Making Of A Mafia Princess free porn video

Synopsis Rob Linwood, a rookie patrolman and son of a recently deceased former cop with his own checkered past, is tricked into volunteering for undercover street walker duty. The unexpected arrival of a mob boss - with a grievance - at the corner where he has been placed, combined with a potentially dangerous request, intentional misinformation being shared, and the father's past catching up with the son, put the rookie who now passes as an attractive female, into a life threatening situation. There may be only one path to remaining alive, which recalls an almost forgotten childhood dream, honors an old promise, and affects the line of succession in the criminal organization. Rob did not want to be a cop, but neither does he want to die. Making of a Mafia Princess Chapter 1 "Okay, Linwood, report to the undercover unit, vice squad, 3rd floor," I'm told by the duty sergeant as we leave the afternoon shift briefing room in the precinct stationhouse. Yes, sir" I reply and take a breath and exhale. What have I got myself in for, I wonder, as I think back on how I got to this moment in my life. My father was a cop who wanted a son to follow in his footsteps, preferably his first son. I was his second. Because of the mean, sometimes brutal and unloving way he treated us, I never thought much of him as a father, and definitely not as someone I would call my dad, nor did my older brother, Joseph Jr. - or Joey - who ran away from home when he was 17. He turned 18 before being 'caught' so he didn't have to go back, which he didn't. My father then decided that, regardless of my desires, I was now in line to continue the family tradition and become a cop, too. I was the 'good' boy, I guess. But I knew I was probably too 'good' to be a good cop. I understood that there were times you had to be a hardass, which I knew I never could be. I also suppose in some deep recess of my mind that I wanted him to love me, and maybe my yielding to his desires was part of that, but I also doubted that even if I made it onto the force, that love would ever come. Of course, my father would say any number of times, "You're going to the academy. They'll toughen you up. You'll turn out great, I just know." It didn't, I didn't...and he didn't. Besides Joey, I had both an older and a younger sister, Elena and Angela, and truth be told, I enjoyed being around them a lot more than around either my father or even my brother. I especially liked helping my mother raise my younger sister, feeding her, playing with her, helping change diapers even. And I was thrilled when my older sister sometimes included me in her activities and with her childhood girlfriends. They all thought I was 'cute', as I showed genuine interest in what they were doing, without being obnoxious. I just felt that I had more in common with them. Unfortunately, as I got older, that all stopped, or more accurately, was stopped, rather abruptly and with a lot of brutality by my father. What else was stopped were other dreams and yearnings I had which I gave up, forcing myself to try to live the life my father seemed to want of me. I may have given my father grudging respect at times, reacted out of pure fear other times, but from my earliest memories, I can never recall loving him or him loving me, even as I did to some extent with my mother, my brother, and my sisters. Any love shown by my father was sadly minimal if not lacking, and that lack of love affected us all and often prevented us from showing much to each other. How I wished that I might be a part of another family where love was considered important, where a father not only loved his children but respected them, and showed that he actually cared about them as much if not more than himself. I realized soon enough, it would never be part of my growing up years. My mother had been beaten down by my father so much regarding my brother and me, that she seldom was able to stand up for us - which was part of the reason my brother ran away - and then later for me. Our father did let her raise her daughters as she saw fit. Of course, he issued some restrictions regarding them that our mother was eventually able to get around, but not so for us boys. So she just learned to look away when our dad would whale on us. And I learned to take the unfair punishments, the abuse and do what I was told so maybe my father wouldn't beat me so much. He passed away after I was accepted into the academy (he was on medical leave, was a heavy smoker and died of cancer), but before I actually started. So to his dying day, I was on track to be the successful son, following in his father's footsteps as opposed to his loser other son, whom he swore would never step foot in his house again. I didn't rejoice in his passing, but neither did I mourn him. I just felt that now my mother could have a decent life for a change. Now if only we could find her other son, my brother Joey, and let him know he was welcome to return home. It helped getting me into the academy, I'm guessing, that my father had been a career officer of the law and knew the right people. He wasn't a 'by the book' man and there were many in the department who respected him for getting the job done. The conviction rate of those he arrested was consistently the highest in the department. The by the book ones, just turned the other way so as not to be involved in case any crap hit the fan, which considering - as I found out later - how my father gathered 'evidence' or got confessions, was almost miraculously very little. But I was not my father, and as I also found out, he did have some, oh, let's call them enemies, I suppose, on the force. And now that he had passed away, I became the target of their enmity, and in a few cases, hatred - can't get the father? Take it out on the son. Why not? I probably was hazed a little more at the academy than most the trainees by those who had had some issues with my father, but there were also some who thought highly of him, so I survived. Once into street training, it was a little different. Only a few in the precinct in which I was stationed, harbored resentment, the others didn't really care one way or the other as long as I did my job. Maybe it was because his son was rejected for the academy that Patrick Coogan, a ranking police officer assigned to the same precinct as I was, hated me more so than any of the others. More than once, I'd pass him in the hallway, and if no one was around, he'd mutter some sneer like, "Hey, punk, stay the fuck out of my way," even if I was nowhere near him. My father never talked about him directly in front of us boys, but sometimes I'd overhear him and my mother and Coogan's name would come up and my father would start using all kinds of expletives. Once on the force, I did hear some rumors that Coogan flirted with many of the women officers, even the married ones, and that he may have cheated on his wife. But they were just rumors. I was also aware that he was bad-mouthing me to anyone who would listen, and as is often the case, a few would. I was unlucky in that once, I had to ride with him in a patrol car. He told me in no uncertain terms, "I'm watching you, punk. You just fuck up once, and I'll write up a report so bad, you'll be bounced from the force in a New York minute." The assignment was fairly uneventful, and thankfully, so far, that was the only time. But, I could only respond 'yes, sir', and try to do what I could or just stay out of his way. It didn't make it easier for him, that I was not like my father, but more a by the book officer, as I made sure to know and put to use as much training as well as knowledge of the law and regulations as I could. I could tell he was pissed when he couldn't find anything serious on me. So what he did was, he'd scrutinize my uniform, rifle my locker, look for any reports I had written, or documents I handled that had even the smallest possible infraction and shove them in my face, and then report them to our superiors. Practically every complaint was dismissed, and the ones that weren't, were easily rectified with a caution to be more careful. However, I could see it wearing on the staff, and a good way to relieve that would be to dismiss me since Coogan had so much tenure and support of the union. It also didn't help that Coogan and the duty sergeant were buddies, not that close, but close enough. The Sarge didn't have personal feelings for me one way or the other, I was just another rookie cop, but he had seen the reports out of the academy and although I had passed, there was concern that I wouldn't be tough enough to make it on the streets. So he had few if any qualms after listening to Coogan's complaints, to put me into potentially serious situations as a test, to see if I could handle them. If not, I would probably have to resign, or be dismissed. So, it came down to a few months into my on the street training, which I was somehow passing, although barely, and we were in the assignment room awaiting our orders for the afternoon shift. "Okay, got some people out on sick leave and vacation, so we need a volunteer for vice squad, streetwalker duty section," the Sergeant says, and the room goes silent. In the previous day or so, one of the other rookies who I only knew casually, had mentioned to me that he heard that this kind of duty was a piece of cake. And that it'd probably be good for any rookie, but especially for those on the fence like me as there was little to no chance of actually going undercover as a rookie cop. It would start, most likely, with just backup assistance. After a moment of silence in the room, and remembering that earlier conversation, I pipe up, in all innocence, "Um, what does it entail?" as I barely notice that absolutely no one has said a word, or even flinched. I did notice the Sergeant had been focusing on me before I even said a word, but I didn't know what to make of it. He says, with a slight smile, quickly upon me finishing my question, "Well, I think we have a volunteer. Not all that much, Linwood, you dress up a little, stand on a corner, your partner will be just across the street in an unmarked car, and you see if anyone is interested. They make an arrest. Real simple. The undercover unit will fill you in on the details." "Hey, I didn't say I'd volunteer to do that," I protest. "Too late, whoever speaks up first is the volunteer. Anyway, it'll look good on your record that you volunteered." "Um, I'm not so sure it's a good idea. I mean, I'm still in my training." "This'll be great training for you. Now enough of that, onto the next piece of business. The Mayor will be attending a rally and needs a protection unit. Any volunteers?" About 10 raise their hands, as he says, "All we need is five, okay, you, you, you, you, and you." He points at the various men. Yeah! I guess I know which is the good duty and which is the not so good. I also know that you don't belabor a point with the duty sergeant. On the way out, I see that other rookie and Coogan talking over to one side, and laughing a little. I have no time to think about it. So now I am reporting to the vice squad, still wondering what have I got myself into. After I get there and introduce myself, and still not feeling very good about what's happening, it seems that they are somewhat pleased to see me - or any volunteer, I would guess. They do question my experience level, with me having only been on the streets for a few months. The officer assigned to get me going, says, "Normally we don't put rookies out there, but some things have come up, and, well, um, you, you've got that...assignment." He barely looks at me as he is telling me this. Uh, oh, this is not what I was expecting, as he continues, "So, to make it easier, we'll start you out on a quiet corner. See how you do. Actually, if things work out right, this is not a bad detail. There's always a good chance for commendations which can help with promotions. Anyway, because of the work, the shift on the corner itself is only for four or five actual hours. You'll need the rest of the time to get yourself ready and get cleaned up." "I hope it's not too bad. Is it just for one or two nights?" "Nope, you're here for a couple of weeks, staffing issues. And if it works out, maybe longer." "Oh, great." "Hey, it's not that bad. And you look like a natural, not really tall, you have great features, you're still looking like you've got some baby fat, you're slender, very light beard, and those high cheek bones and um, interesting eyes, sort of a blue green, should work quite well, you should pass easily, even better than some of the female officers here, probably get a lot of johns interested. And a lot of arrests." I can only roll my eyes. I realize I have no choice as they help me dress up, very hookerish. They apply creams to reduce my facial hair which I don't have much of anyway, then apply lots of makeup, attach a long dark brown wig, put me in hot pants, torn fishnet stockings, stiletto 4" heels, a red tank top, vest, strapless bra with realistic inserts, panties with my member gaffed, perfumed, carrying a decent sized handbag. As they are dressing me, I recall some childhood memories that have long been buried. Before my younger sister was really old enough to even walk, my older sister badly wanted to play with her, so she substituted me for her younger sister in her play activities. She would dress me up like a girl in her outgrown clothes, and we'd have little parties, and sometimes other girlfriends her age would come over and join in. Dressed as I was, her friends would easily mistake me for just another little girl, a sister, or cousin. I did not mind it at all as Elena would even encourage the charade by giving me the name 'Robin'. Our mother even helped a little seeing how happy I was and as long as our father was nowhere around. Those times, of course, ended when he did stumble on one of my times with Elena where I wasn't dressed, but I still was severely punished. And of course, Angela soon was old enough so that they now had each other as playmates, leaving me on the outside, looking in. With each article of clothing placed on me, I am reminded of the enjoyable feelings I had back then when I could join in with my sister and be accepted, and be treated pleasantly. But I also remember the beatings and my vows to myself to never think of how much I enjoyed being seen as a girl, much less even dressing up a little. And now, I'm going way beyond that, and I find it a little frightening. What would my father do to me if he saw me like this, I have to wonder? With my mind drifting, they have to keep jolting me back to the present as they say, "Rob? Rob! Come on now. We're helping the first few times, but you'll have to be doing this yourself eventually, so pay attention. After we finish this, we'll work on your voice a little." I sigh, recalling and then dismissing those memories and faded dreams from childhood, as I keep a straight face, and answer, "Okay, sorry. Now, what were you saying?" After coaching and a general briefing, we head to the street corner as I'm again instructed on what to do. I'm very uncomfortable doing this. So much might go wrong, I'm thinking. And looking at myself in a mirror, I think, good lord, I do look like a prostitute, definitely not a guy in drag, which was what I was originally worried about. And I get the obligatory wolf whistles as I walk toward our vehicle. This is all very unsettling to me because I'm now dressed and probably will have a reasonably good chance at passing as a woman. Being in this situation is not why I let myself be more or less coerced into becoming a policeman. It's almost the exact opposite of where I was trying to direct my life. And it's an internal fight to play the part, which is what a rising to the surface part of me wants, while at the same time, trying my best to remain a virile male with all the attendant characteristics and expectations. As we're going to the corner in an unmarked car, my partner, as is standard, reminds me of most of what I've been told, "Keep your comm unit on at all times. Don't get in the car with the john. Stay by the window. Find out what he wants, a blow job, or something more. Ask $25 for a blowjob, and $100 for a fuck. If he agrees, ask to see the money. Tell him he doesn't have to pay until it's agreed, but without seeing the money, no deal. While he's getting that out, I'll quickly pull up behind him, and we have him for soliciting. And you just back off. Pretend like you don't know what's goin' on, in case anyone else is lookin'. Stay alert, if it goes south, I may need help. But, keep the comm unit on. If something goes wrong, we can always track you by that. And keep your weapon totally hidden, only use it if things get out of hand. Got it?" "Uh huh, I guess." We park part way down and before I walk back to the corner he says, "I'll be parking just across the street away from the street lamp over there," he points to across from where I'll be standing, "and we have a backup within a block or two, so you have plenty of protection. You look really good, we should be able to pick up two or three tonight at least, maybe more." "Um, don't these girls usually have some kind of a pimp? What do I do if someone like that approaches?" "I think that was mentioned but to refresh, if you suspect or find out, give the code word, 'honeypie', and me and the back-up will be right over. But this corner doesn't have a regular. We ran the last one here in a few days ago, told her not to come back, and she's out and probably elsewhere. So here we are, I think you'll do just fine." "Okay, will do," I sigh a little as I walk the few steps to my assigned place. I stand a little back off the edge of the street, near the corner, wondering if I'm doing the right thing, as my partner pulls away from the curb and into the left lane to make a quick u-turn to park his unmarked car across the street in the shadows a little. I notice one or two other working girls down the street a little way. However, some traffic coming against him seems to pop up out of almost nowhere, which slows him down. And almost immediately as he is pulling away a big black limo pulls up to the curb, now just a few feet from where I'm standing, but I can't tell who's inside as the windows are all tinted, and it's mostly dark now, with only the single street light nearby. At the same time, about two or three cars pass by slowly, between the limo and the unmarked squad car. That's a little surprising. I'm also a little surprised by how soon a john has pulled up, almost like he was waiting for me. I take a breath and walk over to the car as a back window does start to roll down. I'm figuring by the time we work something out, my partner will be ready to make the bust, or as hopefully, this john will just drive away. I do wonder a little that whoever is in the back seat is being chauffeured, and why would someone that seemingly wealthy be looking for street sex. It takes all types, I suppose. Anyway, I bend down to rest on the outside window sill and say in as sexy a voice as I've been practicing, "So, sugar, what can I do for you?" At that moment, the front passenger door swings open very quickly as the door I'm leaning against also starts to open, and a very large man quickly gets out of the front seat, and grabbing me, throws me into the back seat before I can do much of anything. Since I am expecting absolutely none of this I'm taken by complete surprise. At least one other man is waiting inside and immediately reaches for where I have my comm unit like he knows all about it, grabs it, shuts it off and smashes it. He also seems to know where my weapon is and takes that away from me. "There we go, boss, all taken care of," he says. I'm barely inside the car as it quickly takes off, leaving me sprawled on the floor seemingly entangled in several pairs of legs and feet. It's been like maybe six to eight, maybe ten seconds at most, and last I saw of my partner, he was still trying to make the u-turn with those cars sort of blocking the view between us, and I can imagine that when he does, he will look back over to where I was standing and see nobody. He'll then try to radio, but no one will answer. He'll probably try to track me down by foot, but there will be no trace of me. And with those other cars around, he probably never even saw the limo. For all intents and purposes, I have vanished. The only voice I hear is another deeper one, saying to me, I assume, "Keep your fuckin' head down, bitch." Which I do, as I was trying to at least steady myself. Considering how I look and how they are treating me, it appears that they just assume me to be a female undercover officer, and they also appear to be now preparing to severely treat me as such. I am too scared to think of anything else to do but what they demand of me. I know enough to acquiesce in situations like this. It does help, I've been trained, to prolong one's life. I'm then roughly brought to my knees, and one of the men lashes my hands behind my back. Glancing quickly at the three men, not trying to make any eye contact, I can see that the two on the outside are probably in their 40's, the one in the center in his 50's. All three are well-built and they are wearing expensive suits, shoes, shirts, two are clean shaven, one with a small mustache. He is the one in the middle and has dark hair and dark eyes, a roundish face, receding hairline, a few wrinkles, a slightly darker complexion, but it could be because he is tanned, I'm not sure. This man in the middle, referred to as 'boss' says, "Ok, sweetheart, here's how it's gonna be, we know you're a gal cop, so you're gonna suck me off, and my two friends here, and then we'll let you go. We ain't gonna rough ya up, no bruises or nothin' like that, but no funny business, or it'll become real painful for ya. An' you go right back to headquarters and tell 'em what went down. Unnerstan'?" Quite terrified by what's happening, as he undoes his pants, I can only nod my head, and murmur an 'Uh huh', as my eyes dart from one to the other. My god, three blowjobs, this is really bad. In a moment, his manhood is right in front of my face. From this position, it looks huge. "Now, open wide," he says as he grabs my head, shoves his penis deep within my mouth so I almost gag, and begins pumping. I'm in a panic as I'm scared to death, and besides what he's doing to me, I'm afraid they may still find me out. And this is absolutely the first time I've ever been even close to anything like this. He quickly sets up a rhythm forcing my head to be a part of it. His grip is firm but not painful. It feels like, with every thrust, he'll shove it down my throat and I'll gag, but he pulls back just as it gets to that point, and then shoves it in again. In a moment or two he cums, and as I feel the liquid slide around in my mouth, I can barely swallow it as he keeps his penis firmly planted there. I cough once or twice as he says, "That's right, bitch, take it all. Great havin' a gal cop suck me off. Almost as good as that other time. Maybe better." He laughs as he turns to the other two men, who nod and smile back. The car continues to drive around, and when he's finished, I'm roughly pulled over to the second man and it starts all over again. Finally, the third takes me, both as forceful as the first. I have little choice but to comply, so I try not to think about what's happening to me. Of course, that's almost impossible as I wonder what a girl would be thinking, or doing if she were here. I just try to accept that this is happening and hope that it will soon end, like a nightmare. Yet, thinking back to my childhood dreams, I wonder how girls deal with this kind of intimacy with someone they like, where it's voluntary. While I realize there is one other option, I do decide that I certainly don't like these men. When the third finishes with me, the one in the middle grabs my head and forcing me to look directly at him says, "Nothin' personal, sweetheart, we're just sending a message to your unit. Tell your boss that we didn't like 'em runnin' in the girl here last week. We got an agreement and it better be honored. Next time we won't be so gentle. Got that?" "Mmmm hmmm," I nod feeling quite numb about what has just happened. I now wonder how I'm going to tell any of this to either my partner or anyone back at the precinct station. I can imagine that it would be easier if I were a female, although I surely wouldn't wish what has just happened to anyone. I could just say they roughed me up a little, I suppose. That would be enough. "Good, now we'll drop you off a block from your corner, and we'll let your partner know you're coming. But, ya know sweetcakes, you are kinda cute. If you ever want to pick up hookin' on the side, come see me, I think I can get you some high-class clientele, much better than the low lifes you'll find here." I nod in understanding and he says "No hard feelings, I hope." I shake my head as I'm thinking they still do believe I'm a female. And if I speak up too much, it might give me away. Regardless of what I've just been forced to do, I'm inwardly greatly relieved that they're just going to drop me off, and they haven't found my secret. I can live with what happened, well, I have to, but at least I'll still be alive. I just have to keep playing along. All of a sudden the guy in the front seat who threw me into the car, says, "Hey, boss, Coogan said we could all get at her. I get a turn, right?" The 'boss' in the back seat immediately turns violent, shaking his head and pushing me to the floor, "You fuckin' idiot, now she knows our contact. Shit...shit! Well, there goes that." And he signals the man next to him who quickly hits me on the side of the head with something hard and I suddenly see stars, followed within a second, by a huge pain, and then followed immediately by me losing consciousness as I'm starting to put it together that Coogan told them where I'd be and now I know way too much, and I wonder if I'm to die now. Probably. I come to in some kind of building, a house, a hotel, an office, I'm not sure. It becomes quickly apparent that they have already found out some from my id's and are planning on finding out more. I have no idea how much they do know, only that I can't believe they think I have much if any knowledge of anything important and I wonder if that will help or hurt me. I've been placed on a chair, with my hands tied behind my back over the sides of the chair back, and my legs tied together. I slowly realize that I'm still wearing the complete hooker outfit. "Okay, come on, let's wake up now," I hear a voice saying as a hand grabs my chin and is shaking my head a little. I also feel a little cold water being splashed on my cheeks as I slowly regain consciousness. "Ohhhhh," I moan, more than a little confused for a moment as to where I am and what's happening. My head still feels quite sore from whatever hit me up there. The hand on my chin forces my face upwards so as I focus, I'm looking directly into the eyes of the man I remember being in charge from the car. What is going on? My last thoughts were that I would probably be dead by now, yet somehow I'm still alive. But I'm thinking I'm probably still in a really bad situation maybe more than I was in that car. I notice there are two different men in the room beside the one talking to me, different from the previous two in the car. And, they all look like they could beat the crap out of me. Why do they need three, I wonder? One of them walks behind me. Good, you're awake," the 'boss' sighs and then continues as my eyes focus on him a little more, "So, kid, here's the deal. The cunt that used to be on that corner works for one of my pimps. Now, I do not normally become involved in the business at this level, but I happened to be in the neighborhood after talking to one of my associates and based on some information we were given, felt I should see for myself. I try to do the right thing, and make sure there's no trouble, and I've nicely paid off the cops around there to not bother her or any others. But, here they go, they run her in, lock her up for a while, and tell her she can't work that corner no more. And then they replace her with you. Without so much as a word to me or my associates, until we're given certain information, which is a total surprise to us. That just ain't right, you know what I mean?" I just nod in agreement still not sure what is going on, shaking just a little, and still having that pain. "I mean, I pay a pretty hefty sum and I expect some kind of respect for that. Am I not right?" I nod again, not wanting to upset him in any way. But I'm not at all sure where he is going with telling me this. He seems to be telling me some of the workings of what I'm guessing is a criminal organization. And that he's high up in this organization. Why am I so lucky? Will he kill me after he finishes? I have no idea. "So, once my associate let it out who the contact of that information is, well, I really had no choice but to off you. Couldn't have you runnin' back to the precinct knowin' that. Bad for business. And it would have to be thought out, you bein' a cop. Can't just leave your body lyin' about neither, also bad for business. Gotta be worked out just right. But, my associate was correct, he had been promised, and to make it up to him, we were gonna let him do you before we make you disappear, forever. Imagine our surprise when he takes your panties down and there is somethin' between your legs we was never expectin'." He looks at me sort of funny, and I just murmur with a questioning look. I'm confused now, really confused. Is he playing with me? He now knows I'm a guy underneath, and he's told me a lot, Coogan's an informer, there are payoffs going on, is he going to torture me? I am even more terrified right now than I was before. He laughs, "So we discover you're not a gal at all, but a guy cop and from your ID's a real young one. And considerin' the way you look, and how things went down, figure maybe we gotta learn a little more about this, while we're decidin' how to get rid of your body. Anyway, pretty good job they did on ya, kid. Now I gotta ask some questions, while we figure all this out, so don't go tryin' any shit on me. Ya got that?" "Uh huh." My god, he's still going to kill me. Gotta think of something to do, to say, prolong it, maybe talk my way out of it. I don't want to die. "I just want ya ta know, this ain't personal. So, how long ya been on the force?" Just keep him asking questions, I guess, for now, "Um, I've been out of the academy about two months?" He does almost a double take with that, saying, "Two fuckin' months? What the hell is goin' on here? A fuzz-faced pure rookie doin' street walker duty? So, what're you doin' on street detail? You bein' punished or some shit? They don't take no baby-faced rookie, that's for fuckin' sure." "Um, I was tricked into volunteering, and they liked how I looked, and said, where they put me would be a real easy corner to start with?" I'm now putting it together about that rookie who mentioned this as an easy detail, and him talking to Coogan. I'm wondering if I was really set up, based on what I now surmise. "Hmmm, ya know, thinkin' this through, I can see that may be right," he sighs, and looks into the distance and then turns back to me,"but geez, kid, you had us all fooled, we all were convinced you was a real gal cop. And probably the best lookin' one we ever seen. Weren't told at all you'd be a guy. I wonder why?" Got to keep talking, keep him wondering, I guess. I shrug my shoulders and say, "I have no idea, I mean those on my shift knew, a few others but I didn't tell anyone else." And as I am thinking more clearly now, this has got to be Coogan's doing, I can see him trying to get me to the corner, but why didn't he tell everything? Maybe that's why I'm still alive. They were told or encouraged that I'd be a female and to take me and have me give blow jobs. I can imagine what Coogan was hoping for. But maybe if they knew it was a guy, I would've been beat up or something worse instead. I can see Coogan wanting to humiliate me, but not necessarily have me be seriously hurt. But the one guy giving Coogan's name out changed all that, then they found out I was a guy, and a little too young, and it all just didn't add up, so here I am. "Oh, I know who told us about an undercover cop bein' there, and suggesting what we might do, but we just assumed from what was said, you'd be a gal cop, not a guy. I gotta wonder," he shakes his head, "gotta wonder. So, anyway, what's your name again, kid?" "Um, Linwood, Robert Linwood?" He stares at me for a moment then says to the man behind me, "Darmi la sua identificazione.", I see the man pass what looks like my police ID card to the 'boss'. He looks at me, saying, "Says Roberto here." "Um, I go by Rob or Robert, but my mother was Italian and wanted that name." "Hmm, Italian," he nods with a slight smile, then continues, "but, Linwood, Linwood...hmmmm....wait, I know that name. You related somehow to a Joe Linwood?" "Um, yes," damn, I think, I hope this doesn't make it worse. Before I can say anything else, he says rather emphatically, "Oh, shit." Then he looks around the room for a moment, saying, "Voi due, uscire di qui. Ho bisogno di parlare con questo uno solo per un momento." I now really wonder what's going on, as the two men quickly leave. How did I get so important? How does he know my father? Once they're gone with the door closed he turns back to me and says again, "So, I'm guessing you're the son of Joe Linwood, the cop?" "Yes, his second son," I say not knowing whether that's a good thing or a real bad one. "Well, fuck. A rookie cop, and Joe Linwood's kid. We got a real fuckin' problem here." His response is not what I was hoping. I just knew it would turn worse. But what could be worse than being killed, but I have to try something, "Um, you could let me go, I promise I won't tell anyone." He shakes his head with a wry smile, "Come on, kid, we can't do that. You know way too much as it is. You know about Coogan, and....wait, that's it! Coogan hated your dad, I remember now. Oh, shiiiiiiit. That explains it. This is fuckin' not good, not good at all. Fuuuuck!" "I mean it, I won't even tell him," I had thought for a brief second that I might get out of this, but now I feel like they will surely kill me. "No, kid, it's worse than that. It's not good business, offin' a cop, they don't like that, unless there's a real good reason. This ain't one. And a rookie cop, too. How do I handle that? But more important, I owe your father. See, a year or so ago, he knew you were coming on the force and told me, to even up a debt I owed him, if it ever came down to it, to give his kid a chance. I can't off you, cause I'd be dishonoring your father and my debt to him, which others know about, too, not that it makes that much difference. But, I know it." He takes a breath, then says, "Your father always kept his word, and I gave my word. And, besides, if your death was traced back to my organization, well, things could get bad real quick." He pauses to think about it for a moment, then continues, "But I can't let you go, cause I don't care how much you promise, you go back, Coogan will want to fuckin' know what the fuck happened, and you'll have no recourse but to tell all. Shiiiit. Can't let you go, can't kill you, can't even drop you off somewhere else, you'll eventually find a way back. Got no choice but to keep you close to me, to keep you alive, to pay back your dad. Yet, it can't be as his kid. Someone'd figure it out, someone who might know Coogan. And how do I get around killin' a cop, a rookie, and all the shit that comes from that, but not killin' him, neither? Gotta think this through." He pauses and then says almost under his breath, like to himself, but out loud, "That asshole Coogan." So, it appears someone else besides my father doesn't think much of him. "I...I'm sorry," I can't believe I'm causing all these problems. I'll never ever volunteer for anything again if I ever get out of this. He looks at me for a moment, rather intently, all over, almost like a guy ogling a girl, and it makes me look away in a little embarrassment, before he finally says nodding his head slightly, "You know, you ain't a bad lookin' cunt, all dolled up like that. And not that tall, neither. Some definite possibilities. And thinkin' about it, I got me maybe another problem, and maybe you, bein' Italian and all, just might be able to help solve that...too. Or maybe not. Too much at stake. Gotta give this some thought. I'll be back." He leaves, and I wonder what is going to become of me. One of the other men enters but just stands there ignoring me. I guess I'm to be guarded at all costs, even though there is absolutely nothing I can do right now. I'm still dressed as a street walker, securely bound, no idea where I am, but I hope if they don't kill me, that they'll at least eventually let me change back. Anyway, my wondering if I have any chance of living, even though my captor seems in debt to my father to keep me alive, goes on for at least an hour it seems. I'm now just barely hoping it might happen, but, with no chance of being let go, I'd have to say my chances are very slim of getting out of this in some kind of decent shape. Eventually, he does come back with a couple of glasses and what looks like a regular bottle of water and says, "Hey, kid, no hard feelings, ya know? Gotta do what I gotta do, but I'm not gonna hurt ya. I know I told ya earlier, this ain't personal. I was wrong. My mistake. It is now. Anyway, you're probably real thirsty. Here's some water, enjoy. At least this won't be painful." And he pours the contents into each cup like we're both going to drink, and holds the first to my mouth as I say, "Oh, thanks." I'm thinking, well, if I don't put up any fight, nor cause any problem, and do what he asks, maybe I might just make it out of here. He seems to be saying he's going to keep me alive, so I pretty much doubt he's going to poison me after all that. But, of course, I really have no clue. He could do it, I suppose, but what exactly can I do. And anyway, I never thought I'd make it this far. Oh well. I take a sip and within seconds, I pass out, with my last thought - I am going to die. Chapter 2 When I awake, I'm lying on a bed, with my head a little elevated on a very soft pillow. I'm no longer bound; my arms and legs are free, which as I slowly comprehend it, feels wonderful. And, as I try to get my bearings and understand what's going on, I first realize that I'm alive, which is a shock in itself as I was sure, regardless of what I was told, that I was going to die. At least I hope I'm not dead, but I have no idea where I am. I just take several breaths and relax for a moment as I am happy I'm still alive. It is bright wherever I am, as I can barely open my eyes without squinting, so I just keep them shut, working on gradually getting used to the light, and concentrate on how I am. As the shock, and thrill, of being awake and still alive starts subsiding, I then realize I have no bump on my head from being hit there. They don't leave in a day, I know, as I gingerly feel around there with my fingers, which themselves feel sort of odd, but I don't have time to think about that right now. Maybe a real slight bit of tenderness there, but how did the swelling go down so quickly? And the pain practically evaporate? I then start thinking about the rest of my body, and for some reason, it feels different. I sense a little tingling in my throat, but I swallow and it doesn't seem that significant. But I now find a lot of other things are different. Like a lot different. Like a whole lot. Like...Okay, I know I was still wearing that prostitute outfit when last I was conscious, but now most everything feels so totally different than that, yet with some strangely or vaguely similar feelings. I'm feeling a tightness around my chest going to my stomach like it's being constricted somehow. Whatever I have on beneath my outer clothes around my lower abdomen below my waist feels very small, like not much there. And that's just the beginning of lots of other strange sensations. I wonder about that as I finally get my eyes open enough to see and I glance down at myself. I'm more than a little surprised to see that I'm in a white almost slip or sundress, lace at the breasts with just two little straps over the shoulders. I'm still dressed as a female, I grasp, but in totally different clothes, and I sigh a little. And I wonder, just a little unsure if what I'm seeing is really real, why would they do that? Those various men I was with last time I was awake? I then look down a little more carefully and I realize that the breasts I now have are noticeably bigger than I remember the inserts being. Not huge but definitely significantly bigger. Like they might just bubble over the top of the dress cups and threaten to spill out. And so real looking! Taking a breath, I hesitantly touch them and they feel...real and I can feel where my fingers press against the apparent flesh, my flesh, which would appear to be part of me. I'm not sure I can believe this at all. I catch my breath, close my eyes, and open them again, just to make sure I'm actually awake. And I am, or at least seem to be, and everything is still as it was a moment ago. This can't be right....can it? I then put my hand down into one of the cups of the dress as well as what seems to be a bra I'm apparently wearing and feel a nipple, definitely larger than I remember, and to my shock when I give it a little squeeze, it feels very real, as does the other that I instantly feel for. Totally real, like, they're a functional part of me. Like...they're me! Breasts, nipples, and all. And I realize looking at them carefully, that my fingernails are now longer and better looking, like possibly professionally manicured. What...is going on? Forcing myself to breathe, as my mind races as to what's happening, I then feel around on my body and discover besides the dress which looks like a very attractive sundress, underneath I'm actually wearing a very form fitting strapless braselette which is obviously holding my now sizeable breasts up. I'm also wearing panties that when I feel them, feel like they're not much more than thongs as I feel the underneath strap pretty far up into my butt cheeks. I'm thinking I should check my crotch out, but before I can, I glance at my hair which is gently hanging down on either side of my face. I then run my hand through it realizing that while it's about as long as the wig I thought I was wearing, I can see as it falls around my face when I look down, that it's no longer dark, it's blond, very blond, almost platinum blond. I start searching for the cap, an edge, something to suggest it's still a wig or hair piece, and to my shock, it's all mine, fully attached, at the scalp it seems, as I trace a few strands to their base or roots. It's all I can do to keep breathing as I drop my arms to my sides, totally shocked by all that I'm experiencing. After a moment, I then look at my fingernails again, studying them and they are much longer and very pink and very real looking, polished, not the press-ons I was wearing. Gel? French tips? Something like that, I can only guess. I also realize that my eyelashes are unusually thick and maybe even longer than I had thought. This can't be happening. I must be in some kind of dream state. I know I've had a few dreams that seemed so real, but I usually woke up not very far into them. Everything about this experience screams that I am awake, that there is nothing to wake up from, that what I'm experiencing is actually true. But can it really be true? How can this happen? Wasn't it like just last night that I was taken by those men? What has happened to me? Yet, some little part of my mind is saying 'Isn't this what you used to dream about, all those years ago? Isn't this what you wished had happened before your father forced you to deny it could ever happen? How? I take some more breaths and begin again looking over what I can see of myself. I notice on my right forearm, the fading scarred remnants of what look like some kind of puncture wounds. Um, was I given some kind of...shots? Some kind of IV? And I feel lighter for some reason. More and more puzzlements, for which I have no answer. I finally force myself to glance around me, look over the room, and I see that there is nobody else is in here which appears to be a bedroom, sort of average sized, I guess, and looking at the only window, I can see it's barred. It has sheer curtains with a thicker pull drape which is now open. No use trying to get out that way, but why even think about escape. From where? To where. And why? But it is light outside, apparently a sunny day. The bed I'm on looks to be queen sized, fresh looking blankets, and I can smell that clean smell of freshly washed sheets, which from the top look patterned with pastel colors. But I don't recognize this room at all. I have no idea at all where I am. All I know is that I'm still dressed as a young woman. And of the features that I can see and feel, I'm somehow more of a young woman than I was last night. I have no idea why, or what else has happened, or where I am or anything. I close my eyes and just continue lying there, trying to think of some logical explanation. I cannot think of anything that has even the slightest semblance of a rational reason behind all this. Not sure what else I can accomplish by continuing to lie on this bed, I slowly get up to a sitting position, and run my hands and fingers over my whole body. It feels so different; I am completely mystified by what's going on. Besides this rather large bust, I now have a smaller, more slender waist then I remember, and wider hips with my ass cheeks rather rounded and full also. I look down at my feet and noticing the open toed high heeled shoes I'm wearing, I see my toenails are all polished. I feel dangly hoop earrings brush the sides of my head and I bring my fingers up to touch them and realize my ears have been pierced. I can just smell some perfume as its odor wafts to my nostrils from various places on my body. It quickly again becomes just too much to try to comprehend, and I close my eyes and take some deep breaths, trying my hardest to understand everything, wondering again if I'm somehow dreaming. Something isn't right about this whole thing, where I am, how I feel, how everything looks, but I'm a little scared to think too much about it, like maybe I might actually be dead and this is some kind of strange afterworld. No, I can't think that. Too much of what I've touched and felt, seen and smelled is so real. But...still....... Opening my eyes again, I finally get the nerve to sit up on the side of the bed, putting my feet on the floor, and then after a moment or two to let the little dizziness recede, I stand and try to walk over (well, almost totter as I'm wearing a different pair of very high stilettos, maybe 5" now, from what I was wearing on the street, and besides, my body now has totally different areas of mass that I've never experienced) to a rather full length mirror over a dressing table. The vision staring back at me takes my breath away. It's of what I would consider an absolutely gorgeous platinum blond young looking woman with a just off center part to her hair with short bangs part way across, hair coming down fairly straight outlining my face, to over my shoulders, curved a little forward, with some body at the ends, flawless makeup, eyeshadow, liner, mascara, pencil, eye makeup so perfect, sort of full pouty lips, a glistening shade of pink on the lips, definitely fuller than I remember, large breasts, long looking legs. Except for two parts of my body, I also look - and like before, feel -considerably thinner than I was, and I wasn't particularly heavy to begin with. I am just astounded and I touch myself, again and again, to make sure I'm actually awake and what I'm touching is real, or really me. And even when I just stop to look at the reflection, it takes me a few moments to tear my eyes away from the image I see. Remembering what I had started a few moments ago, I then hesitantly put my hand between my legs sliding it up under my dress to my crotch and I discover what I am now guessing and fearing even more. There is no tell-tale lump, nothing sticking out or hanging down, and as I slip a finger into my thong, I feel a vertical opening that certainly wasn't there last time I checked. I wonder, what in heaven's name is happening, as I feel faint, and I stagger back to the bed and sit down. I've got to breathe, that's right, in and out, just relax. Just close my eyes and relax. This is so impossible to believe. How did this happen? Has it been just a day? How have parts of me disappeared? And other parts been dramatically changed? Does magic exist? I cannot accept that, as I cannot accept that I might be dead, but I have no plausible answers to the myriad of other questions I now have. Getting my strength and breathing back after a few moments, and not knowing what else to do, I look around, and start to look over the room. There is some familiarity there; some laws of nature seem to be working correctly. I see three doors, so I slowly get up again, walk over to the first, and try it as it looks like it may go somewhere. Although besides the handle, there's a locking lever like a dead bolt on this side, I can't open the door which I try several times, as the knob seems to be locked from the other side, I guess, with no way of unlocking it from this side. I think I hear the sound of footsteps walking away, but I'm too scared and confused to say anything, or try to communicate with anyone, so I just ignore them. I try the next and it's a closet door which does open, and inside the closet are two hanging racks of what I discover are very feminine clothing as well as a shoe rack behind with maybe two dozen women's shoes of various styles and colors. The clothes include dresses, skirts, tees, camis, tank tops, blouses, sweaters, shorts, all neatly hung up or folded on some built-in shelves next to the shoes. I linger a little, looking at several of the dresses and hesitantly fingering them, skirts and blouses, wondering how they might look on me. But, I stop short, thinking that I shouldn't consider this, I don't know anything about what's going on. Yet, they all look very attractive, I must admit. I reluctantly leave that room and check the last door on the other side and it opens to a fairly decent sized bathroom, with a small window, not barred, but too small to bother with. Inside is a toilet, small sink and vanity with doors and drawers, what I think may be a bidet, and a tub, as well as a separate walk-in shower. I look at the vanity and open some drawers. Makeup, brushes, combs, hand mirrors, moisturizers, lotions, perfume, soaps, buff pads, hair dryer, applicators, tissue, several kinds of pads, all women's things. I glance out the window and see that I'm apparently on the second floor of some building, which seems part of a group of buildings, with a wall in the near distance. Some of the buildings appear whitewashed, the others are pastel colored. I see greenery beyond the wall, and within the wall between and around the various buildings are flower beds, small clusters of trees and shrubs, small grassy areas and a drive. Seeing nothing else that catches my attention, I return to the bedroom and notice a single chair near the dressing table with the mirror and drawers. I open the various drawers and find panties, briefs, and bras of various shapes and colors, including thongs. There's also a small chest of drawers against the wall with, I guess, a tv on it, and a remote, and a wireless house type phone. I look through the various drawers of the chest, and they're filled with pantyhose, stockings, what looks like gym outfits, warm-ups, sweatshirts, a few swimsuits, one and two piece and bikinis, babydolls, chemises, etc. One of the smaller drawers has a case which is filled with jewelry - earrings, bracelets, necklaces and such. There're a clock and lamp on a bedside table, a few magazines scattered about. The time says 1:32. I would say it's afternoon for sure. If the clock is correct. The walls are a very light shade of green with white accents, a vase with flowers is on the dresser and they look fresh, and sniffing them, they actually smell rather nice. There are pictures, wall hangings, of a seashore, and of flowers and the like. I'm definitely in a woman's bedroom and from what I can tell, all the clothes do look like they might fit me. I cannot imagine what has happened since I was being questioned. I'm having a hard time accepting what I now am, and as the moments go by, an even harder time believing that there was some previous moment when I was not this very attractive young woman. I'm thinking, is this a dream or was what I thought my previous life to be, a dream? How can they both be real? I finally sit down on the bed again, trying to keep my sanity. I appear no longer to be a male, but a young rather voluptuous woman. In a few moments, while I'm still trying to understand everything that has happened to me, the door to the hallway is unlocked and a man who I recognize who was referred to as the 'boss' from the car and who talked to me in some room, peers around the now open door, sees me and smiles, a rather gentle smile - for some reason - and walks in. I remember from, when? Yesterday? That I don't particularly like him. He's wearing suit pants without the jacket, no tie, and a white shirt unbuttoned at the top. As I recall and notice again, he looks maybe mid- fifties or so, thinning dark hair with some gray, tanned or medium dark complexion, maybe a tad overweight, but not fat, actually sort of handsome for his apparent age, I suppose. I now look up at him rather fearfully even though he seems to have that disarming smile and an almost casual demeanor. Last time I saw him, I think he gave me some kind of knockout drug, and the time before that, I gave blowjobs to him and two other men, told I might be killed, and was knocked unconscious. Not exactly good times, I'm thinking. I wonder if he'll want me now for some kind of additional sexual pleasure. Looking like I do, I can't imagine anything different. Why else would I be this way, except to provide pleasure to some man? Or maybe to a lot of men. Maybe he has made me into a real prostitute. But a lot better looking than most the ones I've had a chance to see. I don't like him and I'm afraid of him. But what can I do? "Good afternoon, figlioccia," he says holding the smile which does look real, and not forced. I'm not really sure what I want to say or respond and I don't understand that last word at all, so I just sit there barely looking at him. He tries again, "So, how ya feelin'? Ya doin' ok? Um, you mind if I sit?" Considering how I'm thinking about him, I'm totally surprised by his apparent courtesy and can only nod my head with a minimal shrug of my shoulders. Why is he asking me? I'd think he should be able to do whatever he wants. He has so far where I'm concerned. He pulls up the chair and sits down in front of me, not extremely close but at a respectful distance. He's very imposing, and I feel rather weak, and afraid, although the tone of his voice is anything but menacing, almost parental or close-friendly like, sort of like he actually cares about me. I glance around but quickly realize there is no place for me to go, so I just remain sitting on the edge of the bed, and I bring my eyes to meet his gaze. I do for some reason, gently pull the hem of my dress down a little. Why did I do that, I wonder? "Thanks," he says to my nodding and continues, "You're lookin' real good. Nothin' causin' you problems?" I shake my head, as I certainly don't feel anything bad, and start to speak, "I...I guess n.....oh...Oh!" which is all I can answer as I realize my voice sounds different, very different, and I put my hand almost involuntarily to my mouth in pure surprise as remember that tingling. I now have to add my voice to the many things that are a lot different. "Heh, heh, very pretty voice," he smiles as if he knew what would come out, then he continues, "Well, let me tell ya, you sure come out lookin' real good, better'n I hoped, real classy. And ya seem to be recoverin' all nice like." He sighs, shifts a little, maybe waiting for me to say something, which I'm still in too much shock, and finally continues, perhaps a little more purposely and in a very direct manner, "Now, missy, you listen carefully to what I hav' to say, and if you're a really good girl about this, you got a long life ahead of ya. Screw this up, and there ain't no second chance. I told ya I owed Joe Linwood, Roberto's father, and this is the best I can do. You unnerstan?" What he says, surprises me and the confusion returns as I have no idea what to say. So, he tries again, still holding a sort of smile, "Do ya unnerstand?" "I...I guess," I softly reply really confused that he's referring to me as if who and what I was is someone else and now I'm here and I'm not Rob. "Okay, so listen up, you got no male parts no more. You got tits and a cunt, and a nice ass and lots of other things have been done, like fixing your voice. You're a girl now. Your name is Annalisa Scorisi, remember that, Annalisa Scorisi, very important, and you're my goddaughter, my figlioccia." I look at him with obvious shock in my eyes, as he continues, "So, tell me your name." I pause not knowing what to think as I finally say in almost a whisper, "Um, Annalisa Sc.scorisi?" "Yep, good, very good, that's who you are, and again, I'm your godfather, your Padrino. Your parents are dead, died 10 years or so ago, and I'd taken over raising you for the past 8 or so years. You were born here in Italy but your parents took you to America when you were real young. You're 20 years old, you been taught and schooled and boarded at a private convent, but you're done with all that, and I've brought you back to Italy. When you got here, you had a little medical problem and spent some time in the hospital, but you're better now. "Over the next several weeks, you're gonna learn Italian, take Catholic lessons, you're gonna become a good little Catholic Italian girl. Basically, like you're my family, like my ward. That's how I'm gonna honor the debt to Joe Linwood. He ain't your dad no more, get that completely outa your head. I know he's passed, but you gotta understand, he can't be your dad no more, like from before and to forever. It's gotta be me, your sorta stepdad as it were. Nobody's to know who you were, or where or what you were. Only who you are now. We ain't in New York no more, and for all intents and purposes, Roberto Linwood has disappeared. He'll be declared dead...um, deceased in time." He noticed that I winced hearing that. I close my eyes then and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, but that's the only way this'll work, keepin' you alive, but nobody knowin' that. But, and this is important, too. As long as you do what I'm askin' and you're alive, we'll make sure Joe's widow, Mrs. Linwood, is well taken care of, see to her needs, her health, her comfort, whatever we can. But she ain't your ma no more neither, you can't ever contact her, or her two daughters, or their brother, that is, if anyone finds him, cuz we haven't, yet anyway. Anyone finds out who you were, I got no choice but to eliminate you and whoever finds out. Too much is at stake now. You follow directions, do what's expected, and you gotta good life ahead of ya. You unnerstan'? You capiche? After a few seconds of trying to digest all this, I murmur an, "Uh huh." I am still very frightened right now and too afraid to say anything else. But, at this moment, I'm thinking I'd rather live than die, having fully expected it to have happened before this. He pulls some stapled together papers out of his back pocket and hands them towards me which I take not knowing what else to do, "Good. I know it's a lot to take in, but ya gotta do it. No alternatives. I am sorry, but I can't see no other way. Now here is who you are, the details of your life, Annalisa Scorisi, your background, and so on. Learn it, all, as soon as ya can. Ya got that?" I take them and glance at the top sheet. It's single spaced, sort of small print, and I start reading it. "No, not now, later when there's more time. But ya understand, ya gotta learn it quick like. An' make sure you put these away. These are just for you to see, read, keep. No one else. Anyone else sees these it might cause problems. And some time in the future, we'll destroy them." I can see he's looking for a response, so I can only answer, "Uh huh," again, putting them on the bed beside me. "Ok, good. I should say, it's fortunate for you, well, me, too, Mrs. Linwood was Italian, with you half Italian, it's makin' things...a little easier. Anyways, nobody here knows who you were before, only that you're my goddaughter, an orphan, and I brought you here from that convent which is up in the mountains of New England. Oh, and they now have records of you bein' there. "My associates from the car you were in a while ago, are not anywhere near here, but they might come by sometime in the future. Forget you ever knew 'em as they won't know you; only my associate from the front seat who spilled the beans knows you were a guy, and he thinks you're dead, and he ain't never comin' here. Those two men when I interrogated you? They don't speak English. So them and none of the others really know too much if any of Roberto's relationship to Joe, and who and what you were, and I aim to keep it that way. "The docs who did your surgery, they also have no idea where ya came from, or where ya are now. Besides you, I'm the only one who knows your whole story, an' if I were you, I'd make damn sure from now on, I knew only the story of Annalisa. And kept it that way." "Now, I've gotta go in a bit, and I'll leave the door unlocked from the outside, permanently. You can lock it from in here whenever you want, it'll be your room for a while, an' this'll be your home, anyway, maybe a year, or more," he shrugs his shoulders, "we'll see. The window there has bars but they open from the inside. You'll find a latch on the one side, like if there's a fire or somethin'. The bars are to keep people out. That phone over there only works in this part of the country. You'll eventually learn how to use it. Maybe in a few months, I'll get you a cell phone, when you start goin' out, good for Italy, but nowhere else. "The door over there is a closet and the one over there goes to a bathroom, both for your use. Lots o' nice clothes in the closet there." "I...I know, I looked there and in the bathroom." He nods like he appreciates it, "Very good, I'm glad. They're all yours. Now, you're free to walk around the house, too, there are some locked doors you can't go through. Now, you're gonna have Italian classes from nine to noon daily, and your Catholic lessons will be one to three daily. After that, a girl'll come in and teach ya how to take care of yourself, makeup, clothing and styles, take ya to the gym for workouts, things like that for maybe an hour or two each day, maybe more. She only knows you as a girl, Annalisa, my goddaughter. Now, you shower each day, wear a different dress, look good. Just remember that you're a youn