Going Under Ch. 01


There was a weight in the coat pocket. Sara reached in and pulled out a pistol, a Walther automatic, probably forty years old, but kept in perfect condition. She had practiced with pistols at her cousin Gerry's farm, but they were mainly heavy revolvers. She had seen automatics, though, in movies and she checked the magazine, the rounds were silver in colour rather than the dull lead and brass combinations she was used to. For a moment she thought to leave the pistol, but liked the sense of power it gave her and so slipped it back in her pocket. She told herself that Moscow remained a dangerous place and dressed like this she could easily be mistaken for Cate by her rivals.

Sara was self-conscious as she strode into the street, nervous of the stares that she was getting from the old people. It was already well into the afternoon. Excitement suppressed Sara's hunger and rather than go to the grocer's she headed to an area where students and artists hung out. She found a small dark bar where she feasted on soup, rolls and vodka. She loved checking herself in the mirror behind the bar and looked up proudly from the book of Russian poetry she had found on the bar's bookshelves whenever she overheard someone comment on the way she was dressed. Sara realised she loved the attention, but she wished Cate was here to share it, she was what made this change in Sara's life so real.

Eventually Sara felt it was time to go, she had to get back to Cate's flat, and back into her own clothes, but for the first time she realised, she would not look too different, maybe she should go home dressed as she was. Yet, she hope Cate would be back and she would be proud to see her like this, maybe they could head straight out for another evening in the clubs.

Night had fallen by the time Sara left the bar, but she was comfortable in these clothes now anyway, they fitted her and she increasingly felt they showed the true side of herself. She walked briskly past the Moscovites heading home for the evening. It was only when she stopped to check her direction that she realised the street behind her had fallen quiet. Then she thought she heard scurried footsteps, somehow like a dog's claws on the paving stones, but a heavier tread. She decided on which turning to take and began moving faster. As she glanced back she was sure she could see a dark figure jumping between the patches of shadow. Sara's fear had become real, she was sure this was one of Cate's opponents who had tracked her down. She ducked into a doorway and pulled out the pistol. Calmly she did the two things that she knew amateurs like herself tended to forget, she worked the mechanism to chamber a round and clicked off the safety catch. She then pressed on down the street, the pistol gripped hard in her gloved right hand. She realised she was less than a block from Cate's flat which she perceived as being safe. For a moment she hesitated to lead her pursuer there, but also knew she might need Cate's help to defeat him.

Sara breath was coming hard as she plunged into the dark alley to Cate's flat, but she felt a burst of enthusiasm, she felt herself now to be on home ground. She fumbled for the key with her left hand, keeping her right gripped around the pistol. Then he filled the mouth of the alley, she could see his large dark shape blot out the light spilling from the street. He seemed to be pulling out a club, some kind of stick and then he lunged towards her. Sara's finger jerked automatically with the shock and the alleyway echoed as the pistol discharged. Her hand ached from the recoil with her arm held out unsupported and her vision was stained from the light of the muzzle flash. Sara moved her left hand to steady her grip, and fired twice more blindly in the direction of the shape that seemed to be staggering backwards. She had no idea if she had hit him, but as the seconds passed and Sara regained her senses she realised the outline of the man had gone. She stood frozen for a few moments, expecting the sound of police sirens, but the street seemed strangely quiet. Sara stamped her booted feet on the floor to check her hearing, but it seemed to be recovering well enough. She stashed the gun back in her pocket and found the key. Soon she was behind the locked door and running up the stairs to the flat.

Sara walked into the living room in a daze, the adrenalin that had driven her in the last few minutes began to fade. She saw Cate, her pale flesh showing through the gaps left between the loosely tied sides of her black silk kimono. She did not speak but stood and walked delicately towards Sara. Sara stood speechless, powerless as she let Cate brush her hair away from her sweaty face and ran her hand down Sara's rubber clad body. Sara could feel the sensation through the rubber and her body tingled everywhere Cate touched. Sara's pounding heart slowed, but only by a little, and her breaths still came panting, but calmer and for a different reason. Then Cate's lips closed on Sara's and Sara drank in the silky skin, the smooth sensation of the tongue that probed into her. She quivered as Cate embraced her, pulling her tight against her firm body, throwing off the coat, quickly unbuckling the cincher and leading Sara to a plush sofa and laying her down upon it. Now Cate's tongue skidded across Sara's rubber skin, until her teeth found the zip and pulled it down exposing Sara's body below, slick with sweat, shuddering with excitement. Cate's tongue found out Sara's nipples whilst her fingers and then her crooked elbow nudged at the lips of Sara's sex, gently teasing at her clitoris. Sara was reduced to gasping, to make love dressed, dressed in her lover's rubber catsuit, the lover who had so changed her life the whole thought just assaulted Sara's mind and there was nothing bar the sensations she was feeling. Her sodden pussy soon yielded to the hardness of Cate's elbow, entering, more exciting, larger, more rigid than any penis could have done. The rest of her body was teased, nibbled, licked. Cate seemed to know every sensitive point on Sara's body and headed towards it with nuzzling, kissing and stroking. Expertly Cate held her on the edge of orgasm until Sara was calling aloud for release. Then, finally Cate granted it and Sara shrieked as her body convulsed, slick in the rubber that held it so close, her fingers pulling tightly at Cate, her arms pulling her close as if trying to merge their bodies.

As Sara caught her breath, Cate began to move away, sitting up, but Sara would not let her. She shifted to sit up too, and began lapping gently, pleasurably, if a little inexpertly, as Cate's nipples, delighting at the arousal, hardened. Slowly Sara slid her sweat covered, rubber coated thigh between Cate's naked legs, pushing her knee gently and rhythmically against her pussy lips. As she saw the lips engorge, she delicately laid Cate, unresisting, back on the sofa and awkwardly and eagerly lowered her head allowing her keen tongue to probe and tease until it hunted out Cate's clitoris and began building an orgasm for her. Blindly Sara's fingers, ran up Cate's body, stroking across Cate's torso, returning again and again to nip and tantalise her breasts with her gloved fingers.

Cate seemed reluctant to cum, but the pleasurable assault Sara was inflicting on her body did not let up, and finally Cate let herself go, grunting deeply, shuddering, shivering with passion as the sensation swept over her for the first time in so long. As the feeling burned through her mind, she knew she could trust Sara, that every action she was making was showing her feelings for her and Cate remembered it was good to let go, and she did, losing herself in the frenzied grasping and kissing as she breasted the hill of pleasure and let it flow throughout her.

Sara awoke with a start, her mind suddenly flooded with thoughts. It must have been a dream, she had been drinking too much vodka and spending too many nights in gothic clubs. She turned her body in the bed. The sheets felt luxuriant and her feet felt miles from the footboard. It was clearly not her bed, and she was clearly not alone, she sensed the flesh, the breathing beside her. As she turned she recognised the scent of Cate, and realisation that everything she remembered was real rushed into her. She had walked the streets dressed like some fetish queen; she had shot a man; she had had sex, no, made love, to a woman, the woman who had become her best friend, and she had done it dressed, clad, like some sexual fantasy and experienced pleasure like she could not remember knowing. It had been some Saturday afternoon.

Sara realised she must have dropped off again and this time as Sara opened her eyes again and slowly sat up in bed she noticed that Cate had moved and was now sat across from her on a chair, watching her. The two women smiled as their gazes connected.

"What time is it?" Sara asked.

"Some time after three."

"Are you going out?"

Cate nodded, it looked painful for her to stay the words. "I'd love to stay, but you know my work can be demanding."

Sara knew she probably looked dejected, she had thought it was only men who left before the sun came up, but she guessed that there was no reason why women should not do so too.

"You're worried I won't come back."

"Yes." Sara replied quietly.

"I thought you knew me well enough by now. Surely it's you who's more likely to run, to decide all this is not to your taste."

Sara shook her head forcefully. "Nothing in my life has come close to this, there's no way I'm giving it up."


The two women fell silent again.

"What about the man I shot?"

"I expect you only scared him, it was dark. If he was injured or dead we'd have had the militia banging on our door before now, or his comrades-in-arms. He probably just ran off with his tail between his legs."

"Yes, I suppose so." Sara said, a little reassured, still not totally shaking the fear that she would be a wanted murderer when she got outside, but she guessed she would find out.

"He thought I was you." Sara continued, now Cate had dismissed some of her immediate fears, Sara was able to analyse what had happened a little better.

"Maybe or maybe you were just a random target."

"I think he would have attacked sooner if that was the case. He thought I was you, I'm your height, I was wearing your clothes."

"You liked the outfit?"

"Mmm, it was ... delicious." Sara smiled broadly, reliving how assured she had felt dressed in the rubber and leather just like the clothes Cate was wearing now.

"Well, I don't suppose it would go down too well at the embassy."

"No, unfortunately not."

Cate stood. "Will I see you later?"

"This evening?"

"That would be nice."

"Oh, I forgot there's a reception at the embassy tonight, I'm supposed to attend, it'll look bad if I'm not there to hand around the canapes."

"Oh, okay." Cate paused. "So, do I get an invite to this reception?" Cate asked.

"Erm, I suppose so, if you would like. We're allowed guests."

"Well, do you have someone you were planning to take?"


"You're just concerned what it'll look like turning up with another woman."

"Not really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, not everyone among the embassy staff is part of a happily married couple. There are a lot of divorcees and those whose job is their husband or wife, they'll bring someone from one of the expat clubs or another embassy."

"Well, that's it then, we can say I am Catherine Hammond of the British Embassy."

"They know everyone over there."

"What? All the clerical staff too? I bet your boss can't name more than a tenth of the people in the British embassy. Anyway, I worked for them a few times in the past, especially around the time of the revolution."

"I didn't know they needed enforcers." Sara joked. "Did you see Yeltsin standing there in front of the White House rallying the crowds?"

"No, I missed that, but I'm sure he would have sounded just like Lenin, though he was usually more sober."

"You know your Russian history."

"Of course. So, you'll get me an invite?"

"Yes, but there's a strict dress code: no leathers, no rubber or PVC, no long boots."

"I can do feminine, you wouldn't believe some of the dresses I've worn in the past, the balls I've attended."

"You'll have to tell me."

"Who's going to be there?"

"Well, aside from people from the other embassies, it's going to be Russians, local militia, businessmen Canadian companies want to work with, General Dolgorukov and Colonel Karamzin, and Colonel ..."

"Karamzin? He's going to be there? Commander of the Moscow arsenal?"

"You know him?"

"I'd like to speak with him."

"Why?" Sara sounded suspicious. "I thought you wanted to come to be there with me."

"But won't you be mixing business with pleasure? If I wasn't coming, surely it would be all business for you?"

"I suppose so."

"Well, that's sorted: you do your business, I do mine, and we can get together later."

"Meet me outside at 7.30, I'll give you an invite. You have to be on the dot."

"Have you ever known me to be late?"


Cate bent over to kiss Sara's lips. Then in an instant she was gone from the room and Sara sat slowly drifting back to sleep.

Part Five

Sara walked down the embassy steps pulling the borrowed raincoat tightly around her, still with the invite grasped tightly in her hand. It had taken ages to get ready, but she had got to the embassy on time for the briefing and now had a few moments to rendezvous with Cate. Her hair was stacked up on her head, and she wore the necklace her parents had given her on turning twenty-one. She had fished out some of her brighter make-up, the blacks and maroons had been ousted for tonight. The dress she wore was her standard posh event outfit, midnight blue velvet. Whilst she would have preferred to have swapped it for the clinging rubber catsuit of the previous night, she was sure Cate could not disapprove.

As the chime for the half hour sounded somewhere, a large black car pulled up. The driver emerged to open the door and Sara gasped as Cate stepped out. Well, she was not sure if it was Cate. The woman who emerged was clad in a long fur coat which just stopped short of dragging on the street. As she stepped, Sara could make out the crimson dress that managed looked a hundred years old but only made yesterday. Her arms were encased in matching gloves that stretched to her elbows. The dress's corset nipped Cate's lines into a streamlined shape and accentuated her cleavage on which rested a necklace of diamonds that to Sara seemed embarrassingly large. They were matched by long drop earrings. Her hair, too, was pinned into a high stack on her head showing off the slender contours of her pale neck. As she saw Sara, Cate smiled her bright red lips, a vibrant shade that would not have looked out of place in the 1950s.

"Did you raid an antiques shop?" Sara asked increduously.

"No, all from my own collection." Cate responded, her accent far more upper class English than Sara had known it.

"I think you'll stand out, but fit right in."

"Just what I intended, my dear."

The two laughed at Cate's mock duchess tone.

"Here's your invite." Sara handed it over.

"Are you going to take me in?"

"Yes, I can do that. It's a bit early, but there's a few people from the German and Indian embassies in there already." Sara said walking back up the steps rather self-consciously ahead of Cate.

Soon they were inside, some of Cate's jewellery caused problems with the metal detector, but it was quickly resolved. Sara stopped at the door to the main salon.

"I'll have to leave you here, I have my duties to attend to. See you later."

"Yes." Cate said, her smile seemed sad.

Sara stood looking at her for a moment.



"I've got something for you." Cate rummaged in her clutch bag and pulled out what looked like a large silver crucifix on a chain. Sitting in her palm, Sara could see it was a little smaller than the breadth of her hand.

"I didn't know you were religious."

"I'm not. It's got no power if the wearer has no faith in what it represents. It is just something beautiful, something practical too." She tugged at the based of the cross and pulled away the patterned sheath to reveal a sharp two-edged blade.

Looking at it Sara realised it was actually a dagger what she had taken to the arms of the cross were in fact the hilt. The whole thing was as ornate as a piece of antique jewellery, but potentially deadly too. Cate kissed it gently and reached forward. Surprisingly easily she had it over Sara's head. Sara's flesh tingled as the cold metal came to rest on the top of her breasts.

"It's lovely." Sara said, looking down at it, running her fingers over the pattern carved into it.

"Something to remember me by when I we're apart."

Sara looked up with tears in her eyes, but turned away quickly heading to where she was supposed to be. Behind her she heard a voice announcing the arrival of 'Lady Catherine Hammond'.

For Sara the evening seemed to drag. She found it difficult to concentrate on the conversations she was made part of, and had to focus hard to respond to the questions directed at her. At every chance she had, Sara glanced around the room, trying to see Cate and who she was talking to, hoping to find a reason to come into the conversation. Finally, as the peak of the reception had passed and some of those from other embassies were already leaving, Sara saw Cate with a late middle-aged man in uniform who she guessed was Colonel Karamzin. This seemed like a good opportunity.

"Colonel? Do you have everything you need?" Sara said, sounding the perfect model of an embassy hostess.

Karamzin laughed briefly, clearly at some personal joke. "Yes, thank you. Lady Hammond was just talking about what it was like here just before the First World War. Apparently her grandmother was out here. She conjures up the pictures so well."

"Yes? I am not surprised. Lady Hammond had such a range of talents." Sara said, shooting a smile at Cate, though she did not notice as her attention was still on Karamzin.

"You, know each other?" The Colonel seemed to remember his manners.

"Yes, you know the embassy circuit, it's a small world." Cate replied and Sara's heart leapt as she turned smiling eyes towards her.

"But we're to lose you from Moscow, isn't that what you said?" Karamzin asked Cate.

"Yes, I go to Kiev early tomorrow morning. There are negotiations I have to conduct on the spot."

"But you'll be back soon, I trust?" Karamzin asked, apparently with true interest.

"Possibly not, it depends how things go." Cate said lightly, her eyes now looking around the room, avoiding Sara's.

"Ah, that's a pity."

"Yes, a real pity." Sara said weakly. She felt hot and dizzy, sick even. She quickly put down her empty glass and pressed both hands on a nearby table. She looked as if she were stretching, in fact she was keeping herself up as she felt her legs weakening beneath her.

"Tired?" Karamzin asked Sara.

"You know these receptions."

Karamzin looked at this watch. "Ah, time I must be going, I think. Lady Hammond, can I offer you a lift?"

"That's very kind, thank you."

Sara could not stay to hear any more. "Thank you for coming Colonel, if you'll just excuse me." She walked quickly towards the toilet, hesitating at the door to the salon to watch Cate and Karamzin walking towards the exit, arms decorously linked, as if husband and wife.

Thoughts spiralled through Sara's mind, she tried to convince herself that Cate had been lying for some reason about going away, that it was all some scam on the colonel, but it would not work, she realised the dagger had been her farewell present. Sara knew she would have hours thinking over what she had done or said wrong, trying to get herself off by thinking Cate was not the kind for commitment anyway, that she lived and loved fast and that was part of her charm, yet Sara knew that for herself she would still be aching at the remains of the dreams she had built so high. For the moment Sara consoled herself with the thought that she had been dumped badly by men over the years, it made her a woman of the world to have been sacked by a woman too, a 'lady' at that. Sara's stomach stirred and she hurried as quickly as she could in this dress. Fortunately she made it to the toilets before the vomiting started.

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