Too High a Price

"So what you're suggesting is that my approach to a target is in large part about sex. Why the fuck did you people choose me? This sounds like much too high a price if you ask me. Why the fuck didn't you just ask for a volunteer?"

"I'm pleased to see that you didn't bother to ask the trivial question of why we didn't just use an actual young woman. Anyhow, to answer the question you did ask, any man who would volunteer to do such a thing would in all likelihood be a pervert and interested only in slaking his own depraved thirsts. No, we needed a man who would find this entire scenario distasteful. A man who could do what was necessary but from beginning to end, was entirely focused on the mission."

John sat on the bed in silence. It struck him to realize that his legs were somehow now curled up under him in a decidedly teenage girl pose. To a normal man the pose would look cute, sexy even. To a cynic it might seem deliberately provocative. The fact was that John had sat this way without a conscious thought. Female hormones indeed. Thankfully Mr Green gave it no notice.

"Now then, to your real life and permanent cover story. You are a brand new Second Lieutenant, US Army, assigned to JSOC headquarters. This will allow you to travel freely, without questions and on the spur of the moment. Due to your status as an active duty military officer, Florida law permits you to drink alcohol and carry a weapon, despite your official age of nineteen. As an aside, you need to get your new friend Christie to teach you how to do make-up. Without it you are undoubtedly beautiful but without some effort you don't actually look old enough to drive, never mind being in the Army."

"You know about Christie?"

"Come now, Miss Stalgren, of course we do. You don't think that we just let you run off without some kind of supervision, do you? We know everything about her. Staff Sergeant, USAF, admin specialist and just reenlisted last month. She will remain stationed here for as long as she is needed. Because this is a JSOC base and she handles personnel matters, she has a secret clearance though you might be interested to know that she violated security policy just this morning by looking your records up."

"I hope you'll keep that quiet."

Mr Green smiled for the first time. "Looking out for her, are we?"

John frowned. "No, don't be silly. It's just... never mind."

"Don't worry about it. She is quite attractive and despite your appearance you are still a heterosexual male. We do not object to your, ah, friendship."

Mr Green seemed to be implying that he knew he and Christie were more than friends and it concerned him that they, whoever they were, were watching him that closely.

"Back to your cover. Your parents died when you were six and in the first grade. You were raised by your semi-retired grandfather on a small ranch in East Texas and home schooled by him before being sent off to college at fifteen. He died of a stroke last year while you were away at Texas Tech. You sold the cattle and your horse, graduated early and joined the Army. I will be sending you details soon so that you can study them. It will be important that you know every detail of your life as Zoey Stalgren."

"You've created a hell of a story that makes me sound like a genius. I'm not sure I can pull that off."

"Don't sell yourself short. You weren't picked out at random, I can assure you. You can do this. The fact that you are a thirty two year old man with unrivaled life experience will help you play the part. Plus, the homeschooled genius persona will help to cover for gaps in your ability to behave like a normal teenage girl. We are confident that you will succeed in living this cover."

"Maintaining a relationship with Christie will help me learn how to act like a girl. Will that be acceptable?"

"Of course it will." With an out of character smirk Mr Green added, "On that note I'll let you get ready for your date."

Chapter 6

John tossed his gym bag up into the truck and stepped on the retractable step, ready to climb in after it. He was exhausted from the intense workout at the karate studio and didn't notice the man approach, to within three feet of him in the dark parking lot. He jumped and nearly fell when the man spoke.

"Your situational awareness needs work, Miss Stalgren."

John turned with an angry look on his normally angelic face. His stance was unconsciously aggressive, feet apart and arms loose at his sides. He sighed at the sight of Mr Green and crossed his arms in irritation. The brief display of aggression caused Mr Green to smile. He didn't have the heart to tell John that his supposedly intimidating pose was adorable.

"It's been two months since we first met and you chose a dark parking lot?"

"We've been busy. The gears of the machine have finally turned. Would you care to share a cup of coffee with me?"

"I like how you made that sound like a request. Where?"

You can follow me. It's not far."

"Fine."

Mr Green watched as John abruptly turned his back on him, long ponytail flying and climbed up into the modified 4x4 F350. He noted how unaware John was of the skin tight yoga pants and how they displayed his body so provocatively. He was clearly allowing his adventurous girlfriend to dress him.

The diner was a hole in the wall, old and with few customers. John spotted Mr Green in the back and headed that way, very aware of the two perverts watching him as he walked by. He slid into the corner booth, uneasy about having his back to the door and of the fact that his feet didn't touch the floor.

"I'm glad you could join me on such short notice, Zoey.

"Trying to be funny?"

"Yes, well. Something has come up. We need you to report to New York in twelve hours."

"That's awfully short notice. For how long?"

"Weeks, probably. No more than two months."

"Will I be briefed when I get there?"

"Yes, you'll be met at the airport by an Uber driver." He slid an envelope across the table and continued. "This will establish your new identity. The driver's license is an intentionally obvious fake but TSA won't give you any trouble. This is purely intelligence gathering and we don't expect any physical danger to you but of course, be vigilant."

"I'll need to get home and pack. And I need to tell Christie that I'll be gone for a while."

"Of course. You need to maintain your cover down here."

"Yeah, that too.

John was dizzy and out of breath after the prolonged assault. Christie was merciless tonight, as she pumped her favorite dildo in and out of his pussy. He was soaking wet and Christie would on occasion pull it out and attack her with her tongue.

Christie was fascinated by Zoey's pussy. It was nothing more than a tiny slit normally, completely smooth and hairless. Her lips were always hidden except on those occasions like this when her legs were spread wide and then she could see the delicious and delicate pink lips, wet and begging to be tasted.

"Please Christie, no more or I'll faint I swear. Please let me touch you."

It was midnight when they were finally forced to rest. They embraced in the dark under the warm covers, John with his back to Christie. She held him close with his perfect round breast in her hand, keeping John at a constant low level, hum of excitement. Every now and then she would flick his stiffened nipple with her thumb and John would squirm from the distracting jolt of a tingling little orgasm.

"Christie, I have to leave first thing in the morning. JSOC calls, I'm afraid."

Christie tensed behind him and squeezed his breast harder, possessively. "Oh no, for how long?"

"It's hard to say. I was told that I would be gone for several weeks but not more than two months."

"Two months! Oh, Zoey you can't. You're my best friend, you're my... I'll miss you so much. You have to call me every day!"

"Christie, I don't think I'll be able to call you at all until they send me home. You know I'll miss you too, don't you?"

"Yes, I know. Of course I know. What time is your flight?"

"It's at 0950. Can you take me?"

"Of course. I'll go in late."

Chapter 7

It was a nice, balmy late summer day down in Tampa but here on the sidewalk outside of La Guardia's arrivals, there was a chill in the air. Christie had insisted on dressing her up for New York and normally John loved to indulge her but this time he regretted it. He was wearing tight white skinny jeans and tall red platform sandals but the reason for the chill was the red silk halter top. His entire back was exposed to the breeze and it even found its way up the front to chill the bottom of his boobs. His normally erect nipples were working overtime today.

For twenty minutes John had given the brush-off to countless swarthy immigrant cabbies and more than a few pushy limo drivers. He was beginning to be concerned about the efficiency of the operation when finally he spotted the maroon Lincoln Navigator with dark tinted windows. It made its way through the mayhem of taxies and came to a smooth stop in front of him.

A middle aged non descript man ran around the front of the truck and opened the rear door for him. When he was settled in the man closed the door and hurried to toss the luggage in the back. He hopped back in and buckled his seat belt, then looked at John, slightly out of breath. He was trying hard not to stare.

"Seat belt, please."

"I'm good."

He gave John a dirty look, clearly not expecting any back talk from a girl. "I have no intention of getting into trouble for you being hurt in an accident."

"Then don't hit anything. Let's go, I've been waiting around this airport long enough."

Without another word, he pulled into the flow of traffic.

John walked into the apartment, amazed at the opulence. The driver dropped his bag and carry on at the door and closed it behind him, then locked it. Curious about what he was going to do next, John just stood there silently.

"How old are you?"

Remembering Mr Green's briefing, he told him that he was eighteen. This mission was going to be highly compartmentalized and this guy wasn't to know anything beyond his temporary name and age and a brief backstory.

"Bullshit. You're not eighteen and you're not old enough to dress like that. Do you have anything more appropriate?"

It was time to play his part; timid, obedient and easily frightened. "Um, I guess so. And I am too eighteen."

"Right. Well then sweetheart, go in there and take a shower and wash that crap off of your face and put it on."

John did as he was told, glad actually to have a chance to clean up after traveling all day. He put his hair up in a towel to keep it dry and took a long hot shower. He felt like new afterwards and brushed out his hair, letting it fall loose, straight and silky. Looking through his bag he pulled out the very first dress that he ever bought, the trapeze that he found in the teen department at the BX, and wore the day that he met Christie. He briefly wondered how she was doing before putting her out of his mind. He had a mission.

John slipped the dress over his head and zipped it up, then put on a pair of Keds. He had a brand new pack of underwear, cotton bikinis with a variety of hearts and other girly crap on them and he slipped a pair on. It felt funny he thought, not having ever worn panties before but he had a new image to uphold. When he came out of the bedroom, he found the driver and another man, this one around sixty and fat, sitting on the couch waiting for him.

"What took you so long? We've been waiting for almost an hour."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what time it was."

The fat old man stared at John, as if he was judging him. He glanced at the floor, a classic shy and subservient pose. The old letch didn't have a prayer.

"Vinny tells me that you insist that you're eighteen."

"I am!"

He pulled John's purse from behind a throw pillow and rummaged through it. It was time to reinforce the impression that he was lying by being petulant in his best whiney little girl voice.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Shut up and behave." He studied John's Iowa driver's license and counted his cash, one hundred and fifty seven dollars which he promptly put in his pocket.

"This is the worst fake ID I've ever seen. I can't believe those dipshit TSA guys let you on the plane with this. What's your real name?"

"That is my name."

"If you keep lying to me I'm going to get angry. Do you want me to get angry?"

He whispered his answer, glancing again at the floor. "No."

"Then quit fucking around and tell me your right name and age."

"Katrina Garvin. I'm fifteen, but I'll be sixteen in a couple of months. Where's Mrs Williamson? She said that she'd be here to meet me. I'm going to be her Au Pair."

The disgusting old man grinned as if he'd just won the lottery. "Mrs Williamson changed her mind. She doesn't want to hire you any more but don't worry, you still have a job. You'll be working for me. Great pay and benefits, plus room and board."

"Doing what exactly?"

"Whatever I tell you to do. Now you're getting on my nerves. If you want something to eat, the kitchen is through there. Take it to your room and don't come out until I tell you."

The big house was the same as all of the others in this part of the Hamptons. Opulent, private and reeking of money. The iron gate opened slowly for the big Navigator and John studied every detail visible through the tinted passenger window.

The fat old man and the driver Vinny got out at the top of the graveled circular driveway and when the back door opened, John climbed out. The old man grabbed his upper arm and pulled him along, up the broad front stairway to the door. John turned to see that the truck was being driven away, presumably to an out of the way parking area. There was no way to guess how many people might be here.

The door opened and they were ushered in by a uniformed Butler and led into a room buzzing with conversation. They were met by a middle-aged woman wearing an extravagant red gown. "Mr Adleson, how nice of you to come."

The greeting reminded him of an invitation that wasn't voluntary. He looked around the luxuriously appointed room while Adleson and the woman exchanged fake pleasantries. There were at least forty people here, all dressed in expensive suits and gowns, drinking and laughing.

John turned his attention to the woman who had apparently just noticed his presence.

"Abe, is this what you've brought me? She is adorable! Such perfect skin and her hair!"

It took immense willpower to not flinch as she ran her fingers through John's brushed out hair. His impression of her had evolved from just a fake, pretending to be friendly to a dangerous predator.

"And what is your name, you darling girl?"

"Katrina."

"How lovely."

"Abe, you have outdone yourself this time."

"That's kind of you to say so, Mrs Bronstein."

"Now if you'll excuse me Abe, I'm going to take this child around and show her off."

With that she took John's elbow and led him away, leaving the fat old man and his driver behind and forgotten. For the next hour Mrs Bronstein dragged him throughout the room where he was displayed to her friends as if he were a new puppy. They gushed over him with comments primarily about his appearance.

Finally he was introduced to someone on Mr Green's list of potential targets. Mrs Bronstein seemed uncharacteristically deferential to the tall, skinny and bent over old man. She held John's arm tightly as if he might wander away.

"Mr Rothstein, I'd like you to meet this sweet child. She came to me recently from a friend, just fifteen years old and with aspirations of becoming an Au Pair."

The crooked old man looked down at John, stared at him, in silence. John glanced up at the man's face and caught his tongue darting in and out of his mouth, unconsciously licking spittle from the corners of his mouth. He knew that his first impression would validate Mr Green's pet theory. This man was a pervert and child molester. It was time to toss out the bait.

"Pleased to meet you, sir." John said in his meekest, most innocent voice.

Rothstein's eyes widened briefly in almost hidden delight and John knew that he was hooked. Nothing more needed to be done by him, other than to look innocent and pretty. That obviously, was easy.

He didn't bother to address John but he did respond to Mrs Bronstein. "I'm having some friends over at my place on Palm Beach next Saturday. I'd like you and your new ward to come."

The man glanced lecherously at John and he looked up at him through his eyelashes before looking quickly down at the floor.

"In fact, why don't you come early. Say Friday morning and spend the weekend. I've been meaning to get to know you and your husband a little better for some time."

"That would be lovely, Mr Rothstein. We look forward to seeing you there."

It was apparent that these people used young girls as a sort of currency, a way to gain favor with their betters. Abraham Adleson had done the legwork of finding and seducing a vulnerable and naive young girl with promises of a job in exciting New York City.

He only kept John under his control for six hours before passing him on in exchange for some unknown compensation. He was for all intents and purposes a kidnapper and a pimp. It seemed likely that he victimized many young girls this way but few John imagined, wound up in a Hamptons mansion. He hated to think about what happened to the others.

Mrs Bronstein was no better. John would have thought that as a woman and likely as not a mother, she would have recoiled at the thought of abusing young girls this way but she was every bit as amoral and greedy as Adleson.

He was organizing his thoughts for the report that he would eventually write when Mrs Bronstein came into his room with another woman. She was around thirty five and plain, totally unremarkable actually and was clearly an employee of some sort.

"Katrina, this is Ms McNeal. She will be taking care of you while you are here. Do as she says and we'll all get along famously."

John looked at them closely and it was apparent to him that this McNeal woman was as hard and uncaring as her boss, though without the veneer of politeness.

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs Bronstein left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving John under the unflinching gaze of his new jailer. She went to the closet and came out with a change of clothes, tossing them on the bed.

"Strip. Off with your clothes."

John was shocked and for the first time since he got there he wasn't acting. "What?"

In a sterner voice she repeated herself. "You heard me. Don't be so damn mousey and take your clothes off. Hurry up now."

Now that he was over the shock he got back into character. He toed off his Keds and reached behind his neck to unbutton the collar of his dress, then let it slide down his arms to pool around his feet. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, in an innocent and shy pose.

"Come on, the panties too. I don't have all night."

Slowly, reluctantly, John lowered his arms and bent at the waist, peeling the cotton heart panties down his legs. He stood up again, failing miserably at covering his nakedness.

McNeal's eyes raked over his body with a surprised hunger. She just stared in silence.

"Put your damn arms down. You act like you have something that I've never seen."

John did as she commanded and stood before her, stiffly, with his arms at his sides.

"You shave your pussy?"

"Um, no."

"Liar."

She walked quickly to John, looked down at him and suddenly clamped her hand on his pussy. She felt his skin, all around where his hair should have been. She teased down lower along the side of his lips, feeling his skin. She was not gentle like Christie was but still, his new body betrayed him and he began to get excited. He was afraid that she would slide her finger between his lips and discover his wetness but thankfully, he was spared that indignity.