By Cindy and Walt
“Some form of the name Sarah. If you call her Sarah she will understand,” Andrew said. “You will leave in the morning for New York to set up your cover. We are working on it now.”
“And what will Jeremy and Alice be doing?” I asked.
“They will be learning how to make a movie with no camera,” Andrew said with a smile. They have to shoot it and have it ready within hours. So we are giving them a crash course in cinema arts, I guess you can call it art,” he continued.
“So what is my cover?” I asked.
“Freelance writer with a very leftist and socialist leaning. You will not be posing as a Muslim, so your learning curve is a little less than it might be. We need you to get up to speed on your background and move into your apartment. You know the drill take nothing with you. There are new clothes and a travel bag in your cabin. When you awake tomorrow leave all your things in the cabin we will have them when you return,” Andrew said.
“Very well,” I replied. “Anything else?”
“If you let her get away after you screw her, she will have her bodyguards kill you. She most likely has done that with other one night stands. We found records of two women she has been seen with who died within 24 hours of their time together,” Andrew said.
“Gee whiz Andrew that’s a real plus,” I said.
“She will have no problem doing it herself Rose, so be careful. She only lets the women live long enough to establish an alibi for the time of death. If she gets away, disappear quick,” Andrew suggested.
“Okay I understand. No matter what you think, I do not have a death wish.” I went back to the cabin and tried to imagine how the job would work out. I knew that it was a waste of time, but I had time to waste and I couldn’t fall asleep.
I took an over the counter allergy pill and masturbated. That worked a lot better than trying to second guess myself.
When I awoke at 5 AM to the sound of the bugle, I staggered out of bed. I was able to brush my teeth before the second bugle call. I had brought my running gear that time, so I tried to run with the big dogs. I was gasping for breath and choking back vomit before the end. I did get a little farther than usual but I still felt like shit.
I managed breakfast before my trip to the airport. I still hadn’t met a real cook but the food was pretty average which made it better than usual.
I rode to the airport in a panel van with seats. Usually those things had windows, but the church camp one carried people they obviously didn’t want to be recognized. I for one appreciated it. The drive was well over a half hour, and the wait at the gate was another half hour. My carry on bag was a large purse. I had my ID and some cash in the purse. Along with what for all the world would look like three number two wooden pencils of various lengths. The graphite had been replaced with a ceramic rod that was almost half the hardness of steel, but totally harmless looking on xray machines. They were always improving the dagger and I for one didn’t mind at all. The golf balls with a hole drilled in them were the handle for the daggers.
I got on the plane at the Metropolis Airport, then flew directly to NYC’s JFK International Airport. Since I didn’t have any luggage, I walked straight out the door, and into a taxi. “Where to?” the driver asked in a what sounded like a foreign accent. Hell it could have been a Brooklyn accent for all I knew.
“425 East 95th St,” I said. The apartment supposedly had been rented at the last minute for me. I had no idea what the rent might be or how long I was supposed to have lived there. That information would be sent to me in a cryptic dump after I arrived.
The building’s hallway was dark and dreary leading to the ground floor apartment. I used the key, which had been left on the door frame, no more than twenty minutes earlier for security reasons.
Once inside I took the required newcomers look around. There were frozen and canned food items in the kitchen area of the one room apartment. The bathroom and a huge closet shared a door on the left of the main room. The closet was empty of course.
On the desk in the main room sat a well used lap top computer. When I turned it on it went directly to the icon screen. The laptop used an updated version of my Puppy Linux. I felt right at home.
I recovered the encoded dump along with the volume and page number of the Globe tabloid. The only thing left for me to do was find a convenience store nearby. I took the three Porter daggers along as I walked out of the building. The small neighborhood grocery, with the required foreign clerk, was two blocks north on Third Avenue. I picked up a six pack of diet cokes, a frozen pizza, and the paper then returned home. It was really a beautiful night and the neighborhood seemed pleasant enough.
When I got back to the apartment, I used the stove to toast the pizza. The pizza wasn’t too awful, but calling it a pizza had to be ground for a fraud suit. It didn’t matter my attention was riveted to my cover story facts anyway.
I was an Internet sensation, according to my Facebook entry. Facebook has been hacked so many times one more won’t hurt, I thought. Obviously Wilson didn’t take anything. He loaded a new biography and history for me. The history went back several years. The name he chose for me was so close to a real blogger and magazine writer, that we could easily be confused. I, in effect, became a real person, just for that one particular job, I hoped. After the job I would go back to being a figment of someone’s imagination. I would just sit on my shelf till they needed my particular skill set again.
I was sorry, that I had been feeling sorry for myself. It was time to learn about Laura Edwards. I spent all that evening memorizing all I had to know. I had to do more than just pass for Laura to stay alive. I had to be Laura Edwards. I went to bed knowing Sarah wouldn’t be in the country for at least two more weeks. I had exactly that amount of time to establish my new Identity. Not just establish it, but to make it believable to everyone around me.
I began my first day back in New York with a run. I ran a half hour out and then a half hour back. The days were long enough so that I ran in the daylight. I also didn’t start at 5 AM, the way they did at Church Camp. It was after 7 AM when I staggered into The Corner Coffee Shoppe.
“How about I get a cup of coffee while I take a look at the menu,” I suggested to the waitress. I was sitting at the counter, since I was alone and the booths and table were reserved for couples according the sign on one of those free standing chrome posts, standing guard in the middle of the floor.
I really did not like eating six inches from a total stranger, but when in Rome, I thought. I also thought I was going to find a friend just so that I could get a fucking table next time. After breakfast I went to the apartment to shower and dress for the day. Well I would have, if I had any clean clothes. I had run in my jeans from the day before. “Son of a bitch,” I said aloud. “I need to get organized. I have to do some shopping, but damn it I stink. I quickly showered washed my hair which had been cut for the road trip. I looked in the mirror at my stringy hair and my limp grubby clothes and decided I had to do something and do it quick.
I walked out the front door. I passed a young woman walking with a baby stroller. “Excuse me Miss, could you tell me the closest place I could buy some jeans,” I asked. ” I just got to town and the airline lost my luggage.”
I could see her trying to decide if I was dangerous or not. She evidently was a poor judge of character because she said, “Of course, there is a thrift store in the next block.”
I didn’t want a thrift store but it would do for a start. “Thank you so much,” I said.
“Good luck,” I must have looked questioningly at her, because she added, “with the lost luggage.”
“Oh thanks, right now I just need some clean clothes. Thanks again, and that is one cute baby,” I said.
I walked the almost two blocks to the thrift store. I realized I had run right past it earlier. “Hi,” I said to the woman behind the checkout counter. She didn’t even smile, so I went to the racks that filled the floor space, leaving little room to walk. There were a lot of clothes in the small space. I picked out two pairs of designer jeans and four tee shirts. There was no way I was going to buy underwear in such a place.
I paid her the price she asked in cash, then returned to the apartment to change clothes. I knew it was risky to wear the clothes with no underwear. It was bit of a gamble not knowing who wore them last or their level of hygiene, but I had no choice.
I called a cab and took it to a Local discount store, which I had found on line. I went ape shit crazy. I did not want to be in the same situation again. I needed everything. The things I bought were not sexy at all. It seemed from the background file that Laura was a dyke. She wasn’t the quiet hide in the shadows kind of lesbian. She was an agitator who wrote mostly about the ‘movement’ and female sports. She had several pieces in sports magazines over the last few years. I had no idea where Laura was at the moment, but I assumed she wasn’t in New York City.
I received a dead drop of an article which I was to pitch at a current affairs rag name ‘Out of the Shadows’. My article was on the plight of women in the Middle East. It wasn’t about gay women. It was just women in general. The article was ten thousand words. I am not a writer, but I do know good writing when I see it, and it was good.
I carried it in my hand to the rag’s editor. Laura’s reputation got me in to see the editor in person. The woman’s section editor knew of Laura, but had never met her. She also had seen pictures but not really good pictures since Laura was camera shy.
“Laura, I’m Ellie. I have heard so much about you. I have also read your pieces in ‘Now’ and ‘Genie’,” the editor said.
“Well I hope you thought they were good enough to move into current affairs writing. I have mostly done sports and some women’s issue pieces,” I said.
“Don’t be so modest your work is stellar. The in depth pieces on women in sports are always inspiring. So what did you bring me?” Ellie the editor asked.
“I have been doing some research on the plight of women in the Middle East. I don’t think we here in America really have a good idea of what their living conditions are like. We don’t give them any thought since there is so little we can do. I think understanding may be the answer to changing their life for the better. If we bring the problems to the front, maybe we can pressure the leaders for a change in women’s status,” I said. That speech was written by the same person who wrote the article I was sure.
“Well said,” Ellie the editor replied. Ellie was well over forty but she had some work done to make her look thirty. It worked until you were with her awhile. Then you realized her skin didn’t move like it should. She looked like an older Barbie doll, all plastic.
“I’ll just leave this piece with you, and you decide what to do with it. I’m going to be staying in New York awhile,” I said.
“Oh trying to broaden your horizons?” Ellie asked.
“Yes, I thought I might spend some time at the UN. Try to do some stories on how the UN handles women’s issues,” I said.
“Let me read this, and we might be able to make it a series. ‘Out of The Shadows’ is always looking for hard hitting stories,” Ellie said.
“Good,” I said.
“Since you just got into town, how about letting me take you to dinner,” Ellie suggested.
“Sure just say when, I have absolutely nothing on my dance card,” I suggested.
“Give me your cell and I’ll call you when I can get a reservation somewhere nice,” she said.
I called a cab, but I really didn’t like waiting. When it arrived I had it take me to a scooter store in Brooklyn. I found out the scooter law was ridiculous. There were no unregistered scooters allowed in New York. Also no motorized bicycles were allowed at all.
He wanted a thousand bucks give or a take a hundred for a hybrid comfort bike with a hub motor. The salesman said something about a law that couldn’t be enforced that made it illegal to ride an ebike with a throttle in New York period. However on the bike he used the front gear shifter as actually a throttle.
“No cop in the world will notice it from his car,” the salesman assured me.
“What the hell,” I said. The bike came with a Lithium battery in a water bottle. It was going to make the bike even harder to differentiate from a standard bike with gears. “Okay I’m ready to sign on the dotted line, if you throw in a cool bike helmet, a good lock, and a florescent yellow riding vest,” I said.
“Sure why not?” he said in agreement.
“At home I wore a bike helmet that looked like a round motorcycle helmet, but since I wanted to look like a bike rider, I chose one that was tear shaped. The vest wasn’t ballistic, but it was bright. The lock was part of a half in twisted steel cable. It was going to take some serious bolt cutters or a grinder. I planned to stop by and pick up a couple cans of spray paint to ruin the bikes new look. The less expensive it looked, the less likely it would be to attract attention. Green jungle camo came to mind.
With the need for registration addressed and my decision that I didn’t need a license or tags, I rode the ebike back to my apartment. Where I carried it inside to become part of the furnishings. I stored it in the large closet while I charged the battery.
It was mid afternoon when Ellie the editor called. I was on my way to make the dead drop pickup but I answered her anyway. “I made a reservation for us at the new underground restaurant,” she said then gave me the address. “Be there at seven.” I agreed and broke the connection.
I did my dead drop pickup at a donut shop about five blocks from the apartment. I rode the ebike to the pickup with a less than fully charged battery. It got me back to the apartment just fine. That particular dead drop was a full background on Ellie the Editor on a flash drive. It seemed that “Ellie the editor not only had surgery to keep her young, she also took hormones to keep her Ellie, rather than Edward. Now that was a shock, I thought. Edward made a damn passable woman for sure.
After I read the briefing, I ran the file erase program, then put the drive into my purse. I planned to stop for take out coffee before I left for dinner. I would slip the drive into the coffee cup, then drop them both into the trash while I tried to catch a taxi.
I had never eaten in an underground restaurant before, so I was a little surprised to fine it was a catered event served in an abandoned building. “These places are all the rage,” Ellie assured me.
“I’ll have to take your word for it. We don’t have this sort of thing in Moss Point,” I said.
“Are you from Virginia?” Ellie asked a little confused.
“No Moss Point is a little town on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. I settled there after college. I spend most of my time traveling these days,” I said quoting my background file.
“Well I’m glad your travels brought you here. I read your piece on the burden of being a woman in the Middle East. It was very informative and also very personal. You captured their stories and their relationship with those around them beautifully. From family to the political structure, it’s all there,” Ellie said.
“Thank you, I am hoping to haunt the UN for more stories. That is if I can gain access. I understand freelancers are not welcome there,” I said.
“I expect that is true. Would it help if you worked for ‘Out of The Shadows?” she asked.
“Quite possibly, are you offering me a job,” I asked.
“Let’s call it a mutually beneficial relationship. Give us first refusal on what you write, and I’ll put you on staff,” Ellie said.
“Fair enough,” I agreed. It was what Andrew had hoped I could arrange.
Dinner was actually very good. There was a choice of chicken or a beef dish to from which to choose. I went for the beef and stir fried vegetables. We shared a bottle of wine. I think it was two bottles to be honest.
Since I had chosen to take a cab to dinner, Ellie said, “Why don’t we share a taxi. We can go to my place for a nightcap.”
“Sure but you aren’t trying to seduce me are you? You do know that isn’t very professional,” I suggested.
“You know that’s why I didn’t put you on the payroll. The company lawyers frown on a senior staff member screwing the help,” She said with a smile.
“I can imagine that is true,” I replied. I did not refuse the offer of a ride however.
The cab dropped us at one of the two story apartment buildings. Hers appeared to have been a single family house at one time. It was classy but not especially large. It was in a better neighborhood than mine. I didn’t plan to be in mine long term, but she probably did.
“I like your place. I didn’t know there were places like this in New York. Down home we think of it either as ten story buildings or slums,” I said.
“You sound like my mom. She is terrified I’m going to be killed in a mugging,” Ellie said.
“Yeah that’s what we all think about New York City down home. The TV news and police dramas are all we know about it,” I suggested.
I was standing in her small kitchen with the wine glass in my hand when she kissed me. It had been a long time since anyone kissed me. I fell right into it. I returned the kissed very enthusiastically and with passion. Then I felt her erection. She wasn’t on hormones after all. She was just a cross dresser. My sick mind wondered instantly if she had the same implants I did or if she was wearing a padded bra.
She found out quickly mine were real when she slipped her hand under my blouse. With her other hand she was rubbing my butt. I was glad I had worn a skirt and blouse from the department store rather than jeans from the thrift shop. She wadded the skirt up so that she had her hand on my panties. I rewarded her by gasping for breath.
She had worn a business suit to dinner so I didn’t dare mess with it. I was afraid I might ruin it. Instead I waited for her to open the slacks and drop them to the floor. I noted that she wore bikini panties just like mine. The difference was hers had a small lump inside.
I tried to react as though I hadn’t been expecting it. I pulled my hand back. Not in shock, just sort of tentatively. Ellie took her hand from my breast captured my hand and returned it to her penis. I wrapped my hand around it softly.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Show me you love it.”
“How?” I asked.
“You know what to do,” she replied still massaging my butt.
“I don’t do that,” I said staying with my lesbian cover story. “I was forced once but I don’t do it any more.”
“You will do tonight and I won’t have to force you,” she said firmly while pushing down on my shoulders. “You know you want to know how it feels.”
I didn’t answer but I allowed her to push me to my knees. I let her use her hands to guide her small erect penis to my lips. I opened my mouth and sucked deeply on the small appendage. There was something comforting in the small size of it. It felt almost like it belonged in my mouth. The feeling was comfortable more than anything else. Ellie also didn’t try to force it, she just allowed me to nurse on it. She also didn’t move as I tried to swallow it. It was a very emotional experience for some reason.
She lifted me without ejaculating. “I knew you would love it,” she said.
“God yes I love it,” I replied.
“See now you can say you are bisexual, not a lesbian,” Ellie suggested.
“Or just plain kinky,” I said pushing her against a wall and kissing her deeply. I was moaning groaning and gasping for air for the next ten minutes. I could feel her hands exploring me. “God I love what you do to me.”
“Yes Laura I know what a woman such as you likes,” she said.
“A woman like me?” I asked.
“You think you are in charge of your life and your sexuality, but you secretly want someone to take charge and show you what you really want,” she said.
“And what do I really want?” I asked.
“You want it all,” she said.
“Yes I do want it all,” I said in my best whiny voice.
“You need this don’t you?” she asked as her gentle touched turned demanding. She began to tear at my body not to mention my clothes which I still mostly had on. I hear the sounds of tearing as she tried to tear my clothes from my body. The ripping sound had been my blouse. I felt pain as she stepped back and ripped the panties from my body. I still had the skirt on and my bra was still up around my throat. I thought for a moment she meant to strangle me with my bra. She pulled it over my head instead. I had the skirt on but nothing else. She turned me and bent me over a cabinet in the kitchen.
I felt her lift my skirt. I wasn’t sure what she had in mind till I felt the thick lubricant against my anus. I felt the pressure and the discomfort but not the pains. Her small penis slipped almost gently inside my rectum. I felt her pumping as I felt her organ slide around inside me. It hardly stretched me at all. She managed to make me feel alive. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire by the time she ejaculated inside me. I loved the feeling of her in me. I was sure she was finished and I was almost glad it was over. I had experienced her and I wanted to savor it.
She lifted me onto the table where she sat me facing her. She spread my legs then she bent forward and began to lick my clit up and down. After I began gasping she changed to manipulating it side to side. I was about to go out of my mind. She knew when I was too far gone to stop. At that point she lowered her face to the opening of my body. She licked and tongued me until I had a huge orgasm. It just would not stop racking through my body.
“Come to me Laura,” she said. I tried to move but I was still racked with convulsions of pleasure.