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There is, if you look, a bar like it in every town. Back home it was Ernie’s; a small friendly bar where women meet other women. In LA, where I found myself working as close protection for an actress, Faye Millerton, it was Matt’s. A good friend, Hannah, had recommended it and when Steph had to go home, it was where I went to fill the vacuum her departure left. I’ll explain why Steph had to go home a bit later on. One Friday evening while Millerton was in DC attending a ball at the White House I was there, knowing I would not be needed for a few days. The other close team were covering her so Carla was free to go hunting. I’d chosen a rather short, black leather skirt, a mulberry silk, sleeveless shirt with a pale grey linen jacket and a good pair of black 3″ heels. Matt (properly Matilda) was younger than Ernestine back home, and, unlike Ernie, far from butch. She was short, a blonde with long hair and a slim figure that was usually clad in a long dress, as it was this Friday evening. It was 10pm and the place was fairly quiet, so I sat on a stool at the bar chatting to Matt. She knew my friend Hannah well and had made me very welcome.
“All alone, this evening?”
“So far, Matt, so far.”
She smiled. “Dressed like that you ain’t gonna be alone too long, honey.” That was the plan of course. “Your pal, she your kind of woman?”
Hannah was tall, butch and fucking gorgeous. “Yes, Matt, she’s definitely my kind of woman.”
“Rules me out then.” She smiled. “She’s kinda my type too.” So, we understood each other. “Now that,” she was pointing with her chin to a woman at the far end of the bar, “is one disappointed woman. She came to Hollywood looking to be an actress. That was ten years ago and she is still working as a clerk in the local police station. We get hundreds like that here. Some get over it and make a life. Others blame everyone but themselves. She is a blamer. Steer clear, my advice.”
“Thanks, Matt.” Without her advice I might well have made a move. The woman was good looking, dressed pretty well but, as I covertly watched her, she was drinking in that steady way that drunks do. Bad news.
“But, I’ll keep an eye out for someone who might just fit your bill if you’d like me to?”
“Kind of you, Matt, I appreciate it.”
She refilled my glass of wine, good stuff, and wandered off to serve another customer and gee up the lazy bitch of a barmaid. “I keep her because the punters like her,” Matt had explained. I could see why they would. If she’d coughed too hard her girls would have been flying around, unleashed.
So, I know you’re dying to know, why had Steph gone home?
One evening Millerton was due at a radio station for an interview. Frank, my one-handed colleague, Steph and I were on duty and waiting outside Millerton’s villa by the car to take her. She came out looking like she was pissed off. “Sorry, chaps, change of plan.” We seriously do not like plan changes. “I have to meet my agent at the Corsair Hotel before we go to the station.” We may not like changes, but the client is the boss, so off we went. I sat in the back with Faye and Steph was in front with Frank.
We arrived at the hotel and Steph got out first and stood with her back to Faye’s now open door, looking forwards. I got out and stood nearer to the rear wheel watching the rear sector. Faye got half out, then ducked back to grab her bag and came out. The gunshot came from my left, went through the door’s window and hit Steph who was thrown forward, screaming. I bodily lifted Millerton, threw her onto the back seat and dived on top of her while Frank, one handed, hauled Steph into the car and we drove off, tyres squealing.
Frank drove like hell to the nearest hospital while Faye and I disentangled and leaned over to try and help Steph as best I could. Frank called the police as he drove and explained the situation. Faye was shaken to her core, sobbing and definitely in shock so, on arrival at the hospital we got them both inside to the Emergency department. Frank stayed with Faye while I tried to get Steph sorted. That done, we dealt with the police. Our weapons were confiscated for analysis and we were ordered to be at the police station to make statements when we’d been checked by the medics.
Steph wouldn’t be working for a while. Her shoulder was in a bad way and so, when she was discharged, she went home. And so, I found myself at Matt’s. I hadn’t had sex for a while; longer than I’d normally go without and this was the first chance I’d had after the maelstrom of events that had followed Amsterdam Shemale the shooting which, it was assumed had been the work of the animal rights crazies who had made very explicit threats against Millerton for her role in a film about a lawyer representing a pharmaceutical company trying to avoid being prevented from using animals in experiments.
“Are you all alone? Pretty little thing like you should have someone to look after her.” If only, she, the woman standing beside me, knew. I half turned towards her and looked up. She was pretty bloody tasty. A cap of black hair, a dark blue suit over an open white shirt, black loafers with tassles. Maybe, I guessed, five feet ten inches and not a lot of spare weight on her. “I’m V, spelt, V.E.E.”
“Are you now?”
“And you are?”
“Carla.”
“So, how come you’re alone? Matt told me you were, and I simply couldn’t believe it.”
“I’m a long way from home and travelling alone,” which wasn’t exactly true but I wasn’t going to tell her too much. I wasn’t looking for romance now was I?
“Let me buy you a drink and see if we like each other?”
She placed her small rucksack on a neighbouring stool, sat down and ordered us a drink. And like her, I did. The thing about some butch women, like her, is that they are women, not would-be men, but they choose the look and the attitude; the attitude is usually what does it for me.
“So, Vee, how come you’re alone?”
“Am I? I rather thought I was with you.”
Moving to a table away from the bar, we fenced a bit and flirted and eventually reached an obviously mutual conclusion that we’d rather like to things to take their natural course.
“I need the toilet,” I said, giving her a look that, I hoped, invited her to come with me.
“We can do better than that.” Without explaining, she stood and went to the bar, took something from Matt after a brief discussion and came back. “Come with me.” I followed her through the back of the bar, through a doorway marked ‘Private – Savage Dog’ and into a passage. A dog started barking and, to my ears, it sounded like a big one. I am never afraid of people, but dogs, whilst normally ok, those referred to as ‘savage’ make me a trifle nervous. She turned and smiled. “It’s a recording. Effective, apparently.” I wasn’t surprised.
Through a second door and into a courtyard, in one corner of which stood a large mobile home, maybe twenty feet long.
“If you come in, I’m going to fuck you.”
“Well,” I said, “thank Christ for that.”
She unlocked the door and guided me up the single step and into the light, airy interior. A bed, not massive but definitely big enough was in one corner. There was a table with a couple of bottles and glasses. She put her rucksack on the table and threw her now discarded jacket onto a chair.
“Whiskey or brandy?”
I opted for brandy. She poured a glass and came close. Putting her arm across my shoulders she turned me, so my back was to her and held the glass to my lips. As I sipped, she licked my ear. I felt her hand on my back, then curl around me to cup my left breast. My nipples, no bra, were hard and she rolled it between her fingers as she kissed my neck. I tried to turn but she stopped me. “Vee’s rules, Carla.” She bit my neck gently. Her hand left my breast and moved slowly southward, lifting the hem of my skirt and roaming over my thighs. Eventually, after what seemed far too long, she cupped my cunt through my soft, almost nothing silk knickers and her finger traced moist lips through the fabric.
“My, my, someone’s been waiting too long.” Now she turned me, and her mouth, open, covered mine and her tongue insinuated itself into me. I played with it with my own tongue and, deciding it was my turn, I ran my hands down her back to her arse and, leaving one there, the right hand moved to the front of her trousers and started to unbuckle her belt. She gently removed my hand from her belt and lifted it to her breast, our kiss deepening then she leant back, pulling my lower lip with her teeth. Looking straight into my eyes, she released my lip and said, “Get naked.” She didn’t move, but stood, her hands on my shoulders as I undressed, opening my blouse, showing her my bare breasts and she slipped the blouse off me and put her hands back on my shoulders. “Skirt. Don’t keep me waiting.” I took my time though. I wanted her a bit riled up. I pretended to fumble with the zip and slowly let the skirt fall to pool at my feet and she kissed me, smiling. “Don’t play games with me, Carla, Rotterdam Shemale you might get bitten.”
Her hand found the patch of damaged skin below and to the side of my breast, where I’d been shot a couple of years before while guarding the CEO of a big pharmaceutical company from the same sorts of crazies as were threatening Millerton. Then she discovered the scar from an old knife would, then another from the bullet I’d taken several years before, while still in the navy. She caressed the muscles my upper arms and said, “You’re fit!” Her mouth clamped on mine again and as I pulled my knickers down, she put her hand between my legs and a finger slid inside me, curling, exploring and she groaned. “Got to love a wet girl.”
Vee guided me to sit on the bed. “Touch your cunt for me.” As I did, she started to undress, slowly removing her shirt to reveal a sports bra which she peeled off, exposing good, firm tits. She cast the bra aside, watching me as I slid a finger where hers had been. She unbuckled her trouser belt, unzipped her fly and dropped her trousers as she kicked off her shoes. There was nothing awkward in her undressing. It was almost elegant as she lifted her foot and pulled off one expensive silk sock, then the other. She picked up my discarded knickers and felt them then set them aside and opened her rucksack, pulling out a pink strapless dildo.
Holding the cock end she touched the bulb to my lips. “Make it wet for me.” I opened my mouth and took it in. Saliva dribbled from my lips as I sucked it, making it wet. “Now, put it in me.” I looked up at her standing tall above me, naked, her legs apart and guided the bulb between her cunt lips, opening her, wetting it further then gently easing it inside until the cock stood proud in front of her. I ran a finger over her clit and felt it, larger than mine, hard above her dildo. “Hands and knees.” I turned, lifting my arse, my face off the bed, my arms supporting me as she knelt on the bed behind me and rubbed the cock between my lips just as I had rubbed the bulb between hers. Her entry wasn’t gentle. She found my entrance, nudged it a little until she was sure, then pushed, one hard, deep push that rocked me forward.
“I like it hard,” she whispered.
“That makes two of us.”
She gave a short laugh then gripped my hips and began to fuck me. She did something with her hips that was like a circle and I realised it worked better for her than straightforward back and forth. Her body was hard above me, her hands firm on my hips and she went at it harder, faster, pulling my hair, slapping my arse. Never nasty, always sexy, she took her pleasure and gave it to me. Towards the end, hers and mine, she curled over me, her nipples hard against my back and she reached under me to squeeze a nipple hard and strum my clit. I have no idea who came first. All I can tell you is the van was rocking, I was flying and there was a lot of noise although I couldn’t have told you who was making it and I lost almost all sense of where I was. When conscious thought returned, I was face down, flat on the bed, she on me and in me and sweat from our bodies mingling between us. My arms were spread out and her hands held my wrists. Her face was in my hair.
Her voice was a warm breath in my ear. “You’re good.”
“You need more practice.”
She gave a low growling chuckle and I felt the cock slither out of my cunt and press against my arse.
I got back to Millerton’s villa in a cab. It was very late, or very early but nobody seemed to take any notice. I realised when I got to my room that I hadn’t got my knickers but, somehow, that didn’t seem to matter. I showered and fell into my bed and slept.
That sleep was interrupted when my phone rang. It was Frank. “We need to speak.”
I got dressed and made my way to the kitchen, poured coffee and waited for him to join me.
“Who knew Millerton had changed her plans?” he asked. I had no idea but, to be fair, I was well-fucked and not exactly well-slept so maybe I wasn’t thinking too clearly.
“Who?”
“Did you?” I looked at Frank. What was he saying? “Of course you didn’t, nor did Steph, nor did I. The only people who knew were Millerton and her secretary, Penelope.”
“What are you saying, Frank? I’m not at my best this morning.”
“It’s afternoon.” Jeez.
“So, what you’re saying is, Penelope is trying to get her boss killed?” Frank was a man of few words. He just looked at me. I’d first met Penelope (never Penny if you don’t mind) at the airport when we’d Netherlands Shemale left England. She was tall, undoubtedly beautiful, brisk and efficient. “Has she been checked out?” He shrugged which meant, yes but then so has everyone else and it doesn’t actually mean a damn thing. “Have we done anything?” He shrugged again meaning, yes but nothing came of it. “Let’s see what the intel group have to say.”
Hangover forgotten I got to work.
The Plan
We, Frank and I and Steph’s replacement Maggie, a former American servicewomen who clearly knew her stuff, were due to take Millerton to another interview, a tv station this time. Frank and I got the other close team to take Millerton. At the moment they’d driven her off in a car that we’d never used before, I went to see Penelope in her ultra-tidy office in the villa.
“Faye wants you to go to the tv station. She’s forgotten her briefcase and wants you to take it. Frank and I will drive you.”
“Why does she want her briefcase?”
I shrugged. How would I know. Orders are orders. She tutted and looked at her watch then found the case and walked with me to Millerton’s car where Frank and Maggie were already in the front seats. We drove and on the way I could see Penelope getting increasingly anxious, checking her watch, looking from me to Frank to Maggie when she thought we weren’t looking; unaware that three cameras were on her the whole time. We pulled up outside the tv station.
“Are you going to let me out?” Penelope asked.
“We protect Miss Millerton; you don’t need it. We’ll wait here.”
She hesitated, looked at her watch again and then reluctantly, started to open the door. She stopped. “I can’t.”
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not, Penelope?”
“I’m scared. There are people who want to kill her, you know that. They might think I am Faye.”
“You? Tall, blonde? You don’t look anything like her.”
“But it’s her car. They may know the car.”
I reached over her and opened her door. “What are the chances? Come on, she needs that case.”
The fear in her eyes was genuine. She slowly, hesitantly extended a long leg out of the car and started to move. I pulled her hard, fast back into the car as a round hammered into the open door. That was when everything happened. Sirens, blue lights, and the police and others moved.
The Aftermath.
Faye had never gone anywhere near the tv station. Instead she’d been driven a long, circuitous route that ended with her safely back in the villa. We’d scoped out the tv station and identified potential sniper points and police had deployed to cover each one. When Penelope’s glorious leg had shown itself, the sniper had waited then fired at the moment he expected Millerton to appear. By pulling her back I’d prevented Penelope from taking that round although on one level I’d very much have liked her to. She was as responsible for Steph’s injury as was the sniper. But we needed her to talk and, having been arrested and interrogated, talk she had.
“Christ,” said Vee. “This is some fancy office you’ve got here.”
With Faye going to Seattle for a few of days with the other close team, I’d her asked if I might invite Vee over. No problem. I led her from the car to the lower floor where we had our suites. Safely in my suite she kissed me. “So, you’re her muscle?” Protection, I’d explained. Muscle is aggressive, we’re reactive. “Hence the scars?” Some, yes. “Maybe you need to be better at what you do?” She’d smiled. I had too. “Maybe I’d better fuck some sense into you?” Now you’re talking.
She took me in her arms. “When I fucked your arse the other night, you didn’t put up much of a fight.”
“What would have happened if I’d resisted?”
She smiled. “It’s always easier if you don’t fight it.”
“Show me again, I need the practice.”
This time she’d brought a slender black strapon. Undressing took longer, we kept interrupting each other as something of interest came into view: a breast, an arm, the small of her back, thighs. When she was naked I decided her cunt needed a kiss so I gave it one and that took a bit of time too. There was no rush, at least not then. She strapped on and had me lie on my back, legs akimbo and mounted me missionary style. “How conventional!”
“For now, sweetheart, for now. We want that asshole to get eager, don’t we?”
Slow, deep thrusts and we were both getting wild. I wrapped my legs around her and, held tight together, we bucked and fucked until I thought I was on the edge. She pulled out, turned me over and, bent over me, whispered in my ear, “Ready or not, Carla.”
The little black beauty was wet and perfect. She pushed easily into me, no resistance as you would expect of me by now, and wrapped herself around me as, together, we flew.
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