American Girl Ch. 02

Chapter Two -- Project Excalibur

Secure Safe House, Maryland 1985

Kyle Gordon arrived to find Steven Boland drinking coffee but with an unopened bottle of vodka on the table. Steven greeted Kyle with a manly hug and whispered 'zdraztvuytye', a greeting in Russian, into his ear to which Kyle responded 'dobriy vecher' or good evening. Kyle's Russian was getting better but his accent was terrible, as was to be expected, Steven thought.

Kyle had learned Russian from his parents and now that they were gone he had no one to practice with except Stephan Boriliski and they mostly spoke English unless they were in a situation where it was totally safe to converse in the mother tongue.

"Crystal did well with Colonel William Spooner; he's singing like a bird and is a great source of intelligence," Steven motioned towards a wooden chair at the small kitchen table.

Steven talked about Crystal Greystone as if she was a separate entity to Kyle Gordon which in some respects she was. When Kyle transformed into Crystal, the transformation was total. Crystal also thought of Kyle as a totally different person.

Kyle nodded.

"It's amazing what secrets a man is willing to betray to protect himself from the shame of being exposed as someone who has been intimate with a female impersonator. Especially someone with so much to lose," Kyle said as he sat down.

"I wonder if there will ever be a time when transgender women are treated as equally as their biological sisters," Kyle mused.

Steven just nodded. Having tasted the delights that Crystal Greystone had to offer and then feeling shame and anguish afterwards, he preferred not to discuss the dichotomy of using a female impersonator as a Soviet operative against the hated Americans. The fact was that in Russia Kyle would be interned in a forced labour camp until he had ridded himself of the urge to become Crystal. Steven preferred to think of Crystal as a weapon rather than as a person and was uncomfortable in her presence given their history. He mostly met with Kyle in his male persona and when he had to collaborate with Crystal he kept their meetings deliberately short in case he became tempted by her incredible beauty.

Steven moved the conversation along and unscrewed the cap off the vodka and poured them both a drink.

"Colonel Spooner has moved from his position as a liaison officer hosting foreign visitors to the Pentagon from NATO countries and is now working as a military adviser on Project Excalibur. What we are about to discuss is top secret and to be blunt, quite terrifying," Steven stared gravely at Kyle.

"You understand the concept of mutually assured destruction Kyle? A principle of deterrence founded on the notion that a nuclear attack by the USA would be met with an overwhelming Soviet nuclear counterattack such that both the attacker and the defender would be annihilated?" Steven answered his own question.

Kyle nodded; he didn't need a lesson on Cold War philosophy.

"The Americans are developing a weapon under the remit of their Star Wars program. The precept is X-ray lasers that can be generated from a single nuclear weapon in orbit, meaning a single weapon would destroy many ICBMs. This means that should the US use its nuclear arsenal on the USSR our counterattack would be almost nullified," Steven said grimly.

"Or if we were to launch a first strike their laser weapon would so blunt the attack that any US response would be overwhelming in comparison," Kyle countered.

Steven shrugged his shoulders begrudgingly. Soviet rhetoric was such that the Americans were always the aggressor and Soviets the brave defenders of their nation.

"What are we doing about this Project Excalibur and where do I fit in?" Kyle asked.

"It is complicated because the project is tied to the US nuclear weapon testing program. The project needs to perform their tests during controlled nuclear explosions which produce the X-ray lasers. The tests are conducted at the Nevada test site and we have had very little success infiltrating the facility," Steven poured more vodka.

"But Project Excalibur is not run exclusively by the military. It is run by a consortium that is overseen and funded by the United States Department of Energy," Steven drank his vodka in one shot.

Kyle was patient. He knew that his handler would get to the point when he was good and ready.

"The Americans are about to conduct a nuclear test under the codename Cottage at the Nevada test site. Several highly placed members of project Excalibur will attend. Our comrades in California have managed to infiltrate the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory, only in a perfunctory capacity, but enough to find out the names of some of the delegates who will attend the tests," Steven was finally getting to point.

"The man we want to target is a scientist. A scientist who is highly intelligent and knowledgeable but he is also a radical, a libertine. He is a pacifist who believes that Project Excalibur has the potential to end what the Americans call the Cold War," Steven looked inquiringly at Kyle waiting for a question.

"A radical libertine working on a secret nuclear weapons project? This man must be brilliant if they allow that. It might also make him susceptible to approach by foreign nationals with a view to espionage," Kyle smiled wickedly.

"Indeed it would. Especially as the man, Professor Brett Beaumont, has been reprimanded previously for engaging in illicit activities, but his unique abilities and expertise in laser technology and development are invaluable," Steven grinned.

"We know that he will be heading to Nevada ahead of the test to oversee some aspects of Excalibur but he also intends to enjoy some recreational activities in Las Vegas," Steven's grin widened.

"And if Brett Beaumont was to run into an exotically beautiful young woman named Crystal Greystone he might be inclined to be indiscreet?" Kyle smiled at Steven.

Stephan Boriliski, aka Steven Boland nodded sagely and poured more vodka.

"The rezidentura is sending you an assistant to do the run-go-fetch for you. You are never to meet face to face of course, use the normal protocols for communication," Steven passed a full glass to Kyle who nodded sagely.

"We have a little time before the test so we need to us it wisely," Steven leaned across the table and patted Kyle on the forearm.

"Also, there is another matter here in Washington that I want Crystal to take care of before she heads out to Las Vegas," Steven added.

*****

Park n' Go Garage, Massachusetts Ave, Washington DC, 1985

Crystal had a string of casual suitors that she used for the intelligence they could provide her. Blackmail was not the only weapon in her arsenal, she was an accomplished seductress and post-coital pillow talk often produced little gems of intelligence.

One of those suitors was Bronson Bateman, a Washington lobbyist. Bronson was currently trying to convince a Senator to vote against a bill which would approve sending more Stinger missiles to Afghanistan to support the Mujahedeen rebels fighting Soviet forces. What Bronson didn't know was that he had been hired and financed by a shell corporation that was ostensibly legitimate but was actually operated by the KGB.

Bronson Bateman was close to convincing the senator and his voting block to reject the bill in the upper chamber of Congress when Bronson was approached by a man who claimed to have proof that the corporation behind the lobbying was a malignant foreign power. The man with the proof was an FBI counterintelligence agent. The KGB feared that Bronson Bateman would switch sides and provide the information to the Senator who would then vote for the bill along with his voting block colleagues.

It was Crystal's job to prevent this as soon as possible.

"It's been so long darling, I'd love to meet you tonight," Crystal spoke seductively into the phone.

Bronson Bateman started to become tumescent just listening to Crystal's husky voice. He hadn't seen her for a couple of weeks and was craving her special talents.

"I have a meeting I can't miss. I can meet you at the Pink Parrot after my meeting," Bronson countered.

"I'm working late tonight and won't finish until the club closes and I'll be too tired then. I'm heading out west to perform in Las Vegas soon so this will be our last chance to get together for a while," Crystal used her most seductive voice.

Bronson checked his watch. His meeting was with Senator Palmer where he intended to divulge to the Senator that he had been duped and that the Senator should vote for the Stinger bill was at 8pm. He could meet Crystal before she started her shift at the Pink Parrot but he would be cutting it fine.

"Can we meet at your apartment at seven? It would have to be quickie," the thought of slipping his hard cock into Crystal's tight ass while he kissed that pretty face made him more determined to meet her.

The apartment Bronson was talking about was not Crystal's loft above the flower shop at Woodley Park. That apartment was part of Kyle Gordon's legitimate existence; Bronson had no idea what Crystal did for a day job. He was talking about the apartment rented for Crystal Greystone under a false name near DuPont Circle. It was fitted with video and audio devices and was the same apartment that Crystal had used to seduce and entrap Colonel William Spooner and many others.

"I can't meet at my apartment. I have a friend staying; I was hoping you had somewhere," Crystal set the bait.

There was no way a successful lobbyist was going to be seen in a respectable public place with a girl like Crystal. It wasn't that she wasn't passable; it was because she was so uniquely beautiful that she was also memorable and people were likely to ask him where he had met her and how they met. A truthful reply along the lines of: 'I got high one night and went to the Pink Parrot gay bar and picked up this pretty female impersonator who did things to me that no woman could do' would not go down well. Bronson's brain was ticking over.

"This is going to sound sleazy but what about in my car? You know the parking lot on Massachusetts Avenue not for from the Parrot. I can be there at seven," Bronson said hopefully.

"I start my shift at The Pink Parrot at eight, so yeah, I guess if that's the best we can do," Crystal dangled the hook.

"You know my car, the white Cadillac Eldorado? I have a permanent slot on the second floor," Bronson crossed his fingers.

"Yeah I know it. I've blown you in that Caddy outside the Parrot," Crystal replied sarcastically.

"But I am not walking around a multi-story parking garage in my high heels and a cocktail dress," she countered.

Just the thought of Crystal dressed in her little black sequined cocktail dress wearing spiky high heels was enough to make Bronson's semi-hard cock throb.

"I'll pick you up on Massachusetts Avenue a block south of the garage and drive to the lot. I'll drop you off at the Parrot after," Bronson proposed.

"I'll see you there. Seven o'clock and don't be late," Crystal set the hook.

"See you honey, gotta go," Bronson broke the connection.

Crystal contacted Steven Boland using a payphone and told him of the assignation and he promised her that she would have all the support she needed. There was no way that the undertaking they had planned could take place at the apartment Crystal usually used for assignations. The parking lot was the perfect location.

Crystal waited on the corner of Massachusetts Avenue and 16th Street trying her best not to look like a hooker in her black sequin three-quarter-length-sleeved micromini cocktail dress and shimmery fleshtoned fifteen denier holdup stockings and black four-inch pumps. She was wearing her burgundy bob, her makeup was heavy, her platinum jewellery sparkled under the streetlights as did the sequins on her dress; she had a matching clutch purse slung over her shoulder, held by a long spaghetti strap. She smoked a menthol cigarette, whilst walking in circles to ward off the chilly breeze coming off the Potomac River only a mile away.

After enduring the ignominy of drivers slowing down to ogle and wolf-whistle, the sight of Bronson Bateman's white Eldorado finally pulling into view was a relief. Bronson spied Crystal and his heart skipped a beat. That girl was more stunning than most of the cis-gender women he knew and she could do things with her mouth and ass that amazed him.

"Hi honey, it's fucking freezing out there," Crystal said in her dusky voice and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek as she climbed into the nice warm car.

Bronson was already hard but when she enveloped him a miasma of Poison his cock became steely. He took Crystal's hand and placed it in his lap. She squeezed his turgid member and smiled at him as he pulled into the evening traffic.

"You really are ready for a quickie aren't you?" Crystal giggled.

"So this gig in Las Vegas; what's the story?" Bronson asked.

He couldn't really give a fuck about Las Vegas but he thought he should show Crystal the courtesy of pretending to be interested in her life. He didn't know much about her at all outside of the Pink Parrot and the little apartment where they fucked and he didn't want to. She was his dirty little secret and he didn't want anyone to know about her. His credibility on The Hill would be shot to shit if anyone knew he was fucking a transwoman.

The Caddy's tires squealed as Bronson pulled into his allotted space on the second story of the multi-level parking garage. His parking space was right at the end behind an air-conditioning unit, screened from the rest of the lot. Not that it mattered, the place was dead quiet, most of the congressional staff and their flunkies were still working hard at this time of night.

Bronson pulled Crystal into the back seat, hitching down his pants as he did so. She put the long thin strap of her clutch around her shoulder so she wouldn't lose it and kissed him passionately and he impatiently pushed her head down into his lap.

Bronson had a nice cock, long and thin with a pale milky shaft and pink glans which was already leaking precum. Crystal slurped away the globules of the clear viscous liquid and began to suck his cock earnestly. Bronson moaned and leaned back in the seat, guiding Crystal's mouth up and down his cock as she used her lips on his shaft and her tongue on his fraenulum. She was tucked and taped for work and as she was wearing stockings vice pantyhose the tuck was tight. She didn't want to become hard because she would become uncomfortable. Her tuck would allow her to sit and urinate but if she became tumescent it would likely break free.

Bronson was enjoying having Crystal suck his cock, she was the best. The narcissist misogynist in him thought that a man who could pass himself off as a woman would naturally give the best head: 'a man knows, what a man likes' he thought, although he never thought of Crystal as a man, even when she splashed her sperm over his belly when she was riding him cowgirl.

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver vial and unscrewed it. The top portion had a little spoon built into it and he scooped out a bump and sniffed it and did the same to his other nostril. He tapped Crystal on the head and she looked up at him but shook her head and went back to sucking his cock.

Bronson was close to coming and the coke had made his cock swell to full tumescence and Crystal figured that as he was in a hurry he would make do with the blowjob but she had other plans. She took her head out of his lap and quickly straddled him so that she was facing him with her knees either side on the seat. She eased her panties aside and slowly impaled herself on his cock while she put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Crystal was ready for sex and had douched and pre-lubricated her anus in anticipation. Bronson's cock slid into her ass easily, right up to the hilt. He put his hands on her thighs and thrust upward and Crystal pushed down at the same time, feeling his hard cock press on her prostate. She wriggled her buttocks, squeezed her sphincter and drove her tongue into Bronson's mouth and was rewarded when she felt his cock judder and empty his sac deep inside her anus.

"That's a good boy," Crystal cooed and kissed him tenderly.

Bronson smiled up at her, a look of contentment on his face as the last of his spend spurted from the eye of his cock, deep inside Crystal's bowel.

"Thanks lover, I know you're in a rush," she smiled back at him and lowered her face and kissed him languidly.

Her hand slipped into her clutch and she extracted the hypodermic syringe from its hiding place. She thrust the syringe into Bronson's neck and he gasped and went limp and fell into unconsciousness. The speedball of cocaine and heroin was close to a lethal dose and Bronson's heart slowed to twenty five beats per minute.

She slipped off Bronson's comatose body and, keeping her dress hiked up out of the way, she lowered her panties and squeezed her anus to expel Bronson's semen which she carefully collected and put into a little baggie. She put her panties back in place and then smoothed down her dress. She got out of the back of the Cadillac and two men emerged from behind the air-conditioning unit, both dressed from head to toe in black, wearing ski masks and gloves.

"He's all yours," Crystal said nonchalantly, handing off the baggie as she walked to the elevator, her heels clicking on the bare concrete.

Bronson's body was found in his car in Rock Creek Park by two members of the United States Park Police the next morning. They also found the body of a partially clothed hooker beside him. A forensic investigation found Bronson Bateman's semen in the vagina of the hooker who had a long list of convictions for solicitation. The investigators also found both heroin and cocaine at the scene and in the blood of both deceased along with strangulation marks on the hooker's neck.

Rudimentary analysis and a forensic examination matched Bronson's blood type to the semen found inside the hooker and the coroner determined that Bronson had strangled the girl in a hallucinogenic rage during a self-inflicted accidental drug overdose. Bronson was known to be a party animal who regularly used recreational drugs and a womaniser and few would dispute the findings.

Senator Palmer was outraged and when a second lobbyist, a KGB undercover operative, approached the senator and assured him that Bronson's claims that he was being used as a stooge by foreign nationalists was just a drug-induced fantasy. The Senator and his voting block vetoed the bill.

By then Crystal was already in Las Vegas.

*****

Las Vegas Nevada, 1985

"You sure you are going to be ok managing Fresh Scents by yourself Jeremy? I can get in another assistant if you want," Kyle said as he made his final preparations to leave for Las Vegas.

"Six days a week in the flower shop is hardly taxing dear and if we did hire another assistant it would likely be some young fairy who would spend all day sniffing the flowers and making goo-goo eyes at the customers. Youngsters today have no work ethic," Jeremy tut-tutted.

"Ok, I'll call you from Vegas now and then to see how things are progressing," Kyle gave Jeremy a hug and drove away.

But he didn't drive far. He drove to Crystal Greystone's apartment that was rented under a false name and transformed into Crystal and packed her suitcase. For this particular operation Kyle was to present as Crystal fulltime and she was quite happy to do so. Crystal dressed in pink spandex leggings over sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose, a black short-sleeved open-necked top and carried a black leather jacket. She wore spiked four-inch heels and her makeup was heavy. As she was presenting enfemme she also wore prosthetic breastforms to fill her c-cups and wore her own hair cut in a shag bob styled with burgundy highlights.