Warning: This is a harsh violent tale; like a roller-coaster it starts off slow and easy but the ride gets more thrilling and scary the longer you stay on it.

Donald Chase sat across the desk from the Director. Mike Cole sat beside him. Chase and Cole looked fit and lean under their dark suits and crisp white shirts, their earnest angular faces were framed by buzz-cut haircuts.

“She’s too young and inexperienced,” Mike Cole wet his thumb and rubbed at a scuffmark on his brogue.

“Which is exactly why she’s perfect,” Donald Chase countered.

“How far along is she?” the Director studied the slim file on his desk.

“Eighteen weeks. She’s in the top third of her class,” Chase sounded enthusiastic.

“Tell me again why we can’t we use any of our qualified field agents?” the Director stared at Donald Chase.

“Well sir, first off most are just too old. Even those younger agents who have just graduated from the Academy and are on their first assignments have too much special agent in them. They look like agents, they talk like agents, they walk like agents… hell they even smell like agents,” Chase turned down his mouth.

“Also, may I remind you that she is the only one of her kind we have,” Chase knew he needed to be careful how he phrased his response.

The Bureau prided itself on its record for diversity and inclusion and made a big deal of the number of awards it had recently received from various government and non-government bodies and authorities for its achievements in these areas.

But Donald Chase was right. The person whose file sat on the Director’s desk was unique within the Bureau.

“Mike?” the Director called on Mike Cole to play devil’s advocate.

“She hasn’t finished her training and even if she had so what? She’s so wet behind the ears that I wouldn’t use her for this. The people we send undercover, and here we are talking deep undercover, have had extensive training in the field. They’ll chop her up into pieces as soon as they find out who she is,” Mike countered.

“Don’t you get it sir? That’s why we need her. Not only because she is unique but because her naiveté will be her best defence. The clock is ticking. We move today or we miss the opportunity,” Chase was starting to sound whiney and he didn’t want to.

“You sure we can’t send in another of our female agents?” the Director knew why; he just wanted to hear it again.

“It’s a special order. It’s her or nobody,” Chase sighed.

“We have put countless hours and more money than I’d ever like to make public into this case. We’ve tried everything else but actually getting somebody inside his organisation is the only way we are going to find him and bring him down,” Chase sighed.

“How many people know about this?” the Director looked both men in the eyes one at a time.

“Here at the Bureau… you, me and Mike. Outside of that just Uri. She will need a handler once we have her in place; Uri has someone,” Chase got the feeling he might just get the green light.

“Contingencies?” the Director raised his brows.

“If her cover gets blown there is no way out. She’s buckwheats. The upside is we have plausible deniability. Not that she would ever be found, but in any event we will expunge her Bureau records as soon as she is assigned to the case, she has no real family and very few close friends. She’ll be a Jane Doe,” Mike Cole shrugged his shoulders.

“If she makes the case we take down one of the biggest, baddest transnational criminals currently operating in the USA. Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich makes Keyser Söze look like Mary Poppins,” Donald Chase said enthusiastically.

“So the upside is if you pull this off, the Bureau, i.e. me, comes out smelling like roses and if it goes south no one will ever know about it?” the Director rubbed his chin.

“You sure that if we lose this girl no one will ever know that she was one of ours?” the Director picked up the file and studied it.

“You’ve seen those bullshit movies with that short cocky Scientologist: ‘should you be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions’. Like that,” Mike Cole gave a rare smile.

“Will she know that?” the Director dropped the file back on his desk.

“Fuck no!” Mike Cole’s smile became an evil grimace.

“Do it. Nothing comes back to me if this thing ends up a shit-storm Don. This meeting never took place,” the Director closed the file and handed it Donald Chase.

*****

Jennifer Jones adopted the Weaver stance and put a full magazine down range in bursts of two and three rounds. She holstered her Glock and hit the button to retrieve her target. Her instructor looked over her shoulder as she studied it.

“Not bad Jones but you’re still snatching the trigger instead of squeezing it. You know how to squeeze dontcha,” Benny Grant’s breath smelled like the sandwich he’d eaten at lunch.

He was standing over her, closer than necessary, and his hand accidently-on purposely grazed Jennifer’s ass as he raised it to point at the groupings on the target. All the female agents knew about Grant being a grab-ass. He was old school and a year away from retirement so they gave him a pass. He was harmless enough.

Jennifer was wearing khaki chinos and a FBI polo shirt so it’s not like Grant could put his hand up her skirt. In any event, he’d be very surprised at what he found under there if he did.

Jennifer Jones had applied to the Bureau as soon as she was eligible. She knew that her circumstances would make the selection process difficult. She was not the first transgender woman to apply to the Bureau but she was only one so far who had applied who had not undergone bottom surgery.

Some bureaucrat in the recruiting process had directed Jennifer to complete a Reasonable Accommodation Request so that her disability could be assessed to determine if she was eligible for recruitment. That bureaucrat had obviously forgotten that Jennifer Jones had a law degree and now had in her possession official correspondence from the FBI inferring that her gender identity was considered a disability. That would not reflect well on the Bureau’s diversity and inclusivity record of which it made such a big deal

Her complaint when it was received, made it to the Director who directed that the imbecilic bureaucrat be reassigned to somewhere far away with a cold climate and that Jennifer Jones was to be recruited, provided she signed whatever documents the agency lawyers put in front of her to keep quiet about the incident. Jennifer was also advised that her physiology was nobody’s business but her own but that it might be best for her not to continually make reference to her unique anatomy.

“You mean you don’t want me to rub it in people’s faces,” Jennifer had grinned cheekily when she made the double entendre to the young female lawyer who sat across from her as she signed the non-disclosure agreement.

“Hey Don, don’t get to see you around the academy much these days,” Benny Grant smiled warmly at Donald Chase as he approached.

“You still terrorising new agent trainees Grant?” Donald slapped Grant on the back.

“Ain’t the same now the girl’s don’t have to wear skirts,” Grant chuckled.

Donald studied Jennifer closely to see how she took the sleight on her gender but she remained passive, interested only in the paper target she was holding.

“Pack up and come with me Jones,” Donald said gruffly.

Jennifer looked surprised. She had no idea why someone as important as Donald Chase would want to talk to her. She could only surmise that it was going to be bad news. Special Agents-in-Charge did not usually associate with New Agent Trainees. Jennifer figured that the Bureau had figured out some loophole to fire her. They certainly couldn’t fail her on her academic results or her fitness or firearms scores.

Jennifer secured her weapon in her assigned security locker and cursed because she would have to come back and clean it later… if there was a later. Donald Chase led her to a nondescript service vehicle and drove her to a part of Quantico where she had never been. Chase remained silent during the short ride. He took his briefcase with him and swiped his card and used a passcode to gain entry to the building and did the same to activate the elevator which took them to the sub-basement.

He led Jennifer to an unmarked door that looked to me made of reinforced steel. He swiped his ID card, used a passcode, and then pressed his palm to a reading device before the door would open.

Jennifer followed Chase down a long corridor to a door marked simply ‘Briefing Room Two’. Inside, a row of six leather recliner chairs were arranged around a mahogany desk that were incongruous to the cinderblock bunker in which they sat.

Jennifer knew that under various statutes that the Bureau could confiscate and appropriate the proceeds of organised crime and it seemed to her that the opulent furniture was just such an example. What looked like a simple desktop computer sat on a built-in desk in the corner but there was nothing simple about it. Various coloured wires and cords fed into black boxes with flashing LEDs which were connected by other leads into a larger box which provided input into the computer. An overly-large flat-screen was mounted on one wall.

Chase indicated the recliner closest to the computer as he sat on the office chair next to it and fired it up. Once again there was much scanning of cards and inputting of passcodes before the screen lit up.

What looked to Jennifer like the webpage of an online dating site appeared on the flat-screen, either that or a modelling agency or possibly a call-girl agency.

There were thumbnails of six women, girls really; all blonde and all strikingly pretty. Chase hovered the cursor over a picture of one of the girls and clicked and the screen changed. A series of full-body shots of the girl filled the screen.

The girl was young, had a slim figure, perky natural breasts, long legs and her skin was perfect: lightly tanned and unblemished. She was dressed in various forms of attire from eveningwear to swimwear including one nude. Her makeup and hair was professionally styled and the clothing looked couture. Now it seemed more like a modelling site to Jennifer.

Chase clicked the mouse again and scrolls of text appeared on the screen in a number of languages; Jennifer tried to read as much of the English text box as she could. It provided the girl’s vital statistics and her age, nationality, education and accomplishments. A chill ran through Jennifer’s body when she read the final sentence which stated that the girl’s virginity would be confirmed by a board-certified physician on delivery and if she was found to be ‘defective’ a full refund would be provided.

“People trafficking,” Jennifer broke the silence finally.

Chase nodded sagely.

“And?” he waited for Jennifer to extrapolate.

Jennifer got out of the chair and approached the screen and carefully read and reread the text and studied the pictures.

“She’s young, incredibly pretty, reasonably well educated, white of course and still a virgin. Up close her eyes look glazed so she’s obviously drugged; I can’t think for a second she is doing this voluntarily. There are men in some places that would pay an extraordinary amount of money to possess a girl like this,” Jennifer studied the screen.

“You’ve been paying attention in class,” he said dryly.

Actually Chase was not only impressed by Jennifer’s astuteness but also by her lack of emotion. No matter how hard the Bureau conditioned their agents, when confronted with crimes like people trafficking, especially when it involved young pretty white girls, some agents couldn’t supress their emotions.

Chase clicked on an icon at the bottom of the screen and it changed back to the page he had first shown her but on this page beside each thumbnail was a counter. The counter beside the girl Chase had selected read 210. Jennifer watched fascinated as the counter clicked over to 215.

“American dollars or Euros?” Jennifer asked.

“Most transnational crime is conducted in US dollars. Depending on the exchange rates bidders in foreign countries can save or lose thousands by waiting for the last minute to bid,” Chase hovered the cursor over a countdown clock on the top right of the screen.

“The auction has seventeen hours and seven minutes to run and the bid currently stands at two hundred and fifteen thousand dollar,” Jennifer commented.

“This is an outstanding demonstration sir but can you tell me why I’m here? Are all agent trainees being shown this simulation? Is it a test? Did I pass?” Jennifer asked.

The FBI prided itself on having world-leading training simulations. They had everything: kill rooms, hostage negotiation scenarios, crime scenes with realistic cadavers, drug deals, VIP assassination scenarios, car chase courses. No expense was spared on training.

“This is not a mock-up. This site is live,” Chase said levelly.

Jennifer sat down heavily in her chair.

“With all of our cyber security expertise surely we can trace this site and find out who is behind it and apprehend them or at least take it down,” Jennifer said.

“You would think so but the criminals behind this site have people who are just as smart if not smarter than our National Cyber Investigative Joint Task Force. The IP for this site bounces around the globe faster than we can trace it and even if we could close the site down it would pop up again within twenty-four hours and we’d likely never find it again.”

“We gained access to this site on the Dark Web when we were approached by a middle-ranking member of a Russian transnational organized crime group. He is currently in WITSEC helping us with our investigations. If the group knows that we have access to the site or if we shut it down we lose a key foothold into our investigation,” Chase replied.

“What happens to the girls?” Jennifer asked emotionlessly.

“The lucky ones will end up on some Sheik’s love yacht as part of his harem or become a concubine for some uber-rich Euro-trash. Even the unlucky ones won’t be physically abused. Nobody pays those sort of prices for something and then breaks it apart,” Chase said matter-of-factly.

“These aren’t backpackers, trailer-trash or girls seeking domestic work overseas who get tricked into forced prostitution. These are crème de la crème offerings by organised people traffickers: young, middle-class, educated, sophisticated, white girls,” Chase smoothed out his tie.

“But they are still people. Young women. Do we at least make an effort to identify them and inform their families?” Jennifer displayed some rare emotion.

Chase just glared at her.

“Ok Agent Trainee Jones here is the deal. This is a one-time offer and your chance to do something about this. This operation is way above your security clearance but there is something about you that is unique that makes you perfect for this assignment.”

“It’s undercover and it’s dangerous. But if you take it on and are successful you will help bring down one of the most-wanted evil criminals currently operating anywhere in the world. You get one chance to say yes or no. I can’t brief you any further until I have your answer,” Chase went to a small refrigerator and took out a bottle of water and handed it to Jennifer and took one for himself.

“What about my training?” Jennifer asked.

“What about it?” Chase shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of water.

“What if I say no?” Jennifer took a sip of her water too; she needed it because her mouth was dry.

“You finish your training and end up working out of a field office in some Podunk town investigating the theft of stamp collections and filing field reports,” Chase took another sip of his water.

“Do I get time to think about it?” Jennifer sighed.

“No. We have to move now while we have a unique opportunity to infiltrate this organisation. You say yes and you’re in. You say no and I drive you back to the pistol range so you can play grab-ass with that dinosaur Benny Grant,” Chase put down the water.

“I’m in,” Jennifer said through gritted teeth.

She felt like she was Clarice Starling in the movie Silence of the Lambs; seconded to the BSU whilst still a trainee, but she knew this would be far more dangerous than any movie.

Inside his head Donald Chase gave himself an allegoric high-five but he showed no emotion.

“Go back to your dormitory and clear it out. Packing boxes have already been delivered and everything will be held in secure storage while you are away on assignment,” Chase sat down next to Jennifer and held her wrist tightly.

“Needless to say you can say nothing of this to anyone. The story for anyone who asks is that you flunked out of the Academy. We’ll give you a new identity and another backstory to go with it but that comes later.”

“Do not take any personal possessions, anything at all that can identify you. Change out of your drabs and into civilian clothing and leave everything else behind. Here is a charge card. Take it and go shopping, buy enough clothing to last a week.”

“I’m not going to try to be PC about this Jones. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon. Dress… well dress like you saw those girls on the screen dressed. But not slutty… dress pretty and young… you’re twenty three but I bet you could pass for nineteen in a pinch,” Chase squeezed her wrist.

He put the American Express Centurion Card charge card down in front of her as well as a hotel keycard.

“Tonight is your last night of freedom. Do whatever you like so long as you don’t get arrested. Take some cash out on the charge card and enjoy yourself. Tomorrow I’ll take your Bureau ID and Jennifer Jones will cease to exist,” Chase let go of her wrist.

“For how long?” Jennifer asked.

“Until the job is done or until I say so,” Chase sighed.

He opened his briefcase and slid a document across the table to Jennifer.

“If you take the time to read that I’ll be disappointed. It’s just a release that summarises the fact that you agree to go undercover and understand the dangers involved,” Chase tapped the document.

Jennifer signed it without reading it and slid it back to Chase.

Case put the document into his briefcase. He would shred the document as soon as he got back to his office, it was just a prop; there would be no paper trail.

“This is the shit Jones! This is what you joined up for. Keep your mouth shut and enjoy your last night of freedom,” Chase stood up and grabbed his briefcase.

Jennifer stood up and followed him. They retraced their route out of the building and into Chase’s service vehicle except he bypassed the range and took Jennifer to her accommodation block. The drive was conducted in silence even though a thousand questions were bouncing around in Jennifer's head.

Chase dropped her off out front of her block.

“There will be a car here to pick you up in an hour. Remember what I said about secrecy. Like I said; enjoy your last night of freedom and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Chase said through the window.

“I guess someone else is cleaning that Glock,” Jennifer whispered to herself and walked off to her dorm.

Chase stopped half a block away and called Mike Cole.

“She’s in and we’re a go,” he said into the phone and immediately hung up.

It took Jennifer less than an hour to pack everything she owned into six packing cartons. She’d come to the academy with very little of her past life and she would be leaving with none of it. She changed into black skinny-jeans, a white cotton blouse and ankle-boots that had a heel. Her credit cards, driver’s licence, anything that could identify her except for her Bureau ID card went into a lockbox with a pre-set code which she changed to something she could easily remember. The lockbox went into the last packing carton.

Jennifer was standing out front of the accommodation block holding onto her cell phone, her only remaining possession, when the black town car pulled up. She had run into nobody which she didn’t think was a coincidence. The block was usually busy with agent trainees coming and going but Chase could easily manipulate the situation so that all the trainees were busy, organise a training exercise perhaps?

The driver welcomed her with a curt nod and put up the privacy screen. Soft music played through the speakers and the minibar rattled when the car bounced over the odd bump but once on the I-95 the ride was smooth but the traffic was heavy, almost stop start.

“Fuck it! He told me to enjoy my last day of freedom,” Jennifer opened the minibar and poured a double measure of scotch into a crystal glass.

She opened her phone case. Everything she possessed was inside it: her Bureau ID, the black charge card, a faded photograph of her mother and two hundred and seventy dollars in cash. She downed the scotch and poured another then tapped on the glass dividing her from the driver because she couldn’t be bothered trying to find the button to open it.

“Yes ma’am?” the driver lowered the glass and half-turned his head but kept his eyes on the road.

“Is there a half-decent shopping mall anywhere near where we’re going?” she asked.

The driver said nothing and closed the partition but the car glided to a halt ten minutes later. The driver got out and opened the door for her. They were parked in a VIP spot under City Center DC. A flunky opened the door to the shopping mall for Jennifer and welcomed her.

Jennifer just nodded and entered the shopping centre and looked around.

“Ok baby, let’s take you for a test drive,” she took out the black charge card and hit the mall spending about an hour and a half shopping.

Jennifer returned to the same entrance, a shop assistant rolling a trolley filled with her purchases. The assistant and the chauffeur loaded her purchases into the town car. She tipped the assistant fifty dollars as he held the car door open for her. Jennifer had withdrawn two thousand dollars in cash on the card, half expecting that the withdrawal would not be approved but the machine had dutifully spat out the Benjamins.

“Any more stops Miss?” the driver said as he pulled back into the traffic.

“Nope, just take me to wherever we are going,” Jennifer said smugly and resisted the temptation to pour herself another drink.

The car pulled up outside the Conrad Washington. The driver must have called ahead because a valet was waiting with a trolley and another opened the car door and greeted her.

“Welcome to the Conrad Washington Miz Edwards. You have been pre-checked in so no need for formalities; may I have your keycard?” the valet held out his hand and Jennifer dropped the keycard that Chase had given her into it.

Jennifer turned to the car and put her head through the window and smiled at the driver.

“Thank you very much,” she held out a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

“I can’t take that ma’am,” the driver gave her a dour smile.

“Fuck you can,” Jennifer dropped the note on the passenger seat; she was a little emboldened by the scotch.

The valet led Jennifer past a bank of elevators and took her to a VIP elevator and swiped her keycard. He studied his shoes as the elevator shot up to the VIP floor and then led her to a suite and opened the door for her. Jennifer only half listened as the valet demonstrated all of the amenities in the suite, she was busting for a leak.

“Just put them all on the bed,” Jennifer pointed to the king-size bed made up with Egyptian-cotton sheets when the second valet arrived with her purchases.

She ushered them both out of the suite and crammed a hundred dollars into one of the valet’s hands.

“Share that please,” she closed the door and tapped the do-not-disturb button before she raced to the bathroom.

She just managed to pull down her jeans and practical cotton panties before she flooded the bowl with urine. Even though she had a penis she sat down to pee. She always had. When she’d finished her business she stripped off her clothes and pulled on a fleecy dressing gown. She looked around the suite and took it all in then she looked at the shopping bags, parcels and packages stacked on the bed.

“Fuck me!” she squealed and dived on the bed.

The buzz from the liquor had dissipated and she poured herself a drink at the minibar and unpacked her purchases and turned on the television. ‘Welcome Jennifer Edwards’ the television displayed the usual hotel greeting.

“Chase might at least have told me what name I was using,” Jennifer grumbled.

As she did so her cell phone rang. It was a private number.

“Hope you’re settling in well, you certainly took my advice regarding enjoying yourself. That card has taken a thrashing,” Chase’s voice sounded crisp and clear.

“You told me to enjoy my last night of freedom,” Jennifer was a little miffed but she should have guessed that Chase had been tracking her.

“Good. Don’t forget what I said about tomorrow. Dress pretty and dress young,” Chase said.

“I get it,” Jennifer eyed her purchases.

“Ok. Goodnight Jennifer Edwards. Have a blast but make sure that you’re on the ball at noon tomorrow,” Chase ended the call.

Jennifer thought long and hard about what Chase had said and a cheeky smile crossed her face. She worked her phone until she found what she was looking for and then she made a call. She provided her charge card details, her hotel room number and completed the transaction.

Jennifer used the commode and then took a long bath and enjoyed the luxury of the warm soapy water on her body. She sponged herself and incited an erection which poked above the foamy loam on top of the bathwater. She stroked it lazily and took her hand away when it started to throb.

“Don’t waste it,” she admonished herself and climbed out of the bath and put on the robe.

She arranged the cosmetics that she had purchased on the vanity and went to work on her face. For the last eighteen weeks of her life Jennifer had lived at the academy and had remained celibate with no need to make herself particularly attractive. She’d had a couple of offers from male agents who she knew were just tranny-chasers: men who had watched ‘chicks with dicks’ porn on the internet and wanted to try it themselves. Jennifer had declined their gracious offers and kept to herself and concentrated on her studies.

It was exhilarating to put on a face. Not just put on face but to apply the makeup skills she had learned growing up and make herself look beautiful. Jennifer’s mother loved to dress up and put on a face and Jennifer believed she had inherited her mother’s genes when it came to presenting enfemme. She had always loved being a ‘girly-girl’. She enjoyed wearing makeup and dressing in lingerie, nylons, skirts, dresses and heels as much as her mother did.

Jennifer always dressed femme right up until she entered the academy and for the last eighteen weeks had endured wearing khaki pants, polo shirts, cotton underwear and sensible shoes. She’d always imagined that when she graduated she would dress like Agent Dana Scully: black power suits, coiffed red hair, black high-heels and perfect makeup but with a kick-ass attitude; cold and calculating with expert street fighting skills.

She certainly had the red hair and cold and calculating disposition but being just five feet tall and with a school-girl body shape with narrow shoulders and hips, weighing in at just over ninety pounds, she certainly didn’t have the physique. When she arrived at the academy her instructors had thought she would be an early dropout even though she had easily passed the entrance fitness exam. They had been instructed to be extra-hard on her but Jennifer had surprised them with her strength and agility.

She completed her makeup: heavy on the eyeliner and mascara and ruby-red lips. She brushed out her hair. The highlights were starting to fade and she needed to visit a hairdresser but how she looked had been her least concern these last eighteen weeks. She padded over to the bed naked and stepped into the lingerie she had only just purchased: black satin bikini panties and matching bra to support her size 28 B-cup breasts.

When she’d had her breast augmentation surgery she had her choice of breast sizes and she had made the sensible choice and selected breast implants proportional to her frame. At that stage of her life she was dreaming of becoming a lawyer not a porn star so there was need for her to indulge in huge tits.

She slipped into a pair of fifteen denier hold-up stockings, high-gloss flesh-toned, the ones she preferred, then she slipped on her most outlandish purchase: a pair of Christian Louboutin black patent leather Sex Igalle pumps. The shop assistant had turned up her nose when Jennifer had asked her to find a pair that would fit her tiny feet until she had produced her American Express Centurion Card and then the shopgirl had turned the store upside down to find the $2000 pair of shoes.

She checked out her silhouette in the mirror and recalled the comment Chase had made about her passing for nineteen. If she took off the heels and makeup she could probably get away with it but the last thing on her mind right now was passing for a schoolgirl.

She doused herself in Chanel No. 5 and poured herself a glass of champagne and checked her phone. Her delivery should be entering the foyer just about now.

On cue, the hotel handset buzzed and she picked it up and spoke briefly into it. She hadn't had a cigarette for nearly a year but she was jonesing for one right now. She unlocked the hotel room door and left it ajar, dimmed the house lights, put her champagne on the nightstand and turned down the covers of the king size bed.

She lay on the bed in what she hoped was a provocative pose.

The door opened and a handsome man wearing an expensive suit entered. Even in the darkened room Jennifer could tell he had a sunbed tan. His dark hair was perfectly styled and when he smiled at her Jennifer caught her breath. He made his way over to the bed but was not presumptuous enough to sit on it; instead he looked down at Jennifer and studied her.

“You are exquisite if I may say so,” he gave Jennifer that heartbreak smile again.

“You may say so Jorge. Now get out of that suit and join me on the bed, we ain’t going out for dinner,” Jennifer said curtly but her smile was infectious and Jorge took no time getting naked.

She was right about the tan which was too even and covered every inch of his body and could only have been obtained on a tanning bed. When he approached the bed he was already erect, a solid seven inches.

“You ordered the deluxe package ma’am, is there anything specific and am I topping or bottoming?” Jorge climbed onto the bed.

“Let’s just go with the flow shall we?” Jennifer opened her arms and Jorge lay down on top of her.

Jorge smelled of expensive bodywash and aftershave, very masculine; his body was well-toned but athletic not body-builder beefy. He kissed her and Jennifer put her arms around his neck, she could feel his cock pressing into her belly. Her own cock was hard and dripping in anticipation.

Jennifer let Jorge kiss her languidly, enjoying the feel of a man’s body on hers. Jorge was careful not to crush her, taking his weight on his elbows and knees but making sure she felt his cock on her. He manipulated it so that his cock was pressing on hers through the layer of panty satin and rubbed it in time with his tongue thrusting in her mouth.

Jorge was good. He should be for what she was paying the agency that had provided him.

Jorge kissed Jennifer and rubbed his cock on hers until her panties were soaked with precum and then he moved his lips to her ear and kissed and nuzzled her earlobe, then her delicate neck and then he moved down to her breasts where he took his time suckling her nipples, expertly using his lips, tongue and teeth until Jennifer’s heels were skittering on the bed.

Jennifer eased his head from nipple to nipple as each became overly sensitive. She was so excited that she thought she would come if Jorge even touched her cock; he was using his hands to stroke and caress every inch of her body except her genitals, while his face worked her breasts.

Jennifer eased his face from her bosom; she wanted to kiss him again and he obliged, kissing her deeply and passionately and her fingers sought and found his manhood. It was rock hard and dripping, she could feel the veins pulsing. She loved the very manliness of his engorged appendage.

Jorge went exploring again, this time he bypassed her breasts and circled her flat belly with the tip of his tongue and slowly worked his way down to her groin. He teased her: licking the crease where her legs joined her hips, kissing her thighs above the welts of her stockings while his fingers gently stroked her nylon-sheathed legs, tickling the little creases at the back of her knees. Jennifer writhed on the bed as what felt like a thousand butterflies caressed her spirit.

When she couldn’t take the anticipation any longer she entwined her fingers in Jorge’s thick hair and tried to push his face down on her cock which was now proudly poking out the top of her panties. Jorge resisted until Jennifer screamed.

“Do it, damn you… do it!”

Jorge was a professional. He worked his mouth expertly on Jennifer's long thick cock, bringing her close to climax and then backing off before she came. Her precum tasted sweet and he lapped at it as copious amounts of the clear nectar that flowed from the eye of Jennifer’s throbbing organ.

Jennifer pushed his face from her groin and picked up her champagne and took a sip.

“I need a rest,” she gasped.

“Plenty of time to rest later my little flower,” Jorge snatched away her glass and pulled Jennifer back down on the bed.

He struggled to pull down her panties as Jennifer tried to fight him off. She was pretending she wasn't ready to be fucked but she was begging for it. She wanted to feel that long thick appendage deep in her ass.

Jorge pinned Jennifer to the bed and kissed her as she writhed beneath him. He was careful not to hurt her but her body was toned and he sensed this little chickita could take care of herself.

“Get off me you lummox,” Jennifer struggled beneath his muscled body but all that did was light up her pleasure centres as his cock pressed on hers, his tongue invaded her mouth and his hands mauled her breasts.

Jennifer reached out and opened the top drawer of the bedside table and her fingers scrambled around until she found the tube of lubricant she had placed there. Jorge snatched the lubricant from her and straddled Jennifer’s body; holding her down with his weight.

He went about the business of lubricating the full seven inches of his phallus while Jennifer who had stopped struggling lay there and watched, fascinated by his beautiful organ. Jorge snatched two pillows and put them under the small of Jennifer’s back and opened her legs and massaged a gobbet of lubricant into her anus.

“Ok. Do it. I want it now!” Jennifer reached for him and positioned his glans in her pink glistening sphincter.

“Are you ready?” Jorge teased her, rubbing his glans on her puckered bud.

Jorge held Jennifer down by her hips and slowly impaled her on his huge cock. Jennifer lay still, concentrating on relaxing her anus so she could accommodate Jorge’s monster cock. It wasn’t that long but it was thick, just the way she liked them. When Jorge was buried to the hilt in her anus she wriggled a little to position him just right inside her and then nodded.

"Ok, fuck me Jorge," Jennifer commanded.

Jorge began to slowly fuck the gorgeous young woman lying beneath him. He bought his cock all the way out of her until her sphincter ringed his glans and then pushed his way slowly back into her.

"Yesss do that," Jennifer sighed.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him close to her. She kissed him passionately and rose to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck her harder and faster. Jorge loved the way she used her anus, squeezing his hard cock inside her. Jennifer began to moan and Jorge fucked her harder as she raked her nails across his back and her heels on his flanks, encouraging him.

Jorge’s cock did all the things she liked, it stretched her sphincter and pressed on her prostate while his hard belly pressed and rubbed against her own cock which was leaking copious amounts of pre-ejaculate. She was close to coming and told him so.

“Now!” Jennifer gasped into his mouth and rose up and drove herself against Jorge’s hard body.

Jennifer quivered and spasmed and Jorge felt her scalding issue against his belly as he fucked her vigorously and orgasmed with her. Jennifer clung to him, writhing, using her internal muscles to drain him. The two lovers gasped as they kissed, bit, and sucked on each other's mouths. Jorge broke the kiss and held Jennifer down on the bed and fucked her even harder as the last of his long intense orgasm began to subside. Jennifer had specifically asked that her escort be forceful with her and Jorge pinned Jennifer to the bed as the last of issue drained inside her.

When he was done Jorge lay on top of Jennifer exhausted. They were both panting. Jennifer pushed him off her and Jorge rolled onto his back. They lay like that, the sweat cooling on their bodies in the air conditioning.

After a beat Jorge got up and went to the bathroom and returned with a washcloth on which he’d applied some fragrant lotion. He wiped Jennifer’s taut belly, her penis and her groin with the fragranced washcloth and then he cleaned himself.

Jennifer's penis was still semi-erect and he stroked it playfully and leaned down and kissed her softly.

“How did I do? Did you get what you paid for,” he smiled down at her.

Jennifer waved her champagne flute at him and he found the champagne in the ice bucket and topped off her glass.

“May I?” he raised the bottle and Jennifer nodded.

He poured himself a glass and joined her on the bed.

“You were perfectly adequate,” Jennifer teased him but she leaned over and kissed his lips.

“Let’s get room service and fuck again for a while but I want you gone by midnight; I need a good night’s sleep,” Jennifer kissed the tip of his nose.

*****

“You certainly obeyed my instructions to the letter,” Chase commented.

Jennifer was looking out the window watching the still grey waters of the Potomac as they crossed the Navy Yard Bridge heading south. She was dozing; her thoughts elsewhere.

“Sorry,” Jennifer shook her head and sat up in the seat of the nondescript government sedan.

“Two thousand dollar shoes, La Perla lingerie, Chanel makeup and perfume, lobster dinners for two, Veuve Clicquot champagne and the pièce de résistance, a male prostitute,” Chase made a list of Jennifer’s transgressions.

“You told me to enjoy my last night of freedom,” Jennifer gave him a wan smile.

“Well I hope it was worth it,” Chase chuckled.

They followed the I-295 and turned into Bolling Air Force Base, Chase’s ID securing them entry. Chase parked next to a nondescript building that looked like it had been built during the seventies. The interior of the building had been renovated and modernised and Chase entered a passcode and gained entry to a small conference room.

Jennifer had considered what Donald Chase had told her yesterday: dress pretty and young and she had tried her best. She wasn’t stupid, she had a good idea why he wanted her dressed that way but she knew better than to keep asking him questions that would only piss him off. Chase would tell her what she needed to know, all in good time.

She still had that Clarice Starling feel about her: plucked early from basic training and sent into the field on a dangerous mission. Isn’t that why she had joined the Bureau in the first place, to see some action? To evade a life of drudgery working as a flunky for a law firm or as a public defender?

Sitting at the conference table was a big man in a dark suit who would have been incredibly handsome except for the scar that started across his left eyebrow and drooped along the side of his face. The scar was thin and silvery against the man’s tanned skin. Some women would likely find the scar exotic… dangerous… sexy.

Even without the scar the man looked dangerous. He had a shock of greying shoulder-length hair and his shoulders were broad and muscular; he seemed like he was about to burst out of his tight fitting suit that looked to be very expensive. He had a Slavic appearance that was reinforced by the squint caused by the tobacco smoke drifting past his icy-blue eyes from the cigarette between his lips. There was a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka opened on the table and a full glass in front of the man.

Jennifer knew that smoking and drinking were prohibited in government buildings but this man seemed to have some sort of immunity. He studied Jennifer carefully as she took off her red wool coat, helped by Chase who took it and hung it on a walnut coat stand on which was hanging a black Valentino longcoat. Chase hung his own car-coat on the stand.

“Ah… little red riding hood,” the man had a distinctive Eastern European accent.

Jennifer fought hard to suppress a smile as she imagined the man wearing his longcoat and a snapback hat saying: ‘Natasha… where is moose and squirrel?’

The smile completely disappeared as the man’s eyes crawled over her body.

Jennifer was wearing a black taffeta skater skirt, a mauve cotton-lycra body-shaper top, mauve opaque tights and black Mary Jane's. She had toned down her makeup and wore pink glossy lipstick but still wore lots of mascara. Her hair was brushed out and she was wearing too much costume jewellery. Pretty and young… as instructed.

“This is the one Chase?” the man took his cigarette from his mouth and turned to Donald Chase, completely ignoring Jennifer except to fuck her with his eyes.

“This is the one Uri. What do you think?” Chase put his laptop on the table and pulled up a seat indicating for Jennifer to sit next to him.

Jennifer didn’t find Chase particularly appealing but she was glad to be seated next to him with the menacing hulk sitting across from her.

“I think Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich will fuck her until she is paralysed, then cut prices off her and feed them to his pet shark, starting with her dick,” Uri laughed and took a gulp of vodka.

Jennifer felt a shiver run down her spine but she glared at the man she now knew as Uri with her glacial-green eyes.

“Don’t scare her Uri,” Donald reached across the table and snatched up Uri’s Marlboro Reds and his gold lighter.

“She doesn’t look scared to me; she looks pissed. Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe that’s bad thing,” Uri leaned back in his chair, never breaking eye contact with Jennifer.

“You two fuckwads want to keep talking about me like I’m not in the room or are you going to include me in the conversation?” Jennifer barked.

Donald Chase and Uri Orlov both burst out laughing.

“So she does have balls,” Uri coughed around his cigarette.

Jennifer didn’t know that Chase smoked but why should she? She took the preferred cigarette and drew the smoke deep in her lungs. She wished she’d had it last night after Jorge had left, leaving her with an aching ass, a tingling dick and three hundred dollars lighter after she’d tipped him. That was after she had already paid two thousand dollars on the card to the escort agency.

“Ok, let’s get down to business,” Chase opened the laptop and positioned it on the table so they could all see it.

Jennifer wanted to ask who the fuck Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich was but she knew better than to ask. All would be revealed in good time.

Chase put a dongle into one of the laptop ports and then took a random code generator off his key ring, pressed the button to get the code and punched it into the laptop which appeared to be rather large and clunky which was probably due to all the encryption hardware and other IT stuff that Jennifer knew nothing about.

After navigating the dark web and entering in various passwords and passcodes he brought up the same webpage as yesterday. Once again there were thumbnails of six pretty girls but the girl they had studied yesterday was gone; the clock had timed out and she was sold. Her place had been taken by a stunning Asian girl of indeterminate age. Her clock still had a little over twenty-four hours to run.

“The Asian girls don’t sell so well. The market is flooded with them out of Bangkok, Manila and Jakarta. Highest prices always reserved for white girls, speak English, better if educated and maybe fight a little. Virgin get best price,” Uri stubbed out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray and immediately lit another.

“You talk about them as if they are a commodity,” Jennifer’s anger flared and Chase put a steadying hand on her wrist.

“They are commodity. Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich deal in drugs, stolen luxury cars, cigarettes and booze, gold and precious gems, slave labour but his passion is pretty girls,” Uri squinted through the smoke.

“Two hundred thousand girls under 21 go missing each year in US of A. Most nobody give a fuck about… blacks, Hispanics, runaways, poor families, ugly duck… you know. Pretty white girls raise a lot of fuss… but only for little while. Good return on investment,” Uri spread his hands as if he was discussing sheep sales.

“Dmitriy move people all around the world every day. Workers, prostitutes, illegal immigrants, skilled labour… whatever sells or whoever can pay. Some are paying for the privilege, most have no say… especially women. Girl in Ukraine apply for nanny job in USA at agency in Kiev. Good job, nice family, good wage, get to live in land of milk and honey right?”

“Girl get picked up at train station, get fucked a bit. Put on boat, get fucked a bit more. Arrive in USA, get fucked some more. End up working as prostitute… get fucked a lot more. Behave maybe she make a little money. Not behave she still get fucked a lot but get slapped around, mistreated, and maybe not go home after,” Uri shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t need a lesson in people smuggling,” Jennifer bristled and Chase squeezed her wrist again.

“But not these girls,” Uri pointed at the screen.

“They might not like at first, but they get to live luxury lifestyle. Treated like princesses. Some of them rub shoulders with glitterati. Not bad deal. Better than alternative,” Uri shrugged his shoulders again.

“Ok. Let’s move on,” Chase clicked a link on the webpage which opened another page.

“What is this?” Jennifer leaned in closer to look.

Blonde white girl ≤ eighteen. Pretty, chubby ok but not fat. Must be English speaker, no light-skin browns or Latinos. No need to be virgin but no street kids or hookers - educated and eloquent. $100 to $120.

Jennifer read a series of what appeared to be goods wanted ads: girls, boys, mainly white but some wanting mix-race or exotic ethnicity, others wanted special characteristics such as amputees, deformities, dwarfs or other specific bodily features.

“Is place for special orders. Dmitriy is happy to fill them and he have his own spotters who find them but anyone with access to site can find them. Hit link, make report, if deal work out, get spotter fee,” Uri took another sip of vodka.

“You’re telling me that this guy abducts people to order?” Jennifer was aghast.

“Look. People want they want and if they can pay they usually get. Dmitriy just in the supply and demand business,” Uri said.

Jennifer was no longer amused by his ‘moose and squirrel’ accent.

“Ok Uri, I think Jennifer gets it. Let’s move on,” Chase interrupted.

“This one,” Uri pointed to a text box on the screen.

Attractive transgender female ≤ 20, white, English first language, well-spoken, educated preferred. Top surgery ok but no bottom surgery- this not negotiable. No hookers, porn actresses or professionals. No exotics… sweet white-bread femme only. Top dollar. POA.

“This one been up for four days. Very hard to fill. How many girls you know fill this bill? I have Katya dangle bait; waiting for fish to bite,” Uri chuckled.

Chase looked at Jennifer who swallowed and then returned his stare.

“I told you this would be dangerous,” Chase said levelly.

“I’m going to fill the order. What happens next?” Jennifer set her resolve.

“You go into a safe house for a little while and we prepare you. You’ll take on a new identity and background. These guys aren’t the IRS but they are careful. They will run background checks on you and you need to have your story down pat,” Chase nodded at Uri to continue.

“We set you up in fake life. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated. Katya sells you to Dmitriy through third party. They come get. Dmitry is hands on guy. He’s going to want to see you for himself. We trap him. You hero. Chase hero. Bureau hero. I come out of WITSEC and go to Las Vegas to gamble and fuck showgirls,” Uri chuckled.

“Last part is joke ok?” Uri’s expression actually softened for a millisecond.

“Where is this safe house? Who is Katya? Who am I to become? How do I make contact after these guys take me?” Jennifer swivelled her head between Chase and Uri.

Uri spread his hands and looked earnestly at Donald Chase.

“You crossed the Rubicon when you agreed to take on this assignment Jones. There are some things you are better off not knowing and some things that will be explained later or become self-explanatory. You said you’re in... Are you still in? You signed that waiver already,” Chase poured himself a shot of vodka and swallowed it.

“One last thing… why can’t Uri and this Katya woman just testify against this Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich?” Jennifer asked.

“Oh they will but they can’t be the main witnesses, they can only be corroborative. You're a lawyer; you tell me why,” Chase steepled his fingers.

Jennifer thought about if briefly.

“Because Uri and Katya are immersed or have been immersed in organised crime. Dmitriy Yakovich’s lawyers would tear them apart stating that they were manufacturing evidence to save their own skins and that they were guilty of the same crimes as Dmitriy,” Jennifer explained.

“And?” Chase encouraged her to go on.

“You need to find his current locale so you can arrest him and you need an impeccably, unchallengeable witness to testify that they have observed what Uri and Katya will testify to,” Jennifer concluded.

“Ok. Now… are you still in?” Chase asked again.

“Yeah; I’m still in,” Jennifer said, admitting to herself that she was scared.

But she was also excited.

Uri poured three glasses of vodka and held up his glass.

“Na Zdorovie,” he chinked his glass on Jennifer’s and Chase’s and downed his drink in one gulp.

Jennifer and Chase followed suit.

“Phone, charge card and ID,” Chase held out his hand and wiggled his fingers.

Jennifer handed over her cell phone and the American Express Centurion card and took the Bureau ID from around her neck and handed that over. All three left the building together but Uri got into a different car; a black SUV.

Chase followed Uri to a car park in Congress Heights and parked beside Uri’s SUV.

“This is it kid. Good luck Jennifer Edwards,” Chase held out his hand and Jennifer shook it.

She climbed out of the government sedan, took her suitcase from the trunk and tossed it on the back seat of Uri’s SUV. She climbed into the passenger seat. The car reeked of cigarette smoke. She’d watched him drive the short distance from Bolling and was amazed that he could drive so well considering the amount of vodka he had consumed.

“Don’t look so worried. What could possibly go wrong?” Uri burst into guttural laughter which grated on Jennifer’s nerves.

Chase watched Uri Orlov drive away and then punched up a number on his cell phone.

“Do it,” he said into the phone and broke the connection.

Inside a secure building in Quantico a technician hit the return key on a line of code and Jennifer Jones’s existence was wiped from the FBI database. He accessed three other government databases and Jennifer Jones officially ceased to exist anywhere in the USA.

He spent another thirty minutes uploading Jennifer Edwards’ information into a number of databases but not the Bureau’s. Jennifer didn’t know it but she was done with the Bureau.

To be continued