Undercover Angel Ch. 04

Michele blinked as the flash went off in her eyes.

"Ok; one more photo, and this time keep your eyes open for me luv ok?" the man behind the camera said.

Mike had done some research before he had ripped off Tony Leonardo and he had located a man named Harold Brown who could produce good quality counterfeit identity documents. Harold had agreed to provide Michele with a passport and a driver's licence in the name of 'Michele Nylons' using a fake address. Michele was having her picture taken so that the documents could be prepared and be ready in about five days as promised by Harold. Michele wanted to get out of the country as fast as she could.

"One hundred thousand now; the rest on delivery ok?" Michele said to Harold, handing him a thick envelope.

"No worries luv; see ya in few days," he winked at Michele.

Michele left Harold with the number of a pre-paid cell phone she had purchased the day before and let herself out and made her way out onto the streets of Kings Cross. She had been in Sydney for two days and was anxious to leave. Although she had no trouble fitting in with the eclectic and often bizarre inhabitants of Sydney's most disparate suburb, she had the feeling that Tony was hot on her trail.

She had spent most of the last two days in her hotel room, only venturing out at night to get something to eat and drink. Last night she had ventured into one of the many gaming parlours and dropped nearly a thousand dollars on the poker machines. Of course she could afford the money, but she was concerned that her gambling addiction was returning. She had rationalised playing the slot machines as a form of amusement that did not involve interacting with others; but she was smart enough to know a rationalisation from the truth.

She stopped at a liquor store and bought a bottle of scotch and two packets of cigarettes and then headed back to the Crest hotel vowing that tonight she would only go out for a meal and would stay clear of the gaming rooms.

Steve had lost Michele's trail at Central Station and by the time he got there, the XPT had been at the platform for over four hours and Michele was long gone. A porter told him that he had seen a woman matching Michele's description get into a taxi. Steve had been unable to locate the taxi driver but he had one of his contacts working through all of the taxi companies' computer systems looking for taxis leaving Central Station around that time. The problem was there were hundreds of them.

He had prowled the streets for a while, but Sydney was a huge city and it was hard to know where to start; besides she might have moved on already, but there was still no signs of activity on Mike Harris's credit cards and if his passport or other identity documents had been used to hire a car or purchase a plane ticket he would have known about it immediately.

Steve was sitting in the hotel lobby drinking a cup of coffee when a brainstorm hit him. How could he be so stupid? Mike couldn't use any of his identity documents without triggering off any number of alerts so he would need to get new ones. But now that Mike was getting around as a transvestite would he get male or female identity documents; or would he perhaps get a set of each?

It didn't matter; Steve now had a lead. He went back to his hotel room and started working the phones and fired off a string of emails. By late afternoon he had list of forgers and counterfeiters who worked out of Sydney. Working methodically through the list, it took him three days before he knocked on the apartment door of Mr Harold Brown. Steve introduced himself at the door and explained that he was working for Tony Leonardo.

Harold let Steve into his apartment with trepidation; he'd never met Steve Marshall before, but he knew his reputation. He offered him a drink and they both sat down and lit cigarettes and sipped at their beers.

"So how's business?" Steve smiled at Harold; the sort of smile a crocodile gives a wallaby.

"Well you know; so-so," Harold replied.

"What can I do for you?"

Steve had enlarged the best frame out of the video stream that had been taken of Michele getting into her car at the service station outside of Wodonga by the surveillance camera and had printed off a few copies. He slid one across the coffee table to Harold and watched his face intently for any expression of recognition.

Harold had been in the game too long to give away any facial expressions and he kept a poker face as he picked up the print and looked at it intently. He recognised Michele immediately and although he had not asked Michele anything about who she really was or why a transvestite would want counterfeit identity documents; he knew that if Steve Marshall was after her she was in serious trouble.

"Who is she?" he asked.

Steve stared at Harold for about thirty seconds, holding him in a steely gaze before taking a sip of his beer and answering.

"Doesn't matter mate; have you seen her?"

"Nah; nice looking woman though. Bit heavy on the makeup if you ask me; but if you like that sort of thing?" Harold left the question hanging.

"What sort of thing?" Steve inquired.

"Never mind; sorry I can't be of assistance," Harold said.

"What about this guy?" Steve asked, sliding a picture of Mike Harris across the table.

Harold picked up the picture and looked at it briefly.

"Nah; ain't seen him either."

Steve stood up and stretched but made no indication that he was leaving.

"Can I use your shit-house?" he asked.

"Sure down the hall; second door on the right," Harold said, smiling.

When Steve went into the toilet Harold began frantically searching for the telephone number that Michele had left with him. Steve ducked out of the toilet and went into Harold's studio and began searching through the documents Harold had left out on a desk. Meanwhile Harold had found the card with Michele's phone number on it and was punching the number into his mobile phone when Steve returned, pointing an evil looking small calibre pistol at him and holding up Michele's passport and driver's licence with his other hand. Harold turned off the phone and put it down on the table and raised his hands.

"She's a tranny; nice sort. A bit big; but she carries it off; you know," Harold said matter of factly.

"Her mobile number's on that card there; don't know where she's staying though."

Steve held up the passport and drivers licence for Michele Nylons.

"You made these for her?"

"Yeah; I just have to rough em up a bit; you know, make them look used, not new."

"I was going to call her tomorrow to tell her to pick them up." Harold saw no point in lying now that his life depended on his answers.

"We can do this two ways Harold; you help me and I let you go; or you can fuck me around and I kill you." Steve pointed the pistol at Harold's head.

Harold nodded his compliance.

"Ok; you get the fuck out of town, take a holiday in Bali; go get a t-shirt or whatever. I don't care; but you get the fuck out of town tonight and you stay away for a week. If you try to contact or warn her I'll find you and cut yer nuts off and feed them to you! Deal?"

"Well Mister Marshall you seem to be under the misunderstanding that I give a fuck about this tranny; please get out of my way; I need to pack for a plane flight I'm taking tonight," Harold smiled.

"I like a man who knows what's best for him; have a nice trip Harold." Steve smiled back and put away the pistol.

He picked up the card with Michele's phone number written on it, put the passport and driver's licence in his jacket pocket and let himself out.

Steve sat in his hotel room looking at Michele's passport and driver's licence. He glanced over at the bedside table where Michele's pantyhose lay in a tangled heap. They were now a sperm encrusted mess; he had been unable to control himself and had been masturbating into them for days and smelling the perfume she had left on them whilst he watched the video stream of her flashing her legs and panties. He wouldn't wash them because he wanted to keep her fragrance on the pantyhose.

He started to harden as a plan formulated in his mind; he smiled to himself and then flipped up the screen on his laptop and reached for the nylons again as he opened his flies.

Michele's mobile phone rang.

"I have your passport and driver's licence," a voice said when she answered.

"Who is this?" Michele answered immediately suspicious.

"I'm a friend of Harold's; he had to get out of town in a hurry and he gave me your passport and driver's licence and your phone number," Steve said, not really lying.

"How do I know you're not setting me up?" she answered.

"Easy luv; here's how we do this, you decide where and when we meet and I will be there. You can control the meeting; all I want is the money that you owe Harold."

Michele thought about it for a few seconds and then she responded.

"Crest hotel; ten o'clock tonight; call me when you're in the lobby and I'll give you my room number."

At precisely ten o'clock that night Michele's phone rang and she gave her room number to Steve Marshall and waited nervously for him to come up to her room.

She had hatched a plan earlier in the afternoon and had then gone out shopping. She was now dressed in the clothes that she had purchased during the afternoon. She wore a bright-red leather miniskirt, a white satin blouse and four-inch, bright-red, open toe, high heels. Underneath she wore a black satin and lace Basque with attached suspender straps and see-through white nylon panties. She wore lashings of makeup, jewellery and perfume and a black bob wig; she completed the ensemble with black, fifteen-denier, fully-fashioned seamed stockings.

She felt positively slutty dressed this way, the hem of her skirt didn't even cover the welts of her stockings and the dark reinforced bands, clipped with silver clips, to her suspenders were quite visible. Her red painted toenails showed opaquely through the reinforced toes of her stockings and peeped out through her open-toe high heels.

Her plan was to seduce whoever came through the door; get her hands on the forged identity documents and then to dispose of the man professing to be Harold's friend by either paying him off or alternatively by using the pistol she had secreted under the mattress. The pistol had set her back five thousand dollars but it was guaranteed untraceable. She had no qualms about using seduction as a weapon; her experiences over the last few days had converted her from a prude to a slut. She enjoyed the power she had over men.

Steve opened the door and walked into Michele's hotel room and was immediately aroused by the sight before him. The tall, well built, transvestite with long legs and pretty face was spectacular. He couldn't take his eyes off her legs; her stocking tops were actually visible below the hem of her skirt. His cock began to thicken immediately.

They each made no pretence of making formal introductions.

"You must be Michele," Steve said and walked over and took Michele in his arms and kissed her passionately, rubbing his body against her.

Michele slavered her tongue around in Steve's mouth and felt his erection rub against her through her clothing. She manoeuvred a hand between their bodies and squeezed Steve's penis through the material of his jeans. Steve groaned and pushed her back onto the bed and fell down on top of her, never breaking their kiss.

He humped away at her, his need for release overwhelming. Michele reached between their bodies and opened his flies and freed Steve's cock from the prison of his trousers; it felt long, thick, and meaty. She reached out and scrambled her fingers around the bedside table until she eventually found a condom packet which she opened one-handed and then slid the condom over Steve's throbbing phallus. Then she reached out for the KY jelly and slathered his latex-clad phallus with the lubricant. She had lubricated herself internally in anticipation of Steve's arrival.

Steve didn't even remove her panties; he simply slid the gusset to one side and then slowly slid his entire length inside Michele until his scrotum rested against her buttocks. Michele grunted as Steve's cock filled her, but she liked the feeling of the hard member crammed inside her and especially liked the tingling feeling emanating from her prostate whenever Steve's glans rubbed against it.

Their fucking was almost savage; Steve pounded away at Michele as she rose her buttocks up off the bed to meet his thrusts. They never broke their kiss and they gasped and groaned into each others mouths as their tongues entwined and teeth occasionally cracked together with the ferocity of the sex. Steve had managed to shuck off his shirt and when Michele bought up her legs and wrapped them around him he savoured the feel of Michele's stockings rubbing against his skin.

The fucking became a frenzy, Steve jack-hammered his cock in and out Michele's tight anus and Michele, impaled on Steve's hard throbbing cock, clung to him and wriggled and shook her arse. She thrust her hips upward to match his strokes ensuring his full length penetrated her slick anal sheath and crossed her ankles behind Steve's back, her stockings hissing as they rubbed together and against Steve's sensitive skin.

Michele felt her orgasm approaching as Steve howled and moaned with the rush of his own climax. Michele felt Steve's cock convulse deep inside her as he filled the condom with his hot seed. Michele's cock was erect and rubbing against Steve's stomach through the flimsy material of her panties as Steve savagely fucked her. The pressure and friction induced Michele's own climax and she groaned in ecstasy as she flooded her panties with hot semen. Steve's cock pounding in and out of her anus further stimulating her and she experienced the most intense orgasm that she had ever experienced.

Steve's thrusting slowed down as his orgasm subsided and eventually he lay still on top of Michele with his slowly deflating penis buried in her anus. He was still kissing Michele and he could tell that her orgasm was still raging through her body, he felt her penis convulsing in her panties and her hot seed flooding through the panty material and soaking his belly.

Michele's climax began to subside and as she came down from the sexual high she rummaged around under the mattress trying to find the gun; it was time to talk seriously to this guy. She scrambled her fingers around but couldn't find the gun and she started to panic. Steve finally broke the kiss and smiled down at her.

"Looking for this?" he said.

"Fuck!!!" Michele knew that she was now deep trouble.

"Not for a while luv; just had one," Steve smiled down at her.

Steve eased his cock out of Michele's anus and knelt on the bed between her spread legs. He took off the condom and flicked it in the general direction of the bin and wiped his cock and belly with the bed sheet. Then he stood up and put his cock back into his pants and zipped his flies; the small pistol he had pointed at Michele hardly wavered. He kept the gun on her as he backed towards the bathroom and reached for a towel. He threw the towel at Michele.

"Here honey, clean yourself up," he said.

Michele wiped at her semen soaked panties and looked up at Steve. He was a well built handsome guy in his forties. She thought that she could become quite attached to a man like him. Too bad he was probably going to kill and take her money. She pulled down her skirt and sat on the bed.

"I suppose I should introduce myself; I'm Steve Marshall," he smiled down at her.

Michele paled; she knew who Steve Marshall was and, what he did for Tony Leonardo. She resigned herself to the fact that he was either going to kill her, or more than likely, call Tony and hold her for him to deal with; either way she was screwed.

"I can tell by the look on your face that you know who I am," he said.

"I've been following you for quite a while now Michele and I must say that you have impressed me with your tenacity and ingenuity."

"So what do we do now?" Steve asked.

"What do you mean? You have me; and you have Tony's money and the books," she answered.

"I'll let you in on little secret Michele: I don't really like Tony Leonardo but I fancy the pants off you." Steve said, grinning.

Michele was quite surprised by Steve's response.

"So I've been thinking thing over the last few days and I have a proposition for you," Steve went on.

"What about if we share the money together and you share my bed; sort of a boyfriend and girlfriend thing?"

Michele was now flabbergasted, but what could she do?

"Well we've only just met," Michele answered coyly.

"I don't really know you and you don't know me."

"Well that's the beauty of the arrangement; I don't want to know about your past, I just want to know you now; as Michele Nylons," Steve replied.

"We take the money and get on a plane to somewhere nice; where our type of relationship wouldn't be so unusual. We give it a try and if works it works; if it doesn't we split the money and go our separate ways."

"But; what about Tony?" Michele asked.

"We have his books; we tell him that if anything ever happens to us his books get delivered to the cops." Steve chuckled and lowered the pistol.

"You are one sneaky fucker Steve Marshall," Michele smiled back at him.

"Anyway; what makes you think I would want to share my bed with you?" she teased.

Steve dropped the gun on the bed and knelt down and kissed Michele passionately; the kiss seemed to go forever and Michele responded enthusiastically. Steve finally broke the kiss.

"Yeah; you wanna!" he smiled and began to kiss her again.

Tony Leonardo received an email from Steve Marshall a week later explaining that he would never again see the money stolen from him by Mike Harris. It also went on to explain that if Tony made any attempt to find or harm either Steve Marshall or Mike Harris the books containing the financial breakdown of Tony's criminal enterprises would be handed to the police.

The email made no mention that Mike Harris was now living full time as a woman named Michele Nylons.

When Steve had hit the send button to transmit the email from the bedroom of their San Francisco apartment Michele had been on her knees leaving traces of her plum-red lipstick along Steve's hardening phallus.

Steve closed down his laptop and lifted Michele to her feet.

"Get over to the bed you hussy; I'll teach you to interrupt me whilst I'm trying to work," he laughed and slapped her on the arse.

The End