Stiletto Assassin

Erica slid smoothly to her knees in front of him, looking up at him with the baby doe expression that she'd spent hours perfecting in the mirror. She slid her manicured nails across his jeans, tracing the outline of his rock-hard manhood. Erica felt him twitch, begging to be unleashed from the denim prison. She slowly, slowly, unzipped his pants, and Hector's cock slid out.

Keeping her eyes on him, Erica sank her lips down onto Hector's meaty cock. She deep-throated Hector's manhood as he groaned in pleasure, his hands on her shoulders pushing Erica forward. She looked up at Hector and saw the look of drunken bliss on his face as he stared down.

"Oh yeah, baby, suck it," Hector said softly, as Erica sucked and stroked his cock. "Let me sit down." He slumped into the chair, and she jerked him for another minute or so, until she was sure he was passing out.

Guess the Roofie finally kicked in. Erica felt the wetness in her undies, and the after-tremors of her own orgasm beginning to subside. The buttplug heightened the experience tremendously, of course. Evelyn was right, she thought for the fortieth time that day- the attention of a man was a heady drug, indeed. The fact that she could provoke such a response from one of her former coworkers was intoxicating. Evelyn. Erica missed her so much. Her older savior left no family behind when she passed away but had taken the time to prepare a will leaving the remains of her fortune to "Erica." They'd even taken the time to set up identity paperwork with the state.

As Hector snored heavily, Erica stood up and brushed herself off, checking her makeup and outfit in the mirror to ensure that she was presentable. Then she quickly searched both Hector and his luggage while he sawed logs. Erica photographed his notebook and copied the thumb drive and laptop she found while she sanitized the room of her fingerprints and DNA.

One Week Later

Erica awoke and found herself handcuffed to a chair in the center of an empty room. She quickly took stock of the situation. Still dressed, thankfully, wig and heels in place. Erica wore her black sweater, black and white plaid skirt, and black stockings. Five-inch black pumps completed the ensemble, and her arms, neck, and ears were adorned with matching jewelry. Erica knew because she was staring straight at a mirror that ran from floor to ceiling on the wall she faced. The door to the room opened with a click, and her heart lurched when she saw who it was. Xavier Martinez. The architect of her betrayal walked in. He wore a bespoke suit and his gray blond hair was perfectly coiffed. Xavier stopped shorted and openly ogled her, taking in her hair, makeup, outfit, and especially her legs. He gave a little wolf whistle with a smirk on his attractive features.

"Eric, you've changed," Xavier said as he stood over her. "And you look surprisingly good. We saw the surveillance footage of you seducing Hector, and I gotta admit, I might have fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker."

"Eric is dead," she said defiantly, glaring up at him. "You killed him, remember?"

"Eric was a liability. He was untrustworthy. Now, Erica on the other hand, she could be useful. There's a lot of potential work for a crossdressing assassin, one that can seduce both men and women. IF you want the work. Are you interested?"

Erica was silent. She looked at herself in the mirror and thought about everything she'd been through for the last year. The near death, the journey of self-discovery, the love, and the heartbreak. She looked up into Xavier's eyes. "I'm interested, provided the price is right."

Xavier smiled. "I'd hoped so. I hoped you might have learned from your earlier experiences about crossing me. But I need to know that I can trust you, Eric. I mean Erica." Xavier walked behind her and placed a handcuff key in the palm of her hand. "There's too many prying eyes here," he said softly into her ear. "Let's continue this discussion in my office."

She quickly uncuffed herself and followed Xavier out of the chamber. The top floor of Strategic Concepts Worldwide has relatively unchanged from her time there. Erica got a few glances as she followed Xavier through the bullpen of desk cubicles and past the operations center, monitoring real time activities all over the globe. How much was because she was the prodigal son returning as a daughter and how much was simple ogling of the female form was hard to tell. She didn't know how much the rest of the staff knew about the situation.

"Eric used to drink whiskey neat. What does Erica like?" Xavier asked as they entered his corner office. It looked the same- tastefully appointed, with an elegant sitting area and his enormous oak desk dominating the room. She noticed her purse sitting on a table on the side, near Xavier's personal bathroom.

"Erica likes Manhattans, three olives. You mind if I freshen up?"

"Please do, I'll get us some drinks and we can continue our discussion." Erica felt the intensity of Xavier's stare. It was a predatory gaze, one reserved for quarry. The focused burn was on her as she strode into the bathroom, stilettos clicking on the marble floor. Inside, she reapplied some of her eye makeup, and slowly added a coat of a lipstick she'd had personally made by an old chemist friend. Crimson Oblivion, Evelyn had jokingly called it. Erica puckered her lips to apply it and then stepped back to observe herself. She looked good, very passable. If Eric had had a sister, she might look just like Erica did right now. She took a breath to calm herself down, then stepped out of the bathroom. Game time.

She found Xavier in a state of repose upon his sofa, a whiskey on the rocks in one hand, and a lit cigar in the other. He tapped the seat next to him lightly, where a martini glass sat, three olives floating languidly, as requested.

"We were talking about the value you can add to the team with your newfound, versatility," Xavier began, openly ogling Erica's legs as she sat down and crossed them demurely.

She took a gulp of the martini, which burned as she swallowed it. "Yes, I believe that approaching targets as a woman presents distinct advantages, particularly in more formal settings, or leisure clubs. I can operate a bit freer than a normal man can."

And not just your average joe," Xavier said. "Many of our targets have some kinky fetishes, and a crossdresser, transvestite, she-male, whatever, can be a perfect avenue past their normally guarded defenses."

Looks like someone has a kinky fetish of their own, Erica thought, examining Xavier's bulging groin. As if he noticed her stare, he absently adjusted his erection in his pants. "Absolutely," she said. "There's all kinds out there."

"Do you think you could seduce, say, me?" Xavier asked, smirking slightly. "The straightest of the straight?"

Erica laughed before she could stop herself. She saw the flash of anger come over Xavier's features when she did so. "Well, you are certainly an alpha, but I bet I could."

"How much do you bet?" Xavier countered, trying to calm himself with visible effort. "If I can resist you, what do I get?"

She leaned over to him and slowly took the cigar from him. She inhaled and blew it demurely out. "If you can resist me, I'll do a job for you for free," Erica answered. "But if you can't resist me, you reinstate all my clearances and give me that promotion I deserved two years ago."

"What does "resist you" entail?" Xavier asked, his interest clearly piqued.

"Oh, you successfully keep me from making you come," Erica replied sweetly. "From tasting your hot, thick seed. Sliding your wet cock over my tits as--"

"Okay, Okay! I get it. That seems doable enough, I bet--"

"What do you bet, sweetie?" Erica asked, placing her manicured hand softly on Xavier's groin. He was frozen. For the first time since Erica knew him, he couldn't make a decision. Xavier watched her with a curious sense of hypnotic fascination, like he was watching a slow-motion car crash. Like a boa constrictor approaching, slowly coiling around him. Erica stroked one hand up and down on his hard cock, straining the stitching of his pants for release. With her other hand she rubbed up and down on his arm, stroked his hair. Xavier's breath became labored, and he shuddered.

"Want to touch my legs?" Without waiting for an answer, Erica lifted her legs and put them in his lap, sliding them back and forth over his groin. His arms and hands found her stockinged gams as if pulled by a tractor beam, and Xavier ran his fingers over them, exhaling heavily. She felt the iron bar of his manhood poking into her calves. Xavier moaned as he fondled her legs, from her high-heeled pumps up to the edge of her stocking tops. With effort, he gathered himself and pushed her legs off, standing and walking over to the window. He looked at her, breathing hard.

"That was certainly.... Tempting. But I know it's Eric under all that makeup and wig and clothing and high heels."

Erica stood up, walking around the room, heels clicking on the floor. "Is it, Xavi? Is it Eric, or has it been Erica all along?" She walked over near him. Maybe Erica is the real me." She put her hand on his chest, feeling the coiled tension there. The heat of attraction that smoked off his skin like steam. Erica slowly slid her hand down his chest, feeling the tautness of his abdomen before touching the hardness in his pants. "I want you to take it out. Can you take it out so I can see it?" She began to unzip his fly, watching his face intently.

He made no move to stop her. Sighing, he reached in and pulled his cock out. Eight inches of rigid flesh, a gun aimed right at her head. Xavier moaned as her fingers made first contact with his manhood, in the open air. Fifty floors below, pedestrians scurried about their daily routines. If anyone was watching in the office building around them, they were about to get a show. Erica sank to her knees on the thick carpet in front of him. Staring into his eyes, Erica rasped her nails across the shaft, drawing a grown from him and a gasp as she drew a little blood.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she tittered.

Xavier slapped her across the face. "Watch, it, sissy." He grabbed her face roughly with one hand and leaned down, kissing her hard. "You're mine, now, understand?"

Erica swallowed heavily and nodded.

"Now suck my dick." He slapped the head of his cock on her lips and grabbed the back of her head, holding it against her cheek.

She opened her crimson lips just in time to take him inside. He was on fire, pistoning himself into her mouth. In and out. She stared up at him while he fucked her mouth. It was all she could do not to gag.

"You like that, you dirty girl? You like being my bitch?" He murmured to himself as he thrust himself on her. Seeing her kneeling beneath him must have been too much for him to handle, for with a great cry he came, spurting hot semen into her mouth. Erica swallowed every drop, watching the ecstasy wash over Xavier.

He staggered back a step, then looked for a chair to sit. "Oh man, I've never cum like that before. I'm dizzy."

"That's the drug, Xavi," Erica replied sweetly. "It's a fast-moving paralytic poison. I designed lipstick as a delivery mechanism and scratched you so it could enter your bloodstream." She tapped his slowly deflated cock while she stared at his frozen form triumphantly. "Your heart will stop soon. I'll take your laptop with me, transfer your personal funds, as well as your files. And on top of it all, I won the bet."

He murmured incoherently, pawing a hand in the air at her.

She needed to get back. Peter was probably driving himself crazy with worry. "You tried to kill the wrong man." She paused for a moment and watched him begin to twitch. A precursor to the end. She walked over to his desk, heels clicking on the floor. "The wrong woman, that is."