Brittany's Travels Ch. 07

As she kissed her way slowly down Brittany's leg, she teased her bush with her free hand, careful not to touch her pussy for the moment, which of course made Brittany itch with anticipation. "Oh, what a tease!" Brittany called out as Angie flicked at her hair, wiggling around to try to reposition herself a few inches further down. But Angie was having none of that. As she grew close enough on Brittany's thigh to feel her breath on her vulva, Brittany thrust her hips up in urgent longing -- but that only brought Angie's hand back to her other leg, and she mercilessly pinned her down again on the mattress.

"Oh, God, Angie, touch it, kiss it, but do something!"

Angie chuckled and said nothing, and kissed Brittany on her bare skin just above her bush, and rubbed at her inner thighs with each hand, while Brittany moaned and wiggled in sweet frustration. At long last, with her mouth still focused above, Angie placed her thumb just between Brittany's lips and wiggled it about playfully.

"Aaaaooooooo!" Brittany yelped. "More of that! Please!"

"More indeed, my dear," Angie said with a faux-stern tone, and she slid down and gave Brittany a long, luxurious kiss right on her clit. She laughed a bit at Brittany's deliciously loud response, but didn't let that deter her from kissing and sucking long and hard, while reaching inside with her thumb to rub some more. Brittany laughed and grunted and moaned in delight and wriggled back and forth as much as she could under Angie's grip, while Angie licked away tirelessly.

Brittany still had lingering concerns about someone -- maybe even Joseph! -- overhearing them. But Angie's kissing and stroking overcame every last one of those concerns, and Brittany came with a cathartic roar, and a giggle at Angie's final kiss on her vulva. "Just how did you learn to do that, married to a man all those years?" Brittany asked her as she snuggled up alongside her on the bed.

"Haven't I told you I'm bi?" Angie asked.

"I sort of guessed," Brittany said. "But I don't think so."

"Yes, well, one didn't talk about it back then, and I did love my ex-husband. But I had plenty of time to imagine it. You're not bi, are you?"

"No, but in prison you learn to love what you can get."

"That's awfully sad, but I'm sure glad you did," Angie said. "I'm sure I've told you how my heart broke for you every day we knew about you before we could get you out. Joseph and I worked day and night to make it happen..."

"I know!" Brittany pulled her into a tight embrace. "And thank you for everything. I know you did it as fast as you could."

"Thank you...Erika. Now, we should probably get a cover story together in case Joseph suspects anything."

"Oh, I'm sure he knows by now," Brittany said. "You think he hasn't noticed how much time we spend alone together?"

Angie sat up. "We should have an official cover story anyway. Let me give it some thought. For now, showertime?"

"I do need someone to soap this up," Brittany said with a grin, patting her bush.

For security reasons, Brittany had to fly home separately from her mentors. So she could only guess what Joseph might know or care about what she and Angie had been up to. This had her rather nervous on the long ride in from the airport, but one look at Joseph when she entered the briefing room let her know she was in no trouble. "Excellent job thinking outside the box and your clothes, dear," he declared with a grin. "We intercepted over $5,000, and those two drones who came after you have been singing like a couple of canaries."

"I'm so glad," Brittany said. "Here I thought after Switzerland I'd be much too hot to work."

"So did we, frankly," Angie said. "But it looks like we had their number. They never imagined you'd be bothering at anything so low-level."

"I hope this doesn't mean I'm stuck in that rut," Brittany said. "I mean, I'm happy to stick with this sort of thing as long as you guys think I need to, but I do want to get back in the big leagues sometime."

"Watch it with the sports analogies, Erika," Angie reminded her. "There are already people out there who know who you really are now."

"Sorry!" Brittany looked down at the table and hoped there wouldn't be any tears at the reminder of what she had lost. To her relief, they stayed away.

"In any event," Joseph said, "You'll be happy to hear we've once again got to get you out of the country for a bit. Our sources say no one has put two and two together yet, but it's only a matter of time before the Mansfield folks figure out the woman who stole their money in Denver is the same one who brought Brian down."

"I was afraid of that," Brittany said. "Where to now, Outer Mongolia?"

Angie and Joseph laughed, and for a moment Brittany thought she'd nailed it. Not wanting to disappoint them, she said, "That's okay! I read about the place in prison, they have a fast-growing mining industry and lots of new money floating around. All too perfect for a drug market, isn't it?"

"Erika, no!" Joseph reassured her. "I'm impressed with your willingness to go anywhere for the cause, but no, we're not sending you to Mongolia."

"Right continent, though," Angie said. "You're going to Singapore."

"Singapore?" Brittany had read about that too in prison. "Isn't that where they beat drug pushers with a cane?"

"Yes," Angie said, "Except when they put them to death."

"The laws there are absolutely draconian," Joseph went on. "You can get arrested if you're seen leaving a house where drugs are being used. But there's a lot of money there and a lot of demand, and in the right circles there are things Westerners are more likely to get away with. That's what you're going to sniff out, but that's all you're going to do this time. You're just going to be another rich American."

"Wonderful," Brittany said.

"I'm glad you feel that way," Angie said. "Because we're going to have to give you another makeover to maintain your cover. And now that two more Mansfield guys have had a good look at your body..." She gave Brittany a probing look.

"Oh, no, not that!" Brittany could feel the sting between her thighs already.

"I'm afraid so, dear. Don't worry, it'll grow back."

The next morning found Brittany lying barebottom and spreadeagled on a padded table in Winnie's studio. "Want a drink before we start?" he asked before lifting the blanket. "I've heard it can dull the pain a bit."

"If I got drunk I might tell Angie what I think of this whole thing," Brittany said. "My own fault for letting too many people see my pussy, but still."

"I understand," Winnie said. "And I'm sorry." Pulling back the blanket, he helped himself to a longer look at Brittany's triangle than he knew he ought to. "You were right not to let me touch this before," he said. "The look suits you."

"Don't remind me!"

"It will grow back."

"That's what Angie said. But she's not getting waxed, is she?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that I have done this to her," Winnie said with a smirk as he set about arranging the cloth strips.

Brittany propped herself up on her elbows. "Wait a minute, are you saying she's done this too?"

"I told you, I can't confirm or deny." But he winked at Brittany, and she was nearly sure she detected a slight nod.

"Well, that makes me feel a little better," Brittany allowed. "But she has a lot less to remove than I do."

"Not for long!"

The pain soon had Brittany wishing she had accepted his offer of a drink, and also wondering if it would have helped at all. She thought it probably wouldn't have. At least it was fairly fleeting, though she still felt horribly tender after it was over. She couldn't bring herself to look down just yet, and merely took Winnie's word for it that she looked great bare. He then set about resculpting her head-hair, leaving her with a short 'do that had her feeling like she belonged in an eighties music video.

At least, she reminded herself as she assessed her new look in a mirror afterward, she didn't look much like the woman who'd been spotted in Switzerland or in Colorado. Finally biting the bullet and pulling up her nightgown to reveal Winnie's handiwork down below, she had to laugh at how right she was -- even she could scarcely tell she was the same woman.

A week later, after her first full day in the sweltering tropical heat, Brittany was feeling far more accustomed to her latest alternative persona; but she still wasn't very fond of it. She had, in any event, enjoyed a day of shopping and people-watching along Orchard Road, playing the part of a fashion-obsessed American to the hilt and getting a kick out of the curious looks from the locals. If it was the exact opposite of what the real Brittany would have done if left to her own devices, she had to admit that just meant she was doing her job and doing it well.

Now, freshly showered and swathed in a slinky black dress and sipping a martini at the Tanglin Club, she wondered if she mightn't be doing it too well. When Joseph had told her about the exclusive club and its reciprocal membership program with some other snobby club he belonged to in DC, Brittany had voiced her concerns that it probably wasn't the best place to sniff out local drug kingpins if most locals couldn't even get in the door. "How are they even going to spot me if I'm surrounded by a bunch of other rich bastards?" she'd asked.

"You're right, they aren't," Joseph said. "But the real bigwigs, I guarantee you at least one of them is going to be a member and they've always got an eye out for wealthy tourists, especially beautiful women. That's your in."

Brittany couldn't deny that the opulent surroundings were pleasant, in any event. And she didn't need to bother looking around the room to know she was getting attention from the men. But she found it all deadly dull, and once she'd finished her drink off, she figured if her mission was to be spotted, that mission was accomplished.

It was too early to turn in and she didn't fancy watching movies in her room until she dropped off. So as Brittany signed the bill for her lone drink, she asked the bartender, "Say, is there an expat bar in the neighbourhood?"

"Expat bar?"

"Sorry, I mean someplace Americans might feel more at home."

"Oh!" The bartender shot a bemused look at his colleague who was busy mixing a Singapore sling at the other end of the bar, and said, "Yes, for Americans. There's a country music bar a few blocks from here, on the second floor of the Orchard Towers. Do you know the Orchard Towers?"

Brittany shook her head, and the helpful young man sketched out an impromptu map on a cocktail napkin. Brittany hated country music, but she figured she was in the market for the opposite of her current surroundings and that fit the bill. She took the napkin and smiled at the bartender. "Thank you," she said.

"Good night, ma'am."

"Night!" Brittany strode briskly off to the exit.

She was barely out of earshot before the other bartender spoke up. "Tell me you didn't just send that woman to four floors of whores without telling her that's what it was!"

He laughed. "Okay, I won't tell you!"

Brittany figured out for herself just what Orchard Towers was as soon as she'd set foot inside the building, which was crawling with dolled-up women who were flocking to every male in sight. Figuring the bartender back at the club was probably laughing his ass off at her, she opted to stick around for at least one drink anyway. The promised bar on the second floor was just oozing with Americana in any event, which was a welcome change.

She'd barely had time to settle herself at the bar and order a beer before her practiced talent at ignoring come-ons let her down. "How much for the whole night?" came an American voice to her right.

Brittany smirked at the overweight, middle-aged gentleman. "Whatever my bar tab is," she replied, "because I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Bitch." The man slunk off without a second look.

"Listen," said the bartender, setting her beer before her. "If you're a freelancer, better be careful. These ladies' pimps don't want competition."

"Oh, I'm not..." Brittany paused and looked down at her attire, and around the room. "God, I do look the part here, don't I?"

The bartender nodded. "Let me guess, someone sent you here without telling you what the place really is?"

"Yes, and I intend to enjoy my beer and have the last laugh," Brittany declared.

"Good on you. But be careful."

Careful she was. If there was one thing Brittany had learned in prison, it was how to shut out all her surroundings no matter how immediate and obnoxious they might be. So she easily brushed off the four more propositions she received before finishing her beer, and she never noticed the Malay gentleman in the sportcoat at the table behind her who was doing the same with each prostitute who found her way to his table.

Dear Yvonne, Brittany wrote the next afternoon, seated alone at a beachside bar at Sentosa Island. At a loss of just where to start, she set down her pen and sipped her latest Tiger beer, of which she was rapidly becoming very fond. For good measure, she also untied her sarong and felt a delicious tickle at being in a bikini she couldn't have worn before Winnie got done with her. She felt positively naked without her bush, but it was a kick all the same. A quick gaze out at the crowds on the beach and the surf beyond it, and she turned her attention back to the nearly-blank page.

So sorry I haven't written sooner. I'm afraid I can't really tell you what I've been up to since I got out, but it's been wonderful anyhow. I haven't yet tracked down the people who put me in that place, but I will! I always told you I was innocent. I hope now you believe me.

I miss you! I'll bet you don't believe that either, but it's true. I don't miss prison at all, of course, but I do miss you. So many times on my adventures I've wished you were with me. I could really use your street-smarts in this job. That reminds me, any word on when you might be getting out? I'd love to meet up then and just welcome you back into the world. It's worth the wait! Maybe then I'll be able to tell you more about what I've been up to, too. In fact, if you've got news, feel free to call me collect at...

Brittany set her pen down as she realized she didn't have a phone number she could give to Yvonne. Then it dawned on her that Yvonne would have no other way of getting in touch with her either, and for that matter that she could probably get in a lot of trouble with Joseph and Angie for sending the letter in the first place. She took a long drink of her beer to soothe the frustration, and promised herself she'd beg Angie for a chance to at least say hello to Yvonne when she got home.

Or did Yvonne think, like Brittany's mother did, that she was in prison in Virginia now? That, in turn, got Brittany wondering if her sister Penny had spilled the beans to Mom. To think she'd actually looked that bitch in the eye back in Switzerland...it still gave Brittany the creeps now. But, she told herself yet again, Penny would likely stay quiet rather than run the risk of anyone knowing her husband had slept with Brittany!

Admitting defeat on the letter, Brittany put her notebook and pen back in her beach bag, and resolved to enjoy the lovely moment.

She was still working on that resolution when he appeared just over her shoulder. "Excuse me, ma'am, didn't I see you at the Tanglin Club last night?"

Brittany looked up to see the Malay man she hadn't noticed at the bar the night before. "Hi," she said. "I'm sorry, I was jetlagged and I didn't really notice anything but my drink last night, but yes. I was there."

As he helped himself to the empty chair on the other side of her little table, Brittany admitted to herself that she definitely hadn't noticed him. He was quite attractive in that classic Asian nerd sort of way, and just as scantily dressed as she was. At least her unwelcome guest was a sexy one. "I'm Colin," he said, offering his hand.

"Erika." She shook his hand.

"American?"

"Yes, and glad to be over here. You?"

"Here. Singapore. Been a Tanglin Club member for ages, and I'm quite sure I haven't seen you there before."

"That's right," Brittany said. "Nice place, in any case. Maybe tonight I'll be wide awake enough to enjoy the bar properly."

"Better that than another run at Orchard Towers, huh?" Colin grinned.

"Have you been stalking me?" Brittany forced a smile, and tried to look more nervous than she really felt, but she already felt quite nervous for real.

"Not stalking," Colin said. "Following up a lead. Any Westerner who goes to both extremes like you did last night is probably open to doing some business. Am I right?"

"I'm in rare books," Brittany said. "Somehow I don't think you'll find too many of those at Orchard Towers."

"You won't even find too many people who can read them there," Colin said. "So let me guess, you're tired of pawing through dusty libraries and you wanted a look at the wild side from a safe distance?"

"You're not far off, but I wouldn't say going to Orchard Towers dressed like I was last night was a safe distance. Would you?"

"No, I wouldn't. That's why I'm thinking you're either one seriously naïve American tourist, or you're interested in doing some business on the side while you're here."

"And if I am, do you expect me to trust a guy who spent last night stalking me?"

"No, I don't." Colin smiled. "That's why I'm only asking. If the answer is yes, I can put you in touch with someone you will be able to trust."

"And who would that be?" Brittany took a long drink of her beer, hoping to buy a little time.

"You don't need to know that just yet. Just tell me a yes or no, and I'll see that they find you, if that's what you want."

"All right," Brittany said. "The answer is yes, but I won't be going back to Orchard Towers, understood?"

"That would be a terrible place to do business anyway," Colin agreed, standing up. "I'll see to it that you meet in a much more appropriate venue."

"Where's that?"

"You don't need to know yet. Just go about your business with your rare books." He turned on his heel and walked off across the sand.

Brittany knew the drill. She finished her beer and paid her tab, and then set off for the beach. Even before she set her beach bag down on a vacant patch of sand and stripped down to her bikini, she realized acting inconspicuous would be easy with this crowd. The briefing she'd received on local culture in Singapore, "The locals largely keep to themselves and don't speak unless spoken to," had been right on the nose. Though she did get a few predictably leering looks from men as she stuffed her dress in her beach bag and sat down, clearly the contact wasn't here.

Brittany spent a deliciously exhibitionistic hour or so sunbathing, still tickled at the job Winnie had done on her body and at her own willingness to flaunt it, almost welcoming the inevitable stares that every white woman on the beach was treated to. Almost, but every man she made eye contact with caught a glimpse of the rough and tumble tomboy she'd been back in the old days.

She took no notice of the man who settled on a blanket next to hers, beyond the fact that he did not stare at her or give any indication that he might be her contact. Having concluded as much, she ignored him as she soaked up the tropical sun, and never looked directly at the camera he had hidden in his gym bag on the sand.

Nonetheless, he got a good enough image of Brittany to send to the humble flat in the heart of the city where two women pored over the image on a laptop.

"I think it is her," declared the older woman.

"You think?" asked the younger one. "Didn't you get a look at her in Switzerland?"