Mission Impossible Chapter 6
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Mission Impossible? Chapter 9 free porn video
Mission
Impossible?
Chapter 9
Amber woke slowly; her mouth felt like an aspirin bottle?dry and stuffed
with cotton. She moaned, sat up, and pushed her hair out of her face.
She wanted to retch. She moved to the edge of the bed, forced herself to
stand and stumbled her way into the bathroom where she splashed cold
water on her face to help her focus.
"What happened?" Amber wondered. "I only had half of a Gibson." She
looked in the mirror to see her hair messed, eyes bloodshot, and dressed
in a white oxford shirt, its hem almost hitting her knees. She grasped
the shirt's collar and peered down into the shirt to find she only wore
her panties underneath. "Oh...crap."
Amber felt for the bathroom door and leaned out to look into the bedroom
and examine its contents. It was stereotypical Miami hotel d?cor: white
walls, floral bedspread, inexpensive furniture, non-offensive pastel
artwork on the walls and white vertical shades over the sliding glass
doors. Cautiously, she moved through the darkened bedroom and down the
hallway of the strange apartment to a living room that matched the
bedroom's d?cor and was connected to a sterile kitchenette. She marched
immediately to the front door and opened it. The hall was empty, except
for a fire extinguisher standing guard at its post. She glanced at the
door's gold numbers...208. She closed the door, locked the bolt, and
slid the chain into its groove. She bit her lip and thought.
Moving to the desk, she quickly went through the few items in the drawer
and on top, then proceeded to check the other furniture in the room. As
she searched, she tried to piece the night together. She went to the
Latin club with Corazon and "Moustache" ...and...they talked...danced?
She couldn't remember. Amber continued to examine the room's contents;
she didn't know exactly what she was looking for, just something to help
identify its occupant(s). After her search of the living room came up
empty, she started toward the kitchenette and picked up a "Guns and Ammo"
magazine on the counter. She shook it by the spine. Then she flipped
the magazine over and sighed in relief after she saw the mailing label.
Amber tossed the magazine on the counter and walked back to the bedroom.
Her search for her clothing was unsuccessful. However, she did locate
her strappy high heels next to a nightstand. Pleased with that minor
achievement, she realized she was brought here for a reason and wouldn't
have to try to escape while wearing only an over-sized man's shirt,
panties and high heels.
Proceeding to the bathroom, she pulled back the shower curtain and turned
on the water. After testing the water temperature, she stepped under the
spray of warm water. She turned her face directly to the showerhead.
The gentle cascade splashed over her forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth
and chin. It helped clear the cobwebs from her brain. Not finding her
usual soap and shampoo, she wondered how hotels managed to find brands
she had never heard of and would never see again?at least until her next
visit.
As Amber slid the mini-bar of soap over her smooth back and over her
budding breasts, she marveled at the sensations she was experiencing.
Did real women find self-examination in the shower as pleasurable as she
did? Pure, almost orgasmic bliss? Perhaps her increased sensitivity had
something to do with the female hormones she was taking. Unfortunately,
her self-delight was marred by the feel of pubic hair stubble under her
arms and above her penis. Her mood was dampened further as she spread
the lather over her long, lithe legs, where she could feel stubble on her
calves and thighs as well.
Stepping out of the bathtub and onto the cold tile floor, she reached
over to the sink for a man's razor and shaving cream. It would have to
do. She was sure he wouldn't have waxing kits or Nair in his apartment.
After shaking up the Gillette Foamy can, she spread the shaving cream
over her lower legs, her thighs, all over her crotch and onto her
armpits. With traces of foam on her fingers, she grasped her penis then
cupped her balls for a moment. They were no longer as sore as they once
were. She had grown accustomed on every night she performed to shove her
testicles into a heretofore-unknown body cavity, pull back her penis and
hold her private parts in tucked position with her gaff.
Amber decided to start with her legs. Sitting on the cold toilet seat,
she slid the razor over her calves, then with even more care, her knees.
She did not want to cut herself shaving. Washing off the foam from the
razor in the sink, Amber managed to complete the calves and thighs within
a few minutes.
Amber took great care on her sensitive armpit skin, but was extra careful
as she approached the short hairs above her penis. She wondered if the
owner of the razor would notice if it was suddenly in need of
replacement. Pubic hair in between the multiple blades would be a dead
giveaway that somebody had been messing with his Schick. Amber preferred
the "bald beaver" look. Each stroke of the razor was applied with equal
pressure. Careful caresses?no sudden jerks.
When Amber stepped under the shower again to wash away all traces of hair
and shaving cream, she exulted in the super smooth feel of her skin. Her
hands traveled up, down and across her smooth, lithe body. She couldn't
help but wonder how much bigger of a stick Captain Logan had than little
Arron. She longed for the touch of a strong male lover rather than this
autoerotic stimulation.
Amber stepped back into her panties but took a clean shirt from one of
the many in the closet, slipped it on, snatched her high heels up and
walked to the living room. She left her shoes on the counter, checked
the refrigerator for something edible and found only a bottle of orange
juice, ketchup, and half-full tub of Maxwell House coffee. She smiled
and said, "I bet he drinks it black too." While the coffee brewed, she
slipped on her heels and flipped through the magazine on the counter.
She finished pouring herself a cup of coffee when the lock on the door
turned and the door began to open, but the chain caught the door and
stopped it. Captain Logan hit the door and grunted. "What the...Kain?
Amber? You there? It's me, Logan. Open up."
With coffee in her hand, the boy-girl walked over to the door, undid the
chain and let the CID agent in. He thanked her and shut the door behind
him. It was immediately apparent to Amber where the Captain had been.
Captain Logan was soaked in sweat and wore an armless black t-shirt and
black running shorts, with ARMY in gold lettering on both, along with
well-worn running shoes. He walked over to the kitchenette, knelt and
removed his ankle wallet, then laid his keys, cell phone, and wallet on
the counter.
"How do you feel?" he asked Amber.
"Okay, weak and a bit queasy." Without cream or sugar, her coffee tasted
bitter. "I didn't realize I drank so much last night," she said
sheepishly.
"You didn't," Logan stated flatly. He went to the nearly empty
refrigerator, took out the bottle of orange juice and drank deeply. He
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, "You were drugged."
He took another drink. "They gave you Rohypnol."
"What's that?"
"It's the actual name for Roofies...Rope...Mexican Valium." He deduced by
Amber's blank stare she didn't recognize any of the terms and stated, "A
date rape drug."
"Oh crap." She bit her lower lip, folded her arms under her chest and
looked down at the off-white carpet. "Uh, did I...or I mean...was I
uh..."
"Not that we know. You remember going into the club?" he asked and
waited until she nodded before he continued. "Do you remember leaving
the club?"
"Not really...I remember some bright lights and a car." Amber shook her
head, climbed onto one of the bar stools along the counter and looked
into her coffee.
"One of the effects of Rohypnol is that it causes memory loss."
Amber nodded in agreement.
The CID agent took another drink of juice and sat the half-empty bottle
down. He leaned on the counter with one elbow. "I was in the parking
lot. When I saw you get in the cab and leave, I followed you thinking
something was wrong. Once away from the club, I stopped the cab and took
you out." He reached over and snapped a striped dishtowel from the rack
on the stove. Then he wiped the sweat from his face. "After that, I
brought you back here. I didn't want you to go back to your apartment.
It may not have been safe."
"I guess I passed out, huh?" she asked.
He nodded, "Yup." He opened the refrigerator and placed the juice
container on the top shelf. "Dead to the world."
She tugged on the collar of the shirt she wore. "Did you..."
"Oh, yeah. You vomited several times as we drove here." He walked from
the kitchenette. "I cleaned you up and put you in my bed last night.
Sorry, but your clothes were ruined." His voice trailed down the hall.
"I put them in a bag and threw them down the garbage chute."
Amber poured herself a second cup of coffee and tried to remember the
previous night, then she slipped off the bar stool and went to the
bedroom. She stopped at the open bedroom door, when she heard water
running and realized Captain Logan was not in the bedroom but in the
bathroom taking a shower. She entered the bedroom and leaned against
the wall next to the bathroom's open door.
"I'm sorry I was so much trouble." She apologized to him over the noise
of the running water.
"It's fine," he said loudly. "I'm glad you were alright. I was worried
for awhile but you just slept it off."
"Slept it off? How long did I sleep?" she asked.
"There's a clock over on the nightstand."
Amber walked around the bed and picked up the small travel sized clock.
The red digital numbers read 7:37 PM. She thought for a moment then
asked, "What time did we get here?"
"We got here about 2:45 this morning."
She turned at the sound of his voice to find him standing in the bathroom
door with a towel wrapped around his waist and tied at the side. She
coughed and pushed her hair behind one ear and stepped to the bedroom
door, where she turned and leaned against the door's frame. The CID
agent had walked over to the closet and was searching the top shelf in
the closet. Her eyes traveled up his strong legs to his slim waist and
then she caught herself lingering on his muscular back and arms. She
watched the agent as he examined several small boxes on the closet shelf
before taking one. Stepping over to the closet, he picked up a black
plastic case and laid the items on the dresser.
Captain Logan was about to ask her to come over next to him but stopped
as he glanced at her. She stood silhouetted in the hallway light. She
was poised with her right hand on the door frame above her head, the
other on her hip; one knee bent forward. Her slim but girlish form was
outlined against the opaque material of his shirt. Her long hair, full
of ringlets, fell in dark waves across her shoulders and down the front
of his shirt, seductively covering what the shirt failed to. She was no
longer the boy he first met at the hotel.
He cleared his throat. "These are yours," he said and motioned her over
to the items he earlier laid on the dresser. He opened the small case to
reveal a small, flat black pistol. He picked up the hand gun, released
the magazine and checked to see if it was empty, then pushed it back into
the grip. He pushed back the slide to verify no round was in the
chamber. Satisfied the weapon was empty, he handed the sleek pistol to
Amber.
"This is a Sig Sauer P232. It is a .380ACP with a double action/single
action trigger; 10 lb/4.4 lb pull respectively. It holds 7 rounds in the
magazine and one in the chamber. The slide is Nitron coated and it has a
black hard anodized frame. The hand grips are polymer plastic." The CID
agent continued his lesson. "It is ergonomically designed. All of its
edges are rounded and is snag free for a smooth pull. This weapon is
designed for concealment."
Amber held the pistol towards the floor in her right hand, her index
finger along the slide and away from the trigger. The grip was smooth
and fitted her hand well. She looked through the weapon's sights and
noted they glowed florescent in the low light. With her left hand she
pushed back on the slide and then guided the slide forward to its normal
position. She thumbed the decocking lever. Next, she pushed the
magazine release on the heel and it popped out. There were holes in the
magazine which told the user how many rounds were in the weapon.
Mimicking the Captain's earlier procedure, she slid the magazine back in
the weapon, and opened the weapon's chamber. She handed it back to the
pleased Captain.
"Good. No, keep it." He pushed the weapon back into her hand. "Let me
see your stance."
Amber stood with feet planted shoulder width apart, holding the pistol in
her right hand, right elbow slightly bent; her left hand supported the
pistol underneath the weapon's heel. With both eyes open, she looked
down the sights into the bathroom.
"Amber, I know you were trained that way but for now do not stand like
that. Remember, you will not be wearing body armor. Stand at a profile,
left leg forward, right arm extended, left hand supporting, left elbow
down more." He slipped behind her and guided her into position.
Amber's skin burned as he touched her arms and hands. One of his hands
pressed against her thigh, moving it into the correct position; the other
touched her lightly on the hip and sent waves through her body. She
fought to maintain her breathing...slow and steady but her heart betrayed
her and thumped so loud she was sure he could hear it. She concentrated
on her sight picture, but blinked in frustration.
"Should I come back?" Major Brewer asked her arms folded across her
chest.
Captain Logan let go of Amber immediately. "Janice, we were going over
the P232," he stated, and then coughed as he comprehended the situation.
"Uh huh," the Major said with a perfectly tweezed raised eyebrow.
"Amber, how are you? Are you alright?" She hugged the small girl-boy
tightly, careful not to let the Sig Sauer poke her in the ribs. "I went
into the club behind you but was unable to follow you upstairs. You ran
out so quickly, I couldn't get to you in time."
"I don't remember much. Just lights and a car."
"That's fine. The important thing is you're okay. Let's go in the
living room and let Logan get dressed." She led Amber out the door and
gave the Captain a "we'll talk later" stare.
While Captain Logan dressed, Major Brewer escorted Amber across the
complex's parking lot to their shared apartment, where the two women
changed clothes. The convenience of a team staying in the same apartment
complex was obvious but the practice was unusual and not done in most
covert operations. Since this was a stateside operation and the unlikely
event of being discovered was minimal, convenience outweighed any risk.
Since the night was hot, Amber chose a mono strap pink top, white boy
shorts, and to show off her French manicured toenails, a pair of cork
wedge sandals with multi-colored t-straps. Thanks to multiple U.S.
government financed make-over and cosmetology lessons, Amber applied her
makeup with a skilled artist's touch. She slipped leaf shaped gold
earrings on and a placed a matching bracelet on her left arm. She
sprayed the air with perfume then stepped forward to let the mist drift
down on her. Thinking twice, she dabbed the eau de cologne behind each
her of knees. One last inspection in the full-length door mirror met her
approval before she walked out in the hallway. She was half way to the
living room, when she rushed back into her bedroom and grabbed the
borrowed shirt off the bed, then retraced her steps down the hallway.
Janice came out of her room also dressed for the warm southern night.
She wore an off the shoulder white peasant blouse with eyelets, a multi-
colored flared mini skirt, which showed off her long tanned legs and
platform wedge sandals with brown leather cross straps. Her long blonde
hair was pulled into a neat ponytail while her makeup was perfect as
usual. She stepped over to the counter to pick up a pair of small hoop
earrings, which she inserted into her lobes.
"What a pretty skirt," Amber said to her mentor.
"Well, thank you. Macy's was having a sale and I couldn't resist. Are
you ready to go?"
"Yes, let me get my purse...oh...I don't, I mean, I left it at the club
last..." Amber's voice trailed off.
"Don't you have another?"
"No."
The older woman smiled and said, "We can go shopping tomorrow. A girl
has to have more than one purse."
Amber raised her eyebrows as if to ask "why".
"A girl needs to accessorize. Co-ordinate your outfits with handbags,
shoes and jewelry."
"Aaron only needed one wallet."
Janice nodded. "How many shoes do you have? One pair? You should have
at least half as many purses as shoes. They are a necessity."
"How many do purses do you have?"
"Mmm....mmm...about 25 or 30, I think..."
Amber looked a bit shocked at the number. Over the last 6 months, she
had acquired several new pairs of shoes, but she still used the same
purse?a little black leather hobo style she picked up in the mall one
day.
The tall blonde opened the door and led the way down the hall hoping to
find their teammate at their rented car. The government no longer used
the "black sedans" made famous by Hollywood. Budgets were carefully
watched, renting a midsize Ford Fusion was much more economic than having
an entire fleet of vehicles to maintain. The two women scanned the
parking lot for their team member or their car, when a white Cadillac
Escalade with tinted windows pulled up beside them. The driver's side
window lowered slowly to reveal a grinning Captain Logan in dark
sunglasses.
"Ready to go?" he asked, his right wrist lay casually over the leather
encased steering wheel.
Once the women were in the large SUV, Logan raised his window and
smoothly accelerated away from the apartment complex. For the next
several miles, the Major interrogated the CID agent about the new vehicle
and why it was necessary. His only defense was to say it was necessary.
Hearing this did not satisfy the Major. Logan tactfully shifted the
topic to where to go for dinner. Everyone offered an opinion about the
local cuisine and what would be best. However, the trio mutually agreed
on Mexican, when the Captain said the magic words, "I will buy the
Margaritas!"
Dinner was enjoyable but went far too quickly. After the dishes were
cleared away by a busboy and each had a full frozen Margarita in front of
them, Amber brought up Corazon. "What should we do about Angel?"
"We will do nothing," Major Brewer said. "It is his move. I am sure he
will contact you again."
"He'll be back," the Captain agreed. "Amber, just make sure you are
careful about what you drink or eat around him from now on. We didn't
realize using 'Rope' was part of his MO."
"Yes, you must be careful from now on. We knew he was dangerous but not
a rapist." Janice said. "Logan and I agreed this afternoon, you should
carry a weapon. That is why he gave you the SIG. Starting tomorrow, you
will need to carry it on you whenever you go out."
"Alright." Amber nodded.
"There was an unexpected windfall to what happened last night. You knew
we tracked you to the club with the GPS on your cell phone but when
Corazon took your cell, we were able to track him. We ran a
triangulation on your cell phone's signal this afternoon and now we know
his location." Logan said grinning. "The DEA will put a surveillance
team on him tomorrow."
"Is that smart? What if he finds out that he is being watched?" Amber
wondered out loud.
"I would be surprised if he didn't find out. The Cartel has its own
sources," Logan admitted.
"There is no need to worry about that for now," Janice said. "I have
other news. Tomorrow you start rehearsing your new act for next
Saturday. The Peacock's owner reminded me last night Amber is contracted
to provide new material on a timely basis."
The performer perked up at the thought of the new act. "Oh cool! Do you
know what Tad has picked out? Don't let him give me any of that lame
stuff the other girls do...please...how many times do we have to see Lady
Gaga? And no boas...I am not gonna have feathers all over the stage."
The attractive Army officer raised an eyebrow, "You are not 'gonna' have
what? You..." she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at her prot?g?,
"will do exactly what you're told to do. I also prefer for you to use
proper English." Then she smiled and said, "I think you might have fun
with the next act." Amber leaned forward, "Tell me, what's it going to
be?"
"You will find out tomorrow afternoon." Major Brewer smiled as she stood
up. "You will have to excuse me for a few minutes. Will you settle up
with the waitress?" She touched Logan on the shoulder and walked toward
the restrooms.
Amber took a long drink of her frozen Margarita, while Logan waved at the
waitress, who nodded and came over with their check. He paid the bill
and collected the receipt. While he led Amber out toward the door, she
daydreamed about being the tall, handsome Captain's date. The pair
stopped outside the restaurant and waited for Major Brewer to join them.
As the surrounding palm trees swayed in a warm Miami night breeze, Amber
wondered if Captain Logan ever really relaxed. "Why are you wearing your
shirt tucked in on such a hot night?"
Logan simply looked at her with a grin and shrugged his broad shoulders.
The petite girl-boy stepped up to him, gripped the sides of his shirt and
pulled it up out of his pants. Once the edge of his light blue polo was
freed, she smoothed it down over his khaki shorts with her hands. She
stepped back to admire her work.
"That's much better. You looked like an old man. Next thing you know,
you will be wearing your pants up around your armpits." She laughed as
she thought of Steve Urkel in Family Matters.
"I am not that bad, am I?"
Amber tilted her head with a mischievous smile at the agent who grinned
in return, when Janice stepped out the door. The warm breeze caught her
unprepared and her skirt flew up, showing much more of her lovely legs
than she intended. Instinctively she threw her arms across her wild
skirt in order to tame it. Laughing, the trio headed for the SUV.
Kaylin
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