They had watched through a crack in the door as the chefs occasionally walked past - each dressed in double-breasted white coats with elbow-length sleeves, black pants, and clogs - and waited for a couple who were the appropriate size.

Their patience paid off rather quickly - first with a petite hazel-eyed woman with pixie-cut brown hair, then a slightly taller woman whose round face and long blonde hair suggested a Slavic ancestry. Both girls proved easy to dispatch - a quick handgag as they happened by, and they were roughly pulled into the pantry to earn themselves a rather sudden "siesta."

Now Yasmin and Sabira were buttoning up the uniforms and checking their reflections.

"We blend right in," Yasmin noted with satisfaction.

"And our two playmates won't be causing any more trouble," Sabira smirked.

Behind them, in the rear of the pantry, the two chefs lay, bound tightly with clothesline from the closet and gagged with small dishtowels. The brunette wore a bright peach-colored set of scalloped bra and panties, while the blonde had opted for a more conservative pair of grey t-shirt bra and boyshorts.

Yasmin shut the door with her foot, trapping the two girls in darkness. "Shall we begin planting the bombs?"

Sabira chuckled. "I'm starting to like you, girl."

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

Bridget stirred, and slowly awakened.

"Damn it..." Sleeping on the job was not becoming of an investigative journalist. True, it had been a long night, but still...

She quickly shook Felicia and Bobbi awake. "Girls, girls. Come on, time to get up."

Bobbi yawned and stretched. Felicia did, too. "Where are we?"

Bridget cracked open the rear door of the van. Her eyes widened as she saw the high, fenced-in machinery, and the signs labeled "Hobson Drilling."

Bridget turned to her two friends. "Ladies, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Bobbi asked. "Wasn't this truck supposed to take us to Miami?"

"Shh," Bridget put a finger to her lips. "Give me a minute. I'll figure out where we are. Of course," she gestured at her hiking gear, "I don't exactly blend in with these surroundings."

Bridget stepped out of the van and looked around. Strangely, there were no guards by the rear exit of the building, even though Hobson, from what she'd heard about it, was well-supplied with security.

Fortunately, that made it easier to slip through the gate and hide behind one of the large stacks of oil drums in the lot. She then waited several long minutes for a suitable change of clothing to arrive.

Unfortunately, most of the women who passed by were either the wrong size or in groups of three or more. Finally, however, a blonde factory worker in an orange jumpsuit, muddied black boots, and a yellow hard hat walked by, jotting down some notes on a clipboard.

"Evening, miss," Bridget smiled. The blonde looked up in surprise as the woman grabbed her arm and yanked her behind the oil drums. After a quick "drumming" on the woman's head, the blonde fell unconscious.

Beneath her jumpsuit, the blonde wore a full-cup purple bra and mauve lace panties. Bridget found some oily rags near the fence and used them as both binding and gagging material.

Once the girl had been safely hidden away in one of the hollow drums, Bridget zipped up the jumpsuit and laced up the boots. She rearranged her hair into a quick bun and fitted the hard hat on top of it.

She stood up and smiled. Not her favorite colors, but it felt good to be in uniform.

Returning to the FedEx truck, she spoke. "Okay, girls, I've got an outfit. Just sit tight, and I'll get a couple for..."

She stopped short as Bobbi and Felicia stepped out of the truck, both dressed in the same type of jumpsuit, hat, and boots as she was.

"We got bored of waiting," Felicia explained.

"So we found some clothes of our own." Bobbi pointed to the rear of the truck.

Bridget peeked inside. On the floor of the van were two other young women, both bound and gagged with package tape. The dark-skinned girl wore a sunny yellow bra and white panties, while her Korean friend was down to a blue plunge bra and green boyshorts.

Bridget smiled at her two friends. "Nice work. Glad to see you girls taking initiative."

"So where the hell are we?" Felicia asked.

"I've done some research into this place, actually," Bridget explained. "Hobson Drilling - they're Dennison's chief rival. Rumor has it that tensions have been flaring up between the two businesses lately."

"Drilling?" Bobbi scoffed. "I thought we were done with those guys. We should be looking for Karima, or maybe Lucille, or..."

"Agreed," Bridget said. "But this truck - for whatever reason - seems to have taken us farther from our objectives than ever. Karima could be long gone by the time we get back to Miami, and I need to submit a story for the morning edition." She checked her watch. "The paper goes to press in a few hours... and since our Cerberus story was interrupted by our being kidnapped, it doesn't look like we'll have that on the table."

"So what should we do?" Felicia inquired.

Bridget sighed. "Maybe we can dig up a last-minute story in Hobson? It's a tough call, but..."

"Let's do it," Bobbi said.

Felicia nodded. "So long as we're here, might as well make the best of it."

Bridget grinned. "I'm proud of you girls."

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

Natalie entered Melissa's office, silver tray in hand. Atop it was a decorative porcelain ewer filled with steaming hot coffee, along with three ceramic demitasses and a miniature bowl and pitcher.

"Your beverages," she said, placing the tray down before Melissa and her two guests. "Complete with sugar and creamer. Please help yourself." As she said the word "sugar," she briefly winked in Melissa's direction.

Melissa grinned. Natalie had secretly filled the contents of the sugar bowl with white sleeping powder. Her secretary was every bit as cunning as she was.

"Please," Melissa smiled at Betty and Adelaide.

She interlaced her fingers as her two guests poured themselves the coffee and began spooning in some sugar.

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

The two guards at the entrance gate to the Steele mansion watched as two squad cars pulled up. They eyed the vehicles suspiciously.

Alex stepped out of the first car, dusting off her police uniform, and approached the guards.

"Good evening, ladies," she said professionally. "My fellow officers and I are with the state police department. We've received a call about suspicious activity occurring at this building and are here to check things out."

The guards exchanged a glance. Then the taller, blonder woman spoke. "Do you have a warrant?"

Alex hesitated. "No. But we have suspicion to believe there are terrorists on the grounds."

The blonde laughed. So did her dark-haired friend. "Sorry, babe. We're not interested in fairy tales."

Alex scowled. "This isn't a joke. Let us in so we can set things straight."

The blonde stopped laughing. She glared at Alex. "Y'know," she said, "I'm not sure you're even a real cop."

"Of course I'm a real cop." Alex stepped closer, reaching into her jacket. "Here's my ID."

Then, without warning, she grabbed both guards by their collars and brought their heads together. Once, twice, thrice - the women lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

"Morons," Alex muttered.

Her three associates stepped out of their cars. Alex turned to them, a playful smile on their lips.

"Change of plans, girls. The guards here aren't willing to cooperate. So instead of working with them... looks like we'll have to replace them."

She picked up one of the guards and dragged her over to the nearby groundskeeper's hut - fortunately empty at this time of night. She motioned for Eliza to do the same with the other guard.

Meanwhile, Wanda and Kimberly went off in search of some more security officers.

Two other guards were idling by the side of the mansion, discussing the scores of the latest football game. The women stopped talking when they heard a pair of clicking noises behind them.

Turning, they saw two women in police attire, leveling pistols at them.

"No sudden moves, ladies," Kimberly said in a soft but menacing voice. "Lose the guns. Unclip your weapons belts and toss them into the bushes."

Despite being trained professionals, the guards had little choice in the matter. They shed their weapons as ordered and put their hands up.

"Good girls," Kimberly smiled. "Now don't worry... We're not interested in hurting you. In fact, we have a tempting proposal for you... Instead of spending the night wandering around these cold, dark mansion grounds, you'll get to spend the next few hours in a warm, comfy tool shed... Not a care in the world... Bound, gagged, and completely out of harm's way..."

"And all we ask for in exchange?" Wanda continued. "Not much... Simply all your clothes..."

The guards exchanged a worried glance. Still, they were in no position to argue. Hands behind their heads, they were submissively herded towards the tool shed.

Inside, Alex and Eliza had already begun stripping the first two guards. Alex looked up as the newcomers entered.

"Welcome, girls," she smiled at them. "Well, don't hesitate... Start stripping. We haven't got all night."

The sour-faced guards began unzipping their uniforms as Wanda shut the door for some privacy.

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

The heavy clump-clump of boots echoed through the foyer of the mansion.

"Can't you be a little quieter?" Lucille hissed.

"Sorry, boss," Chandra whispered. "These uniforms aren't quite built for indoor stealth."

"Should have considered that before you stole them," Lucille grumbled. She pulled at the collar of her butler outfit, which was beginning to chafe.

"Excuse me!"

The three women turned to see another female butler, having just exited one of the mansion's dinettes.

"Have you a moment?" the butler asked.

It took a moment for Lucille to realize the woman was addressing her. "...Yes?"

"Could you head down to the beauty parlor and knock on the door? Celeste and Genevieve are supposed to be at Madame Steele's room in ten minutes, yet they appear to be dawdling."

Lucille did not understand the woman's request, but she tried to play along. "The... beauty parlor?"

"Yes," the butler said impatiently. "Come, are you new here? The two beauticians who work in the basement. Tall blonde women, about the size of those two guards..." She gestured at Chandra and Sonja. "...Say, what are you two doing in here? Shouldn't you be out patrolling?"

Chandra blinked. "Er..."

"We just popped in to get a drink," Sonja offered.

"Well, get it quickly," the butler said. "We're not paying you to tour the mansion."

She turned heel and walked off.

"I knew these uniforms were a bad idea," Sonja whispered.

"Well, we couldn't waltz in dressed in our regular clothes," Chandra countered.

"Shut up, both of you," Lucille said. "Let's head down to the basement."

"The basement?" Sonja asked. "But... Valencia's room is upstairs."

"I know," Lucille smiled. "But you girls can't enter dressed as you are. Probably better for us to drop by the beauty parlor for... a change in wardrobe."

Chandra and Sonja grinned understandingly. "Lead the way, boss."

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

"No," Darla said.

"Come on," Whitney begged. "Please?"

"Girl, you've already disguised yourself as a security guard earlier tonight. And there's no reason to do it again."

"Yes, there is!" Whitney protested. "This janitor uniform smells like trash. Security uniforms are so much cooler. They come with guns and everything!"

Darla sighed. "I can't keep changing clothes every few hours. Gonna develop a rash."

"Just one more time," Whitney said.

"Ahem!"

The two women looked up. A pair of armed security guards were peering behind the crates.

"What are you two doing back here?" the first guard asked, brandishing a flashlight. "Shouldn't you be taking out the trash or something?"

"Where's your photo ID?" her partner inquired.

Darla eyed the two guards. Their uniforms did look pretty good...

She turned to Whitney. "Last time tonight?"

Whitney nodded. "Promise."

"What are you two blabbing abou... HEY!" The two guards were startled as Darla and Whitney grabbed their arms and pulled them behind the crates into the shadows.

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

Karima slowly opened the door to the boiler room. She motioned for Nadyne to follow.

"You have the bomb?" Karima asked.

Nadyne nodded, stepping past Karima and looking around the hot, dusty room.

"Good," Karima said. "And do you have the key to activate it?"

Nadyne nodded again. 'Yes, boss."

"Good."

Without warning, Karima elbowed Nadyne hard in the back. The smaller woman went sprawling to the floor.

Nadyne rolled over. "Wh... what was..."

"Bitch," Karima spat. "Did you think you could fool me? I know you're a traitor to the group. I know you sabotaged our plans back at Cerberus. You're no better than Zuhal or Malika."

"N-no..." Nadyne said weakly. "I swear I didn't... I wouldn't... Uunngghhh!"

She collapsed unconscious, felled by Karima's heavy boot.

"I've had enough betrayal in my ranks," Karima said. "Anyone who crosses me... dies." She removed the bomb from Nadyne's pack. "Starting with you."

When Nadyne awoke minutes later, she found herself stripped down to her bra and panties. Her gardening uniform had been torn into strips, which had been used to tightly bind and gag her to a hot metal pipe. To her horror, she saw that, across the room, attached to the large boiler, was the bomb.

"Goodbye forever, Nadyne," Karima said from the doorway. "That bomb will detonate in just under an hour. By then, the girls and I will have finished our work and be long gone. You, however, will not." She chuckled. "The Steele mansion, and everyone inside, will be reduced to a smoldering crater. Enjoy your final minutes, dearie."

She blew the frightened Nadyne a kiss and exited, locking the boiler room door.

"Nnnmmmmpppphhh!" Nadyne felt herself beginning to sweat - both from the tremendous heat of the boiler room and the harrowing realization that she was probably about to die.

She struggled hard, crying out in fear, but the steady thump-thump of the boiler easily drowned out her muffled sobs.

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

"Fetch some more tape," Sloane ordered.

She had just about finished securing the helpless Meredith to a heavy oak chair in the secluded office. However, noting that the brunette's physique was more athletic than that of an ordinary woman, she decided some extra precautions would be necessary.

Toshiko searched the office cabinet. "Not much here," she said. "Lotta scotch tape... No duct tape."

Sloane sighed. "Must I do everything myself?" She pulled open a nearby desk drawer. "See, that wasn't so difficult." Retrieving the tape, she tossed it to Toshiko. "Tie her up tightly. I don't want her getting any ideas about escaping."

"Yes, boss," Toshiko muttered.

She set to work taping Meredith to the chair, but every so often, she cast her eyes toward Sloane, whose mind was currently on her cellphone.

"Boss." Toshiko hated saying that word. Sloane was not the boss of her. And perhaps... perhaps...

Toshiko's eyes fell on a sharp silver letter opener on the desk. She smiled. A deadly weapon, perhaps - one she could put to good use.

Sloane's back was turned. It would be ridiculously simple, Toshiko surmised, to slip up behind her and let the razor-sharp letter opener do its work. She picked up the gleaming metal instrument and smiled.

Meredith watched Toshiko inspect the point of the opener. Her eyes widened. What was this woman doing?

Toshiko stepped closer towards Sloane... closer...

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Sloane turned. Toshiko whirled, dropping the letter opener to the floor.

Sloane was about to comment on the metallic clanking noise on the ground when the door to the office burst open. In walked two women in security uniforms.

Sloane's eyebrows raised. "Marina! And... Cassandra. So glad you could join us."

"Yeah," Cassandra muttered. "So glad you could leave me tied up and alone."

"Merely building character," Sloane said with a wave of her hand. "Perhaps next time you won't be ambushed so easily. Anyway, we ought to be off."

"Where to now?" Marina asked.

"Melissa asked us to join her on the lower level at 2 AM to discuss payment, and a possible extension of this assignment," Sloane responded. "She promises to pay handsomely."

Marina grinned. "Love the sound of that."

"Let's go, girls," Sloane said. "Toshiko, you coming?"

"Er... yeah." Toshiko snapped out of her momentary trance. "Coming."

She followed the other three women out of the dark office, shutting the door behind her.

Left alone, Meredith felt herself shiver. Tied up in her underwear was bad enough, but she had no idea what her captors had in store for her.

She had to escape and find Lucinda. But how?

Her eyes fell on the discarded letter opener. Sharp - sharp enough to cut through thick tape.

Wobbling the chair back and forth, she finally tipped herself over. Ignoring the pain of the fall, she began worming her way over to the letter opener - and, hopefully, to freedom.

[tirepanted3]

"Such a gorgeous color," Eliza smiled.

She, Alex, Wanda, and Kimberly had just finished disguising themselves in the purple jumpsuits of the Steele mansion security guards.

"Looks fine," Kimberly commented. "But I prefer our usual Dennison uniforms."

"In any case," Wanda offered, "we shouldn't have much trouble passing ourselves off as security personnel. Y'know, since we do it every night." She chuckled.

"But these outfits are tighter than the ones we're used to," Kimberly countered. "Gonna be tough to move around in them."

"Maybe," Eliza smiled, "but we'll sure have an easier time moving around than they will."

So saying, she gestured to the corner of the gardening shed. Seated there, backs against the wall, were the real guards. The four women were struggling mightily, and it was easy to see why. Their wrists and ankles were bound with thick zipties, and heavy cloths were stuffed into and tied around their mouths.

Wanda and Eliza had taken special care in the seating arrangement of the four women. Upon noticing that each guard happened to wear a different-colored set of underwear, they were bound in a row to achieve a sort of "rainbow effect." Furthest to the left was the blonde guard, with her red pair of demicup bra and panties. Next was the tall raven-haired guard, clad only in an yellow sports bra and Brazilian panties. Beside her was the dark-skinned guard, down to her green set of balcony bra and boyshorts. And to her right was the freckle-faced redhead, sporting a purple bullet bra and thong.

"An excellent lineup," Wanda smiled.

"Yeah," Eliza agreed. "Too bad we couldn't mug another two guards as well. We just need some orange and blue sets of underwear to complete the collection!" She giggled.

Alex let out an exasperated sigh. "Girls... is this a game to you? Because you don't seem to be taking it at all seriously."

Eliza turned to her boss. "I... yes, ma'am."

"Just stay focused," Alex continued. "There are some truly dangerous people lurking on these mansion grounds. They will not hesitate to kill you if they must. So you need to stay alert."

Eliza nodded. Wanda did, too.

"Okay, here's how it works," Alex said. "Kimberly and I will monitor the front of the building. Wanda and Eliza will take the back..."

Wanda raised her hand. "Um... would it be okay if I partnered with Kim? We tend to work the same areas together, so I figured we make a good team."

Alex shrugged. "Fine. Eliza, you're with me. Remember, everyone stay alert and stay in touch."

As they exited the shed, Wanda leaned in to Eliza. "Now's your chance, girl," she said. "Prove to the boss you've got what it takes. Impress her."

Eliza smiled. "Thanks, Wand."

The two girls chuckled quietly as they shut the door of the shed, trapping the four whimpering women inside.

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

"Keep up," Lucinda snapped.

Prema swallowed. "Yes, sorry."

The two women wandered across a deserted section of the Hobson grounds, heading toward the central factory.

"This place is bigger than Dennison," Prema noted, tugging at her custodial uniform. "Much bigger."

"Hmmph," was all Lucinda responded.

"No wonder they're outpacing us," Prema said.

Lucinda turned, glaring at her. "Shut up, you little slut."

Prema took a step back. "I was... I was just making an observation."

"Stuff your observations," Lucinda snarled. "If it weren't for you, Meredith and I would still be running Dennison. And we'd be outpacing Hobson without breaking a sweat. We were all set to destroy them before you had to topple us."

Prema didn't understand. "...Destroy Hobson?"

"I hired some women to arrange a little 'accident' at their top facility," Lucinda responded. "But never mind that. Soon as I find my wife, we'll rain so much hell down on this place. It'll make the bombing look like a cool summer breeze by comparison."

Prema bit her lip. "We shouldn't do anything drastic..."

"Drastic?" Lucinda rested her hand on her gun. "You ruined my life, and now you're lecturing me not to do anything drastic?"

"I... I didn't ruin your life!" Despite her fears, Prema was growing indignant. "I wasn't the one who started the investigation into Dennison. That was... Bridget?"

"The nosy reporter," Lucinda nodded. "Should've killed her when I had the chance."

"No, look!" Prema pointed ahead.

Three women in Hobson factory uniforms were approaching. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but as they neared, it became clear who the tallest one was.

Bridget blinked. "...Prema?"

Prema tried to shield her face. This night was not going well.

Lucinda's eyes raised. "You!" she snarled.

She lunged at Bridget, reaching for her gun. But the journalist was quicker. She grabbed the taller woman's arm and flipped her over, landing her at the feet of Bobbi and Felicia.

"Hello again... Lucinda, wasn't it?" Bridget smiled. "Nice to see you, too."

Lucinda staggered to her feet. "I'll kill you," she said. "I'll kill you all."

Bridget struck a defensive karate pose. "Please try."

Lucinda glanced at the factory in the distance. Meredith was still trapped inside, and she was wasting time...

She looked back at Bridget. "We'll have to settle our scores some other time." She turned and headed for the factory. "But we will settle them. Mark my words."

The girls watched Lucinda disappear into the distance.

"What a bitch," Bobbi muttered.

Bridget turned to the janitorial-garbed woman. "Prema, are you all right?"

"Go away." Prema turned her heel.

"You look scared. How did you come to be here?"

"I said go away!" Prema glared at Bridget. "I don't care how we ended things. You are not my friend. Leave me alone."

She turned and walked two steps... before she was grabbed.

"Well, well," a woman in security guard uniform smiled. "Look who we have here."

"Trying to escape, honey?" her partner asked.

Both women tightened their grip on Prema's arms. She struggled, but to no avail.

"Who the hell are you?" Bridget asked.

"Oh, dear... guess we haven't introduced ourselves," the sandy-haired woman spoke. "I'm Whitney... this is Darla. And you ladies..." She drew her gun. "Well, it looks like you're all our prisoners."

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

The beauty parlor was the largest room on the mansion's lower level. This was in part because of how much space it needed. Hundreds of perfumes, cosmetics, and scented oils lined the shelves, each more expensive than the last.

The two beauticians, Celeste and Genevieve, worked full-time on Valencia Steele's payroll. Both women were from France, having emigrated to the USA several months earlier. Both also had blonde hair, although Genevieve's was a brighter shade of yellow and done into a shoulder-length ponytail, while Celeste wore her hair in a bob.

Both women were dressed in custom uniforms - dark blue button-through shortsleeve tunics, tan capri pants, and white lace sneakers. They were currently busy preparing for their latest beautification assignment.

"Hurry up, cherie," Celeste said, loading the makeup cart with several sweet-scented perfumes. "Madame Steele is expecting us quite soon."

"I am almost ready," Genevieve replied. "Just need to find my eyebrow pencil."

Celeste put her hands on her hips. "Honestly! I wish you'd take better care of your things."

Genevieve was about to retort when her search through the oaken drawer bore fruit. "Ah! Here it is. Now we can go."

At that moment, a knock came at the door. Celeste opened it to find a smiling, dark-haired woman in butler uniform.

"Good evening, girls," Lucille smiled. She sized them up. "Yes, you're just about right."

"About right for what?" Celeste asked. "Pardonnez moi - we need to get to Madame Steele's room promptly."

She tried to step by, but Lucille blocked the doorway.

"Change of plans, girls," she said. "You won't be doing any more work tonight. We'll be sending over a pair of substitutes instead. Ladies?"

Two tall women in security uniform stepped into view. Both entered the parlor, grinning menacingly at Celeste and Genevieve.

The two beauticians backed into a corner. "What... what is happening?" a clearly frightened Genevieve asked.

"Nothing too troubling," Lucille said, closing and locking the door of the beauty parlor behind her. "Allow me to introduce my two accomplices. They each know about fourteen different types of martial arts..."

"I know sixteen," Sonja interjected.

"...and that's before we get to all those nasty weapons on their belts. In short," Lucille stated, "they can cause the two of you a lot of pain if you don't cooperate with us."

"What..." Celeste stammered. "...what do you want?"

"Your clothes, darling," Lucille grinned. "Strip, both of you... quickly and quietly."

The two beauticians stared at her with a mix of fear and perplexity. "Our... clothes?" Genevieve reached tentatively for the top button of her tunic.

Lucille nodded encouragingly. "You may keep your underwear, but we'll need everything else."

Slowly, the girls' trembling hands began unbuttoning their uniforms. Genevieve cast a fearful look at Celeste.

"It'll be all right," Celeste said. "Just do as these women say."

"This sort of thing never happened in Paris," Genevieve said sourly.

"Welcome to America," Chandra grinned. "We do things a little differently around here."

She and Sonja kept their guns trained on the two beauticians, who continued to shed their uniforms. Beneath her tunic, Genevieve wore a frilly and decorative pink bra; Celeste had a plainer bra in dark blue. Both women bent down to unlace their sneakers, their breasts wobbling slightly as they did so.

"Seems that underwear could be a little sturdier," Sonja remarked.

Finally, the blondes shimmied out of their pants, revealing that both wore high-cut lace panties - pale rose for Genevieve, light green for Celeste. The women stood trembling in their undergarments, fearfully awaiting the next order.

A quick search of the cabinets revealed some clean white towels; these Sonja and Chandra cut up and repurposed into useful bondage strips. Ordering the two captives to stand back-to-back, they crossed the women's wrists with each other and bound them all securely. Their knees and ankles were secured as well. Some smaller hand towels were stuffed into the girls' mouths, and more were tied around them as gags.

The beauticians were stored in a lower cabinet, just large enough to contain two women. Still, their knees were pressed up against their breasts in rather painful fashion.

"Apologies," Lucille said, though the smile remained on her face. "But this is the price of working for a criminal like Valencia Steele. You understand, I'm sure."

The beauticians moaned into their gags. Lucille shrugged and shut the cabinet.

By now, Chandra and Sonja had finished dressing in their newly appropriated tunics, pants, and sneakers.

"Not bad," Sonja smiled. "Of all the uniforms we've 'borrowed' tonight, this one is probably my favorite."

"Enough chitchat." Lucille tapped her watch. "Let's move. We're late as it is."

The three women exited the parlor, Sonja pushing the makeup cart. They headed for the elevator.

As they passed the boiler room, Chandra's ears perked up. "Do you hear something?"

"What is it?" Sonja asked.

"I don't know... thought I heard some clanging noises."

"That's just the boiler," Lucille snapped. "Move."

The women continued on their way, not giving it another thought.

Inside the boiler room, Nadyne continued to struggle. Her bra and panties were soaked with sweat from the heat. Her feet ached from rapping on the pipe. And her mouth was dry behind the mercilessly tight gag.

But the bomb continued to tick. Nadyne summoned up her reserve strength and continued to kick out against the metal pipe.

Someone had to come. They had to...

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

Melissa snapped her fingers. Once, twice.

No response. She chuckled.

Betty and Adelaide were sound asleep, the drug working even faster than she had anticipated. She pressed the intercom.

"Natalie, do come in."

Natalie stepped inside the office. She smiled at the two slumbering women. "Looks like you've bored them to sleep."

"Clever girl," Melissa grinned. "You're about due for a raise. Now I need to go meet with Sloane and her team. Would you mind strip-searching these two and tying them up?"

Natalie's smile broadened. "It would be a pleasure."

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

Karima tucked the last bomb at the very back of a dark coat closet.

The results would be marvelous, she mused. Once the bomb in the boiler room went off, it would cause a chain reaction to blow up all the other bombs she and her girls had planted around the mansion. She chuckled at the thought.

"Excuse me..."

Karima turned around. Standing there was one of the mansion's maids. The woman was quite slim, with her golden brown hair tied back in a bun. She wore a light blue blouse with a cravat and white neckerchief, a dark blue knee-length skirt, white tights, and sensible black shoes. Next to her was a laundry cart filled with worn linens.

"You shouldn't be tacking mud in here," the maid said, pointing at Karima's brown boots. "We work very hard to clean these floors."

Normally, Karima would have made the woman pay for such an insolent remark, but she had a cover to keep.

"Apologies, miss." She gave a low mock bow. "I'll be out of your hair momentarily."

The maid eyed her strangely. "Something... familiar about you..."

Then her eyes widened. "I've seen you... on the news..." she gasped. "You're the terrorist woman the FBI is after..."

She turned to run, but Karima was faster. She grabbed the poor maid, covering her mouth with one hand and twisting her arm with the other.

"Let's have a little chat, Lady Sherlock," Karima whispered, dragging the woman back into the closet.

Already the girl was sobbing, certain this was her finish. But Karima whispered soothingly in her ear.

"There... there, darling... I'm not going to kill you... You seem to be an innocent in all this..."

The maid swallowed fearfully, but stopped sobbing.

"You did make me realize one thing, though... I stick out like a sore thumb in this outfit. I could probably blend in if I had a change of clothes..." Karima grinned. "And that, darling, is where you come in."

The maid's eyes widened.

Twelve minutes later, Karima exited the closet, now dressed in the maid's blouse, skirt, shoes, and tights. She admired her appearance in one of the mansion's large mirrors.

It had been a while - years, in fact - since Karima had worn a skirt. As her job typically involved adopting the guises of security guards and other professional women, she had not appeared in particularly feminine clothing for quite a while. It was an odd feeling... but to her mind, not an entirely unwelcome one. She approached the mirror and attended to her hair, arranging it into a feminine bun.

The moaning from behind her returned Karima to reality. The real maid sat on the floor of the old closet, stripped to her indigo-colored bra and panties, bound and gagged with generous amounts of tape. She struggled painfully, shrinking back as Karima approached again.

"Thanks for the uniform," Karima smiled. "It's..." she tried to find the right word. "It's lovely."

She shut the door, plunging the maid into darkness.

Karima strode down the hall, pushing the laundry cart, her gait now energized with a renewed sense of purpose. Still, she kept her mind set and her heart cold. If Valencia did not cooperate, the maid - like everyone else in the mansion - was going to die. But Karima had more important things to concern herself with.

It took her a matter of moments to find Yasmin and Sabira.

"Shall we move on to the next phase, girls?"

Sabira looked around. "Where's Nadyne?"

"She's busy in the basement," Karima said truthfully. "We'll just go on without her. Follow me."

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

SNAP!

The sound was music to Meredith's ears. The ropes binding her wrists were now broken.

With her arms free, it was quite easy to untie her ankles and pull the gag from her mouth. She stood up and stretched, her underwear-clad body straining its every muscle.

"Okay," she breathed. "Gotta find Lucinda."

She peeked out into the corridor. Empty. Clearly, she was in an abandoned wing of the factory.

No... not entirely empty. She heard the steady echoing of boots down the distant hallway. Sounds that were getting closer...

Stepping out of the office, she made her way down the corridor, clinging to the shadows. She hid in a small single-person restroom as the figure came into view.

The woman appeared to be a factory supervisor. She was tall and black, dressed in an orange jumpsuit and heavy dark boots. She was glancing at a clipboard as she stepped down the hall, casually making a few notes along the way.

Whatever the woman's objective was, she would not accomplish it this night. As she passed by the closet, Meredith reached out and grabbed her shoulders. The stunned supervisor dropped her clipboard as she was pulled into the closet, where her lights were swiftly and efficiently punched out.

Stripping the unconscious woman gave Meredith a satisfying feeling of control, as did dressing in the warm jumpsuit and lacing up the boots. She used some flex from the closet to hogtie the woman, gagging her with some green duct tape.

Meredith exited and shut the closet, and picked up the clipboard. To her satisfaction, she found that one of the pages contained a map of the Hobson facility. She was about to study it more closely when a new pair of footsteps sounded in the distance.

A security guard strode into view, heading for the corridor. Meredith kept cool, hoping her disguise would fool the woman. However, as the guard got closer, Meredith heard her stop short.

"...Honey?"

Meredith looked up. Lucinda was smiling at her.

With a cry of delight, the women embraced.

"I knew you'd come for me," Meredith sighed.

"Looks like you've done a decent job rescuing yourself." Lucinda patted her wife's rear affectionately. "Love the outfit."

Meredith did a mock twirl. "Thanks, it's new."

Lucinda laughed. "What shall we do now? You won't believe this, but Bridget Baxter is here. We can finish her and Prema in one blow."

Meredith bit her lip. "Lucy... if you don't mind, I've had enough excitement for one night. Maybe we could hold off on the revenge plan for a bit?"

Lucinda smiled. "Of course. Let's get out of here."

"Great. I've got a map and everything."

[rufusluciusivan]

And now everyone is at the same place, interferring with everyone else's plans. Which is always one of my favorite parts. It was nice to see characters from the previous story interact (Bridget with Prema... and Lucinda), though maybe a little too short. Hopefully, there will be more. I admit that I'm more attached to these characters than to the new ones. Although, good suspense with Toshiko and the knife. A few more seconds and Sloane was going to be PG-18'd to death... Still, she should watch her back.

Nice touch with Karima and the maid dress. Now, I see what you meant by humanizing her a little. Though, the scene with Nadyne shows that she's still as cold as ever.

Nice idea with the two chefs. I think this may be the first time this kind of uniform has been stolen on this board.

And of course, still love the humorous scenes added, such as Bridget's friend killing time by also stealing their uniforms, or these two security guards who arrived just in the nick of time to solve Darla's and Whitney's argument. Talk about perfect timing!

I finally would like to give all my support to my two fellow countrywomen. They may have lost their clothes, but they gave me one of my favorite scenes of this story in terms of dialogues, stripping, description, bindings and aftermath (love the stashing). This sort of thing never happens in Paris indeed...