"Oh, please, Mr. Mosley? Please can we go? We never get to do anything fun!"

Special Agent John Mosley, known publicly as the owner of SUDDZ Hair Salon – and secretly as the second-in-command of Operation Freedom – was not quite the pushover for feminine charm that his cover persona was made out to be. But he had to be honest with himself; he was far from immune to it either. Looking at the four sexy teen girls bouncing up and down in front of him, begging him for a favour, he made a point of keeping his eyes on their faces.

It wasn’t easy. Irina, Lizzie, Gemma and Katie were SUDDZ’s four youngest hairdressers, and Operation Freedom’s four youngest Kitts, two months younger even than the precocious superstar Bailey Phillips who just two weeks previously had given Operation Freedom its first successful teenaged spy since Raven McCoy herself. The four girls epitomized taut, tantalizing barely-legal glory in all its dizzying variety, from buxom golden pin-up (blonde Irina) to sexily trashy glamour-Goth (redheaded Lizzie), from teeny-titted runway beauty (brown-haired Gemma) to curvy-assed creamy-skinned hoochie-girl (black-haired Katie). So much for the eye to wander over, he caught himself thinking, especially since they were all wearing tiny shorts and tank tops in the summer heat... but he clamped down on the thought.

"I don’t think you girls understand," he said, trying to sound concerned and fatherly. "We don’t want to squash your fun, but it’s a dangerous time in Island City right now. These are some very bad people we’re up against. We just can’t spare the people to protect you on a night out."

"Come on, Mr. Mosley," Irina said. "We’re not going clubbing! It’s just dinner and a movie! A couple of the FBI guys could watch us, it’s a really crowded restaurant, we’d be safe!"

"It’s dinner with Bailey," added Gemma, sounding distressed. "Bailey asked us! We can’t say no!"

As they swamped him with renewed pleas, he mused on how Bailey’s successful mission – relatively easy though it had been – had turned her into an instant superstar among the other Kitts. She’d been a little on the shy side before, but suddenly everyone wanted to be her friend, to dress like her, to hang out with her. And not just the Kitts, Mosley reflected. The Foxxes had all been fond of her before, but now she was practically one of the girls. She could be spied from time to time hanging out with Raven McCoy in her quarters, giggling as they listened to the knife-fighting Foxx’s extensive record collection; or in Mylene Desange’s room getting beauty tips or laughing over their shared weakness for chocolate; or playing an animated game of dominoes with Satin Rayne and Keiko Takeda; or listening sombrely to Summerset O’Neale talk about strategy and the basics of leadership. Overnight, she had catapulted to the top echelon of the Den’s social hierarchy.

And she was dealing with it pretty well, too. The success seemed to have given her new confidence and poise. She had certainly lost her previous shyness with the lads; three of the NSA men had already had to be warned on separate occasions about fraternization after they were seen leaving her quarters. ("What can I say?" one of them said in his defense. "She’s really, really persuasive.") There was a confidence in her stride, a directness in her gaze, a cock-stiffening sauciness in her smile, that hadn’t been there before. It’s amazing, Mosley thought, what a difference a day could make to someone’s personality.

To top it all off, the "Siobhan O’Connor" disguise – making her look like she’d stepped out of an Irish Spring commercial – really suited her. Though they hadn’t been able to find anything conclusive in the drug samples she’d brought back with her, there were suspicious signs, agents in some of the compounds that had also been found in street designer drugs. It wasn’t enough to justify a raid, but it was enough to justify her continued undercover work there, and she was getting regular injections of the breast-augmenters to maintain the slightly busty physique she’d sported on her first visit. It was plain that she liked her new tits, that she’d be reluctant to go back to a B-cup when the assignment was over, and when she sashayed down a hallway these days, the sway of her ripe young tits and sexy ass turned heads like windsocks in a stiff breeze.

So for the four young Kitts to be asked by Bailey to a celebratory dinner at Le Fey and a double-header screening of A Princess of Mars and Ronny Rocket at The Plaza – it was practically like being asked to dine with royalty. Their excitement was understandable. The only problem was, Bailey had originally asked clearance just for herself, and he’d granted it as a reward for her remarkable efforts; with a two-man surveillance detail that kind of excursion would have been fine. But with the Foxxes ordered on a major raid, the fourth action against Bloods affiliates in two weeks, extra surveillance men would be hard to set up at short notice, and sending five girls out with just a two-man surveillance detail was a different ballgame.

But he wondered if he wasn’t being overcautious. It’s a pretty good time to be in the Den, Mosley reflected. Everybody’s riding high, from the Foxxes on down. They’re young, of course they want to share in the moment. Besides, if anything goes wrong, we do have on-call SWAT in the area that won’t be on the raid.

The four super-cute girls drew in closer and closer as they pleaded. "Okay, okay, okay," he finally relented. "I suppose... if you all wear transponders and if you promise me you’ll hit the panic button at the first sign of anything suspicious... we can work something out."

"Yay!!" they cried, crowding in to hug Mosley before he could forestall them, and he spent the next minute desperately focussed on thinking unsexy thoughts as four warm, tender, firm young bodies rubbed up against him and his head swam.

What am I ever going to do, he wondered, when Operation Freedom is finally over? On the other hand, maybe it would be a relief.

* * * * *

Seven floors down from the hair salon, deep under the streets of Island City and in the heart of the Foxxes’ Den, Bailey Phillips sung happily to herself as she carefully searched Raven McCoy’s bedroom.

"Flickity-flick, kiss kiss, I love my Miss-tress," went the singsong ditty under her breath as the shorts-and-halter top-clad girl rummaged through a panty drawer. All thongs. My oh my, Miss Raven McWhore, what slutty panties you have.

"You must look for especially personal things," The Mistress had told her. "Things that give us a window into their souls, do you understand, my pet? Only stay away from anything belonging to Summerset O’Neale – she will be sure to notice if the smallest item is left out of place."

She’d been disappointed at that last command, it was Summerset she wanted to hurt most of all, Summerset who deserved above all to be stripped and whipped and fucked and broken and taught that she was no better than lowest, nastiest of gutter sluts... but her disappointment did not matter. Only the commands of The Mistress mattered. "While you do my bidding," The Mistress had told her, "the power of your Mistress will live within you. You will be invincible, irresistible. They can’t touch you, my pet, so long as you belong to me." And she was right. It was child’s play to deceive the people of Operation Freedom, the liars and simpletons and bastards who’d once pretended to be her comrades. Nothing could be easier. The Mistress’ power was inside her all the time, suffusing her whole being like a warm ball of light, always making clear the right path.

She wanted to find something good. The Mistress would reward her if she found something good. The Mistress would let her crawl between the tables at her gentlemen’s club and suck on throbbing, spurting cocks one after the other while the men played cards and drank, would tie her down and whip her ass while one and then another of her thugs pounded her wet cunt and called her a filthy whore... her body tingled, her snatch throbbed and pulsed in anticipation and delicious memory. So far, none of the weaklings passing themselves off as men in Operation Freedom seemed able to give a girl what she needed. Only her Mistress truly knew. And so she needed to find something good, to please her Mistress.

Raven’s room was a bit of a whirlwind, the room of a teenager, really, there were concert posters and album covers from bands like The Condemned and Frozen Gold on the walls; it was easy to forget that she’d become a Foxx when she was Bailey’s age, that even now she was only nineteen and a half. It was rumoured to have been her idea to form the Kitts, that she’d thought their enemies’ clear obsession with young female flesh could be used against them, that the girls could be given the tools to fight back. Which was the kind of idea only a stupid slut would have and she deserved to die slowly, Bailey reflected... but then without that idea she would never have met her Mistress. So maybe she’d thank Raven before she spit in her face when the time came to watch her die.

No pictures of men, she realized suddenly as she finished her search through the dresser. Most of the Kitts had pictures of well-muscled, dreamy teen magazine eunuchs on their walls. Raven didn’t have any of that. Not even pictures of rock stars, which would probably have been more her speed. Why not? Bailey wondered. She doesn’t seem like a dyke.

"Allo? Raven, is that you?"

Bailey stopped wondering for a moment to call out, "Hi, no Mylene, it’s Bailey!"

The tall, lithe, slender form of Mylene Desanges appeared at the doorway. She was kitted out for undercover work, dressed like a street-walking hooker in pink fishnets, white stilletto boots, a barely-there toxic green minidress, pink press-on nails and pink lipstick and eyeshadow, a profusion of costume-jewellery bangles at her wrists and necklaces at her throat, her normally bronzed skin subtly altered to a coffee-with-extra-cream octoroon tint (they wouldn’t have needed makeup for that, Bailey knew, it was a high-tech pigmentation treatment that wouldn’t rub off), and an enormous, frizzy Afro-style blonde perm exploding around her head. Her fine-featured and impossibly beautiful face was at once recognizable and totally, amazingly alien; there were already several dozen little minutiae of how she held and moved her features that said Island City hooker instead of supermodel spy. No doubt it would be her job to distract some guard or other on the raid tonight.

‘Cheap hooker’ is a good look for you, Bailey thought with an inward smirk. I’ll bet my Mistress would let you dress like that all the time. But she said: "I think Raven’s up on five with Keiko, getting some practice sparring in before tonight. I thought I lost a comb down here so I just came to look for it, I hope you don’t mind."

"No, of course not," said Mylene warmly. "And merci for those chocolates, by the way, I tried some just now and they’re delicious. That was very sweet of you."

Bailey didn’t have to act to groan at the pun. "Mylene, that’s terrible!"

The French Foxx smiled. "You think I should not quit my day job?"

"Oh, you know you always make me laugh, Mylene." I think you should lie naked and weeping at the feet of my Mistress while the spunk of fifty men oozes out of your whore-holes. "Anyway, I’m glad you liked the chocolates, I was a little nervous picking them out." A present from my Mistress, and I hope you choke on them. "You all ready for tonight?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be," the other woman nodded. "If you see Raven, just tell her I borrowed her mascara?"

"Sure thing. Good luck, Mylene." I pray for the criminals to teach every one of you a lesson in agony and humiliation.

"Merci, little one. Enjoy your dinner."

Oh, you can count on that, Bailey thought as she gave the departing Mylene a cheerful little wave. The light inside her pulsed even more warmly. I’ll be sure to enjoy every minute.

Now, where were we? She looked at the room around her, trying to think if there was anything she’d forgotten to check. After a moment, her eyes zoomed in on a book on Raven’s nighstand, a Bible. The kind of Gideon Bible that you’d find in a motel, in fact. Bailey walked over to it curiously, picked it up, riffled through its pages... and something dropped out. A bunch of somethings.

She picked them up and looked at them. Photographs.

Bailey couldn’t recognize the subject, he was a nondescript-looking man in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair, but there were crooked and blurry and off-centre pictures of him in several places taken from several angles, what looked like shots snapped hastily from behind various forms of cover and often from a fair distance. There had to be at least two dozen shots in all. The photos were clearly well-worn, bent, folded, dog-eared... and sometimes a little bit sticky. Bailey wondered why for a moment, and then it dawned on her.

Naughty naughty Raven McWhore, she thought with a spasm of inward hilarity. You’ve been rubbing off to your own stalker photos of Captain Anonymous! I’ll say this for you, you’ve got original taste. Carefully, she replaced the photos in the Bible. All but one, which she tucked into a pocket. Now that’s something good. She let her thoughts drift languidly to what kind of reward The Mistress would give her as she carefully stepped out of Raven’s room, closed the door, and headed for the elevator to her quarters.

"Flickity-flick, kiss kiss, I love my Miss-tress..." she sang to herself in her head as the elevator rose. It was going to be a good, good night.

* * * * *

"Alright, Mike, look sharp. Here they come."

Agents Lonnie James and Mike Shane, the FBI detail assigned to watch Bailey Phillips’ dinner group, were parked across from the SUDDZ salon as the five Kitts came flouncing out, looking for all the world just like a group of real hairdressers about to do a little post-work unwinding. They all looked incredible, each wearing a tight, short, form-fitting black sports dress, medium-sized platform heels (except for Lizzie, who wore platform boots) and an array of cute little purses. Teenagers’ idea of evening wear, thought Lonnie with a smile. But there was no denying they were hot.

The girls, chatting gaily and laughing with each other, started walking. Their restaurant, La Fey, was only a few blocks away. Mike started up the car and then remarked, quietly: "You know, I almost wish I hadn’t noticed that."

"Noticed what?"

"That there’s not a visible bra or panty line under any of those dresses."

Lonnie felt his mouth go dry. "You’re kidding."

"Would I joke about something like that?"

Lonnie took his binoculars and eyed the girls more closely. Irina was telling a story of some kind, miming a basketball player making a free throw, her ample tits jiggling enticingly as she extended her body up from a crouch, the other girls laughing. I’ll be goddamned, he thought. He’s right. Clearing his throat uncomfortably as he felt a distinct stiffening in his pants, he hurriedly put the binoculars down. "Bailey talked them into that, I’ll bet. She’s been a bit of a wildcat since she became a real agent." He tapped the dash. "Come on, let’s go."

"You got their transponder signals?" asked Mike as he started the car into slow motion, tracking the girls.

"Sure." Lonnie tapped the GPS tracking unit in his jacket pocket. "Not that we’ll need them. We should be able to stay in visual contact on this one."

" ‘Should be able to’ or ‘you really want to’?"

"On good days, Mike old buddy," Lonnie replied, "what I want and what the job calls for are the very same thing. This is just one of those days."

* * * * *

A few miles away, at a streetcorner in the Borough of Hague Island, Mylene Desanges was eyeing up her target.

To all outward appearances it was a four-storey building of small shops, including a drug store, all now closed or boarded up or simply abandoned, with apartments on the upper three floors. But appearances were deceptive; in fact, in a soundproofed and bug-proofed apartment on the second floor of that building was the coordination centre for a huge, ingeniously-improvised, mongrel network of cheap, over-the-counter digital cameras wired up all over the block. It was slum computer wizardry at its best: the eyes of the security network of the 37^th Black Sun Nation, the biggest and most dangerous Bloods faction in Island City, whose operation was based in the much larger Bel Air apartment block looming directly behind the French Foxx’s target building.

The Black Suns are no fools, Mylene thought to herself. The raids the Foxxes had already carried out against the Kingpins, the Shotgun Squad and the Red Flags in the last two weeks had painted a clear picture of who the next target would be. Somehow, some way, they have to know we’re coming for them.

But knowing wouldn’t save them. Shrewd or not, forewarned or not, when it came right down to it they were still men. Sometimes Mylene marvelled that she had a reputation as a super-seductress; as far as she could tell, getting men to do what you wanted was child’s play, almost any woman should be able to do it. The subtler trick, though, was always to keep in control, to dictate the rhythm of the seduction, to keep his attention riveted until you had what you needed... at which point a well-placed sap or a set of brass knuckles would do wonders for his restraint and self-control.

Seduction wasn’t really about pleasure or sex. Mylene had little time for sex and hadn’t since she was a young girl, as far as she was concerned it was overrated. She rarely even masturbated... except for occasional nights when she couldn’t get the sound of Max’s voice out of her head (but she told no-one about those). No, seduction was really all about being a ringmaster. Taunting the lion into jumping through the hoop of fire.

All three of the previous gangs had been found with huge stockpiles of the various designer drugs that had plagued Island City in recent years, including one recent substance called Seraf-X, a kind of angel dust on steroids that actually somehow convinced the user that they were angels, and among other things that they could fly; Seraf-X users had been plummeting from rooftops and balconies and bridges for over a month now. The Bloods had lamely claimed they were trying to destroy the drugs, "Base is one thing but this shit be real poison, somethin’ ain’t right," one of the Kingpins had said... but then, that’s just what they would say, wasn’t it? The Foxxes weren’t fooled. They’d finally isolated the major distribution channel for the mysterious drugs, they could now glimpse the enigmatic Syndicate behind their manufacture – and was it mere chance that one of its boss’ aliases was The Red Queen? As in Blood Red? Now it was a mere matter of tying the one to the other... and then tying the Syndicate to its likely superiors, either the Rubinetto crime family’s infamous Commission or the Colombian Matrillo Cartel. It was all within reach. They could all feel it, they were on the verge of cracking the mysteries of Island City’s underworld, of finally facing down its most dangerous and insidious elements.

Tonight takes us one step closer, Mylene thought. She glanced at her watch as dusk deepened over the silent, deserted street corner, glanced up at the building behind her where her FBI surveillance and extraction team was holed up. It’s almost showtime, mes amies.

* * * * *

"Another round, waiter!" cried out Bailey a little bit tipsily, jauntily waving her hand in a circular gesture.

All the girls protested laughingly, but they knew they’d do the shots when they came. Lizzie felt a vague sense of unease; her head was already spinning, she could tell the other girls were getting unsteady too. Irina was holding up a little better than the rest of them, after all she was a known veteran of wild binge-drinking parties practically since the age of thirteen – but even she was starting to slur a little. Gemma’s eyes were starting to glaze, and Katie was talking too loudly, forgetting where her sentences were supposed to end up. She’d tried three times to tell a story about the kissing technique of a boy named Tony from her old high school, but kept getting lost and had finally given up. Six shots in a row since we sat down, Lizzie thought in wonder, we haven’t even had an appetizer yet!

At the same time, there was a bit of a thrill of excitement about the whole thing. Bailey clearly had in mind something more interesting than dinner and the movies; she’d said, with a bit of a naughty gleam in her eyes, "I’ve got a great surprise for you guys!" as soon as they sat down, but she’d refused to reveal what it was. Lizzie felt nervous about getting into any hijinks on their first brief furlough as Kitts... but she hadn’t partied, really partied, in over two years, and she was realizing now how much she’d missed it. And she’d never partied with girls as cool and beautiful as these.

Other tables looked over as Katie drunkenly climbed to her feet when her favourite song, a smooth R&B jam, came on the restaurant’s sound system. She was gyrating, wiggling and grinding her beautiful round ass – it really is amazing, thought Lizzie with a stab of envy – her arms up over her head, and in one gyration Lizzie caught her breath as she caught a brief rearward peep of her friend’s tight, hairless snatch, blood rushing to her ears as she realized that she was just as naked down there, they all were, and their dresses were so short...

How’d we let Bailey talk us into that? she wondered, not for the first time. "If Mercedes Sheraton can do it, you can do it" seems like sort of a weak argument now. But she knew the simple truth was that if Bailey had decided to go out stark naked and waving a lit flare in each hand, the rest of them would probably have followed suit.

"Katie, sit down!" giggled Gemma, leaning over and trying to grab the sexy hoochie girl’s arm. "You’re gonna get us kicked out!" Indeed, though there were swankier restaurants in Island City, even just in Midtown, Lizzie was pretty sure La Fey wasn’t accustomed to displays like this. There were a lot of hard, disapproving gazes and scowls sliding their way.

"Don’t worry about it," said Bailey easily, "I know a guy here. But we’re only staying a few more minutes anyway."

"We’re not gonna eat?" Lizzie asked, puzzled and a little alarmed. A little food might at least make the buzz manageable, she thought.

"Too much to do, babe, too much to do!" replied Bailey in a curious singsong. The waiter, a huge burly bald-headed man with a vaguely cruel-looking face – he should really be the bouncer, Lizzie thought absently – was already coming back to the table with their next round of shots, setting Bailey’s in front of her and passing the rest around. Amber-coloured liquid, the same as last time: bourbon.

"Ladies!" Bailey raised her shot-glass in a toast. "To Freedom!"

"To Freedom! Whoooo!" they all toasted before tossing back their drinks. Lizzie was sure she wasn’t alone in needing to work hard not to gasp, splutter and cough as the burning, bitter liquid passed down her throat... but then it gradually settled into a warmer, more soothing burn that sent tendrils of fuzzy well-being up to her brain. Not so bad, she thought dizzily, not so bad, I guess...

The girls gave another cheer, this one filled with relief as they recovered from choking down the shots... but Lizzie found she already knew what was coming. "Waiter!" shouted Bailey merrily. "Another round!"

* * * * *

"Fucking teenagers," Lonnie muttered under his breath, watching the girls’ table through his binoculars with a clenching jaw, no longer particularly amused by this assignment. He vaguely remembered the days when he’d used to think getting as hammered as humanly possible at any and every opportunity was a great way to pass the time, but he’d hoped the Kitts in general and Bailey in particular would be past that. Evidently not.

"We’re going to wind up carrying them out of that goddamned restaurant," Mike complained, matching his partner’s irritation.

"Just so long as that’s the worst thing that happens," Lonnie said. "Oh for Christ’s sake, that’s shot number ten. That’s it, I’m going in and retrieve them."

"Hold up, they’re going to the bathroom. Wait until they’ve gone on back and you can settle the cheque, just gather them up when they get back to the table."

"Right," said Lonnie. "Less fuss, good thinking. Aaaand... there they go." He climbed decisively out of the car.

* * * * *

"Help! Heeeelp! Motherfucker tryin’ to kill me, heeeeelp!"

Mylene was making her move, having staged a fight with a fake, over-insistent group of customers – a team of disguised FBI men in a black Cadillac – who had come by and propositioned her. "I don’t do groups," she said, and they made a show of coming out to drag her into the car as she went on protesting: "Hey! Get yo hands off me, bitch-ass! I don’t do no fuckin’ groups!" She’d made a beeline straight for the Black Suns’ observation building.

One of the things the gambit counted on was the need of many gangsters, despite their vicious line of work and usually equally vicious attitude toward women, to believe that they were still good, chivalrous men underneath it all. Mylene was wagering that her abject, sexy, skimpily-dressed plight would draw attention from up above, draw one of the Suns out onto the street.

As Agent Larry McWhirter advanced on her, doing his level Utah Mormon best to look like a threatening trick, she shrieked aloud and did a silent countdown in her head: 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

Right on cue, the door of the "closed" drug store behind her banged open. A massive black man in a white tank top, an Island City Lions cap and a red bandanna came through it, an automatic pistol held very casually in his right hand, safety off, as though it were an everyday cell-phone that happened to have a speed-dial to the afterlife.

Paydirt, thought Mylene with satisfaction as she cowered in-character behind the advancing wall of black muscle.

And then something happened. Another, alien thought strayed after the first, unbidden: Mon dieu, he is very big. Those muscles are very... big...

"Ain’t you hear the lady, peckawood?" he said quietly. "It’s time to bounce."

McWhirter looked like he almost didn’t need to act as he went pale, backed off with hands up and climbed in the Caddy. The Blood smirked as the group of men went peeling off into the gathering dusk.

"Nice ride," he said aloud to himself admiringly as the car vanished from sight. "Probably shoulda jacked it." He snapped abruptly out of his reverie, safetied the pistol as he tucked it in the waistband of his jeans, and turned to look at her. Handsome, she registered, his face a collection of hard planes, like a mahogany sculpture. "You aiight, baby-girl?"

She swallowed, nodded. "Thank you daddy," she said in her best hooker voice. She should be thinking, You’ve got him, now work it, go on the offense, control the situation, but instead she was looking at his hard eyes, just looking into them, unable to say anything more, something unnamed fluttering in her belly. Something strange was happening, it was as though a door had been opened inside her and something essential was seeping out through it, leaving her body and her consciousness somehow lighter, cloud-like, floating. What’s wrong with you, Mylene! she lectured herself, but it didn’t stop the effect.

"Thank you daddy?" he echoed with a raised eyebrow. "Ain’t you got a daddy? And what you doing out here, anyway, I ain’t never seen you before."

Her cover had been built for this, the words came automatically: "Up until a week back I had a daddy. Li’l Snake."

"Li’l Snake." He nodded in recognition at the name. "Atlantic Heights, the ‘Pins. Motherfuckin’ shame, all this madness," he added a little pensively, no doubt in reference to the Foxx Force Five raid that had sent two-thirds of the Kingpins up the river the week before. He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering in appreciation on her long, long legs before they came back up to meet hers. "Goddamn girl, I ain’t never knew he had game like you, I’da made it out to visit more. But you ain’t said what brung you out to the Isle."

"Well, with Li’l Snake gone and all that," she said, only half needing to act the uncertainty in her voice as his gaze kept boring into her, stripping her defenses, that unnamed fluttering in her belly growing more pronounced. "I just thought, you know, maybe I’d come out... you know, the Suns got a good rep for how they treat a girl right, and all..."

A knowing gleam kindled in his eyes, and suddenly he smiled toothily. "Oh, so you, uhhh, lookin’ to audition¸ is that it?" he said, scratching his jaw thoughtfully.

Merde, that smile, like a hunting cat... the thought shafted forcefully into her, and it didn’t do anything to calm the fluttering or give her back the usual command of her voice. She found herself just saying, soft and high and girlish, "Yes daddy."

"Well let’s ain’t jump the gun, I ain’t ‘daddy’ yet," he said. "In a ordinary type situation we leave all that shit up to King Sun, but he’s busy with somethin’ else right now, so maybe..." he went on, his gaze heating up as it travelled down her lithe body again. "Maybe me and the boys upstairs oughta help you out a little. You know, if you down."

She felt her skin getting hot, tingling all over. Her mouth seemed to run ahead of her conscious brain as it said: "Course I’m down, baby. Why else you think I’m here?"

Quoi?! Mais non! her brain lectured furiously. Control the situation! Assert yourself! You should have him eating out of your hand! But he was smiling again, that hard, predatory smile banishing those cautionary babblings to the back of her consciousness as her belly fluttered, as he extended a hand to introduce himself. "Sun Dogg."

"Lainey Raine," she replied from somewhere, floating inside her body, taking hold of the hand and shaking it, noting how beautifully hard and strong and callused and big it was...

"So let’s go on up, sweet baby-girl Lainey Raine," said Sun Dogg, opening the door for her, and her body, floating, moving on its own, walked in ahead of him, her hips swaying sexily, streetwalker style, showing off her sweet peach of an ass for those hard, hard eyes.

* * * * *

The girls wobbled as they followed Bailey back through La Fey’s kitchens, their enormous, improbably brutish-looking waiter leading the way. "It’s time for that surprise!" Bailey had said, crooking her finger and beckoning them to follow her.

Lizzie was feeling bleary, the world was starting to spin. No way around it, she was drunk. Deeply drunk. It wasn’t easy to keep her feet in the platform boots, but she noticed her fellow Kitts weren’t faring much better. Except for Bailey, who seemed surprisingly collected after the amount of alcohol they’d consumed.

If Bailey can do it, I can do it, she resolved, taking a deep breath, trying not to notice the draft of cool early-evening air on her naked, shaven slit as they stepped out the restaurant’s back door.

Their surprise was waiting for them: there was a cab waiting in the back parking lot. Behind it there was an enormous black stretch limousine idling, must be some kind of high roller, Lizzie thought... and then started in surprise when Bailey walked right past the waiting cab and opened a door on the limo.

"Come on girls, what you waiting for?" she called playfully.

A limo ride! Holy shit! Lizzie was suitably impressed, and quick glances exchanged with her fellow Kitts told her they felt the same. And what a limo! It was sleek, torpedo shaped, enormously phallic... sexy. This is amazing!

Drunkenly, the Kitts let out a collective squeal and clambered toward the limo, climbing in, discovering a huge, spacious interior, with long leather benches running the length of either side of the limo forward of the doors. There was a wet bar at the rear with a girl Lizzie didn’t know sitting by it and serving drinks, a tiny, elfin-looking girl wearing a red latex dress and black fishnets; she handed Lizzie a glass of champagne as the Kitt climbed in.

Bailey was sitting on one of the benches, Irina next to her, and next to her a gorgeous, trim girl with cute blonde ringlets she didn't recognize either... also wearing latex, a teeny-tiny "naughty schoolgirl" PVC costume with a shiny black skirt, a sheer white top tied between her perky tits, a shiny black tie hanging between them. Gemma had sat on the other side of this vision... and on the other bench was an identical-looking girl in the same outfit, with Katie sitting beside her, already making drunken efforts at animated chat.

Heavy industrial music thumped through the car, and Bailey said: "Here’s my other friend, Lizzie! Lizzie, that’s Phaedra by the bar, and these are my good friends Chloe," pointing at the girl next to her, "and Zoe!" Pointing to the girl sitting with Katie, who patted the bench next to her invitingly.

Lizzie staggered over and flopped down. Goddamn! This is my kind of party! her dizzy brain clamoured excitedly, Zoe leaning into to rest a warm hand on her bare thigh as the limo started into motion.

"Wow," Zoe said throatily into her ear as her head swam pleasantly and she felt the limo accelerate, the girl’s fingers tracing distractingly up and down Lizzie’s inner thigh, sending goose-pimply thrills all over her taut, teenaged flesh. "Bailey’s always telling us how gorgeous you girls are, but in the flesh... you’re really fucking hot."

Lizzie noticed abstractly that Phaedra had come over and curled her tiny body up next to Katie, putting her arms around her neck in friendly fashion and saying something into her ear. Irina was settling into the crook of Bailey’s arm, nuzzling up against her, a development that stabbed Lizzie sharply with envy, and Chloe was cuddling up to Gemma, tracing a finger up and down the girl’s legs, plainly complimenting her on them.

Then awareness of the rest of the limo receded abruptly as she became aware that Zoe’s fingers were slipping, stroking, playfully gliding their way closer to her shaved, naked snatch. She felt herself flushing, her pussy starting to juice up almost instantly, her body starting to squirm involuntarily.

"How, uhhhhh," she asked, trying for a little moment longer to keep her head, to make normal conversation, a battle she already knew she was going to lose. "How do you know Bailey?"

"Oh, we’re old school friends," said Zoe. Her face was crazily beautiful, like a porcelain doll come to life, her eyes a perfect iridescent blue. Her fingers were tracing up, up, up. They were just at the edge of Lizzie’s pussy mound, tantalizing, Lizzie felt herself moistening even more. "She says she works with you, she says you’re really cool."

"She, uhhhhhh, she says... she says that?" said Lizzie. The sexy red-headed Goth girl could feel herself breathing heavily, her own pert C-cups rising and falling rhythmically.

"Oh yes. And you know what else she says?"

"Nnnnnnooooo..." Lizzie moaned softly, her head spinning. Zoe’s fingers had started stroking gently up and down her increasingly wet slit.

"She says sometimes, you like to get crazy." Lizzie moaned as the fingers rose up, circling playfully around her clit, and then stroked down again, now dipping to stroke insouciantly around the tight pucker of her asshole. "Do you like to get crazy, Lizzie?" Zoe’s breath was hot in her ear, her words a throaty whisper, her fingers starting to move faster, to grow more insistent, Lizzie’s hips moving involuntarily in response, her legs spreading.

"Uhhhhhh.... uhhhhhh... yeahhhhhhh...." Lizzie breathed. Just don’t stop doing that, she thought as the limo spun drunkenly around her and she wondered if Zoe’s fingers were maybe the best thing she’d ever felt.

Zoe’s hand kept working as the girl leaned away for a moment, rummaging for something in a purse next to her on the bench, and Lizzie saw that Gemma was getting similar treatment from Chloe across from her, her long legs wide and her tight snatch exposed, glistening as the blonde stroked it and tongued her ear naughtily, sucking playfully at her earlobe. Phaedra was astraddle Katie now, looking into her eyes, the two sharing playful, sucking, biting kisses as their young bodies rubbed and ground together sensually. And Bailey and Irina had gone into it the most quickly and intensely, the front of Bailey’s sport dress already zipped down, her breasts heaving free as Irina licked and sucked and bit them, the sensations bringing a blissful expression to the Number One Kitt’s face as she spread her legs and diddled her own engorged clit, her pussy sopping wet, juices running down onto the leather underneath her.

Zoe leaned back in, gently taking hold of Lizzie’s chin and pulling her face up, their lips meeting for a couple of teasing, gentle nips before melting into a hot, lustful kiss. Then Lizzie gasped, her body jolting as the girl forced a finger deep up into her wet cunt... and she felt something transferred from Zoe’s mouth to hers, sliding automatically down her throat, her swallowing reflexively. A pill! she thought in confusion, her head swimming as the hot blonde began to fingerfuck her slowly, luxuriously, sending intense ripples of pleasure through her young body. Wh- wha-? She could her muffled mmmphhs and grunts of surprise around the limo cabin as similar kisses must have taken place, from Gemma, from Katie, then from Irina who didn’t even question it, just went back to sucking with abandon on Bailey’s wet tits.

"What... uhhhhhh... what was that... uhhhhhhh..." she asked Zoe breathlessly.

"Something fun," Zoe replied. "Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous. We’ll take very, very good care of you," and than she leaned in again, claiming Lizzie’s mouth in another hot, lustful, probing kiss that sent her head swimming and all other questions spinning away, the girl’s naughtily, insistently invading finger starting to pick up its pace while her palm slap-slap-slapped quietly against the Goth girl’s engorged clit.

"Mmmmmm mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm," moaned Lizzie around the hot tongue claiming and exploring her mouth, spreading her legs even wider as Zoe’s probing finger became two fingers, stretching out the glossy flesh of her super-tight snatch, pumping in and out, in and out, the girl’s thumb rubbing now at her clit, manipulating her relentlessly toward a mind-blowing climax. Holy fuck¸ she thought wildly as her hips bucked, grinding with the horny fucking motions of a super-sexy, super-slutty girl she’d met mere minutes before. Holy fuck I can’t believe we were just going to go to a movie!

There were sounds of rising passion from all over the cabin, and as Zoe broke their kiss to suck and bite erotically at her neck, Lizzie’s eyes flicked open to catch a glimpse of Gemma’s ass and pussy as she bent over to take a three-fingered reaming from Chloe, to see Phaedra down between Katie’s legs, the lapping sounds of her tongue clearly audible, to see Irina down and doing the same thing for Bailey, who was gritting her teeth and bucking her hips and mauling and mashing and slapping her own naked, spit-coated tits, her face a mask of passion.

Then another finger slipped into Lizzie’s cunt, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

"Oooohhh, you like that, don’t you?" Zoe breathed in her ear as she started to pump three fingers in and out of her new lover’s tight twat. "You like that." And then her fingerfucking picked up pace, Lizzie’s snatch making wet, squelching sounds as the digits pumped in and out with greater and greater force. "UHHHHHHHHH UHHHHHHHH UHHHHHHHH YEAAAAHHHHHHH FUCK ME ZOE YEAHHHHHHH FUUUUUCK MEEEEEE," Lizzie moaned loudly as the sensations in her young, shuddering body reached a fever pitch. "UHHHHHHHH! UHHHHHHHHHHH! UHHHHHHHHH! YEAH FINGER FUCK MY CUNT UHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHH!" She felt a fourth finger enter her sopping snatch, stretching it wonderfully as the fingerfucking intensfied more, and more, and more, growing rapid and abandoned and almost brutal... and that wonderful invasion took her over the top.

"UUHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OHHHHH FUCK I’M CUMMING!!!!" Lizzie screamed as her pussy gripped and gripped and gripped the invading fingers, her body writhing in abandon as her head swam. The limo cabin was turning into a wet, wriggling chaos of teen dream orgasms, she could see Bailey’s head thrown back in a silent scream as she held Irina’s head in place, her pussy juices clearly squirting copiously all over the younger Kitt’s face and down her throat, Gemma’s hips writhing sexily as the girl bit into the leather seat in front of her to muffle her shrieks, her greedy little snatch pulsing around all five of Chloe’s fingers, Katie rigid and crying out with abandon and grinding her quim wildly against Phaedra’s face.

Slowly, the wave of climax receded... and Lizzie realized she could feel the limo slowing!

Goddamn... did that just happen? she thought dizzily, her mind spinning as Zoe’s hand gave her still-twitching slit a few more loving strokes. Goddamn...

"Better get ourselves together, girls," Bailey husked, her breathing slowly returning to a semblance of normal as she stroked Irina’s hair tenderly. "We’re almost there." And on her face was an unmistakably wicked smile.

* * * * *

"Goddamn it, are you sure it’s north? I thought you said that thing was working!"

Lonnie and Mike were officially in a panic, though neither of them said it out loud. When Lonnie’d attempted to go in and pay the cheque, he’d been told that Bailey had already cleared it, and he knew in that moment exactly what has happening. Fuck, they’re trying to play hooky! he’d thought in alarm, heading straight back to the washrooms, nothing, out through the back, nothing, nothing, just a cab pulling away, is there someone in that cab, fuck, is that them? Finally he’d raced back out front to climb in the car with Mike; they’d have to track them by transponder.

But than plan wasn’t working so well, either. "Listen, the transponder signal says they’re going north on 86^th, alright?"

"In what? To where? We should have visual by now!"

The transponders showed the girls moving into the heart of Chinatown. It was a bustling street full of cabs and pedestrians, clubs and cafes and restaurants, but they still couldn’t pick out which cab the girls were in.

"Wait, they’re getting out," Lonnie said. "They’re getting out and moving to the east side of the street, you should be able to see them now. Do you see them?"

Mike scanned the street frantically. "No, nothing, that’s a negative. East side?"

"Yes, east fucking side!" Lonnie looked up, saw the place they were going into, it looked like a little Chinese disco. They should stand out like a sore thumb. "You know that place?"

"Yeah, just a little tourist joint, thank God, no Triads," said Mike. "We going in?"

"Stay in the car," said Lonnie. "I’ll go in and grab them." I swear to fucking God I will tan that Phillips girl’s hide for this, he thought furiously.

* * * * *

Mylene Desanges strutted confidently into the observation room of the Black Suns, packed with its blurry screens and desks of computer equipment and the hulking forms of three of Sun Dogg’s colleagues... and she vamped, strutting, teasing and befuddling and bewildering them with her in-your-face attitude and dirty mouth and saucy teasing ways, just acccidentally happening to disconnect that one crucial router they needed to see camera data from the southeast part of the block, aggressively bringing them close to a boil before she reached into her purse for her handy brass knuckles, hammering one of them, then two, kicking the third in the throat with a stiletto heel, pretending to flee Sun Dogg himself and leading him smack into the heavily-armed SWAT team storming the building at her signal, brought by the emergency setting on the transponder hidden in one of her necklaces.

At least, that was the plan. That was what her disconnected, impotent mind screamed at her to do. She’d pulled similar escapades many times before.

But Lainey Raine... Lainey Raine was walking up the stairs, swaying provocatively, slowly, taking the climb at an easy pace to invite the hard eyes of Sun Dogg up the bottom of her teeny mini-dress, to roam hungrily over her thong-covered snatch. She could feel his predatory gaze, hear his breathing catch involuntarily, and her skin seemed to have suddenly grown more sensitive, she could feel the rub of her clothing all over it, she was tingling, her nipples were stiffening... and her snatch was moistening, getting hot and slippery, like those rare and distant nights when Mylene used to writhe in her bed and masturbate to the erotic, echoing tones of Max Fawkes’ voice in her mind, except somehow the wetness now was even more intense, the ache inside her dripping quim more insistent.

By the time they arrived at the door to the observation room, she was breathing hard, and it wasn’t from the rigors of the climb. She felt a light buzz in her head as Sun Dogg’s huge hand closed around her arm and guided her into the room, as the equally stony gazes of three more Black Sun Nation Bloods turned to take in the spectacle of her lithe body, her flushing skin. Mon dieu, like a pack of wild jackals, she thought as their eyes looked her up and down – all big, hard-muscled men, though none of them as big as Sun Dogg, the spacious apartment made closer by their presence – and her pussy began distinctly to throb, to leak juices down her thighs around the gusset of her tight thong.

One thing, at least, was the same as usual: the men were all instantly riveted, although they tried to play it nonchalantly. "So what she schemin’ on, Sun?" one of them asked, trying to make his tone dismissive, but underneath it ran an umistakable note of lust, of anticipation.

Sun Dogg’s massive body was in close behind her, and she found herself starting to sway in a sexy, stripper-esque dancing motion, moving her hips, grinding her firm and shapely ass up against the massive, throbbing hard-on she could feel in his jeans, her pussy getting hotter, wetter as she did it. He obviously had a job of keeping his voice level as he said: "This here’s Lainey Raine, used to hit the block for Li’l Snake up in Atlantic Heights. A lost baby-girl in search of a daddy."

"Oh yeah?" said another of his friends. "Well, she gotta know the Nation ain’t a home for just any kinda ho."

"True dat, Sun," agreed the third. "That bitch gots to show and prove."

"You hear that, baby-girl?" growled Sun Dogg low into her ear, making her catch her breath and close her eyes and grind up against him even harder. "They want to see what kinda skills you got. Why don’t you go show those muthafuckas what’s what?"

"Yes daddy," she breathed obediently and then opened her eyes, stepped forward with an outrageously hip-swaying, ass-shaking saunter into the room, coming around a table full of computer equipment between her and the three Bloods. For a brief moment her old spies’ instincts reasserted themselves from somewhere deep beneath the lust bubbling up within her – even now her floating mind made professional note of the router that would need to be disabled to freeze the Black Suns’ cameras, and her hands automatically remembered to come up to one of her necklaces and twist its decoration, adjusting her transponder to send the customary Operation engaged: stand by code that Mylene always broadcast while she was using her wiles.

Twist it all the way, you stupid slut! the distant corner of her weakening mind shouted at her. Call them in to save you! It’s not too late! It’s not too late to stop this!

Then the moment was gone, and the sweet alien lust swamped her again. The voice was banished and she was swaying in among the Bloods, rubbing up against them, tracing her fingers lightly across the fronts of their jeans, feeling the massive erections underneath. Ah, such big cocks, so hard, mon dieu, Mylene, tu es une vraiment pute, she thought as their roughs hands reached out to sample her firm body, her smooth skin, running over her tits, her ass, her thighs, rubbing over her thoroughly saturated panties, slipping inside to stroke her wet slit, to dip inside her tight cunt. One of them brought a finger up to her lips, coated with her own sticky juice, and without thinking she closed her eyes and took it into her mouth, sucking it, licking it clean, savouring his salty skin and the sweet taste of her own essence.

"First question, baby-girl," said a voice behind her, and she could clearly hear one of them undoing his belt and stepping out of his baggy jeans. "When a trick gives you a twenty, how you gonna earn it?"

Mylene turned around to see Sun Dogg looming in close, her eyes travelling down, the buzzing in her mind intensifying as she saw the enormous eleven-inch slab of black cock in his hand. A little moan escaped the back of her throat as she sank to her knees, obediently taking hold of the big, beautiful dick, running her tongue up and down its tasty, salty length, sliding down to tease and suck his enormous, hanging balls, then licking all the way back up to spread her mouth wide, as wide as she could to try to swallow the man-meat down. "Mmmmmmmmmpphhh," she moaned throatily, her ass squirming, her pussy pulsing as the huge gangster sank his fingers into her hair and took control of the rhythm, gently but firmly fucking her wet mouth with the length of his massive tool, pushing it back, back, back toward her throat as her spit ran down its shaft and dangled from her chin. "Mmmmmgllmmmmgllmmmmmgllmmmmgllmmmmpphhh..."

Other hands took control of her wrists, bringing them up so her fingers could curl around two more hard, throbbing cocks, and like a good little girl she started jacking them off as hard as she could, noticing as she did so another cock looming in by her left ear. So much cock, she thought, so much hard cock, I love them, mon dieu I love them, coming up with a deep breath as Sun Dogg released her head and she turned her head to suck hornily at another cock, and then another, and then another, moaning sluttily around the rock-hard man-flesh in her mouth as she gave the quartet of gangsters the wettest, sloppiest blowjobs they’d ever had. And with every slap of a set of balls against her chin, her hot, slippery, tight snatch gushed wetter and wetter, her head spinning, she was sure she’d explode if one of them even just touched her there...

She was avidly sucking on Sun Dogg’s meat again when he pulled her head up, his breathing a hoarse rasp, his dick twitching and a flavourful taste of his pre-cum lingering on her tongue. He looked into her eyes as his boys closed in to strip her mini-dress from her, then her tiny bra and thong, leaving her lithe, sweating body naked except for her fishnets and white hooker boots, and her clit pulsated as he asked: "Next question, baby-girl. A trick shows you a fifty, how you gonna earn it?"

And a low moan of lust escaped from her throat as she turned with her back to him, rubbing his cock between her firm ass-cheeks and then bending, obediently, to show him.

* * * * *

At first, the club Bailey had taken them to seemed like the best party of all time.

The Kitts were floating on air, their bodies post-coitally a-tingle, their heads still spinning from the drink, their hearts thumping with excitement. They’d found themselves in a quiet, derelict former club district, outside a club whose nondescript entrance was marked in simple white paint, LE SALO.

On entry, it looked to be really a huge, converted derelict strip club – the inside space pulsating with garish, multicoloured lights and rapidly thumping music. There was a large stage with several stripper poles on it, but the girls twirling clumsily around them were clearly just normal girls out for a night on the town, not professional strippers. Where the old strip club would have had most of its tables there was now a large dance floor with several cages suspended above it, each cage sporting a couple of dancers – also not professional cage dancers, clearly just girls with a few drinks in them, shaking their asses – and a thin fringe of tables around its edge.

But Lizzie noticed that there seemed to be a lot of girls walking around clad in kinky latex, like Chloe and Zoe and Phaedra. As she looked quizzically at one girl walking by nonchalantly wearing a PVC maids’ outfit and a ball gag, Zoe leaned into her ear and shouted "Industry night!" as though by way of explanation. Which industry? Lizzie found herself wondering, looking over in the shadows by the long bar where there seemed to be groups of large men gathering and laughing, their shapes dark and indistinct.

Then the Kitts were swept into a clutch of latex-clad honies, the girls enthusiastically rubbing up against them and hugging them and stroking their asses and their pert tits, stealthily fondling their dripping snatches as they introduced themselves by a galaxy of confusing, interchangeable generic stripper names, a Misty here and a Chrystel there and a Serene and a Shayla and a Jaena... all of the girls babydoll cute, all of them warmly familiar and sexy and firm-bodied and, Lizzie thought dizzily, very very intimate... and for a long, whirling time after that, the girls were dancing and grinding with them, and trays of shots kept coming around to the tables they were at, and somehow the normal girls she’d noticed on entrance seemed to be starting to disappear from the dance floor as more and more slutty, latex-clad forms crowded them out.

Some interminable time later – minutes? hours? – Lizzie found herself watching as a sexy brunette in a naughty-cop fetish outfit titled Irina’s head back and poured a shot down her throat, and Irina’s dress had been pulled down and another girl was fondling and licking her big tits. Then Lizzie felt her own head pulled back by the hair and heard Zoe say, "Drink up!" into her ear as bitter, burning liquor filled her mouth and she swallowed it, spluttering. The world was whirling, whirling around her, and somebody’s hands were pulling her skirt up and playfully smacking her ass and an anonymous finger was sliding into her wet naked snatch, and she fluttered her hands ineffectually trying to stop it but it... it still felt kind of good...

She realized suddenly, with a vague premonition of uneasiness touching at the edge of her mind, that the girls had long since stopped asking them if they wanted to do things, they were simply doing things to them. Bailey, she wondered suddenly, craning drunkenly around, where’s Bailey? She saw that Phaedra and another girl were pulling Katie up onto one of the stages and smacking her big, beautiful ass while she twirled and gyrated drunkenly around the pole for them... and then she realized that things were starting to spin, really spin out of control.

Gemma had been pulled up into one of the cages by Chloe and another girl, and giggling breathlessly, as though trying to convince herself it was all a game, she was putting on a live sex show with them! Chloe was holding her hands against the bars while the second girl knelt down behind her, pulling the nubile Kitt’s dress up over her waist and shoving her face into the tight ass, licking it, rimming Gemma as she suddenly gasped and tensed...

... and a group of girls around Irina had simply dropped all pretense, one of them standing behind her tall chair and holding her arms down at her sides as two others feasted on her tits, sucking and licking and biting them as a fourth girl, the naughty cop, stood between her spread legs and fingered her dripping cunt, growling: "You like that, slut? You like that?"...

... and now Zoe was grabbing Lizzie by the hair and saying "Come on, baby!" but her tone was diamond-hard as she dragged her lover up a ramp to an unoccupied cage, and there was a girl waiting there with something big and hard and long and shiny rubber in her hands, belts and buckles dangling from it, and then the first hints of real panic began to flutter in the Kitt’s fogged mind as she heard the girl ask Zoe, "Think she can take it?" and she heard Zoe reply with a laugh, "Oh, she will!"...

... and Lizzie started to try to struggle, to get free, "I don’t think, I don’t think I want," she said confusedly, and then Zoe’s hand smacked her juicy cunt hard, sending a powerful throb of pain and pleasure through her body and befuddling her mind, and she couldn’t stop the baby-doll blonde from pinning her hands on either side of one of the bars of the cage, and then something hard and cold and metal was going around her wrists, clicking in place with a menacing quiet snik of finality...

A jolt of electric terror tore through Lizzie then, bringing her halfway back to her senses, her pussy pulsating as she jerked against the bonds. I’m cuffed! her mind babbled in panic, I’m cuffed in one of those cages! And she looked around her, and she saw the knots of latex-clad girls surrounding her friends, and all their warm and friendly expressions were gone, there was a cold, bright light in their eyes...

... Katie had been cuffed to the stripper pole, and her languidly happy, drunk expression was being replaced by dawning panic, and Phaedra was putting something over her head, fitting it and buckling it in place as her partner spanked the hoochie girl’s wriggling ass harder, then harder, then harder, the slaps sounding out even over the din of the music as Katie’s head jerked back, her eyes wide in pain and panic now, her hips jerking and jolting from the painful smacks as pussy juice dribbled wetly down her thighs... and she was wearing a ring-shaped gag. holding her mouth open! ...

... and Gemma was cuffed in her cage, too, and Chloe and her partner were ripping the girl’s dress off, the fabric tearing away to reveal her pert, firm, naked body, and her mouth was clamped around a ball gag and her eyes wide with fear as the two girls produced massive vibrators and jammed one of them into each of her holes, the Kitt arching her back and letting out an agonized "NNNNGGGHHHHHHHH!!" as the vibrator-rape began and her juices could be seen running and spurting down her thighs while her tormentors spanked her...

... and Irina was trapped in her chair, her arms had been tied behind her with stealthily-produced rope, a ball-gag forced into her mouth and her dress bunched up around her waist, the girls who’d caught her now taking turns to lap at and playfully smack her big tits while they diddled her dripping twat... and there was a man looming out of the shadows behind her, a huge shaven-headed man not unlike the one who’d waited on them at the restaurant, except this one had a huge hard cock rearing up out of his unzippered jeans, and poor Irina was whimpering, tears rolling down her cheeks as she helplessly watched his approach, her legs held spread by her captors and her pussy juices leaking down onto the chair beneath her...

... and seeing it all, Lizzie pulled desperately at the cuffs binding her, Oh my God oh my God we’ve got to get OUT of this place! The emergency transponder! It’s in my necklace if I could just REACH it, and then there came a second hard smack on her pussy, then another, then another, Zoe was spanking her pussy and bolts of agony and humiliation and ecstasy were shooting through her body, the impact of the blonde’s hand against her naked snatch sounding wetter with each slap as Lizzie bit her lip desperately, trying not to cry out, but the sensations were too intense and her clit was throbbing and pulsating and her juices were running freely and she realized shamefully that the abuse of her cunt was going to get her off, No no no no NONONO I can’t cum like this only a dirty little SLUT would cum like this – "Mmmmmm Mmmmmm Mmmmmmm MMMMMMMM," her moans coming through clenched jaws as another wicked blow rained down on her wet cunt, then another, then another, another, another, another, Oh God oh God oh God, and a final blow pushed her over the edge, her sopping snatch exploding as a mind-shattering orgasm made her squirt, squirt, squirt all over the girl behind her, made her scream, "AWWWWWHAWWWMMMMMMPPPHHHHHH!" And Zoe took advantage of her open mouth to put in a ball gag, buckling it firmly behind her head!

"You horny little bitch," the blonde said menacingly at her ear. "You squirted all over me! That makes you a dirty girl. So I’m gonna treat you like a dirty girl."

Lizzie’s blood went cold, she jerked and waggled her hips in a desperate attempt to find some escape as she felt something massive pressing up against her pussy lips, felt her pussy spasm in anticipation, betraying her, the lips spreading apart, her copious juices running out to lubricate it. Oh fuck oh fuck she’s gonna RAPE me this can’t be happening THIS CANT BE HAPPENING, her mind babbled, my pussy’s gonna get FUCKED in front of all these people, and then the massive, violating shaft slammed brutally home, what had to be at least twelve inches of fake plastic cock filling her, stretching her out with wonderful hardness. "NNNNGGHMPPPHHHH! NNNNGGHHHMMMPPHHHH! NNNNNGGGGHHHHHMMMMM-HMMMMPHHHHH!" she sobbed around the gag as her tears ran down and her hot, tight little fuckhole clutched its pounding violator, her juices spurting around it, she could feel Zoe’s hips slapping up against her, oh God I’m getting FUCKED like a strap-on SLUT, everyone can see my wet pussy TAKING it, Lizzie’s mind gabbled as the raped teen cutie took it helpessly again and again, over and over, and in no time her snatch was seizing up in another explosive, humiliatingly wet orgasm. "NNNNNGGGGGGG-HHHMMMMMMMMPHHHHHHHHH!"

"Look who just loves getting force-fucked," Zoe chuckled evilly, grabbing her hair again. "But you’re not the only one, are you?"

Lizzie’s eyes gradually refocused and she could see the other girls...

.... two huge shaven-headed men were looming over poor Katie now, one at either end, their big cocks pumping, her tits and ass jiggling from the double pounding as her spurting juices coated the balls and thighs of the man doggy-fucking her, her ring-gagged mouth being used degradingly as she screamed "MMMMMMMPHHHHH! MMMMMHMMMMMPPPPPPPPPHHHHH!"

... Gemma was jerking and writhing as a man had climbed into her cage behind her, pulling the vibrator out of her ass and replacing it with his enormous tool, pumping it mercilessly in and out as the wriggling, spurting girl tossed her head back and forth in delirium, "NNNNNGHHHHHHHHH! PZZZHHHHHNNNNNNGHHHHH-HHMPHHHH!" her pitiful mewls coming out around the gag as the pounding anal violation went on and on, her dripping snatch still spasming around the vibrator ...

... and a lineup of men had already formed in front of poor Irina, four of them, five, casually stripping their clothes off and exposing their massive hard-ons, chatting with each other as one of them reamed the bound blonde’s snatch viciously, the girl writhing, her eyes open wide in horror as her juices squirted copiously around the shaft of her ravisher, splashing out all over their thighs and bellies and all the way up to the both their chest as he ground into her, ignoring her desperate screams: "NNNNNNNNGHHHHHHH! HNNNNNHHHNNNGGGHHHHHD-NNNGGHHH!"...

... and the girls that had captured them were all now out, gaily, on the dance floor, mingling with more latex-clad bodies and grinding with the shapes of more and more thuggish, menacing shaven-headed men who seemed to keep appearing from nowhere, looking up at the spectacle in the cages, on the stage, at the table, their hard cocks often swinging free from their pants and their eyes bright with anticipatory lust as they flickered from one Kitt to another and the girls rubbed or playfully sucked their massive tools.

Bailey! Lizzie realized suddenly. There’s still no sign of Bailey! She must have gotten away from them! She must be sending for help right now!

The flutter of desperate hope in her belly was overwhelmed by the ravaging, pounding motions of Zoe’s huge strap-on as the fiendish blonde started fucking her again. "Oh, look, Lizzie," she said naughtily as a massive goon came toward their cage, openly stroking his dick, "I think someone wants to play with you." Lizzie’s mind seized in panic as the brute climbed into the cage, his cock huge and veiny in the garish nightmare club light.

"You breaking in this slut good and proper, Zoe?" he asked, his cruel, bestial voice chilling the helpless teen’s spine.

"She is such a little whore, she’s already cumming on it," came Zoe’s reply, and Lizzie’s ears burned with shame, but the pounding of the fake cock was getting harder and harder, driving her toward another orgasm, her juices running, and she couldn’t stop her hips jerking and twisting and gyrating, her slutty body betraying her, trying to maximize its pleasure. "You want in?"

"In a sec," the man said, stepping in behind Zoe. "First let’s give her a sneak preview of what she’s gonna get."

The blonde jerked suddenly, sending the strap-on shafting into Lizzie in an extra punishing thrust as the girl suddenly moaned in passion. "Mmmmmmmmm whatever you say, baby," Zoe breathed, and then her hips started to jerk, pounding the strap-on extra-hard into Lizzie’s snatch as a massive cock fucked her from behind.

Ah ha you bitch didn’t think YOU’D get fucked huh? Lizzie’s mind cackled in brief triumph, but the strap-on was still skewering deep into her, the rhythm and the depth now dictated by the pounding tool of their male companion, and the room was spinning and her snatch was juicing and gripping the shaft and in the cold pit of her stomach, Lizzie knew she’d be taking those brutal cock-thrusts directly very soon... oh God he’s gonna pump my fuckhole like he’s pounding Zoe right now... oh God my little fuckhole’s gonna be so WET around that dick... her mind gabbled as she was driven mercilessly toward another juicy orgasm: "NNNNGGHHHHHHHH! NNNNGGGHHHHHHHHH! HNNNNNGGGGHNNNNNGHHHHH! NNNNNGHHHHHHHHMMMMPHHH! NNNNNNGGGGHHMMMMHMMMMPHHHHH!" She screamed helplessly as her juices squirted, squirted, squirted, and her snatch pulsed around the shaft of the strap-on, futilely trying to milk it like a real cock while Zoe arched up and cried out behind her, corkscrewing her hips and twisting the massive toy inside the multiply-orgasmic Kitt as she savoured her own climax.

Blearily, Lizzie saw more men headed toward her cage, and whimpered pitifully around her gag as she prayed, Save us Bailey please please please save us!

* * * * *

So far, the greatest triumph of super-seductress Mylene’s encounter with the Black Sun Nation was that she’d somehow kept herself from crying out in her native tongue as one fat, throbbing cock after another reamed into her sopping snatch. The rapid, domineering thrusts were making her squeal as her hole seized up around the delicious violators over and over again, one pulsing, squirting climax blending into another, and another, and another as the four gangsters stretched out her cunt. It was as though she were on an anvil of white-hot lust, the dull matter that was once Mylene Desanges being pounded into the shape of the ultimate cheap whore, Lainey Raine, with every vicious thrust of a massive black dick.

Of course she wasn’t often in danger of crying anything out in words, because every ride her nasty slit took was coupled with a salty slab of man-meat shoving into her mouth, forcing her to lap up the sweet taste of her own orgasmic submission, the flavour of her own snatch on the veiny meat making her cum that much harder. "MMMMMMMMGG-LLLLMMMMMGLLMMMMMGGGGLMMMMMPHHHH!" she moaned and gulped hornily around the cocks as they fucked her face, her hips grinding and gyrating as her sex clung slavishly around each shaft that was conquering and plundering it, exploding wetly over and over as a massive set of hanging balls slapped against her clit, each of her hands enthusiastically wanking the next pair of cocks that would soon be making her their dirty, mewling little bitch. There was spunk dripping down her chin and overflowing out of her abused fuckhole; they’d gone three rounds like this already, and each of the men had unloaded his balls once in one end or the other of their wriggling fuck-victim.

Sun Dogg was behind her now, pumping her brutally as his fingers grabbed hold of her hair and pushed her face down, down, down on his friend’s twitching cock, a sticky hint of pre-cum on her tongue alerting her that she was about to swallow another massive load of hot spunk. "NNNNNGGGGGLLLNNNNNNGGGLLLNNNNNNNGHHHHH!" she moaned as Sun Dogg’s massive cannon suddenly twitched and spurted, spurted, spurted deep inside her, taking her over the edge as she lost herself in another explosively wet, slutty climax, swallowing and swallowing as the horny suction of her mouth brought off the man in front of her.

Sun Dogg must have signaled the men on either side of her, because finally they hauled her erect – her head swimming in carnal bliss, her eyes unfocused, her naked body flushed, streams of spunk dripping down her thighs – and turned her aound to face him.

"Damn, baby-girl," he said in undisguised admiration. "I’m almost surprised Li’l Snake ain’t tried to keep you all to hisself."

"Li’l Snake ain’t never done me like you, daddy," panted the voice of Lainey Raine breathlessly. Still, off in some distant corner of her skull, a voice was yammering: Shut up, you slut! The operation! Remember the operation! She wondered who that was.

Sun Dogg was shaking his head teasingly. "I still ain’t daddy quite yet, baby-girl. I got one more question I gotta ask you, first." He walked up to her, scooped up a fingerful of the jism dripping from her chin and fed it to her, watching her lick and suck his finger eagerly as he asked: "When daddy asks you if you got his money, what you gonna say? What you always gonna say?"

She swallowed down the mouthful of spunk, and as she was doing it, another perverse impulse shafted into her. Kissing the tip of his finger, Lainey Raine cocked her head playfully, saying: "I don’t know. ‘It was a slow day, daddy’?"

Dogg’s eyes gleamed, his mouth quirking in amusement. "That how you wanna play it? You wanna find out what happens when you ain’t got daddy’s money?"

" ‘I’m real sorry, daddy. I tried, but they just wasn’t biting today.’ "

His smirk grew into a full-on feral grin, and he nodded to the man behind her as he grabbed hold of her wrists, bent her forward while he held them out in front of her, her ass offering itself up to the man behind her. And without warning, Crack! A huge hand slashed down over her firm butt, Crack! Crack! Crack!

"OHHH OHHH OHHH OHHH," she moaned, tears stinging her eyes as the gangster spanked her sweet little ass just as though she were a naughty schoolgirl. But the throbbing pulsations in her pussy only intensified. "OHHH daddy I’m OHHH I’ll make it up to you OHHH daddy let me OHHH let me make it up to OHHHHHH," she begged as the delicious spanking went on and on.

Dogg’s feral smile widened. "You ain’t gonna make it up to daddy just by giving up some pussy, baby-girl. You gots to give up... something else."

"OHHH OHHHH OHHHH! OHHHHH! OHHHHH! Anything you say daddy OHHHH! OHHHH! OHHHHH! I’ll do ANYTHING daddy OHHHH!"

He nodded to the man behind her, who jammed two fingers into her cunt, "OHHHHHHHH!" as he went on spanking her. Then the spanking stopped, and a second pair of rough hands were grabbing her sore ass-flesh, spreading it open to reveal her tight star, and her original punisher was bringing his sticky fingers up to her asshole, spreading the juices around, pushing in, lubing it up. Then the men around her were pulling her up, lifting her, turning her around in the air and spreading her legs... and she was being lowered, her body already writhing and gasping in anticipation, lowered ass-first onto Sun Dogg’s monster cock.

"UUUGGHHHHHHHHHH!" she squealed as the massive dick invaded her tightest place, stretching her almost unbearably, a mixture of pleasure and pain transfixing her, her hot snatch bubbling over with lust as the Dogg began to fuck her butt with brutal, wonderful, violating thrusts. "UGHHHHHH! UGHHHHHHH! UUUUUGGHHHHHHH! UUGHHHHHHHHHH! THANK YOU DADDY UUUGHHHHHHH! FUCK MY ASS DADDY UUUGGHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed wantonly, begging for the hard dick, obediently taking it as the anal violation made her sweet pussy spasm and squirt over and over. "UGHHHHHHH I’M CUMMING UGGHHHHHH UUUUGHHHHHHH I’M CUMMING DADDY THANK YOU DADDY UUUUUGGHHHHHHHHH!"

Unable to hold back any longer, the other Bloods started to step forward and take her snatch. "AUUUUGGHHHHHHHH!" she squealed as the first one entered her, the pounding of hard cock in both her slutty holes taking her climaxes to new heights of intensity. "AUUUUUUGGGHHHHH AUGGGGHHHHHH AUUUUGHHHHHHHH!" Her head spun, the wriggling slut almost passing out as one cock after another possessed her snatch, filling it repeatedly with hot spunk as Sun Dogg, behind her, gritted his teeth and somehow held out against the horny gyrations of her super-tight ass.

The cock hammering her ass was taking her floating mind to a whole new plane of delight. She remembered knowing someone who didn’t like anal, once, who’d been bitterly ashamed of the few times she’d had to do it. What was her name? And how could she not love cock in her ass, stretching, probing, skewering, dominating, turning her into a helpless, nasty slut for the big throbbing piece of man-meat that was everything, everything, everything in the whole world? Lainey Raine sure loved it, here came another hard orgasm, hot on the heels of the last one: "AUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH! AUUUUHAUUUUUUGHHHHHHH!" The world was spinning, the born-again butt-slut on the verge of passing out from sheer pleasure.

"Goddamn," breathed Sun Dogg wonderingly in her ear, the pace of his punishing thrusts picking up. "You love it in that ass! You love it!" And his cock was twitching and his hot spunk was flooding her ass, making her arch up and scream again in orgasmic bliss. Yes, you love it, bitch, a voice in her mind echoed. You love it, don’t you, you slut, you whore?You love it... You love it...

* * * * *

After they’d all taken turns ramming her tight ass, they finally let her down, her head spinning, her whole body on a high from the hot, brutal fucking it had received. "You gotta bathroom, daddy?" she finally asked Sun Dogg as she caught her breath.

He nodded, looking at her with something like fondness as he stroked his fingers through her hair. "Sure do, baby, right through there." He grabbed her chin, looked her in the eyes and said: "You definitely my girl, now."

"Thank you daddy," she said sweetly, bending to gather up her mini-dress and underwear as she made her way to the bathroom, the four Bloods just standing there, eyes closed, trying to gather their wits as they recovered from the wild fuck session, one of them saying, "Damn, now that’s a ho," under his breath.

For some reason, some buried impulse made one of her hands shoot out and flick off a certain router, the images on the screens around them freezing... but with the streets so deserted it would take a few minutes to notice the failure.

She limped into the bathroom, closing and locking the door, picking a rag up from the sink and gently cleaning herself off, revelling in the post-coital tingling of her skin. She felt like there was something else she should do, and after a moment she put a hand to one of her necklaces and gave the decoration a twist.

Somehow she knew a signal was going out: All clear. Proceed with op.

Not long after that, a massive explosion sounded from the Bel Air apartments and the clatter of booted feet could be heard on the stairs, Sun Dogg and his friends shouting in alarm, "Hey baby-girl it’s the pigs we gotta bounce!" and running out shooting, an emphatic rattle of automatic gunfire putting an abrupt end to their cries She heard it all as if from a great distance, calmly and carefully primping herself in the mirror, fixing her make-up, rearranging her hair, her body still strangely light as though in shock.

She looked in her purse and noticed the brass knuckles still there, still unused. She gripped them, curled her fingers through them, looked at the mirror again, and said to herself: Mylene. That’s who you are. Mylene Desanges. Something very strange just happened to you, Mylene. Did you hate it... or did you love it?

A hard knock came at the door. "FBI! Open up!"

"It’s Agent Desanges!" she called back, "I’m coming out!"

As she stepped out, a group of heavily armed SWAT were looking in wonderment around the observation room, noting the smell hanging in the air, the puddles of questionable liquid on the floor. "One hell of a party," one of them said. "Agent Desanges, you didn’t..."

"Of course not, you oaf," she snapped. "They had one of their girls here when I arrived. I had to get her out of the way before I cleared the op."

"Where did she go?"

"I do not know. Out back toward the Bel-Air, I would assume."

"Well, she’ll be fine, then. Summerset and Keiko are being real careful that the girls aren’t caught in the crossfire." The agent put out his hand, and after a distant, bewildered moment she remembered to shake it. "Good work, Agent Desanges."

"Merci, mon ami, now go and help the other Foxxes."

"Yes, ma’am. Move out!"

As the SWAT cleared out, Mylene stood looking at the slick puddles of her own pussy juice slowly drying on the floor, the intense sensations coming forcefully back to her, their powerful echoes still thrumming along her nerve-endings. Did you hate it... or did you love it? she asked herself again, and as she slowly made her way out and down to the street, a trashy hooker’s voice whispered in the back of her mind: You loved it, baby-girl. You loved every second.

* * * * *

Sabrina Lockhart sat in the back room of Le Salo, smoking a cigarette and watching on video as Bailey Phillips’ four delectable Kitt companions were raped into total submission. It has been, she thought to herself with a smile, a very good night.

Bailey herself was crouched on the floor in a corner of the room, one of The Mistress’ crimson-clad attendants holding her on a leash and punishing her tits with a riding crop as she enjoyed her ‘reward’: being forced to clean the cocks of the men with her tongue and her wet mouth as they came off the dance floor, her twat dripping all over the floor underneath her, her tastebuds thrilling to the pungent flavour of her friends’ tight pussies and asses on each member, the slut usually getting a fresh load of spunk down her throat for her trouble.

The girl had proved an apt pupil, indeed; The Mistress couldn’t remember the last one she’d broken so quickly. Even her pair of stars, Chloe and Zoe, had taken two weeks of punishment, threats, whippings, deprivation and degradation and humiliation of every kind before they’d submitted completely. But then, she reflected, they hadn’t been conditioned with Alethex.

It looked as though the four younger Kitts would break even more quickly; the multiple small doses of Alethex, first in the shots at La Fey and then directly in the limo, were working with startling speed and power. Already their eyes were glazed with lust, their dresses shredded from their bodies, and by the time their captors had decided to remove their gags and bindings, none of the well-fucked teens even thought to reach for the emergency transponders around their necks. Not that they’d be any use, thought The Mistress with wicked amusement; even now the Syndicate’s master of illusion was leading their would-be protectors on a merry chase through the city.

All four Kitts were now crawling around on the floor of the club, begging for cock as they’d been taught to do by their captors, begging to be abused, the amused girls around them making them lick their shining latex boots, telling the barely-legal sluts what worthless whores they were as brutal goons ravished them in every hole, sometimes three at once. The one holding out the longest against final submission was the cute little redhead, whose eyes still looked dull and full of humiliation and disbelieving horror at her inability to stop her young body from giving itself up wantonly to cock after pounding, bitch-taming cock, from grinding and gyrating against rapist after rapist, milking them with her hot, willing mouth and super-tight ass and sweetly clutching teenaged cunt and slathering her girl-cum all over them as they held her down and fucked her like a five-dollar whore. But more and more her eyes were rolling back in her head with every orgasm, her mind no doubt being gradually overwhelmed by the revelation and assertion of her submissive slut-self. She wouldn’t last much longer.

Yes, tonight’s four had been quick work, even compared to Bailey. But The Mistress would take no chances.

"Come here, my pet," she said to Bailey, beckoning, watching the naked girl crawl sinuously as the attendant led her by the leash over to Lockhart’s chair.

Bailey sat back on her haunches, her eyes shining with bright, avid madness as a glistening drop of spunk trickled down her chin. "Yes, Mistress?" she asked obediently.

"It will soon be time to tell your four fellow sluts to whom they belong," said Lockhart. "Your Mistress would like to give you the great honour of revealing the truth to them."

Bailey’s eyes flashed with feral delight. "Ohhhhh, yes Mistress! Thank you, Mistress!"

"Think nothing of it, my pet. You’ve pleased me tonight."

It was true. The photos from Raven McCoy’s room were psychological gold; Lockhart hadn’t met Max Fawkes yet, but she was dead certain they were pictures of him, pictures that reflected an obsession that could be very useful. Bailey had already proved her value earlier in the week by ferreting out the French Foxx’s chocolate hunger – a hunger they’d exploited tonight with a few creatively-altered sweet morsels – and now she’d proved it again.

"This nasty little slut wishes always and only to please her Mistress," said Bailey automatically, and Lockhart gave her a gentle smile. The Mistress beckoned with her right hand, and another attendant came forward with a stack of five dresses; carefully-matched replacements for the now-destroyed garments the girls had worn originally. She had already signalled for the limousine to pull around the front of the club, ready to take the Kitts to their next destination.

"That’s my good girl," she said. "Now, to the matter of your friends. You will have to rule them, now, to be a Mistress in your Mistress’ stead, and teach them always about what a nasty slut will do for her Mistress. You must show them the way to complete submission, show them how to give in utterly to their inner whores. Do you understand?" The girl nodded eagerly, smiling as though she were being given the directions to a wonderful Spring Break party. "Remember that the voice and power of your Mistress will always show you the way, so long as you obey her will." Another eager, happy nod. "Good. You will begin tonight, by telling them about a certain video that’s been compiled of their adventures... a video that all their friends will be seeing if they don’t behave..."

* * * * *

It was well past midnight, and Lonnie and Mike sat in the front of their car, both men a bit shell-shocked and clearly unable to figure out what to say after what had just happened.

Eventually, Mike cleared his throat. "Ummm, Lonnie," he said, "would you classify that as the best or the worst night you’ve ever had?"

Lonnie shook his head. "I honestly don’t know."

"Yeah. Yeah, me neither."

Up until about forty minutes previous, the evening had been one long nightmare of trying to hunt down phantom transponder signals, growing more and more desperate as the minutes ticked by and the certainty came closer that they’d have to report in, report their clearly malfunctioning tracker device and worse, their humiliating loss of five Kitts on a furlough. Five.

They’d finally headed, lamely, for the Plaza Theatre –where the double feature was almost over—on the off chance that the girls might still show up there. A move of patent desperation, delaying the inevitable; there was simply no way the girls would show. They’d been arguing, bitterly, trying to put off the moment when they’d have to screw up their courage and call the whole fiasco in... and then the transponder signals, wonky all night, seeming to teleport from one part of the city to another, suddenly resolved. Inside the Theatre lobby, coming out.

And they’d watched in wonder as the five Kitts walked out of the Theatre’s front doors, Bailey leading the way with a bright smile, her four companions walking together, all clearly dazed by drink and off in space but otherwise none the worse for wear.

After sitting for a moment in shock, Lonnie had finally climbed out of the car, went over to Bailey. "Do you mean to tell me," he’d asked her furiously, "that all this time you were right here?"

"Why, Agent James," she had said, "where did you think we were?"

He’d spluttered, said eventually: "You know, getting smashed at the restaurant and leaving the way you did was totally irresponsible. We thought you’d taken off to God-knows-where."

"You had our transponder signals, didn’t you? We weren’t in any danger, were we?"

The other girls were leaning on each other, practically passed out and near-insensate to anything around them. "Look, we’d better get your friends home," he’d said. "We’ll talk later about how my report to Mosley’s going to read."

"I’ll tell you what," she had countered, turning to the girls and giving them an imperious stay! gesture as she grabbed hold of Agent James’ hand. "Why don’t we talk about it now?" And then she’d come back to the car with him, climbed in between him and Mike and purred: "Gee, I’m real sorry I gave you guys a hard time tonight... let me make it up to you..."

And she had. Oh, how she had.

After another long pause, Mike said: "You know, you have to admit, she’s pretty good at—"

"We are not talking about this," Lonnie cut him off. "We are not talking about it. This. Did. Not. Happen. None of it."

"So..." Mike chewed his lip thoughtfully. "It was just a quiet night at the movies, then?"

"That’s exactly what it was, and that’s exactly what my report’s going to say."

"Well, alright then," said the other Agent as he fired up the ignition. "Just, I’m wondering, did you ever have a girl do that thing she did with her—"

"Mike!" said Lonnie sharply.

"Sorry. Didn’t happen. Quiet night. Got it." The car pulled out from the curb, and both men sat silent, alone in their own reveries, as they headed back to the Foxxes' Den.