Nightmare in Terrorbywikidts©
Cody Daniels was only trying to help her country; she never dreamed things would come to this. She was patriotic and felt compelled to do whatever asked of her to aid in the capture of the terrorist known only as "Roberto". But lying in his bed, bound and gagged, Cody wondered why she let herself go this far in the Bureau's plan to nab the world's most wanted and hated man.
It was well known that Roberto had been involved in the bombings of two US embassy buildings, the hijacking, and destruction of flight 117 in Spain and numerous assassinations over the past five years. He was a master of disguise, an expert in explosives and his services available to anyone for the right price. He was like a shadow in the night; he was everywhere and nowhere. It was reported that he had been seen in Libya, Argentina and Germany on the same day. He was like a ghost, disappearing and reappearing in various places worldwide at the very same time. So, after three years of constant searching the Bureau was no closer to finding him than when he first appeared on the scene.
Roberto was born out of wedlock in Lebanon, the son of a wealthy Arab father and a woman of East German descent. He had been raised in France and attended the best schools which re-enforced his radical upbringing. At the age of twelve his father had been killed in an unsuccessful raid against a Jewish encampment in the Golan Heights, which resulted in he and his mother losing their monetary support from his father's family. Consequently, his mother turned to prostitution and died from an overdose of heroin when he was fifteen. Left on his own, he became very bitter and blamed the West for his parent's deaths and his homeless and penniless situation, vowing revenge on all the Capitalist pigs. He was eventually recruited and joined a radical anarchist splinter group of the French underground Communist Party, which sent him to Libya for training in worldwide terrorist activities. His early schooling at the elite French prep schools made him a natural in mixing and hobnobbing with society's upper crust, allowing him to obtain secrets and the goings on of the West's most powerful organizations and leaders. His teen years on the streets taught him how to be ruthless and uncaring toward his fellow man and woman so that his conscience was never a problem when he would casually walk away from the killing of dozens of innocent men, women and children in exacting his revenge on the Western powers.
The Bureau had been given a tip that Roberto had one weakness that he had kept a secret for many years, but finally leaked out somehow. Nobody was quite sure where the rumor came from or if it was indeed true or not. When it was first reported, there were many smirks and remarks made by those responsible for finding and eliminating him. The Bureau discounted the rumor at first, thinking it to be just another fabrication in the life of one who generated hundreds of rumors each year since his arrival on the international scene. But somehow the rumor kept popping up now and again, which started to give it some credence. It seemed that the international terrorist had a thing for transvestites and would often frequent the transsexual bars in whatever city he was hiding out in.
After dozens of unsuccessful attempts at locating and disposing of Roberto, someone came up with the idea that maybe they should take a chance and see if the rumor was indeed true. That the Bureau should recruit some transsexuals into the mix and just maybe they would be able to discover and uncover the mystic that was Roberto. The idea did not sit well with much of the top brass in the Bureau; it seemed ridiculous with no precedent, a needle in a haystack, a stab at the night and was destine to fail.
Enter Agent William Benjamin Franklin, Agent Franklin had been with Bureau for seven years, he had turned 34 two months prior but looked all of 25 with his freshly polished boyish features. He had been a stand out at the Academy, specializing in counter terrorist activities and been working on the Roberto case for the past year and a half. The inability to track him down had lead to a lot of frustration for him and the other members of the unit. When the idea first crossed his desk, he dismissed it just as the rest of the Bureau had.
The Ambassador from Venezuela was scheduled to meet with the President of the United States regarding the funding for new steps in America's war on drugs. He had spent a week in New York City visiting his daughter, who was entering her sophomore year at Columbia, and finalizing some trade agreements with a large Japanese electronics firm. The August heat and humidity in the Big Apple had been unbearable and he was anxious to get back to Washington where the weather was more tolerable. His entourage had just stepped onto the street in front of his hotel where the limo waited to take him to the airport. There was a rush of foot traffic on the street causing the Ambassador to hesitate and wait for a clear path to the limo. As the various street people strolled by, no one noticed the man in the jogging suit as he stepped in behind the group. Suddenly the Ambassador collapsed to his knees, clutching at the growing red spot that appeared where his heart once beat life into his now lifeless body. The Ambassador's guards pulled and waved their guns causing a panic on the street. Amid the confusion the man in the jogging suit had disappeared in the crowd. Roberto had stuck again.
Agent Franklin and the rest of the unit had taken a real tongue-lashing as the Bureau's top brass handed down the same chastising they had received earlier in the day. The press had a field day with the story and the specter of international terrorists running amuck in America. It was the lead story on all the local news telecasts that night and the stories carried on into the eleven o'clock news hour. Agent Franklin tried to sleep but the events of the day kept him awake long into the night. He didn't know when the idea popped into his head, but he couldn't shake it. It might be a shot in the dark, but since all else had failed it might be worth taking the shot.
Cody lived in the same building as Agent Franklin, two floors below in a small one-bedroom apartment. They had passed each other on occasion on the steps and nodded in recognition when they made eye contact. As the transvestite gambit started forming in Agent Franklin's mind, Cody was the first person he thought of. He knew Cody was a cross dresser because he had seen her coming and going in drag in the early morning hours when he was up late working or getting home after a twenty hour day following one crisis or another.
Cody, who would turn twenty-seven in late November, made quite an attractive woman. She stood only 5'4" tall and couldn't weigh more than 130 pounds, but it gave her a bit of padding and helped fill out her dresses. Her long auburn hair hung three or four inches past her shoulders and the fact that she only shaved about once a week caused her to be often mistaken for a girl even when she wasn't in drag. She had hazel green eyes and long thick eyelashes that didn't need much makeup to be noticed. The first time Agent Franklin saw Cody completely dressed; he admired this vision of loveliness, not knowing who or what she was. She was returning home from her job at the bookstore where the management was more concerned with how much she sold rather than how she dressed. Cody was wearing a navy blue mini dress, nude thigh high stockings and navy pumps with four-inch heels. Cody was entering the building as Agent Franklin was leaving and as he looked back over his shoulder at this foxy little babe climbing the stairs he could see where the tops of her stockings ended and the cream color of her bare thighs began. He found this very provocative, so much so that he had to stop, turn around and watch her cute little ass sway back and forth as she ascended the stairs. For the next couple of weeks he found himself thinking about taking this hot little number in for some close personal interrogation. When he learned she was a he, he was embarrassed about his thoughts at first, but had come to accept Cody for who she was and never really considered her a man, just that cute little babe he first encountered on stairway that night. He considered himself straight so he even surprised himself when he would occasionally dream about making love to her and wake up with a raging hard on. He wrote it off as just some crazy fantasy and knew that's all it would ever be for several reasons, the most important being that it could jeopardize the integrity of his job with the Bureau. So he kept his little fantasy a secret and Cody at arms length. Now things had changed and he would have to befriend Cody if he was going to get her to assist the Bureau in catching the illusive Roberto.
Lamont Peterson patrolled the streets and served the people of Deer Park, Long Island for seventeen years. He retired a sergeant with a special commendation after his patrol car crashed into a telephone pole while chasing two car thieves, crushing his pelvic bone and leaving him with a noticeable limp. For the past two years he headed security at the New York City branch of the Long Island Financial Group located across the street from the hotel where the Ambassador had been assassinated. On the day after the incident he was reviewing the surveillance tapes from the security cameras that watched over the main entrance and street in front of the LIFG building. During his second cup of coffee and third donut, he watched in amazement as the previous days actions replayed right in front of him, caught by one of the cameras that had been accidentally jostled by the window cleaning crew the prior week and hadn't yet been repositioned. His call to the Bureau had caused quite a bit of excitement and when William Franklin entered the office; everyone was talking about their first break in the Roberto case. The camera had caught three good shots of Roberto in his jogging suit. One profile as he approached the Ambassador's entourage and two full face shots as he looked back to make sure his work had been successful just before disappearing into the growing crowd on the street.
Roberto was still reeling from the adrenaline rush he got from completing his deadly mission, when he ducked into the alley, and pulled off his break away jogging suit and the phony Van Dyke chin piece. He stuffed the disguise along with the 9mm and silencer into the large trash bin and slowly returned to the street dressed in khakis, a light blue dress shirt and a different pair of sunglasses. He crossed the street and returned to the scene of the crime, confident that he had not been seen or followed. The sirens were getting louder and closer as the police cars began to arrive on the scene where the murder had taken place only minutes earlier. He stopped and watched the confusion along with dozens of other street people, wondering what all the excitement was about, from the safety of the steps into the LIFG building. As the first patrol car stopped and it's officers started pursuing crowd control, Roberto strutted down the street, wanting to skip and bound with self satisfaction as the blood once again rushed to his head. Two blocks away he took the stairs down to the subway and returned to the hotel he was staying. He locked himself in his room, ordered a late lunch with a bottle of chilled Merlot and watched the news as the story unfolded. The police had no clues and no suspects at this time, but figured this was a political action by some desperate Latin American radical faction. Roberto sipped on the wine, smiled and congratulated himself on a job well done. He knew that the airports, train stations and bus depots would be under surveillance looking for possible suspects, so he would stay in New York for a week or so playing tourist until the heat blew over and then just walk away like he had done so many times before.
Cody had seen Agent Franklin on the stairs a number of times and thought he was a well groomed, well dressed, good looking young man, probably an associate at one of the many New York law firms or a trainee at one of the brokerage houses on Wall Street. The agent was tall, blond and had a cute boyish face, which made him look younger than he was. He was always dressed in a dark suit with well-polished shoes and an expensive looking tie. He looked like somebody who knew what he wanted and was on his way to getting there. He exuded the confidence one must have to be a successful intelligence agent.
Cody had moved to New York three years prior from Cleveland where she grew up in a middle class neighborhood with her mother and two older sisters. Her father had left the family when Cody was only four and moved to Seattle with his secretary, pursuing his second childhood with a young woman twenty-two years younger. Cody had tried to keep her father in her life but gave up when she was twelve after many unsuccessful and heartbreaking attempts. Her mother never remarried and developed a natural hatred for men in general. As a result, she had been raised in a matriarchal environment and developed a taste for fashion and all things feminine. Curiosity started her cross-dressing about the same time she had given up on her father, wearing her older sister's clothes and makeup every chance she got. At first, it was purely a masturbation fantasy but in time grew to be a natural feeling and a secret way of life.
Although she was on the smallish side, she was popular with the ladies and dated quite a lot in high school and college, always keeping her fetish in the closet. She liked the company of girls and always enjoyed the sex, but felt like there was something missing in her life. For the longest time she considered the feeling to be a result of growing up without her father.
In her first year out of college she discovered there was a club on the outskirts of the city that catered to alternate life styles and was frequented by many guys that, like herself, enjoyed dressing in women's clothes. After half a dozen attempts, she finally worked up the courage to make the trek and check things out for herself.
She had been collecting women's attire, which she kept carefully hidden, for three or four years. Taking dresses, undergarments and shoes that her sisters had left behind when they moved away from home and using mail order to obtain the other things she needed, she had developed a very nice wardrobe.
It took her nearly three hours to get her look just right. She wore a black mini cocktail dress, strapless bra, garter belt with sheer off black stockings and a pair of four-inch Mary Jane pumps. Topped off with a strawberry blond page boy wig and carefully applied makeup, she thought she looked really sexy and alluring as she checked out her reflection in the floor length mirror on her way out the door.
As she pulled into the parking lot, her stomach did a flip-flop, she wasn't sure she could gather up the courage to make the trip from the car to the door of the club. A couple of swigs of Southern Comfort from the flask she had in her purse and a few tokes off the joint she'd brought along helped steady her nerves and she almost floated to the front door in a semi-dream like state of mind. Once inside, it was as if she found her Mecca and knew her life would never be the same. The rest of the night went uneventful as Cody watched the goings on from the safe shadows of the club.
The next week found Cody in a fog, going through the motions, her thoughts focusing on the coming weekend and another venture to her newly found home away from home. By Friday, she had already picked out the ensemble that she would wear the following night.
On Saturday night Cody once again pulled into the parking lot next to the club, this time not needing anything to induce the courage she needed to make the walk across the lot to the entrance of the club. She felt as if she was walking on air and a few wolf whistles from the passing cars bolstered her confidence even higher.
Half way through her second Long Island Ice Tea, she emerged from the safety of the shadows, feeling ever so much like a sweet young debutante at her coming out party. She had always been a good dancer, probably a result of the tap lessons her mother made her take in kindergarten and first grade, and now found herself bopping to the non-stop hip hop sounds the DJ was laying down. The effects of the Ice Teas were now taking hold. Her inhibitions waned and she found herself bumping and grinding with a muscular young man in a tight white T-shirt and jeans. He introduced himself as Justin and they spent the next two hours dancing, talking and to Cody's surprise, even flirting as they brushed legs under the table. Cody stared into his dark brown eyes and twirled the long wig hairs around her finger when listening to Justin like she had seen her sisters do when they brought their dates home for dinner or to meet their mother. Even though she had never been with a man, she had often fantasized about being taken by one and made love to like a woman. Now, feeling the effects of the alcohol from her third Long Island, she found herself on the verge of having this fantasy fulfilled. She was both excited and scared shitless by this possibility.
Justin St. Claire traveled to Cleveland two, maybe three times a year to peddle the whatchamacallits produced by the Toronto manufacturing firm he worked for. He was French Canadian, a stand out in tennis and swimming in high school and kept himself in great shape. He had been offered a couple of college scholarships but his father's alcohol problem kept his family one step above the poverty line and consequently he had to forgo college and become one of the working class directly out of high school.
Two weeks before his twenty-second birthday his long time girl friend told him that she had met somebody new and during a night of heavy drinking he stumbled into a bar he had never been to before. His vision and judgment being a bit fuzzy he latched on to the first skirt he encountered. She took him back to her place where he discovered she was a tranny. But the alcohol and the rejection left him vulnerable so he stayed and was rewarded with a night of unbridled passion.
As the sun broke through the window the following morning, Justin's head was beating like a bass drum and the parade was just beginning. When he finally opened his eyes and seeing the forty something queen without her wig and makeup, the night's activities all came rushing back to him faster than he could rush to the bathroom for his first session of driving the porcelain bus. After splashing some water in his face he couldn't get out of there fast enough. He was sick and disgusted with himself for what he thought was a momentary loss of judgement. But as the weeks passed by he found himself reminiscing about that night and it always caused a stirring in his loins.
He finally came to terms with himself and determined that he was not gay but the she male experience was a desire he wanted to explore in more detail. So on out of town business trips he would often frequent the alternative bars, which lead to his being in the club that night.
The hotel in which Justin was staying was only about half a mile from the club. As Cody followed Justin's rental, she was having one anxiety attack after another and twice almost turned around and high tailed it back home. But, buoyed by the confidence alcohol can give, she was determined this would be the night. After all, all cross-dressers have fantasized about having sex with a man at one time or another while dressed as a girl and here was a nice looking hot young stud that was obviously willing and wanted it just as bad.