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It seems when our alphabet government organizations get involved the screw-up's go up exponentially rather than arithmetically. Our villain is not satisfied with the current version of Daisy and creates the new an improved Daisy version III.0. Things are never as bad or as good as they initially seem. Daisy starts on her road back. Chapter 22 A very nervous Daisy, dressed in a white off the shoulder dress with calf length lace-up suede boots, which are so soft and dreamy. Linda handed Daisy a cell phone and reminded her to make Vladimir happy, but whatever else you do find that computer. She said with a stern undertone, "Daisy, you need to have the wherewithal to remain calm and not get hysterical in a crisis. Call, if it gets too dicey, I will show up with the 7th Calvary. But it better not reach that point. We have too many months involved in this operation to blow it, just because he wants a blow job. Get me? Be a good girl, now hear. Now off with you to the Lion's den." Vladimir met Daisy at the head of the gangplank; he wore only bathing trunks. Vladimir smiled like a maniac. Jack recoiled at the furry beast in front of him, without thinking he let out "Yuck, icky." Jack thought, 'How repulsive, even his feet were covered in hair so long you could condition and braid it.' Jack recovered quickly and responded "Excuse me Mr. Sasquatch, I here to visit Vladimir." Vladimir chuckled at the small joke and said, "After security has checked you out, we can begin our little party." A couple of very serious looking men escorted Daisy into a side room where he was asked to strip down to his underwear. His clothing and handbag were thoroughly examined. One man passed a metal detector over and around his private parts. The guard found the cell phone hidden in his bra and confiscated it. Because he had tried to smuggle the cell phone onboard, they demanded a complete strip search. Jack had to peel off his breast forms. These were given a thorough examination and eventually sent through an x-ray machine and returned. Boy was the guard surprised when Daisy pulled down his pink ruffled panties revealing little Willie and his two friends. The guard bent over to examine the two hormone patches attached to Daisy's thigh, hiding behind Jack's ball sack. The guard was flustered when little Willie started to respond to the guards probing hands. As Willie stood tall, the guard lost his interest in the intimate body parts, and he failed to examine what was hidden up Jack's rectum. Vladimir greeted his guest with "hello Daisy welcome to your maiden voyage aboard my boat." Vladimir then provided his guest with a grand tour of the boat. Arriving at his stateroom, Vladimir proudly escorted Daisy into his stateroom, the 'holy of holies.' The room was dominated by the huge double bed, but Jack's attention was drawn to the PC setup on a small desk in the corner of the room. Daisy asked to use the head to freshen up after her encounter with security. Once provided with privacy, Jack painfully retrieved a small device from a tampon in his rectum. Activating the memory chip, he palmed the device like he was taught. Exiting the head, Jack casually strolled over to the P.C. and paid dumb, and lifted it admiring all the many pretty buttons, attaching the monitoring device to the undercarriage. Vladimir yelled, at Daisy to get away. Slowly lowering the device, he went and sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down on it like a small child. Vladimir grabbed his hand, and the two backed out of the stateroom and into what was to be Daisy's room. Vladimir said, "Have a look around while I go get us something to drink." Upon returning, he offered Daisy her usual glass of Vodka and insisted he throw the whole shot down. Jack did but immediately regretted it as the room began to sway, and his vision faded to black. A smiling Vladimir caught his guest and gently placed him on the bed. Vladimir ordered his captain to weigh, anchor, put me ashore and head for Mexico. Chapter 23 The room was momentarily quiet except for the drumming of a strong tattoo of rain on the roof of the abandoned warehouse, in the dock area. Jess Falk sat unconscious, lost in a wonderful dream. He was wrestling with his 10-year-old son in their front yard. Then the pain started again. Being tied securely to the metal chair, there was nothing Jess could do but scream uselessly into his gag. Ivan Vasilie delighted in the man's suffering as he extinguished his lighted cigarette into the captives left nipple. The muscle-bound henchman asked, "Comrade, do you want me to take the gag out so he can talk?" "No Boris," Ivan began, "He has already given us everything he's got. I am convinced he acted out of bureaucratic conscientiousness. It was a lucky break our counter surveillance team got a picture of him entering the building across from my boat. That new facial recognition software works great. It only took a few hours to identify him as an ICE agent." "We must get the word out that there seems to be a great deal more cooperation between U.S. government agencies." The hapless captive moaned annoyingly. "Boris, he really pissed me off. He shouldn't have agreed to assist HLS in monitoring the comings and goings on my yacht. It was foolish of them to believe we wouldn't acquire the personnel files of all government agencies. These Americans are so naive about the ways of the world." Ivan stared down at the bloody stumps of what use to be Falk's fingers and said, "I tell you Boris, these Americans are not men. I pull out two or three fingernails, and they bawl like a baby. A Russian would never beg for his life like this guy." Ivan seemed to enjoy the process so much that he often scared Boris. Boris took a step back from the growing blood pool and thought, 'The level of violence used against this poor guy was totally unnecessary. He was singing like a canary almost from the start. We knew everything about him, but his hat size within 15 minutes.' "Boris, call our attorney, see if we can take some kind of legal action to stoop this incessant spying. Negotiations for this operation are at a critical stage, and we can't afford to interference right now that we are about to activate all of our sleeper agents for those bastard Arabs." Boris nodded in agreement. It wasn't wise to disagree with the Ivan. "Boss, do I understand right; they want to bring down the Golden Gate Bridge?" "Da, Arab men are under too much scrutiny by the police. So using nondescript Americans for this project seems ideal. We have had our people scouting the targets for weeks. The difficult part will be to coordinate the west coast attack with a simultaneous assault on the Brooklyn Bridge. Unfortunately, it means we will lose our people as they will unwittingly 'volunteer' to become martyrs." "You want me to finish the job and dispose of the body out to sea?" "Yes, kill the bastard and put him out of his misery. However, dump the body where it will be found. I want to send a very clear message. The next government agent who crosses me will really suffer before he dies." Ivan thought for a minute and then added, "When you are finished cleaning up this mess, I want you to triple check on the background of the new waitress at the Club, Daisy." "Boss is there something wrong with her...em him?" "No just the opposite, he is almost too perfect, if he checks out I have special plans for that young man." Boris strode over to the unlucky captive avoiding the puddles of blood. With a pair of massive hands, he grabbed what was left of Jess Falk in a choke hold. The whites of Jess's eyes were completely red due to hemorrhaging; his nose bled due to the pressure. He gasped, and his eyes got wide... wide with fear and small ragged gasps were escaping his throat. Boris could sense him drifting away to a peaceful place. Then the hapless victim, committed the ultimate indignity, he pissed and shitted himself. As Ivan watched with a grin, that even Boris could only describe as evil, Boris finally applied sufficient force to break the hyoid bone of his neck. Boris thought back to what Vasilie was capable of doing. Boris never wanted to get on Ivan the Impaler's wrong side. Boris knew he was not above culling the herd when the whim hit him. Ivan once had Alexei, Boris's best friend, killed when he had screwdrivers driven through both ears because Vasilie thought Alexei had eavesdropped on a private conversation. @ @ @ @ It was lunch time at the HLS Miami office. Steve and Fred were on their way to a corner coffee shop for a quick snack when the phone rang. Fred picked it up and listened for 15 seconds. He hung up without saying a word and relayed, "Steve, the director wants to see us both immediately." The two agents knocked on the door and anxiously awaited their summons. Finally, they heard through the closed door, "Phillips and Garibaldi get in here." The twosome marched in and found Bill lost in thought as he read some report. The two started to sit in the office chairs. Bill stopped them with, "Don't bother; you won't be here that long." Steve and Fred looked at each other dumbfounded. Holding up the folder Bill continued, "These are police and autopsy reports. The local cops have found a mutilated body discarded in the dumpster behind the Pink Pussycat Club. The poor guy was raped and tortured before being strangled. The Chief Medical Examiner's office found the victim had all his fingernails pulled out and suffered extensive cigarette burns to his torso. There were multiple blunt and sharp force injuries to the head, and neck. His injuries also included major rectal tearing and internal hemorrhaging from an instrument driven up through his scrotum into his abdomen. This torture thing has Vladimir's name all over it. The locals want to pick up Vasilie for questioning. I told them to back off. Preliminary results from what are left of the victim's fingers ID this guy as one of our own." A shell-shocked Steve enquired, "Another of our HLS agents?" "Not exactly, not this time. The guy was Jess Falk, on loan to us from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). He was asked to keep Ivan's boat under surveillance. We'll take over the investigation. I want you two to go down to that bar and nose around." Steve felt a chill go through him like he was standing on the fantail of the Titanic about to be dumped into the icy Atlantic and reflected, 'Here goes another harebrain plan. Who is going to die this time?' Steve felt compelled to protest, "But boss; we might be recognized. We need to be hyper vigilant about Vladimir. Our ?ber-nerds, say they are convinced Vladimir has access to the latest commercial version of facial recognition. It is not 100% effective but compares favorably what we; the FBI, or ICE has available." "Steve you idiot, I have a plan so that won't happen. You two are going undercover in disguise. Get down to wardrobe right now. They are waiting for you two." Steve immediately smelled a rat, but the eager beaver Fred headed for the door. Steve stood his ground and asked, "Mr. Hampton; what kind of disguise did you envision?" "Since this is a transvestite bar, you two are going on a girl's night out. No arguments from you two. There is only one question. What is your bra size?" Fred froze in mid stride and squeaked out, "Oh, come on boss, two drag queens asking questions will still raise a red flag." "That's right; that's why you won't ask anything. I want you two to just hangout. Keep your ears and eyes open and your mouths shut. If Ivan shows up, stay away from him. Steve you know the drill. Now you ladies have fun." Five hours later, Steve and Fred 'AKA, Stephanie and Frederica' awkwardly hauled themselves from the cab in front of the Pink Pussycat Club. Steve purred, in a very realistic facsimile of a woman's voice, "Frederica, pay the man, I left my wallet in my other purse." Fred threw twenty dollars at the driver and slung his purse over his shoulder and said, "I want my change and a receipt." In response, the cabbie muttered "fucking faggots," put the car in gear and drove off. A very self-conscious Fred brushed the long blond hair out of his face and minced toward the sidewalk taking extremely small steps. He tried to pull his knee-length denim skirt down to cover more of his exposed legs thus not paying attention. He tripped over the curb, and did a great imitation of Bambi on ice, arms and legs flailing everywhere. As Steve watched in amusement, Fred landed hard on his chest. More embarrassed than hurt, Fred laid face down on the sidewalk and thought, 'At least these personal airbags came in handy.' Steve helped Fred to his feet, picked up his purse and held his arm to steady his partner. Steve patted Fred's bottom patronizingly and said, "It takes time to get comfortable walking in stilettos, but you'll learn. Now giddy up girl, let's get going." Fred gave Steve a withering stare as Steve led off and walked to the entrance. The club fa?ade was utterly understated, being simply a neon sign with the name 'Pink Pussycat Club' on it. The front window had a professionally produced sign advertising, '17 flat screen plasma televisions. We show all sports year around: baseball, football, NASCAR, to extreme fighting.' A hand-written message was scribbled under the printed advertisement, 'Over 30 TV's available nightly.' "Damn it Steve, why do you get the pony tail, and I have to fight with this long blond Farrah Fawcett hair all night?" "Shut up you idiot, remember to call me Stephanie. You got that wig because you are the natural blond. Steve, in his gray ruffled chiffon maxi dress and black tights wore sensible slip-on ankle boots. He gaily led the way to the club entrance. He walked with a degree of panache that surprised Fred. Steve decided to accessorize by wearing a ton of cheap jewelry, including showgirl rhinestone earrings with a full 6-inch drop. As Steve purposely strolled on the sidewalk, he unabashedly announced to Fred, "I love the way these earrings brush my neck when I walk. It makes me feel so in character." Fred was as nervous as a virgin on her honeymoon. He knew he was about to get fucked "Why did I have to be the one in five-inch heels?" "Those were selected for you because I elected to wear three-inch pumps. This way, we are the same height, and no one will stick out." To relieve the tension Fred mocked his friend, "Stephanie, you strut like a stripper." Steve looked over his shoulder and glared at his associate and continued to the front door. He really worked the sway of his hips, and said in a salutary voice. "Thanks Ms. Frederica, you can be so suave and debonair when you try." Steve turned and held one final inspection of his colleague. Steve adjusted Fred's long pearl necklace so it hung between his breast forms. Standing outside the doorway, Steve leaned into Fred and warned, "Just be careful; this bar attracts mostly the scum of the earth. They are likely to take greet glee in disparaging all of us Sissies." Fred took affront at the pejorative term of Sissy, and then he glanced down between his large D cup breast forms to his pink fingernails. He sighed in resignation and continued on to his journey into never-never land. "If we see Ivan," Steve began, "Don't make eye contact with him. We will leave immediately. Understood?" Fred nodded in agreement. "If someone gives you a really hard time, don't get mad, and none of your macho Marine bullshit. Pout, stick your lip out, stare at the floor, and cry if you are able." In self-deprecating style and with an acid tongue, Fred sarcastically answered, "Yes mother, I promise no cat fights tonight. I will be a good girl." Upon entering the club the agents were hit with a crescendo of the timeless classic rendition of Helen Reddy's tune, 'I Am Woman Hear Me Roar'. As trained observers, both did a quick situational assessment. It was a typical sports bar, every wall covered in plasma televisions. The only clue to the idiosyncrasy of the club was the pictorial display of famous drag queens that hung behind the main bar. The room was filled with a boisterous crowd, divided into small clusters, some talking and others watching a baseball game between Miami and Chicago. The room was clean, in a public bathroom kind of way. It contained a dozen large booths, two pool tables, a dart board and fifteen four person tables. Two of which had chess boards set up, waiting for contestants. They closed the front door and were greeted by an employee. A 'woman' with dramatic makeup and prom hair, she wore a vinyl dominatrix outfit. She introduced herself as Georgette and spoke with a sickeningly sweet southern drawl, albeit in a husky voice. However, she moved without a trace of self-consciousness despite the fact she was dressed in such outlandish attire. After they explained this was their first at the club. A 'girl' named Libby, with the figure of a fashion model handed each customer a bar menu and a flyer advertising $2 beers all night. She then proceeded to usher them to their seats. With an effeminate swagger, she led the nervous newbie's to the main bar area. Steve reached down and held Fred's hand to assist him in the 200-foot stroll across the room. Midway through their promenade Steve put his arm around Fred's waist, pulled him in close and spoke above Shania Twain's recording, of 'I Feel like a Woman.' "Fred you need to relax. Camp it up, exaggerate everything and keep your chest out. Flaunt your sexuality. Now, most important of all, you've got to smile and act friendly!" Upon reaching the bar area, the three women were immediately surrounded by a group of drunk patrons. The leader spoke up first, "Ladies; you look familiar, haven't we met before?" Steve took control and responded, "Yes; I think you are right, we both work as receptionists at the local VD clinic. That must be where we have seen you and your friends." Most of the guys took the hint and slinked away; the leader persisted. Ignoring Steve, he cut Fred out of the crowd with the skill of a sheep dog, "Hey cutie, how 'bout you, and I get out of here and go someplace private?" Fred was appalled at the guy's audacity and lame pickup line. Fred took a step forward and invaded the man's private space. Looked him up and down and responded in a confident manner, "Sorry mate, I make it a rule not to date outside my species." Some guys just won't take a hint, "Don't be like that, baby. What do I have to give you, to get a kiss?" "Chloroform is the only that comes to mind. Now buzz off." Steve watched in amused silence and thought he may have underestimated his partner. He grabbed 'her' hand, and the two struggled to perch atop the closest bar stools. Steve ordered for both agents, "Two cosmopolitans please, and don't skimp on the vodka." The bartender was a girl who called herself Donna. In a parody of a drag queen, he/she had stuffed his bra with two over inflated water balloons. He wore a hip hugging red mini-dress and a diaphanous lace blouse, fishnet stockings and 4-inch stilettos. He walked and stood with his legs wide open and knee's bent. However, worst of all he followed the creed 'more is better,' eschewing the fundamental rule in applying makeup. He was somewhere between pathetic and whimsical. Like most bartenders, Donna was a great conversationalist. He freely gossiped about everything, including himself. He willingly told the new girls his story. In his past life, he was a tenured college English professor. He was forced by his wife to quit that job, and is now serving out a six-month sentence as a waitress, bartender, and cleaning lady for the club. Thrown out of his home he now, lives in a small room over the bar. While Steve was momentarily distracted, Fred fended off another Romeo. "Come on Sweetheart, help me out. My penis just died and I would love to bury it in your ass." Fred retorted with, "Sorry I'm not your type; I am not inflatable." Steve laughed at that one. Now convinced that Fred was capable of taking care of himself, he turned his full attention to Donna, assured he was someone who was worth cultivating as a source. For the remainder of the night, Steve went out of his way to cozy up to Donna. Steve found out that Donnas' wife demanded that he live and work at the club as punishment for cheating on her with a student. Steve marveled at the openness of this man. Caught up in Donnas' story, Steve almost missed the Auburn haired beauty that sat next to him. Her body was incredibly curvaceous; she wore a gold lam? sheath dress with a beaded keyhole collar that hugged her body like a wet coat of paint. She crossed her long legs, showing off her sassy glitter platform pumps. Her breasts were huge and out of proportion to her trim body. To Steve this was a first clue that it wasn't all natural. She took a deep breath, her chest expanding enticingly and held out a hand and said, "Hi, call me Tricia; that's short for Beatrice." "An aroused Steve daintily shook hands with this striking individual and introduced himself as Steffi." Staring into her face, Steve found her dark almond-shaped eyes exotically attractive. He was getting lost in those lovely pools of brown chocolate. His heart was racing; Steve had to force himself to look away. Despite her beauty, Steve discerned a subtle but noticeable sharpness to her facial features, and just the hint of a widow's peak showing at her hairline. She was attractive, but he thought that perhaps she wasn't quite what she seemed. Being a trained professional, Steve came to the realization he was dealing with a transsexual. Using his peripheral vision, Steve detected a guy staring at them from across the room. He was a big guy wearing a short sleeved purple dress shirt, white Dockers and sporting lots of gold on his hands and neck. He had a weightlifter's frame and Popeye arms. He took a slow sip of his drink and smiled at Steve over the rim of his glass. Steve speculated that he'd stumbled upon a tranny escort. This mountain of a man was probably her pimp. Steve returned his attention to this beautiful creature and thought, 'It's a pity she's a hooker...I wonder what she charges. Damn now I'm really pissed I forgot my wallet.' Steve glanced back at the pimp and knew that this was a place he really didn't want to go. So he pointed to a pool game just breaking up and said, "Sorry Tricia, but it's my game next." Steve got up to leave. "See you around," Steve said and lifted his glass in salute. "Going so soon?" she asked as she fluttered her sexy long false lashes at Steve. "Afraid so Tricia," Steve replied and gulped down the last of his drink in one swallow. "Maybe another time." "Don't wait too long Steffi. I have an expiration date. I turn back into a pumpkin at midnight." As Steve walked to the pool table, he wondered about her. She was the first transsexual he'd ever met, that he knew of. He'd certainly never expected to find one so pretty and convincing and thought it was a pity she was a pro. The more he thought about her, the more he was fascinated by her. Fingering his wedding ring, he mentally slapped himself for losing focus. Sure there must be lots of transsexuals who work as waitresses, hairdressers, receptionists, and many other occupations, whom we may meet unknowingly every day, without questioning whether they might have once been male in their past. Tricia didn't quite completely pass as a woman, but perhaps she wasn't supposed to. Steve intentionally scratched the first opportunity he got and coyly threw his game of pool to a rank amateur. Steffi congratulated the winner with a kiss on the cheek, and sashayed his way back to Fred, just in time to hear another moron embarrass himself by saying, "Hey cupcake, you want to know how you make a fairy moan? You tinker with his bell." At that point, the PA system blared Lady Gaga's hit tune, 'Born this way'. The entire club responded as one, everyone stood and sang. "Don't be a drag, just be a queen. Whether you're broke or evergreen. You're black, white, beige, chola descent. You're Lebanese, you're orient. Whether life's disabilities left you outcast, bullied or teased. Rejoice and love yourself today 'Cause baby, you were born this way. No matter gay, straight or bi Lesbian, transgendered life I'm on the right track, baby I was born to survive. No matter black, white or beige or orient made I'm on the right track, baby I was born to be brave. I'm beautiful in my way 'Cause God makes no mistakes I'm on the right track, baby I was born this way." Steve caught up in the moment found himself standing, swaying and clapping to the music. As the tune ended Steve pushed the guy standing next to him aside and again wiggled his ass up to the bar stool, crossed his legs and observed. Both girls sat, smiled and drank way too much. Over the course of the night, they managed to consume a bottle of Chablis, half-dozen glasses of Champagne, and four mixed drinks while they became acquainted with most of the other patrons and staff. Steve noted for his report that the staff was a most eclectic mix. Some of the 'girls appeared to be whores. While the majority of employees were transvestites living out their dreams, dressing to 'pass,' there was a minority that seemed to be full-fledged transsexuals. The patrons like most neighborhood sports bars, were mostly guys and what appeared to be a few authentic females sprinkled in between the obvious transvestites. In Steve's opinion, most of the men were masquerading as macho homophobic straight family men when in reality, they were probably misogynistic closeted gays. About two hours into their visit, Fred made a major concession and admitted he had to use the powder room, inviting Stephanie along for support. After he did his business, Fred stood and wiped. He didn't want his boy bits to show so he tucked his junk. He pulled up his vintage Lycra panties to hold everything in place and ensure he had a good feminine front. Meanwhile, Steffi was at the mirror and ran a brush through his hair one last time. Then he selected a tiny bottle from his purse. He strategically applied a dab behind each ear, and then offered the bottle to Fred, who adamantly declined. Steve then helped Fred touch up his lipstick. Then arm-in-arm, the duo headed back to their seats. Stephanie and Frederica spent an eventful evening drinking, socializing and observing the club. Steve was amused at how Fred seemed to be a natural flirt and unconsciously spent the night flipping his hair and playing with his large hoop earrings. The men were drawn to Fred like flies to shit, and every one of them kept adding to the pile of manure in an attempt to impress the flirtatious Fred with their witty repartee and pathetic pickup lines. At closing time, Steve and Fred headed for the door. Steve put his hand in the middle of Fred's back and guided him to the exit. At the door, the agents ran into a logjam of customers. Everyone was crushed together. Some jerk took the opportunity to grab Fred by his ass and said, "Baby; you got yourself a beautifully, bodacious, bubble butt there. But your booty would look a lot better bouncing on the end of my prick." Fred spun around and was surprised that his instinct was to slap this asshole, rather than punch him. Luckily, Steve was right there and held Fred's wrist in an iron grip. He whispered, "Frederica, take a deep breathe and let it go. We don't want to start anything." To shield his girlfriend Steve stepped between the two. Then as he turned to leave, Steffi 'accidentally' stepped on the instep of the asshole with the spike of his high heel. As the guy yelped and hopped around on one foot. Steffi sweetly said, "Sorry baby, my bad." Buoyed by the confidence alcohol can bring, Steve was feeling a little frisky and decided to have a little fun at his partner's expense. His hand casually rested south of the middle of Fred's back, Steffi maneuvered Frederica through the crowd to their waiting cab. Once ensconced in the seclusion of the backseat, an inebriated Steve became quite the cuddle kitten and snuggled up to an uncomfortable Fred the whole way home. @ @ @ @ The next morning Fred arrived dressed in his usual dark suit, starched white shirt and expensive tie. He was rubbing his left ear and limped in; his toes still suffered from an evening in 5-inch stilettos. "God damn it, Steve. That was bullshit last night. Why did I have to get my ears pierced?" Steve sat at his desk, his fingers steepled under his chin and smirked at his partner. "Fred, stop the whining, you sound like a petulant child. We were trying to sell our cover. The holes will close up again in a few days. No self-respecting TV wears clip-on earrings. By the way, for someone who claims to be a transvestite neophyte, you did amazingly well. You were simply a-w-e-s-o-m-e." An indignant Fred gave Steve a stare that would drill through concrete. "Thanks for the compliment, but yesterday was the longest day of my life. We spent over three hours getting dressed and an additional four hours parading around like two tricked-out whores and never got a single clue. It took me hours to get all the makeup off last night and forever to get that waist cincher off. My God with all of its straps, panels, hooks, zippers and ties, it must be a leftover from the Spanish Inquisition. Why did you double knot it in back?" Steve ignored Fred's yammering. "All that effort, and we didn't hear a single thing about the murder or a dead body. How is that going to help?" "Fred, no information, is still information. Think about it, a body is found feet away from where you work and not one waitress, or patron said a single word. Just fill in your report and let the Intel guys do their thing." Fred still suffered from the indignity of his first undercover assignment. With an ashen pall on his face, he glared at Steve, looked around to make sure no one could overhear him and said, "All right, but when you walked me to my door, what the hell was that goodnight kiss for?" "Sorry, sweetie, you were just so cute and after 6 or 7 drinks I couldn't help myself." "Damn you, my neighbor saw two women necking at my doorstep and called my girlfriend. Lucy has left me 10 messages already." "Hey, don't blame me; you are the one who reached up and grabbed me by my head in a moment of passion." "Fuck you Steve, I already told you. You caught me off guard. In those stilts I stumbled, and just instinctively seized your head to keep from falling." "Let me warn you. You try that again and the next Sunday; you will be singing soprano in the church choir. What am I going to tell Lucy? I can't tell her why we were in drag. Even if I can come up with some reasonable explanation for the dress, there is no explanation for the kiss." "I don't know. Be creative. Skip the whole drag thing. Make her jealous; tell her you had a little three-way action last night." "Yeah, that's brilliant, since I told her we were working together last night. What will you say to your wife when Lucy calls Phyllis?" Steve smiled because he knew exactly what Phyllis would say. Contra to the rules he showed her a dozen pictures from his cell phone. "Calm down just finish your statement. Don't forget to file your expense report." "All right Steve, I'll get right on it. But, rest assured, I will get you for that 'I left my wallet in my other purse trick.' You bastard, I had to pay for the whole night. How do I explain the undercover expenses to accounting, since I paid in cash, I didn't get any receipts? You spent nothing while I spent over $70." "Cool it, if that hot to trot lezzy hadn't paid our last bar bill. It would have been a lot more. That says a great deal about the success of your disguise. Butt ugly gals pay their own way. But you were so sexy and inviting. You had admirers fighting over you all night. If you would have taken a few of those offers from the tranny chasers, the entire night would have been free. Just list everything as 'Incidentals.' I will submit a supporting statement, with your expense report." Steve smiled and patted his coat pocket to ensure the $200; he had been issued from the discretionary fund was still there. Maybe someday he will tell Fred about it, but for now, it was time to shop. A return trip back to the club was warranted to work on Donna, and he needed a new outfit. If he was really lucky maybe Tricia will be there again. Steve daydreamed; I bet I could pump her...for information. "By the way, the way Frederica, with your constant flirting, you attracted a lot more attention than I thought was appropriate. I told you to be friendly not to troll for a boyfriend. We might have overdone things with your feminization." "Do you think? Hell Steve, I had no idea how much ass grabbing, pinching, and propositioning there would be. By the way, my ass is black and blue from being pinched and groped. I had at least 10 guys and two women; at least, I think they were women, proposition me and ask for my phone number. One guy offered to pay me $100 for a pole dance, and he promised to provide the pole. That was Eww, disgusting, like I would touch his filthy rod! Those pick up lines, I never realized how cheesy they are. Last night was a real eye-opener for me." At that moment, Bill stuck his head in the door, and asked, "Well boys how was your night at the fruit stand?" In unison both agents responded, "Not as bad as I imagined." "Finish your written reports and come to debrief me personally." Chapter 24 A day and a half later Vladimir had flown in from Miami and talked to the plastic surgeon, "Doc; you have your latest patient; he is all ready for you to work your magic. Are you set up and prepared to go?" "Yes Vladimir, we just got the results of his blood test. How long has our patient been on hormones? His levels are off the chart, in fact, I found several hormone patches stuck to his thigh." I don't know when he began; all I know is that I have had him on mega doses since he started working in my club. All my 'girls get them secretly in their food. Is there a problem? No, not really, when I first saw the lab result, I thought we were dealing with a pregnant teenager. I am afraid his procreating days are behind him. I have decided to make things easier for you and him; since you are such a good customer, there will be no extra cost. I am going to insert several slow release hormone capsules into his body. They will flood his system with estrogen for at least six months. Just a word of caution, with the levels of estrogen in his blood stream, his man sausage will continue to function for maybe a month longer, two months at the max. So if you have plans for that your timing has to be soon." "Great Doc, you have the list of what else I want done on Jack." "Jack?" "Da, Doc that was his name before. Now he is called Daisy. I had him checked out. The poor Schmuck, appears to be a long term transvestite, he made the mistake of coming out to his wife in public. She put him through hell. She gave him to a dominatrix to break him in. The wife was so broken up by his coming out that she was dating in less than two weeks, and if my reports are correct, and they always are, she has gotten herself knocked up. That's true love for you. After Daisy and I get settled in, I may have to send someone to reward those two. Our boy here is still hung up on her. I haven't the heart to tell him the truth about his wife. Why he still wears that childish watch she gave him as a coming out present, and that cheep imitation ring I don't understand? If you have to take them off be sure to put them back on before he wakes up, or he will freak-out. Wait a minute doctor I have an idea, give me the ring; I am going to have a duplicate made. I will surprise him later when I inform my little flower that he now belongs to me, body and soul. Can you keep Daisy knocked out for two days it will take?" "That is no problem, Vladimir. We will keep the patient under continuous observation and sedated with high doses of tranquilizers for at least 36 hours. With implants as large as the ones you want there is going to be considerable discomfort. We will keep him..err her out of it for that time, then I suggest at least 7 more days of bed rest. And remember Vladimir absolutely no strenuous activity!" "Just the thing Doc, I have errands to run, why don't you get started. One more thing doctor don't forget the collagen injections in the nipples. I want those puppies pocking through a padded bra and a sweatshirt." "Doctor one last question; is it possible to give her dimples?" "Vladimir, I am the finest plastic surgeon money can buy. You want dimples; you got dimples." Several hours later Vladimir returned and found the surgical nurse. "How did she do?" He asked anxiously. "Wonderful, the nurse replied. The doctor finished about an hour ago." "How does she look?" Vladimir excitedly asked. "It's a little hard to tell. His face is pretty well covered with bandages." "Did the doctor do everything we discussed?" "Yes, we went right down the list as you requested, with one minor exception." An angry Vladimir growled "And just was that, I don't like surprises?" "We think you will this one. We replaced the patient's puny breast implants with the mega ones you requested. We did the liposuction on his waist, and the butt implants. The rhinoplasty and facelift went unusually well. You will be exceptionally pleased with the lip plumping; they now look like two soft pillows. In my opinion, it is the best work the doctor has ever done. He now has the cutest little button nose, and is more feminine looking than most woman. Instead of injecting his nipples with collagen as you demanded the doctor used his initiative and injected strong female hormones into both nipples and aureoles. This will give the desired visual effect you wanted, plus it has the added advantage on making them grow in size and sensitivity as they are absorbed. Come back in six months and we can fill'em up again. Jack that was his real name right? He will grow to love his orgasmic tits." Vladimir we even did what you wanted on his ankles. Personally, I had some reservations; it seemed a bit barbaric, but we did it while he was sedated. He is now and forever marked as your property. As long as you keep the site clean and bandaged the final results should be exactly what you requested. Vladimir this one is a little more frail and feminine looking than you usually provide us, but everything turned out exquisitely." As a statement more than a question Vladimir said, "Ben didn't castrate 'her' like he did Laura, did he?" Funny, Vladimir thought to himself. In the past, he had never stopped thinking of the girls as guys, referring to them by their given genders. Jack was different somehow. "No there was no orchitomy this time. He still has his cojones." The doctor was tempted to remove them, but I reminded him of what you said." "Good. I'm still a little worried about Daisy's reaction to all this." "Why are you worried? Daisy looks wonderful. He looks as much like a girl as any guy I've ever seen." "That could become a problem. He may be too feminine. Aside from the little that's left of his penis, he isn't a guy any more. The hormones have changed him so much already. I am concerned, he may not be emotionally ready to give up his claim on manhood. Normally, I rescue some poor gender confused guy from the scorn and ridicule in the bars. I mold them into a feminine looking woman. Play with them until I tire of the game and then discard them to their own devices. In the past, my problem had to be to make them look and act feminine enough to be believable; things are unusual this time. She is different. Daisy has exceeded all my expectations. This one is definitely a keeper," said Vladimir. @ @ @ @ Tucked into his bed aboard the ship Jack is fought to become fully conscious. He was still groggy and felt like he has just gone three rounds with Mike Forman. Lying in bed without opening his eyes Jack knew something wasn't right. In fact, something was very, very wrong. As the bed moved in the waves, he felt a weight on his chest shifting strangely. Slowly, he pried his eyes open. Surprisingly, he found himself in bed in a fancy stateroom. As his head slowly cleared, he forced open his eyes. He looked down towards the foot of the bed and saw the most feminine bedspread ever. It was a field of pink silk and lace. Out of that salmon pink field jutted two very prominent hills. Hills, hell they looked like the Alps. Glancing under the covers, Jack's eye widened in wonderment. He was initially convinced he was hallucinating. Muttering, "Oh, fuck! Awww, I can't believe he would do this to me. It must be a dream; this can't be real!" Jack garbed his chest in panic. He found he was wearing an incredible see through pink chemise. Blinking his eye hoping that what he had seen was a delusion. The weight is almost oppressive. Two heavy mounds of quivery flesh topped by rose-colored peaks were holding him down. The sight of his new body produced a reflexive girly scream. Jack immediately started an inventory of his other major body parts. Jack slid his legs out of bed and attempted to stand. He was unsteady on his feet. The unaccustomed weight that protruded from his chest was playing havoc with his equilibrium. Jack stood steadying himself with one hand on the bed. Jack allowed his silk gown to fall into place. He reached between his legs for one last check. Finding what he was looking for, Jack gave a relieved sigh and scanned the room. As his senses cleared he recognized that he is in Daisy's stateroom aboard Vladimir's yacht. Using the bulkhead for support Jack stumbled over to the porthole and regained his sense of humor, he thought, 'Shiver Me Timbers, we're at sea'. The gentle sway of the boat was almost hypnotic. Suddenly, the boat took a large drop; Jack stumbled, and his udders flopped up and struck his chin. Regaining his balance, Jack felt his huge tits freely sway as the ship rose and fell in the Atlantic chop. The sensation of his nipples rubbing across the gossamer night gown sent Jack into sensory overload. Nipples that appeared fully engorged by what Jack assumed was a reaction to the cool air-conditioning. The mini erections were producing considerable distortions in the sheer fabric of his nightgown. Jack found that his massive tits had a substantial heft to them that gave them quite a bit of inertia when he or the ship moved. With each step, Jack found the mass on his chest was always a half step behind. Jack was compelled to abandon using the bulkheads for support. He decided to use his hand and arms to contain his swaying breasts. This resulted in Jack wildly stumbling about the stateroom, throwing his chest protuberances about in Tilt-A-Whirl fashion. As he passed the dresser, Jack stared into the mirror. The image caused him to grab a chair for support and gawk in wonderment. Looking back is a stunningly beautiful, if an outrageously over-endowed, platinum-blonde woman. She has an angelic face with fluttering lashes and large plump kissable lips that were so huge they were down right pornographic. Her long hair is falling in tangled disarray about her shoulders. Her body is that of a goddess, the transparent chemise did little to hide those glorious curves. Trembling fingers moved to the bruises on his face. Disturbingly, Jack's first thought is how they distracted from his beauty. Still in a state of shock, Jack hefted his huge new endowments, feeling their weight and mass in his hands. Hands that don't come close to encompassing the volleyball sized spheres. He knew that some men would find these boobies absolutely magnificent, but even if he wasn't burdened with lugging their immense bulk around, he would have found them ridiculously oversized. They may look like volleyballs but damn if they didn't feel like two bowling balls attacked to his chest. Acting on autopilot, Jack forced himself away from the mirror and stumbled confused into the head. Where he bent over the toilet bowl and vomited his guts out. The thought of being trapped in this body for the rest of his life brought another wave of nausea, until there was nothing left. Eventually feeling better he stood and examined the small room. The first thing Jack saw was a makeup kit, resting next to a hair brush and curling iron. After empting his bladder and washing his face, Jack found himself driven by an unknown impulse. Jack was along for the ride, as Daisy opened the makeup case and sought out the concealer, knowing instinctively he had to hide the discolorations around his eyes. Without understanding what was driving his actions, he combedhis hair and added a touch of lipstick. Feeling a lot better Jack stared at the image in the small sink mirror and thought the face staring back was his, but it wasn't. It was the face of an angle, a combination of sexy and beautiful. It possessed his large, bright blue eyes, but now had a nose that can only be described as cute, impossibly high cheek bones, accentuated by two endearing dimples and full, soft lips that Marilyn Monroe would have killed for. Jack just stared mesmerized by the face in the mirror, 'Not bad, before I was attractive, now I am glamorous. NO! This can't be real! Why am I thinking these things?' Jack was lost, 'What do I do now? Can I ever return to being a man or will these bodacious udders condemn me to a life of being a T-girl?' Suddenly the ship rolled violently Jack reached up and grabbed his breast with both hands to keep them under control. The palms of his hands brushed against his nipples. The feelings this produced was glorious. In a surreal state Jack found himself alternating between the aureoles and nipples, rubbing them between his finger and thumb. Jack continued this little exercise until his circuit breaker was thrown. He had what felt like an orgasm but his prick never got hard. A bewildered Jack felt dirty and sighed, "Maybe I won't want to be a man again. This really isn't too bad!" Getting back into his bunk, Jack slept for the next 24 hours. Awakening with the morning light streaming in through the porthole, Jack laid in bed with a myriad of alien sensations emanating from his body. Even lying on his back, Jack found those mounds of fatty tissue jiggled and swayed rhythmically with the ship in the morning swells. Sliding to the floor, Jack firmly wraped his arms under his chest in an attempt to contain their bent on independent motion. Jack managed to reach the head without incident. He performed his morning ablutions, which now include combing his hair and applying some makeup. Just as Jack was about to hop back into bed Vladimir knocked on his door and opened it peering in, "Sorry to disturb you Daisy, but this is something that has to be done. Can we come in?" Still exasperated at Vladimir for making these unsolicited changes Jack answered "Come on in it's not like I have much of a choice. What is it now?" "Don't be like that Doll Face! The doctor just has to do a checkup to make sure you are all right. Will you just let him look at you?" "Vladimir hurried over to Daisy and said reassuringly, "I promise he won't do anything to hurt you." "What kind of checkup." Jack asked, looking from Vladimir to the doctor. The doctor peering around Vladimir answered, "It's nothing Daisy, really. I need to give you a simple breast exam and your ass implants and give a quick look to your face, We need to make sure everything is shipshape joked the doctor." Jack's memories of this man are fuzzy, but he did recognize him as the evil man who had played Dr. Frankenstein with his body. Jack looked to Vladimir with fear in his eyes. Jack's response was "Sure Igor, let the doctor in." What would the doctor do? The idea of a breast exam was so foreign and beyond the scope of any of his previous experiences, it scared Jack. "I'll stay right here with you." Vladimir said with a confused smile, unsure about the significance of Igor's comment. "Please take off your nightgown Daisy and stand over here by the bed." The Doctor asked as pleasantly as he could. Vladimir helped pull the chemise over Daisy's head. Not once did Jack take his eyes from the doctor. To have a strange man see him with his breasts exposed was something Jack was not emotionally prepared for. That was foolish, Jack knew. This was the man who gave him these damn beach balls. Vladimir stood by his side as Daisy sat down, a bed sheet pulled tightly around him while the doctor sat on the edge of the bed; first, he gently poked his face and nose with his fingers. "I can hardly see the incisions Daisy." He said, satisfied that he'd done his job well. "You are healing beautifully." Then Daisy flinched as this monster yanked the sheet out of his hands, reached up and placed his hands on Daisy's breasts. Daisy sat there, held his breath, nervous as the doctor gently moved his breasts from side to side and up and down. Then, when Daisy thought, the doctor was finished, he squeezed them like he was checking ripe fruit. "Vladimir you know his narrow chest makes his breast appear larger than they are. Now Daisy, please turn around so I can check your buttocks. The doctor took his time massaging Jacks enhanced darriair in a manner similar to the chest inspection. He was a bite more thorough than Jack thought necessary. The doctor sat back and with an enigmatic smile said, "I'm sorry Daisy. I to check that no seepage had taken place. "Just one more thing Daisy, then I will be done. Turn back around and face me please." The doctor reached up and pinched each nipple, watching for a reaction from his patient, saying, "I just wanted to make sure they retained their sensitivity, are you having any problems?" Jack responded "My nipples really itch." "That's normal. Here this cream has estrogen in it. It will relieve the itching. I'll call around and give you some more if you like." The two men watched with amusement as Jack put the chemise back on allowing it to float down around his body. "This is utterly unbelievable." Jack howled, "Just get out, both of you perverts, get out and leave me alone!" Jack looked to Vladimir. "All done Daisy, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." The doctor's apology seemed genuine. He stood and walked halfway to the door and turned. "You've become a beautiful young woman Daisy. I wish you all the happiness in your new life; I have given you a hidden present that will reveal itself in time. I discovered the hormone patches you were wearing when you were brought to me. I implanted slow release estrogen capsules in your tissue. So for the next six months you will have no need for external estrogen, your body will produce it on its own!" The doctor turned and left, and whispered to Vladimir "In fact, fact she will have more estrogen in her than a maternity ward full of expectant mothers." Jack quickly covered himself with the sheet. He was relieved that the doctor was gone. Being touched like that by the old man made him feel violated and dirty. "That wasn't so bad Daisy, was it?" Vladimir had seen how uncomfortable Daisy had looked when Ben touched him, and now he tried to play it down. "Most women get a breast exam every year, and it's not nearly as gentle as the doctor was with you." "If I was a woman, I guess that would be reassuring." Jack asked, "Do doctors really push and squeeze you like that?" Vladimir left, and Jack locked the door behind him. Jack then entered the head for a shower. The rest of the trip back home was uneventful. The new and improved Daisy, secluded himself in his cabin and refused to come out even to eat. Once in port in Miami, Vladimir decided to give his new girlfriend some space and arranged a limo ride back to her apartment. Departing from the ship, Vladimir cornered Daisy, saying, "I know you are feeling strange right now, I will give you a few days to adjust, but after that you better snap out of it. I have spent too much time and money on you, so don't fuck it up or you will know what real pain is all about. Have I made myself clear?" A sobbing Jack entered the limo and sat in a zombie-like trance. Shortly Jack found himself at his apartment building. Exiting the limo, Jack was met with a chorus of catcalls and whistles, running a gauntlet of young men 'hanging out' on the sidewalk. Jack made his way to his apartment door. Crying hysterically Jack knocked on his apartment door, and prayed Linda was home. @ @ @ @ Chapter 25 Jack knocked on the door to his apartment because he has no keys. Linda eventually opened it just a crack. She looked out but it took a moment for her to recognize Daisy. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened and closed a couple of times but the only thing to come out was a squeaky, "Wow." Opening the door fully, Jack's heart nearly burst at seeing 'his' Linda again. Gaining her voice Linda continued, "Daisy we have been worried about you. Come in and tell me what happened. Jack attempted to sidestep Linda to enter the apartment, and banged his left tit on the door frame. He grabbed his breast in pain; Jack slouched over trying to minimize the size of his boobs. The novelty of being a stacked woman was fading fast. "With a set of knockers like those I guess we can retire your supply of Wonder Bras. Linda graded a pad of paper and a pen to take notes. Tell me everything, don't leave anything out." "That Vladimir is a miserable vermin, and that ship of his is a petri dish, he gives cockroaches a bad name! I want to squish him like the bug he is." Jack stood up straight and flung his arms out wide displaying his massive mammaries. "Look what he did to me. I want him dead. Dead do you hear me? Please do something Linda. I am nothing but a circus sideshow; I'm 120 lbs of walking, giggling tits! Getting here from the car was unbelievable; everyone stared at my boobs, and made rude suggestive comments." Linda saw that Daisy was having an emotional tsunami. She knew she must do something quickly to save his mental wellbeing. "Don't worry about those people, they are just jealous. Now let's get you bathed and into bed, I will bring you a good stiff drink, then we can have a nice long talk." Sitting on the side of the bed Linda could only gawk at Daisy's titanic tits, and then with a sheepish grin, Linda finally had to ask "Oh, hmm,?Daisy, I have to ask, did Vladimir take the family jewels?" A weeping Jack responded "Um, no he left them, for what good they will do me, the doctor told me he implanted massive amounts of time released female hormones inside me. This means my boy parts are going to become irrelevant in time. What am I going to do, I am such a freak, with these monstrosities I can never be a normal woman. Linda mused that 'Daisy's petulant little pout made her look even sexier than she normally did.' Trying to liven the moment Linda said, "Daisy it looks like you hit the jackpot in the boob lottery." "Actually Linda, think I won the booby prize," joked back Jack. "Daisy, you may not want to hear this, and forgive my audacity, your figure may be of staggering proportions but I think you are stunning, I don't care what they say, size does matter. Hell if tits were brains you would be the smartest person on the planet. You have a set of breasts that a man or woman could get lost in. In fact it would take three days to find your way out of those mountains of flesh. I could spend a lifetime mapping the topography of your chest." Jack tilted his head and batted his eyelashes at Linda and seductively whispered, "Linda you are so full of shit, it makes your eyes turn brown; but you really know how to make me feel better." With the tension now broken, Linda noticed Daisy's nipples and aureoles were well developed and extremely predominate. Jack turned his head and laid it on Linda's warm and inviting shoulder. The two 'women', spent the remainder of the night enveloped in each other's arms. With all the sympathy she could muster, Linda comforted Daisy kissed her forehead. She said, "Honey I will help you anyway I can." After spending most of next morning trying to calm Daisy, Linda finally told her roommate, "Listen honey, I have to go into the office for a while, Steve is demanding a report on your absence. We were all very worried about you. I am looking forward to breaking the news about you new hyper-inflated mammaries." Linda gave Jack an enthusiastic hug and said, "Will you be all right if I leave for a few hours? Daisy you have to trust me on this one, you are going to be fine. You have my word on that!" Finally alone, Daisy spent a long time standing naked in front of the mirror studying his new body. His diet, exercise and hormones had sapped the bulk of his manly muscles, leaving behind nothing but soft curves. The front of his breasts appeared so full and ripe that they actually concealed a portion of his thin arms when he held them at his sides. Jack felt a sense of shame at the fact his own image produced a semi- sexual arousal within him. Strangely it was more emotional than physical. Walking was now a major distraction. The mound of flesh grazed his arms when he moved them forward. Reflecting on his new image one word kept jumping into his head and only one word, 'Bimbo'. Jack wondered how he'd have the nerve to show himself like this in public. The long solitude dampened his spirits even more. Feeling disillusioned, Jack contemplated suicide. Jack thought, 'Living like this is, a freak, is not worth living. Anything is better than going through life like it was a perpetual Halloween. I'm tired of being emotionally alone. I don't trust anyone. I am just worthless; all my dreams have been transformed into nightmares.' The emotional and physical turmoil of the past few months are more than he can handle. He tried to devise a plan for his final demise. 'How would I do it, I hate the sight of blood, I don't like pain, the only way is to hang myself. I wonder, are pantyhose are strong enough to do the job?' The reverberations of his emotional abuse by Linda, followed by the physical abuse inflected by Vladimir hit him like a train wreck. Jack recognized that he doesn't want to die, but the anguish was more than he can cope with. His options are very limited. Jack realized he needed help. He wanted someone to talk to. Linda is out, she is a total psycho, Vladimir is an uncaring bastard, the girls at the club are a possibility, but in his heart Jack knew he needed Rose, the only person in the world who ever loved him. Standing in front of his bathroom mirror Jack was awed and disturbed by his reflection. Then it hit him. "Damn!" He breathed, "I am going to quit this spook operation. I am going back to Rose and plead with her to take me back. If I can win her love back, I think I might get through this!" Jack needed to get dressed. He quickly found that walking around with his breast unsupported was not an option. Going through his massive wardrobe Jack could find nothing that fit his new dimensions. Finding his largest bra, Jack attempted unsuccessfully to stuff his humongous jugs into the hopelessly overmatched bra cups. Jack couldn't even get it closed. As a last resort he tried one of Linda's bras. He found one that he could at least get closed, but the mass of flesh popped out whenever he moved, standing perfectly still both pink nipples were visible amongst the mountains of cleavage spilling from his tight top. Then he remembered a bustier that Linda owned, unfortunately it was on the top shelf. Jack bit his lip in concentration and wrapped one arm around his vast, jiggling bosoms before he took a pathetic little bunny-hop in the air, his other arm straining upwards for balance. He managed to grasp the bustier but landed on his ass, boobs oscillated uncontrollably for ages. Jack actually thought it was funny the way the huge creamy spheres danced so happily in contrast to his dark mood. Eventually he put on the old bustier with half cups. It provided some support, as his breasts rested on two soft pink shelves. Unfortunately his nipples were not cover, they stood out hard and firm like two stone monuments. As Jack looked down at them, he sadly wished his penis could get that hard. Finding the only top that had a chance of fitting was one of Linda's knit sweaters. Stretching a size eight over his size 12 chest was a struggle. One in which on Jack found he was in point of fact busting out of. Jack was concerned that his nipples would actually force their way out of the knit weave. Donning a matching skirt, and then retrieving a purse, lipstick, and the keys for his car still parked in the lot below. Jack was finally ready to go. After several hours of driving, Jack arrived at his old home. He pulled his Pontiac to the curb up and parked across the street, setting the handbrake Jack began to panic. He realized he didn't even know if Rose lived there anymore. As it started to get dark Jack decided he would wait for awhile and see what developed. While waiting, Jack touched up his lipstick a dozen times. It seems old habits are hard to break. It was now after 6 PM about the time Rose normally got home from work. Jack pulled out his lipstick one last time as the bottom rim of the sun kissed the top of the palm trees. Watching a gull taking advantage of the late afternoon thermals, it slowly circled above what use to be Jack's home. As the sun dipped below the palm trees, the gull made a swan dive and disappeared behind the shrubbery. Jack took the disappearing bird and its lonely call as a precursor of his hopes of reconciliation with Rose. Jack's melancholy shrouded him just as evening twilight enveloped the car. Jack thought, 'After the way she treated me, what argument can I use to convince her to take me back. How am I going to explain me physical appearance? I will tell her everything, honesty is the best policy. If that doesn't work I will tell her, if she doesn't take me back I am going to kill myself. Will she even care?' The longer Jack sat, the greater his doubts and insecurities grew. He had always held onto the believe that no one is ever truly alone ? that is until now. The sun faded behind the tops of the palm trees, the horizon turned from fiery red to shades of maroon and purple. Jack started to question his decision to come, the only reason he stayed was the fact the porch light was on. Jack desperately grasped at the straw of Rose's last words, 'I will leave the lights on for you'. Did she mean those words as a ray of hope or was it just another cruel taunt? Then as the sun just began its slide into the horizon, a set of headlights illuminated Jack's car. He slumped down in the seat to remain unseen. A strangely familiar car pulled into the driveway. Jack intently tried to determine if the driver was Rose. He mustered his courage and prepared to exit the car. His plan was to intercept Rose before she got inside figuring she was less likely to make a scene in public. Just then the driver opened his door and the dome light illuminated the driver. Not only was it not Rose, but it was Mike, his old nemesis. Jack's heart stopped as Mike got out and went to the passenger side and helped Rose out of the car. With his arm supporting her, Mike assisted an obviously pregnant Rose to the front door. Mike opened the door and both disappeared into the dark house. The porch light was turned off. 'You whoring bitch!' thought Jack as he drove the night sky turned inky black, reminiscent of a tomb. Jack drove back to Linda's, the only sanctuary he had left. The entire trip home, Jack was tormented by the image of Mike and Rose together, it was his worst nightmare. During his commute home Jack went through a transmutation, his self-pity and despondency morphed into a driving need for revenge. Suicide would have to wait. Jack had a mission to accomplish first. Jack railed into the night, "I will find a way to get back at everyone. I have no idea how, but I would find a way. No matter what happens I am going to