The following is a work of fiction intended for adult entertainment. The author here by declares it a work of public domain open to be used in part or whole in any and all medium.

-Rook-

KNightingale in; “STARKERS!”

CHAPTER ONE

Keria Knightie; A.K.A. ‘The Knightingale’, the top deep undercover operative the United Kingdom had at its innumerable disposal, sat quietly in the United Nations New York Building’s Grand Assembly Hall in a translation booth listening intently to the large imposing ambassador speaker from the tinny island kingdom of Umbangaway, as he addressed the large multinational assembly in his deep sonorous voice. Keria was disguised in the clothes of one of the regular translators, Susan Natch, who now lay tangled in her bed sheets in a blissful slumber fed on excessive sex and too much booze all thanks to the liberal enabling excesses of Keria Knightie. Keria now wore the usual Ms. Natch attire of white go-go boots, a zippered mini-skirt, a flowered blouse, and large hoop ear rings. A large shoulder length wig and over sized sun glasses completed Keria’s disguise. And all in all she easily passed not only for Susan Natch but blended in with hundreds of other office girls she had passed on the crisp June 1975 New York streets that day. The only draw back was that Keria was a bit longer in the leg than Susan and the ‘barrowed’ garments with its clipped on identity badge didn’t quiet fit her. In fact, the skirt was more in keeping with the ultra-mini’s Keria was use to wearing back in the paradoxically more liberal England and not quiet as common place here in the more conservative colonies. Still this wouldn’t have been that noteworthy if the clock work reliable Susan had occasionally done her laundry. As it was, Keria couldn’t find any fresh panties in her slumbering benefactors wardrobe and her own Union Jack emblazed skivvies had been seriously rented in Susan’s release of pent up desires. So, naturally Keria had decided to go commando, as she often did, much to the delight of the shoe shine boys she passed outside and several of the street construction crew who seemed to have mastered control over the sudden and invigorating gusts that ‘pot hole’ the sidewalks of Manhattan.

Keria had just removed the small cutting edge micro transistor device from the hidden compartment of her large hand bag and tossed the hand bag aside, when the door to her little cubicle shuttered open and in stroll three important looking men. The little row of translation booths which lined the back of the united nations assembly hall were little more than small barren niches comprised of; a small table, a large microphone connected to a small gray green metal box with several jacks inputs and dials and switches, a large padded headset plugged into the sound board, a small uncomfortable plastic chair, and four walls covered in white sound damping acoustic tile, with a large window planted in one wall over looking the assembly hall, and a plain wooden door opposite it leading out into the hallway connecting the line of translating booths, dotted with a few security guards. It was through this door that the gentile men had suddenly entered talking to one another and startled Keria.

The lead man of the group was half turned as he entered speaking to his fellows and paused as such with his hand upon the door knob just with in the door way its self and this gave Keria the vital seconds to compose her situation. She struggled simultaneously to set her headphones back on to her ears, which she had removed for ease of her interrupted operation, and to randomly insert her microphone jack into the sound board so her deception would be convincing, and began to pretend to interpret the speaker from Umbangaway’s speech. At the same time, unable to rapidly reach her purse which she had just tossed onto the hard tiled floor, Keria secreted the palm sized black oval high tech gadget between her thighs and had just managed to tug her white shinny vinyl mini-skirt over it as the men took notice of her.

“Oh, pardon us,” the lead man mumbled. “We had thought this room unoccupied.” The tall old man forced an unaccustomed smile at Keria.

Keria had thought she might just pretend she hadn’t heard the men or was aware of their presence, but the room was so tiny and her recent actions so energetic, that it seemed best to explain her slightly twisted ungainly posture on being surprised by their sudden appearance, besides she hadn’t managed to get her ear phones on quiet straight and one of her ears had been left uncovered. So she completed her turn in her chair and gave the men a condescending smile of welcome that also would leave no doubt that she was indeed very busy and they shouldn’t be here. The smile would have sent a squad of marines buzzing out of the room, red faced and tails between their legs, but it naturally had no effect upon politicians who have no sense of worth or value out side of their own egos of self. There then followed an awkward moment as Keria kept smiling at the little group of men who were half piled into her room and half way in the security guard lined hallway, for she suddenly realized that one of the men in the group might actually speak fluent Umbangaway which she didn’t comprehend at all and any attempt on her part to pretend to translate the gibberish half leaking out of her head phones in front of these men might lead to her unmasking as a fraud. Meanwhile, the men who had spent a life time patiently watching other people work seemed confused that Keria wasn’t returning to her dutiful duties as expected so they could stare over her shoulder for a while and say something useless like, ‘keep up the good work.’

The stalemate of a few seconds was broken by the lead tall man who raising an open hand said, “this is, err, Ms. Snatch, gentlemen, one of our outstanding translators without whom it would be impossible to operate this facility.”

It was obvious that the old man had never met Susan Natch before and had misread Keria’s name tag upon which was printed; ‘S. Natch’. Keria felt relief that none of the men actually knew Susan and that her disguise was still secure, she felt comfortable that she would be able to further fool these men, she felt an increase in her confidence which had momentarily been shaken, she felt the little black large egg shaped plastic device between her legs suddenly begin to increase its agitated vibrations, as the men pushed into the room past the lanky gray haired man to shake her hands and say, ‘how do you do’ in various thick accents. The awkward pause suddenly returned and the old slim gentleman leading the small group coughed and then waved his hand slightly, “please continue Ms. Snatch, don’t let us bother you.” It was obvious that years of watching others work and pretending that that in its self was some kind of labor had been too far ingrained into these men that they simply could not leave the translating booth, however much as was apparently their desire to do so as was the tell tale mark of their shuffling feet, until they had at first witnessed her working.

Sucking it up, Keria smiled again and turned back to her large chrome microphone and began to speak. Knowing that she possessed a heavy Liverpool Cockney British accent and not being able to hazard a guess as to what languages the men behind her spoke or understood, Keria decided to play it safe and began to speak in her best street slang West End British slang, heavy on the Cockney accent. She was certain that only the older lean fellow of the group actually spoke the Queen’s English as a first language and he was a Yank, so that was even questionable.

Keria hadn’t the slightest idea what the Umbangaway speaker was saying, but she had been clever enough upon the startled intrusion of the interrupting group of men, to insert her microphone jack into one of the unlighted plug slots. The lighted up little bulbs above each slot represented a completed circuit, that is, a line leading to at least one set of ear phones upon the assembly floor to whom the translator’s words would be issued to and heard. By selecting an unlighted input jack Keria had the freedom to speak into her microphone and not be worried about anyone out there on the other side of her sound proof glass window actually hearing her and raising some alarm.

The thick British street slang seemed to be doing its bit as a few discrete glances over her shoulder showed her that the men seemed to find her language utterly alien and thus foreign to their minds. However, a problem was arising. The ostrich egg sized and shaped little black electronic device that Keria was just about to plant into the translator panel in order to monitor the conversation of another young female translator who shared this booth opposite of Ms. Natch and whom British intelligence suspected might be using her position to transport coded secret intelligence to another known spy upon the assembly floor, was not reacting happily to having been activated and yet not hooked up into position. It was vibrating fiercely now, and beginning to utter a low uncharacteristic hum. The low hum seemed to some how cause the small group of men to frown and puzzle at her odd ‘translation.’ They began to inch forward around her. Keria leaned forward in her chair in response to this and franticly crossed her legs in an attempt to further muffle the buzzing device. Her action caused the vibrating sensations already working its reverent magic upon her easily stimulated nature into a joyous over drive and despite her self, Keria found her words growing thick with blurts of breathy passion. This brought the small group up short and Keria quickly added to the surprised and puzzled faced men now ringing her that, “I have always believed that it is important in getting a good translation, to impart as much as possible the ‘emotional continuity’ of the speaker as well as the words, tones, and inflections!” She had nearly lost it one ‘inflections’, as the press of her thighs and the vibrating egg against her now soaking wet neither lips had joined in wicked combination to begin the admittance of the object into her most egger secret garden. “I mean, think of all the terrible wars that could have been averted if the translators between the parties had only taken the time to ‘OH!’ that is, between the panties had oooonly taking the time to interject the ooohpropreat emotions.” The egg had entered her hotly slick orifice and now every other word was a deep gasping eye rolling fluttering near orgasm for agent Knightingale. She gave the small group of men a wide open mouth smile, and they quickly nodded their flushed face assent.

“Please to do as continue, Ms. Snatch!” One fellow offered as the others barked in rapid agreement. Only the older gentleman seemed untouched by the pyre of raging pheromones Keria was releasing in her twitching seat, he only fell back and checked his wrist watch and tried to stifle a yawn.

It became readily apparent that the three men left leering around her where obsessed with looking down her tight cleavage induced blouse, much to Keria’s satisfaction. Their distraction both added to her chances of success in her subterfuge and it trigged off her obsessive fetish of exhibitionism, quiet nicely. She trust out her chest as she leaned back her shoulders and let her shuddering body and gasping lungful of breath set her mounds of breast flesh quivering almost in mirror symbiosis to her trilling whispers as she said, she no longer knew what! Into the large phallic looking microphone in front of her panting lips.

Suddenly the old man snapped to attention as he glanced at his watch a second time, “God Lord, we are dreadfully late! Come on gentlemen we mustn’t keep them waiting!” And he nodded thanks to ‘Ms. Snatch’ in an offhand manner as he herded the lightly complaining and bemoaning men out of the suddenly stuffy small room.

Keria was disappointed immensely as she gazed wistfully at the three proud erections she had stirred in the dress pants about her being lead away. She had never met a cock she didn’t like. She lightly kissed the head of the microphone and then began to lick its chrome webbed surface. The three sweating men began to protest loudly and profusely as the older man shoved them out the door and closed it firmly behind them.

Keria forced her dazed eyes to focus out the small window in front of her, the assembly hall seemed to be reacting quiet strangely in little pockets here and there, and she frowned at the jack consol before her to see if she indeed had inserted her microphone jack into an unlighted input slot. She had. She looked back up at the two security guards now looking at her and moving in her direction off the floor. She looked down again at the jack panel as a big dribble of salvia dripped down off her chin from the lava pool of her mouth. Her eyes widened from their heavy lidded state of lust. She had plugged her microphone into the over head announcement speaker system! She was broadcasting through out the entire building and half the damn parking lot!

There was no time to waste, with a slight slurping sound Keria shot out of her plastic chair and made for the door with wobbly feet.

CHAPTER TWO

Keria, the Knightingale, peered through the dimly lit underground parking garage from behind a large black limo. From her crouched position behind the opulent monster she was surveying what was essentially a pod of the shiny black beasts cluttering the garage. Luckily she had easily avoided the guards and had reluctantly tossed the vibrating device down a near by sewer drain, as well as her large wig, her name badge, and over sized sunglasses. With the first part of her mission in shambles, the Knightingale decided it was time to improvise. If she hadn’t been able to plant the transmitter into the U.N. panel, she could still make an effort to follow the person the British government believed to be on the receiving end of all that secret coded information. Ironically, the very diplomat she had been pretending to translate, the ambassador of Umbangaway, Mr. Cad. She now crouched in wait to see which limo Mr. Cad would use. She hadn’t long to wait, as the elevator whisked open and out stepped Mr. Cad himself and an entourage of several large well suited men. They quickly moved to a limo and entered it and it hummed to life and proceed to snake its way to the gated exit.

The Knightingale made it to the street first and franticly looked for a cab to hail. Though the street was packed with people and cars in the bright cloudless October day canyon of glass and steel, the only cab she could see was pulled up along side the curb with the driver standing in front of his open door arguing with an old woman over the fare. Behind them the black limo crept out of the underground garage opening and slung past the cab and Keria. There wasn’t a moment to lose!

Keria shot past the old woman and her luggage and shoved the cab driver into the running cab and jumped in on top of him. Within a hart beat the yellow checkered vehicle was making a wide u-turn amidst blaring horns and screeching tires! Inside the cramped cab the driver squirmed in a tangle of the Knightingale’s legs as she tired to work the gas and brake pedals around him. Her eyes squinting after the speeding limo several cars a head of her. The loud struggles of the driver however was making it difficult for her to keep on the road let alone pull up discreetly behind the large car she was trying to tail. After almost hitting a bike courier Keria decided it was time to get a handle on the situation, she spread her legs and glared down at the agitated man between her skirted knees and asked him, “Have you had your breakfast yet, mate?’’ The balding mustached man blinked at her in utter confusion. “Well, here’s your English muffin,” Keria snapped and grabbed the back of his greasy head and shoved his face into her snatch. The man’s struggles started up and ended again almost instantly to be rapidly replaced with Keria’s own loud moans and wiggles. The car began to become unsteady in its track again, but one could no longer entirely blame the cab driver who other than his bobbing head hidden under Keria’s taught skirt hem, made no further motion of impediment to anything Keria wished to do to his cab, or him for that matter.

In another block Keria had managed to catch up to the limo and fell in behind it keeping at least one shadow car between her and it as she continued to tail the oily glittering vehicle. She was finding it difficult to concentrate on her task at hand and amidst her increasing loud groans and gasping pants she struggled not to swerve into the railings as she followed the limo into what appeared to her to be the borough of Harlem. She was forced to brake suddenly between eye rolls and head nods of open mouth pants as a line of nuns crossed the street in front of her. Keria sat wiggling in her seat as the nuns frowned at her drooling gasping form. Keria crossed herself as the last of the column of nuns passed her car hood and the nun smiled and repeated the cross over her own chest her face seemingly flushed a secret smile at Keria. And with a quick salacious glance over her shoulder, the last nun once again crossed herself pausing her hand over her nipple where she pinched hard through her habit and winked. Keria automatically winked back and the nun ran giggling on to catch up with her sisters. The Knightingale watched the firm round hips swinging under the black heavy dress and moaned, “now that’s one habit I wouldn’t mind breaking!” With the nuns gone the Knightingale raced off after the distant limo, but the cab driver had been enticed beyond his control and he leaped up out of the pedal well and proceeded to mount Keria. She had to admit she welcomed his thrusting cock as it had been several hours since her last good banging. But with her straddling the madly humping portly cab driver who was pining her back into the seat of the cab it was proving most difficult to control the steering wheel let alone to control her spasming legs which seemed to stomp alternating upon brake and gas pedal!

The Knightingale did her very best but she careened into a fire hydrant that burst into an ushering shower of water just as the cab driver lost his own gusher within her thankful receptacle. Shrugging the spent and dazed man off her, Keria quickly exited the ruined cab and dancing away from the drenching water spout, she was happy to see the limo pull into a privet garage next to a small business just a block a head of her, and she hurried as inconspicuously as her skidding soaked heels would allow her. Over her shoulder she shouted, “next time keep your peter running!”

The garage door had closed behind the limo and Keria considered the adjoining small business as a possible entry into the now sealed garage. She pulled at her wet clinging blouse and mini-skirt and ignoring the gathering crowd a block down from her around the totaled car, she collected herself and entered the small shop.

The door way was set down bellow street level and she had to navigate the concrete stairs with her squiggly heels but she managed to open the bell tingling door and enter the small shop with out incident much to her amazement considering she was a notorious klutz! The shop was small but not cramped and it was fairly well lit considering its below ground lack of windows, and at first it appeared to be empty both of clients and host. But the bell summoned a small woman who entered from the rooms only other entrance concealed meekly behind a brightly beaded curtain. The young woman approached Keria smiling and Keria noting that the shop was a boutique full of ultra mod clothing quickly re turned her smile and said as she raised up her hands, “ as you can see I’ve had a bit of an accident, and am in need of some garments.”

The lady nodded still smiling and whispered as she looked Keria up and down with appreciative eyes, “You’re welcome to look around I’m sure you will find something to your ‘satisfaction’.”

Keria returned the leer and puckered her lips in ‘thanks’ and began to look through the piles of clothes. Soon she had a few items picked out and turned back to the lady who was staring at her behind. “Is there some where I can try these things on?”

“Why not here? We’re both big girls after all.” The young woman smiled again.

“I was thinking some where a little more privet, in case, you known some one else were to walk in.”

The woman pouted, but then smiled and waved Keria to follow her behind the beaded curtain. Behind the curtain Keria saw a small hallway which contained a table and chair and small back and white TV. and two doors at either end. The woman led Keria to one of the doors which opened into a small bath room with a single bare over head bulb.

Keria thanked the woman and told her she would call if she needed her assistance and the woman shrugged and walked away as Keria closed herself into the little room. With the door closed and the little bare bulb scarcely illuminating the room, Keria unpinned her sodden hair and let the tangle of honey colored locks fall down her back. As she did so she saw in the tiny little mirror on the pealing plastered wall above the sink not only her own reflection but a brief flash of light in one of the cracks of bare lathe and plaster behind her. Keria instinctively knew that some one had removed an object of some kind from the wall in the room adjoining hers and was now peeping on her through one of the tinny holes and cracks in the lathe. The Knightingale decided to give the pervert the show of their life, and proceeded to strip as slowly and provocatively as she could out of her wet garments. As she did so she could just barely hear the audible faint puffing of breath growing husky with desire. Keria swiveled her full round hips and bent over distinctly hearing a low groan as her reward, as she removed her boots.

Before Keria put on her garments she reluctantly hung up her wet dripping clothes over the peep hole on the row of peg hooks above it. She then silently gathered up her new garments and rushed out of the small room and eased the door close behind her. Who ever was watching her would naturally believe she would take just as long dressing in her new clothes as she had in disrobing and the Knightingale used that subterfuge to now enter the empty hallway and race naked with her clothing wadded up in her arms to the door at the end of the hallway closest to her dressing room.

This door was unlocked and Keria quickly opened it and entered the room beyond. It was a hallway rather than a room and it had another door immediately to her left with a slotted grate on its upper surface. This Keria quietly peered through and saw the items of cleaning supplies of a janitors closest. Screwing her face to the side and pressing up against the grill she could just make out a large hulking figure in blue coveralls with its back to her obviously desperately trying to see beyond her obstructing hanging garments into what must have been the bath room she had just abandoned. He was stroking himself furiously and hoarsely swearing under his moaning breath. Keria stifled a giggle and eased away from the door. She had half expected it to be the woman from the shop and was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t.

Keria now crept down the hallway to where it suddenly ended into a low ceiling staircase which she rapidly descended. These in turn stopped abruptly at a steel door which she found unlocked and eased open. It in turn revealed a parking garage with several cars in it. Walking carefully around the stair door walls corner she found the garage ran under several of the over head businesses and there near the apparently only entrance and exit ramp and its closed door was the limo in question.

Keria gave an cautious look about and decided it was a good time to get dressed. She had been elated to have found a pair of panties emblazoned with the Union Jack on them just like she always wore, but these were in a young girls size and she squeezed into them finding them a bit snug. Next she put on the large man’s white dress shirt she had found and buttoned it up in the middle. Then she wrapped the large metal brass belt around her tiny waist and cinched it up tight. It instantly transformed the over sized shirt into a mini-dress. Next she put on a pair of shinny black vinyl pirate boots that slide up to well above her knees. She folded up her sleeves and with her boot stiletto heels clicking loudly she walked over to the limo adjusting her cleavage by un-buttoning a button or two and pulling at the ‘v’ left opening of the lower half of the shirt until she could see the Union Jack proudly flashing brazenly with each swishing step.

The limo was empty as was the rest of the garage and cars and the Knightingale found herself pondering her next move knowing all the while that the woman and man upstairs would soon be looking for her. Time was ticking!

Keria gave up looking at the empty limo and found her attention resting upon a large silver and cream Cadillac sitting directly next to the limo. There wasn’t another car around for several stalls and Keria noted that the wall behind both vehicles was painted ‘reserved parking’ in stenciled letters. It seemed obvious to her that the same person owned both automobiles. The Knightingale began to paw over the Cadillac. Removing one of the hair pins she had kept in her now flowing reddish blonde locks, she began to fish at the trunk lock under the hinged medallion. To her surprise the lid popped open and she found her self looking at a large spacious trunk with unfortunately no luggage to riffle through.

Just then a door banged open some where and several foot falls be told of an approaching group of people. Keria quickly pitched herself into the trunk and pulled the lid down to where it looked shut but was still open a crack. The foot steps grew louder and was joined by murmuring voices that she couldn’t decipher and then the car began to bounce and she just managed to retain her purchase upon the trunk lid as the group of people began to enter the car in which she was hiding!

CHAPTER THREE

After what must have been several hours the car finally lurched to a halt with a crunch of gravel under its tires. The jostling ride had nearly exhausted the cramped and confined Keria and her arm was fatigued from holding on to the heavy trunk lid and struggling to keep it both from opening too wide and slamming shut upon her. Knightingale knew they had long left the city for what must have been the upper state country side of New York, and she was not surprised when the car emptied and after a long anxious wait she let her self out of the trunk to behold a privet drive surrounded by acres of trees and low scrub. She was surprised though to find that the sun was rapidly setting and within half an hour the entire place would be pitch dark in night.

This firmly in mind the Knightingale began to scout out her new location as quickly as stealth and fading daylight allowed. The car was parked a few yards from a large oversized farm house of above the average farmers income to maintain in taxes let alone purchase and live in. Despite this there was a large barn behind it and several large sheds and pole barns lining the gravel road and obviously part of the surrounding property. Fearing the windows now blind to her with reflected sunset, Keria quickly skulked off the privet drive that wound away into the crescent of tall timber and slide up along side of the nearest shed. For now her greatest fear was ‘dogs’ and she kept an eye out for any sign of the country rampant critters.

The first few grimy mud stained windows of the sheds she glided past revealed nothing but heaps of rusted disused farm equipment which she found oddly out of place considering the opulent house and its well tailored yard and freshly graveled drive. She continued her perimeter scouting before angling in for a look at the house its self. It was during this final approach from the backside of the house that she both heard and noticed some movement from the half opened door of the large barn and decided to re-direct herself to that query before proceeding any further toward the house its self.

The large barn was old and made of long ironed ancient extinct hart pine and oak, but was freshly re-painted to match the bright colored house to its front. The inside however had been left untouched and was thick in moldering dank sweet smelling hay and its dark interior hinted at the piles of long burst alfalfa lining its hidden walls. Keria snuck into the twilight of the barn and stumbled over a prone figure upon the floor. Swallowing down her fear she raised her self up into a crouch and turned the dark form over into the slowly vanishing light spilling in from the half closed barn door.

It was the ambassador from Umbangaway, Mr. Cad! Just then there was a flash of bright blue white searing light and the Knightingale felt a heavy blow strike the side of her head. Her eyes filled with stars and she collapsed, sprawled over the corpse before her as she heard a low cynical voice wheeze, “thanks bitch!”

When Keria next woke it was pitch dark, but it only took her a second to reconnoiter her memories and her surroundings. The dead body was still under her sprayed form and the wet sticky slickness she felt on her arms was surly the blood from the nasty wound she had glimpsed in his chest. The weird wailing noise in her ears took her a second longer to place as police sirens instead of her nearly fractured skull, as the American sirens were so different from the ones from home.

Keria fought herself to her unsteady feet and reeled out to the front of the house to notice the Cadillac was gone and none of the house lights were on, the place was deserted. She wobbled across the back yard and headed toward the forest. The first squad car crunched up to a light show extravaganza stop before she had staggered more than a half dozen steps and she heard the horrifying muffled bark of a large hound in its back seat! There was nothing for it now, Keria turned away from the road and ran as fast as her high heeled boots and wobbly head would allow toward the back of the barn. There was no disguising the scent wafting from back there for an Island girl, born and raised. Sure enough in a flight of a hundred steps and even as she heard the back door of the squad car creak open and the barks explode in intensity, Keria threw herself into the large pond of icy sliver water and began to swim.

At least two more police cars joined in the hail storm of noise erupting in front of the farm house and the dog was barking furiously inside the barn, the stench of death far exceeding that of the living, in his careful training. The pond may as well have been called a lake for as long as it took her to swim across it, but at least it seemed as long as it had been wide and thus she had thrown off any immediate pursuit. She dragged herself up out of the weedy muck and moss and let herself have a few minutes rest before forcing herself back up on to her wet numb legs to send herself churning through the brambles and low brush to find some kind of path amongst the hilly wood.

What she found was more than a path, it was a two lane black top and she wandered its fringe heading to the East and thus ultimately the coast and where she hoped she would find New York City again, or failing that, something bordering upon civilization, though she had doubts that outside of New York City one could find civilization in the former colonies?

Weary of cars, of which there was none, she rounded one dimly new moon unlit corner of wood and tangle to find the gravel lined road emptied briefly into a brightly lit pub or gas station of some kind, before meandering on past into the dark humps of forest beyond. Out side the garish window walled building of florescent and neon there was only one run down beater of a car and with nothing to lose Keria made for it in an easy ambling gait. She had just slid around to the passenger side, the farthest from the front of the store, when the front glass door of ‘Mural’s all night gas and bait shop’ jingled open. Keria glanced up, it was a middle aged man with an arm full of groceries who was talking over his shoulder to some one inside the shop. He hadn’t seen her! The Knightingale tried the back passenger door and it opened and she slid in and quickly shut it behind her. She wiggled down on to the floor of the back seat and held her breath.

The front driver side door of the old brown car opened there was the sound of the paper bag of groceries crunching onto the front bench seat and the sound of the man in his rumpled suit and coat frumping in behind the steering wheel. The door squealed shut and after three rusty coughs the tired old engine finally caught and roared to life. The man snapped the steering column gear shift into reverse and the car weaved out on to the tarmac. As he fought the beast into drive and began to peter chugging and back firing down the road, snapping on his head lights finally, the radio roared to life. “Detective Dingus, are you there or not?”

The man snapped up the mic of the radio and wheezed, “Yeah. I’m here.”

“There’s been a murder out at the Jasper farm and you’re the closest detective to it. Can you respond?”

“The Jasper farm? Holy Mollie, I’m not even a quarter mile from there!”

“Yeah, I know that’s why I’ve been trying to raise you for the past twenty minutes.”

“What? I had to pick up something for my goldfish, he’s been sick and-”

“Can you take the call?”

“Wha? Yeah, sure I can take the call. That is, yeah, I’m right here, I’ll check it out.”

“Roger. Detective 119 is responding to the call. Over and out.”

“Yeah. Boy, I was just there too.”

In the back seat the Knightingale muttered under her breath, “Bloody hell.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Keria knew it was now or never, as a deep under cover operative working in a foreign country she couldn’t rely on her government or theirs to help her out of a bind. With an awkward twist she vaulted and slithered herself over the back of the front seat and squirmed into the lap of the shocked detective Dingus! “Hello luv!” The Knightingale cooed as she wiggled into place and locked her right leg about both of his legs in such away as to deign Dingus the use of the brake or gas pedal. “I’ll work the pedals and you work the wheel. Eh?” She jerked the car back on to the road and slammed the gas pedal down to the floor while putting his hands back firmly on the wheel as she let go, abandoning their mutual fate to his hands, his frantic grip whitened his knuckles as the car lurched and weaved about the road.

Keria prided herself on being able to tell a man’s worth by the size of his cock. And as her expert bum kept up its grinding into Dingus crotch, she quickly judged Dingus to be a tad under fifteen inches, as the non-metric Yanks would gage it. A bit on the small side, but she could sense there was girth here to make up for it. She expertly fished out the penis in question with a single deft wrist action and sandwiched the tool between her massaging thighs. Yes, it was several inches in circumference and had a good over sized head, a decent cock all in all, despite its smallish statue. She continued to pump the engorged member between her well practiced ivory thighs as she began to tell the confused man she now felt confident in trusting, her true and full story of her undercover mission and how it had gone a ‘wee bit’ wrong..

Keria watched for any sign of Dingus returning headlights. from the brake of brush pile lining one side of the serpentine gravel road. The detective had indeed decided to reluctantly trust the British secret agent and he had dropped her off well shy of the crime scene promising to pick her up as soon as he could full fill his obligations there.

Keria removed her semen saturated Union Jack panties and tossed them into the bushes. She had never seen a man ejaculate so much before! It had even covered her dress shirt but she decided to leave the yellow stained garment on until she had procured another replacement garment to wear. As it was, it was several dark lonely cold hours before a rusted old car with one headlight out wheezed up to a stop and flashed its headlight. The Knightingale had spent the time rubbing her wildly thick ungroomed pubic mound to keep herself warm and entertained.

Shooting into the front seat she quickly whipped out Dingus penis and began to stroke it to attention.

“You don’t have to do that,” the man mumbled. “I believe everything you have told me.”

“This isn’t for you, luv, it’s for me! Now, this time you work the pedals and I’ll steer.” And the Knightingale squirmed on to the detectives lap and grabbed the wheel. The car shot off as Keria slipped Dingus purple to bursting cock, into her thickly over grown patch and some how managed to hit every pot hole and washboard on that long and winding gravel road.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Oh, I think my suspensions is shot.” Dingus groaned holding his lower back as he stood up from looking under his smoking car.

The Knightingale ignored the comment and paused before the restaurant with its lavish frontage and said to Dingus, “You’re sure this is it?”

Dingus creaked over to stand beside her on the busy side walk. “Yeah, this is the guy who owns the Jasper farm. A Mr. Randy Wong. Has a chain of these all organic Chinese restaurants and some cooking show as well. Which he films here in New York. And your hunch about the ‘frame-up’ seems to be right. One of the sergeants on the sight already said that a plain large manila envelope with a photo of a woman matching your description kneeling over the body of the deceased has already arrived at the station. So, what’s our next move?”

The Knightingale tried to suppress a smile, men were so cute, despite being so stupid. “Well, judging by the passer by’s looks, my current state of dress suggests that you go in the front way and I make a more seditious entrance via the back.”

“Fair enough, what exactly are we looking for?” Dingus had only just noticed his shirt tails were sticking out of his undone fly, and he rapidly tried to fix the problem hopelessly getting his zipper stuck beyond repair, and finally just covering up his embarrassment by belting his rumpled rain coat close.

The Knightingale forced back down a sinker and added a bemused arching brow to her response. “Well, since you’re the only one with a badge luv, I suggest you wave that thing of yours around a bit and I’ll run any interference I can in my own little way so you can observe anything out of the ordinary. Alright?” Keria, adjusted the lieutenant’s trench coat for him as she gave out her instructions and at the last second slipped her agile hand into his open fly and pulled out his cock giving it several appreciative squeezes as she whispered into his redden ear, “Just keep your eyes pealed for a smoking gun.” And she parted company with a quick salacious grin and a wiggle of her full round hips.

The Knightingale turned to blow a kiss to Dingus who as she suspected was staring intently at her mesmerizing ass sways, and tried hard not to burst out laughing as the pumped up detective smiled broadly, grabbed his coat lapels proudly and proceeded to walk boldly into the, ‘Randy Wong’s Chow Mai Poo Tang Family Restaurant’ with his purple cock sticking out like a ship’s prowl from his ruined slacks zipper. Keria shook her head and giggled, “yanks’ indeed!”

In the alley way running along side the large restaurant, the Knightingale quickly located the row of steel fire exit doors dotted amongst the large trash bins and stacks of empty milk crates. One of these doors was held open by a chunk of reddish brown cinder block, as cooking steam leaked out as well as sweet smells of the kitchen. Keria slipped inside and found a dark hallway filled with sounds of rapid Chinese language coming from her right, where a well lit open door lead into what must have been the kitchen to the main restaurant, though a row of coats and jackets hanging upon the wall blocked much of the view. To her left was a small wire grated door containing fuse boxes and conduct lines terminating into the ceiling and the floor. Beyond this was a bend in the small claustrophobic corridor that was dark and silent. The Knightingale headed in that direction.

The rough unfinished plywood paneling upon the walls and floor had been painted a heavy black some time ago but use had made it more a series of grays and odd swirls of water stained browns, but the corridor quickly lead the Knightingale to a door that opened easily and a badly lit room containing theatrical props and boxes full of odd assorted items of clothing. Keria gave her heavily sex stained wrinkled shirt dress the once over and shuffled about trying to find some new garment to replace it with. As she did so she found herself next to a wall at the end of the maze of boxes and came up short at the sound of slightly muffled voices that she strained to make out through the coarse paneled wall.

“If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a dirty copper! It’s repulsive and serves no purpose! And I just won’t stand for it!” The thin voice wailed.

‘My lord,’ the Knightingale bemoaned. ‘They must have caught detective Dingus!’ She hadn’t thought any nest of spy’s the two of them would stir up would be so bold as to physically kidnap a New York City detective!

“But that’s alright, I’m gonna show you what I do with a dirty copper. I take some salt and some lemon and I’m just gonna rub that-” The voice faded away as Keria involuntarily jerked her head back from the wall.

“Torture!” She bit her lower lip and began to crane her neck for some kind of opening to the other side of the wall. She found it quickly, a paneled door and she rushed to it. As she had been half looking for some new clothing a few strides earlier she had already removed her belt and unbuttoned her shirt-dress and now as she rushed to detective Dingus rescue she realized she had no time to re-button the shirt and instead yanked it off and grabbed a near by apron hanging on a hook next to the door she was opening and in a single motion she was through the door and securing the apron behind her back!

What met the Knightingale’s sight was a large Cajun chef in white cooking clothes rubbing a lemon dipped in salt onto what appeared to be a very blackened copper pot. Beyond him were several TV cameras and a small audience of old ladies and bored old men half hid in the shadows behind the blinding keg lights. “The salt gives you the graininess and the acid from the lemon gives you the cleaning agent you need.” The large chef went on his back to her and oblivious that a naked woman wearing only an apron had just walked out from behind his set back drop and onto his live cooking show!

Keria was about to spin around and make a hasty exit when she realized that in doing so she would give several thousand viewers a most revealing view. The apron covered her front, just barely, but left nothing to the imagination to her rear. Forcing a broad smile the Knightingale sauntered up next to the momentarily surprised chef, who improvised well by stating that their surprise cooking guest had finally arrived! The chef knew the producer was wanting to make changes to the show by bringing on guests and seeing the pretty young woman wearing a, ‘Chow Mai Poo Tang’ sponsor emblazoned apron, he naturally believed this was one of those changes he had been dreading. It wasn’t until he moved slightly behind the girl that he realized she wasn’t wearing anything other than the apron. He found himself dumbstruck at the sight of her buttocks and the young woman had interjected into his surprised silence. ”Sorry I’m late. What goodies are we whipping up today, chef?”

The chef seemed unable to pry his eyes off her rear end, and the Knightingale began to worry he would invariably blow her cover if she didn’t get a handle on the situation at once. She quickly squeezed herself between the rotund chef and the cooking counter wiggling her hot buttocks aggressively against the chef’s crotch. She was almost instantly rewarded with the pressing enlargement of the chef’s cock and he snapped out of his hypnotic daze to enter into her own complete control. “I do hope we are making something with Beef today. ‘Tube’ steak is one of my favorites,” her heavy English accent let her get away with calling ‘cube’ steak, ‘tube steak’, and she winked at the flushed faced chef. Who seemed to finally regain the power of speech, though some what hesitantly.

“I’m-I’m afraid we are doing lamb today. R-rack of lamb.” He beamed as the Knightingale continued to grind her full hips into the swelling crotch of the cook.

“That’s okay, I’ve never had any complaints about my rack.” And indeed the tugging and pulling and grinding of the chef and Keria had indeed left much of her ample cleavage spilling out the taunt and threaten to burst upper window of the apron. From the audience some male chuckling met her wicked wink and open mouth smirk. ”So what do we do now, luv? I must admit I usually just whip up some kippers and bangers, nothing like a good banger, eh?” The chef and the now more animated male part of the audience readily agreed with thunderous applause. She winked another smile with a toss of her coy head.

“I-I think we need to check the temperature of our rack of lamb, as we may be taking it out of the oven a bit early.” The heavy set chef reluctantly removed his groin from her searing rear end and with much effort and waddled stiff legged over to the oven and re-moved the lamb and brought it back next to her, holding it gingerly with oven mitts before his chest he asked the nearly naked girl to grab the meat thermometer.

With an expert whisk of her supple wrist the Knightingale freed out the chef’s swollen penis form his white trousers and began to stroke him savagely. At the same time she plucked up the large glass thermometer from the counter that obstructed the audiences view of both her and the chef from the waist down and smiled wickedly. “So, that’s a meat thermometer. My it’s soo big! Where do you want me to stick it?”

The now purple faced chef whimpered, “Any ole crack will do!”

The Knightingale slid the device into the rack of lamb. “My look how juicy it is!”

The chef was having trouble holding the glass dish up as Keria continued to pump his pulsing cock in her rapid little left fist, and he lowered it to the table with a groan. Keria was always amazed at how her normally klutzy body always seemed to increase in grace in direct proportion to how sexually aroused she became.

“I like my rack nicely glazed, do you like to glaze racks?” The Knightingale gave her most innocent look at the chef as she put her right hands index finger to her parted lips. It was too much for the rotund cook and with a heavy accented, “I guarantee!” He shot his wad all over the rack of lamb now tilted toward his body. The plate blocked this event from the camera and audience view, and just before the plump chef had shot his load the sexually dexterous Knightingale had re-leased the half apron from around the cooks large waist and as he spent himself in spasms, she now slipped it around her small form several times thus covering up her rear view as well as her front waist, where her own apron was sopping wet from her own aroused juices. While the large man emptied his balls upon his rack of lamb, Keria paused a moment and then deftly whisked a knife off the counter before them and cut the man’s elastic tie to his white pants, which promptly fell to the floor in a pool along with much of the lamb’s stewing juices, leaving him even more naked than she had been as he no longer even had an apron to cover his lower regions. Keria now blew kisses to the loudly applauding audience and quickly wiggled her way back out through the way she had come and as the door slammed close behind her she ran to the fire exit and the alley way beyond!

CHAPTER SIX

The Knightingale looked up at the large white apparition gliding up to her out of the mist. It was an optical illusion, for the Yacht of Lady Mountwell was anchored in place about a mile from the shore line and it was her little dingy that bobbed and weaved silently toward the white majestic hulk in the over cast night. Keria had ditched Dingus, in fact the man had been arrested for indecent exposure along with the chef of the cooking show, but both had served their limited purposes. Dingus had, along with the Knightingale’s own ruckus, sent the flabbergasted Randy Wong racing to his contact just as the Knightingale had reasoned he would, with the Knightingale in full pursuit. That contact had been found in, none other than the upper East Side Suite of Lady Mountwell. There the Knightingale had discovered the dead Randy Wong’s body, but no Lady Mountwell. A brief little one on one with the up stairs maid in the lien closet had revealed all the dirty laundry Keria needed to lead her to Lady Mountwell’s ship in the harbor. The pieces in the sordid little affair were beginning to fall into place.

It took some doing to maneuver alongside the ship in the increasing swells, but as soon as she felt comfortably close, Keria slipped off her boat and abandoned it to the night sea and swam up to the lowered ladder of the starboard side. The ship’s name was, ‘Baby Britannica,’ and she flew the British flag, but like her mistress she was both the right and the wrong kind of naked patriotism that often befouled the worlds most noble minds.

The Knightingale climbed on board and promptly slipped and fell on her wet suited ass. It had been several hours since she had undergone any sexual arousal and she had already found her usual accident prone nature reasserting its self with a vengeance!

Rubbing her hinny, Keria began to struggle out of her full body wet suit. Underneath she wore a light white summer dress with a very short skirt and her unusual Union Jack undies promptly on display underneath the flashing hem line. She had taken a moment to stop by her hotel room and shower and dress her self for the mission ahead. She fluffed out her long golden red locks of curly hair and began to eye the apparently vacant vessel.

She re-placed her wet suit flippers with her white strappy high heels and took a step only to catch her toe on her pile of discarded garments and land firmly on her chin. It knocked her out cold.

When she awoke, head spinning, the Knightingale found her wrists tied above her head to a hook mounted in a cabin brace and her ankles tied securely to a metal ship rib. She was obviously in the hold of the large ship, two men in black sweaters, and black slacks, with black stocking caps scrunched up on top of their heads glared at her, with black menace, over their machine guns braced against their large chests. The place was dimly lit and a bright flash of light from behind the men along with a loud bang of a deck door opening announced the arrival of none other than Lady Mountwell herself.

Keria was surprised to find lady Mountwell here in person and it puzzled her addled head for a second.

“I take it you are the one who destroyed the silo full of drugs at the Jasper farm?” Lady Mountwell frowned at the Knightingale.

Indeed, Keria had been most busy between leaving the Mountwell town house apartments and arriving on board the ‘Baby Britannica.’

“It’s of no importance to me. The Umbangaway drugs had already purchased the arms I required.” Lady Mountwell motioned at the stacks of crates in their heavy nets all about her, and the now clearing vision of the Knightingale could discern that the hold about her was indeed full of military weapon crates. “I should have killed Wong when I got rid of the Umbangaway ambassador. It’s the loose ends you have to be worried about.” She smiled at Keria. “Not a mistake I plan to make again.”

“Why?” Keria muttered anxious to buy time for her stiff limbs to regain something akin to feeling. “Your family has been a loyal supporter of the Crown for ages.”

“And still is!” Lady Mountwell chimed with an arched eye brow. “Perhaps even more so, but the times are changing. These weapons you see before you will go to the Irish rebels as your superiors no doubt guessed.”

“And you call that loyalty to the Crown?”

“Things are seldom what they seem child. There are those in power right now that wish to placate the northern rebels and go dancing hand in hand in peace with the scum. With these weapons in the rebels hands those weak minded individuals will find themselves rapidly falling out of the English public favor and my own bid of power rapidly rising. I do believe the time for a woman Prime Minister may be quickly dawning to hand, and with myself there in established, I’ll send in sufficient force to crush those rebels and bring that arrogant nation firmly to heel. Enlarging the nation and my own personal power in one.”

“But why kill the Umbangaway ambassador?” Keria could feel the rope at her ankle giving as she continued to saw it back and forth across the metal rib in the dim light.

“You obviously know nothing of finance, dear. Rule number one is, the easiest way to wealth is never pay for anything you need, and never give anything away for free. I had hoped to reclaim the drugs after your being framed for the murder of Mr. Chad, and resell them again to get back my own little nest egg of investment I had made to launch the little three way trade, but…”

“But I didn’t play my part quiet to script.”

“Well, you have been a bit of a bother, but fortunately that ends now.” With that the Lady Mountwell wrenched free a large combat knife stabbed into a crate and approached the helpless Knightingale. “I do like to do this sort of thing myself. I hope you’ll scream like that little Wong fellow did and not be such a party pooper as the stogy old ambassador was.” Lady Mountwell reached for the back of Keria’s head and raised up the knife, “since I have the luxury of time, I think I’ll start with the eyes.”

“Sorry to disappoint you!” The Knightingale shrieked as she raised up her now free feet and kneed Lady Mountwell in the stomach, “but I’ve always been a bit of a wild bird!” Keria quickly wrapped up the gasping woman with her legs and using her for leverage, raised her self up to slip her bound wrists off the hook above her and fell in a heap dragging Lady Mountwell with her.

The Knightingale found the knife quickly and used it in the chaos to sever her bonds. As she had expected neither guard had risked firing his automatic weapon in the half gloom of the hold and instead rushed forward to rescue Lady Mountwell. Keria kicked the woman into their arms sending the trio sprawling. A moment latter and the Knightingale was up the short flight of steps and racing across the deck and leaping over the railing in a rather awkward swan dive that ended in more of a belly flop, but it got the job done.

The trio raced on to the deck and the two men began firing their machine guns into the water after her disappearing form. Keria swam as deeply as she dared putting as much distance between her and the ship and its hold which now contained the several high explosive grenades that had spilled out of the crates she and Lady Mountwell had knocked over and which she had in turn, pulled the pins out of in the moment before her mad rush to escape the craft.

The explosions set off the other highly combustible contents of the ship and when the Knightingale resurfaced she found herself surrounded by raining debris in the cold rough Atlantic ocean. The Knightingale bobbed along in the gray night sea not knowing in which direction lay land or how far out she was from the safety of shore. Just then she felt a solid object brush against her body and turning toward it, the Knightingale grabbed on to what she at first thought to be some surfacing wreckage.

It turned out to the rising periscope of a small British mini-sub. Keria clung to it as it raised her out of the water.

“Figured out what that explosion was yet?’’ The captain asked as he clenched his unlit pipe between his strong white teeth. “Well, man?’’

“You had better take a look at this, sir.” The first mate stuttered as he reluctantly moved aside.

The captain frowned, and jutted out his broad square jaw, turned his cap backwards, and eyed the periscope glass, there in the view finder was a pair of soaking wet Union Jack panties rubbing against the periscope lens. The captain smiled and beamed, “Prepare to surface, and ready my cabin. Oh, and wire London; the Knightingale is back!”