Chapter Two -- Project Excalibur
Secure Safe House, Maryland 1985
Kyle Gordon arrived to find Steven Boland drinking coffee but with an unopened bottle of vodka on the table. Steven greeted Kyle with a manly hug and whispered zdraztvuytye'', a greeting in Russian, into his ear to which Kyle responded dobriy vecher'' or good evening.
Kyle's Russian was getting better but his accent was terrible, as was to be expected, Steven thought.
Kyle had learned Russian from his parents and now that they were gone he had no one to practice with except Stephan Boriliski and they mostly spoke English unless they were in a situation where it was totally safe to converse in the mother tongue.
"Crystal did well with Colonel William Spooner; he's singing like a bird and is a great source of intelligence," Steven motioned towards a wooden chair at the small kitchen table.
Steven talked about Crystal Greystone as if she was a separate entity to Kyle Gordon which in some respects she was. When Kyle transformed into Crystal, the transformation was total. Crystal also thought of Kyle as a totally different person.
Kyle nodded.
"It's amazing what secrets a man is willing to betray to protect himself from the shame of being exposed as someone who has been intimate with a female impersonator. Especially someone with so much to lose," Kyle said as he sat down.
"I wonder if there will ever be a time when transgender women are treated as equally as their biological sisters," Kyle mused.
Steven just nodded. Having tasted the delights that Crystal Greystone had to offer and then feeling shame and anguish afterwards, he preferred not to discuss the dichotomy of using a female impersonator as a Soviet operative against the hated Americans. The fact was that in Russia Kyle would be interned in a forced labour camp until he had ridded himself of the urge to become Crystal. Steven preferred to think of Crystal as a weapon rather than as a person and was uncomfortable in her presence given their history. He mostly met with Kyle in his male persona and when he had to collaborate with Crystal he kept their meetings deliberately short in case he became tempted by her incredible beauty.
Steven moved the conversation along and unscrewed the cap off the vodka and poured them both a drink.
"Colonel Spooner has moved from his position as a liaison officer hosting foreign visitors to the Pentagon from NATO countries and is now working as a military adviser on `Project Excalibur'. What we are about to discuss is top secret and to be blunt, quite terrifying," Steven stared gravely at Kyle.
"You understand the concept of mutually assured destruction Kyle? A principle of deterrence founded on the notion that a nuclear attack by the USA would be met with an overwhelming Soviet nuclear counterattack such that both the attacker and the defender would be annihilated?" Steven answered his own question.
Kyle nodded; he didn't need a lesson on Cold War philosophy.
"The Americans are developing a weapon under the remit of their Star Wars program. The precept is X-ray lasers that can be generated from a single nuclear weapon in orbit, meaning a single weapon would destroy many ICBMs. This means that should the US use its nuclear arsenal on the USSR our counterattack would be almost nullified," Steven said grimly.
"Or if we were to launch a first strike their laser weapon would so blunt the attack that any US response would be overwhelming in comparison," Kyle countered.
Steven shrugged his shoulders begrudgingly. Soviet rhetoric was such that the Americans were always the aggressor and Soviets the brave defenders of their nation.
"What are we doing about this Project Excalibur and where do I fit in?" Kyle asked.
"It is complicated because the project is tied to the US nuclear weapon testing program. The project needs to perform their tests during controlled nuclear explosions which produce the X-ray lasers. The tests are conducted at the Nevada test site and we have had very little success infiltrating the facility," Steven poured more vodka.
"But Project Excalibur is not run exclusively by the military. It is run by a consortium that is overseen and funded by the United States Department of Energy," Steven drank his vodka in one shot.
Kyle was patient. He knew that his handler would get to the point when he was good and ready.
"The Americans are about to conduct a nuclear test under the codename `Cottage' at the Nevada test site. Several highly placed members of project Excalibur will attend. Our comrades in California have managed to infiltrate the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory, only in a perfunctory capacity, but enough to find out the names of some of the delegates who will attend the tests," Steven was finally getting to point.
"The man we want to target is a scientist. A scientist who is highly intelligent and knowledgeable but he is also a radical, a libertine. He is a pacifist who believes that Project Excalibur has the potential to end what the Americans call the Cold War," Steven looked inquiringly at Kyle waiting for a question.
"A radical libertine working on a secret nuclear weapons project? This man must be brilliant if they allow that. It might also make him susceptible to approach by foreign nationals with a view to espionage," Kyle smiled wickedly.
"Indeed it would. Especially as the man, Professor Brett Beaumont, has been reprimanded previously for engaging in illicit activities, but his unique abilities and expertise in laser technology and development are invaluable," Steven grinned.
"We know that he will be heading to Nevada ahead of the test to oversee some aspects of Excalibur but he also intends to enjoy some recreational activities in Las Vegas," Steven's grin widened.
"And if Brett Beaumont was to run into an exotically beautiful young woman named Crystal Greystone he might be inclined to be indiscreet?" Kyle smiled at Steven.
Stephan Boriliski, aka Steven Boland nodded sagely and poured more vodka.
"The rezidentura is sending you an assistant to do the run-go-fetch for you. You are never to meet face to face of course, use the normal protocols for communication," Steven passed a full glass to Kyle who nodded sagely.
"We have a little time before the test so we need to us it wisely," Steven leaned across the table and patted Kyle on the forearm.
"Also, there is another matter here in Washington that I want Crystal to take care of before she heads out to Las Vegas," Steven added.
Park n' Go Garage, Massachusetts Ave, Washington DC, 1985
Crystal had a string of casual suitors that she used for the intelligence they could provide her. Blackmail was not the only weapon in her arsenal, she was an accomplished seductress and post-coital pillow talk often produced little gems of intelligence.
One of those suitors was Bronson Bateman, a Washington lobbyist. Bronson was currently trying to convince a Senator to vote against a bill which would approve sending more Stinger missiles to Afghanistan to support the Mujahedeen rebels fighting Soviet forces. What Bronson didn't know was that he had been hired and financed by a shell corporation that was ostensibly legitimate but was actually operated by the KGB.
Bronson Bateman was close to convincing the senator and his voting block to reject the bill in the upper chamber of Congress when Bronson was approached by a man who claimed to have proof that the corporation behind the lobbying was a malignant foreign power. The man with the proof was an FBI counterintelligence agent. The KGB feared that Bronson Bateman would switch sides and provide the information to the Senator who would then vote `for' the bill along with his voting block colleagues.
It was Crystal's job to prevent this as soon as possible.
"It's been so long darling, I'd love to meet you tonight," Crystal spoke seductively into the phone.
Bronson Bateman started to become tumescent just listening to Crystal's husky voice. He hadn't seen her for a couple of weeks and was craving her special talents.
"I have a meeting I can't miss. I can meet you at the Pink Parrot after my meeting," Bronson countered.
"I'm working late tonight and won't finish until the club closes and I'll be too tired then. I'm heading out west to perform in Las Vegas soon so this will be our last chance to get together for a while," Crystal used her most seductive voice.
Bronson checked his watch. His meeting was with Senator Palmer where he intended to divulge to the Senator that he had been duped and that the Senator should vote `for' the Stinger bill was at 8pm. He could meet Crystal before she started her shift at the Pink Parrot but he would be cutting it fine.
"Can we meet at your apartment at seven? It would have to be quickie," the thought of slipping his hard cock into Crystal's tight ass while he kissed that pretty face made him more determined to meet her.
The apartment Bronson was talking about was not Crystal's loft above the flower shop at Woodley Park. That apartment was part of Kyle Gordon's legitimate existence; Bronson had no idea what Crystal did for a day job.
He was talking about the apartment rented for Crystal Greystone under a false name near DuPont Circle. It was fitted with video and audio devices and was the same apartment that Crystal had used to seduce and entrap Colonel William Spooner and many others.
"I can't meet at my apartment. I have a friend staying; I was hoping you had somewhere," Crystal set the bait.
There was no way a successful lobbyist was going to be seen in a respectable public place with a girl like Crystal. It wasn't that she wasn't passable; it was because she was so uniquely beautiful that she was also memorable and people were likely to ask him where he had met her and how they met. A truthful reply along the lines of: `I got high one night and went to the Pink Parrot gay bar and picked up this pretty female impersonator who did things to me that no woman could do' would not go down well. Bronson's brain was ticking over.
"This is going to sound sleazy but what about in my car? You know the parking lot on Massachusetts Avenue not for from the Parrot. I can be there at seven," Bronson said hopefully.
"I start my shift at The Pink Parrot at eight, so yeah, I guess if that's the best we can do," Crystal dangled the hook.
"You know my car, the white Cadillac Eldorado? I have a permanent slot on the second floor," Bronson crossed his fingers.
"Yeah I know it. I've blown you in that Caddy outside the Parrot," Crystal replied sarcastically.
"But I am not walking around a multi-story parking garage in my high heels and a cocktail dress," she countered.
Just the thought of Crystal dressed in her little black sequined cocktail dress wearing spiky high heels was enough to make Bronson's semi-hard cock throb.
"I'll pick you up on Massachusetts Avenue a block south of the garage and drive to the lot. I'll drop you off at the Parrot after," Bronson proposed.
"I'll see you there. Seven o'clock and don't be late," Crystal set the hook.
"See you honey, gotta go," Bronson broke the connection.
Crystal contacted Steven Boland using a payphone and told him of the assignation and he promised her that she would have all the support she needed. There was no way that the undertaking they had planned could take place at the apartment Crystal usually used for assignations. The parking lot was the perfect location.
Crystal waited on the corner of Massachusetts Avenue and 16th Street trying her best not to look like a hooker in her black sequin three-quarter-length-sleeved micromini cocktail dress and shimmery fleshtoned fifteen denier holdup stockings and black four-inch pumps.
She was wearing her burgundy bob, her makeup was heavy, her platinum jewellery sparkled under the streetlights as did the sequins on her dress; she had a matching clutch purse slung over her shoulder, held by a long spaghetti strap. She smoked a menthol cigarette, whilst walking in circles to ward off the chilly breeze coming off the Potomac River only a mile away.
After enduring the ignominy of drivers slowing down to ogle and wolf-whistle, the sight of Bronson Bateman's white Eldorado finally pulling into view was a relief. Bronson spied Crystal and his heart skipped a beat. That girl was more stunning than most of the cis-gender women he knew and she could do things with her mouth and ass that amazed him.
"Hi honey, it's fucking freezing out there," Crystal said in her dusky voice and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek as she climbed into the nice warm car.
Bronson was already hard but when she enveloped him a miasma of `Poison' his cock became steely. He took Crystal's hand and placed it in his lap. She squeezed his turgid member and smiled at him as he pulled into the evening traffic.
"You really are ready for a quickie aren't you?" Crystal giggled.
"So this gig in Las Vegas; what's the story?" Bronson asked.
He couldn't really give a fuck about Las Vegas but he thought he should show Crystal the courtesy of pretending to be interested in her life. He didn't know much about her at all outside of the Pink Parrot and the little apartment where they fucked and he didn't want to. She was his dirty little secret and he didn't want anyone to know about her. His credibility on The Hill would be shot to shit if anyone knew he was fucking a transwoman.
The Caddy's tires squealed as Bronson pulled into his allotted space on the second story of the multi-level parking garage. His parking space was right at the end behind an air-conditioning unit, screened from the rest of the lot. Not that it mattered, the place was dead quiet, most of the congressional staff and their flunkies were still working hard at this time of night.
Bronson pulled Crystal into the back seat, hitching down his pants as he did so. She put the long thin strap of her clutch around her shoulder so she wouldn't lose it and kissed him passionately and he impatiently pushed her head down into his lap.
Bronson had a nice cock, long and thin with a pale milky shaft and pink glans which was already leaking precum. Crystal slurped away the globules of the clear viscous liquid and began to suck his cock earnestly. Bronson moaned and leaned back in the seat, guiding Crystal's mouth up and down his cock as she used her lips on his shaft and her tongue on his fraenulum. She was tucked and taped for work and as she was wearing stockings vice pantyhose the tuck was tight. She didn't want to become hard because she would become uncomfortable. Her tuck would allow her to sit and urinate but if she became tumescent it would likely break free.
Bronson was enjoying having Crystal suck his cock, she was the best. The narcissist misogynist in him thought that a man who could pass himself off as a woman would naturally give the best head: `a man knows, what a man likes' he thought, although he never thought of Crystal as a man, even when she splashed her sperm over his belly when she was riding him cowgirl.
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver vial and unscrewed it. The top portion had a little spoon built into it and he scooped out a bump and sniffed it and did the same to his other nostril. He tapped Crystal on the head and she looked up at him but shook her head and went back to sucking his cock.
Bronson was close to coming and the coke had made his cock swell to full tumescence and Crystal figured that as he was in a hurry he would make do with the blowjob but she had other plans. She took her head out of his lap and quickly straddled him so that she was facing him with her knees either side on the seat. She eased her panties aside and slowly impaled herself on his cock while she put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Crystal was ready for sex and had douched and pre-lubricated her anus in anticipation. Bronson's cock slid into her ass easily, right up to the hilt. He put his hands on her thighs and thrust upward and Crystal pushed down at the same time, feeling his hard cock press on her prostate. She wriggled her buttocks, squeezed her sphincter and drove her tongue into Bronson's mouth and was rewarded when she felt his cock judder and empty his sac deep inside her anus.
"That's a good boy," Crystal cooed and kissed him tenderly.
Bronson smiled up at her, a look of contentment on his face as the last of his spend spurted from the eye of his cock, deep inside Crystal's bowel.
"Thanks lover, I know you're in a rush," she smiled back at him and lowered her face and kissed him languidly.
Her hand slipped into her clutch and she extracted the hypodermic syringe from its hiding place. She thrust the syringe into Bronson's neck and he gasped and went limp and fell into unconsciousness. The speedball of cocaine and heroin was close to a lethal dose and Bronson's heart slowed to twenty five beats per minute.
She slipped off Bronson's comatose body and, keeping her dress hiked up out of the way, she lowered her panties and squeezed her anus to expel Bronson's semen which she carefully collected and put into a little baggie. She put her panties back in place and then smoothed down her dress. She got out of the back of the Cadillac and two men emerged from behind the air-conditioning unit, both dressed from head to toe in black, wearing ski masks and gloves.
"He's all yours," Crystal said nonchalantly, handing off the baggie as she walked to the elevator, her heels clicking on the bare concrete.
Bronson's body was found in his car in Rock Creek Park by two members of the United States Park Police the next morning. They also found the body of a partially clothed hooker beside him. A forensic investigation found Bronson Bateman's semen in the vagina of the hooker who had a long list of convictions for solicitation. The investigators also found both heroin and cocaine at the scene and in the blood of both deceased along with strangulation marks on the hooker's neck.
Rudimentary analysis and a forensic examination matched Bronson's blood type to the semen found inside the hooker and the coroner determined that Bronson had strangled the girl in a hallucinogenic rage during a self-inflicted accidental drug overdose. Bronson was known to be a party animal who regularly used recreational drugs and a womaniser and few would dispute the findings.
Senator Palmer was outraged and when a second lobbyist, a KGB undercover operative, approached the senator and assured him that Bronson's claims that he was being used as a stooge by foreign nationalists was just a drug-induced fantasy. The Senator and his voting block vetoed the bill.
By then Crystal was already in Las Vegas.
Las Vegas Nevada, 1985
"You sure you are going to be ok managing Fresh Scents by yourself Jeremy? I can get in another assistant if you want," Kyle said as he made his final preparations to leave for Las Vegas.
"Six days a week in the flower shop is hardly taxing dear and if we did hire another assistant it would likely be some young fairy who would spend all day sniffing the flowers and making goo-goo eyes at the customers. Youngsters today have no work ethic," Jeremy tut-tutted.
"Ok, I'll call you from Vegas now and then to see how things are progressing," Kyle gave Jeremy a hug and drove away.
But he didn't drive far. He drove to Crystal Greystone's apartment that was rented under a false name and transformed into Crystal and packed her suitcase. For this particular operation Kyle was to present as Crystal fulltime and she was quite happy to do so. Crystal dressed in pink spandex leggings over sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose, a black short-sleeved open-necked top and carried a black leather jacket. She wore spiked four-inch heels and her makeup was heavy. As she was presenting enfemme she also wore prosthetic breastforms to fill her c-cups and wore her own hair cut in a shag bob styled with burgundy highlights.
She picked up her identity documents and gave them the onceover. They were perfect and so they should be, Crystal Greystone was a legitimate American citizen, although she had died at birth in 1964. It was Crystal's task to present as a flamboyant young showgirl who was going to Las Vegas to perform as a drag queen at the Ambassador Hotel and Casino.
Steven Boland had represented himself as Crystal's manager and booked her for a four week appearance in the Boys Will Be Girls Spectacular' review. This covered the time leading up to, during, and after the Cottage' nuclear test during which Brett Beaumont would be visiting Las Vegas.
The rezidentura had ordered that Kyle was to use Crystal Greystone's identity exclusively for the operation so that if she was exposed she could seamlessly assume the identity of Kyle Gordon and escape without a trace. Crystal Greystone's identity was expendable. Because Kyle Gordon was a legitimate American citizen his identity was not expendable; he was too valuable.
Having packed her bags Crystal was ready to depart and took a taxi to Dulles airport and smirked at the driver who openly ogled her ass and legs as she climbed into the cab. She checked in seamlessly at the airport and waited for her flight at the bar sipping a gin and tonic, shooing away a few hopeful suitors. She had dressed provocatively on purpose. As of now she was a showgirl so she behaved like one. The pretty twenty-year-one-old with her long legs, pert bottom clad in skin-tight spandex, her perky breasts and pixie haircut framing her beautiful face caught the eye of most of the men at the airport.
She settled into her business class seat for the long journey, drinking the complimentary champagne offered by the stewardess, declining the recommended beef wellington selection for dinner, selecting the salad instead but accepting the proffered sauvignon blanc to go with it. A gin and tonic would be provided after take-off.
A handsome man in his fifties took the adjoining seat and gave Crystal an admiring look. Crystal was not at all ageist, in fact most of her suitors were older men but she was just not in the mood for idle flirting so she gave the man a wry smile and went back to her magazine.
As soon as the flight levelled out the hostesses served drinks, then the meal, and afterwards Crystal snuggled under the complimentary blanket and tried to sleep away the five hour flight. The passenger sitting beside her had tried his best to engage Crystal in conversation during the meal and when she had told him that she was a showgirl working in a review in a casino the man's interest piqued.
"Well you certainly have the looks and the legs for it," the man had said flirtatiously and Crystal had just smiled.
"Is it true that a lot of showgirls make a lot of money on the side?" the man smiled at her salaciously.
Crystal interpreted the implication and resented the man inferring that she was a hooker.
"I wouldn't know; it's my first gig in Vegas," she gave him a curt smile and shut down the conversation.
Crystal was just about to nod off when she felt the man's hand slither under her blanket and touch her ass. She ignored it even when the man moved his hand to her thigh and began to stroke her spandex sheathed flesh. The cabin lights had been dimmed and the man was taking advantage of the situation and thinking Crystal was some bimbo showgirl decided he would help himself. Crystal could hear his heavy breathing and sensed the rise and fall of the man's blanket as he masturbated himself while groping her.
The man's hand moved between her legs and stroked her there. Her tuck was tight and the man thought he was stroking her `pussy' through those lycra leggings. Crystal decided to play along. She rolled over so that she was facing the man and opened her legs a little to facilitate his groping. She opened an eye and winked at him and the man grinned at her and rubbed harder at what he thought was her pussy.
Crystal put her finger to her lips.
"Shh," she whispered nodding at the other sleeping passengers.
The man nodded knowingly. He was about to join the `Mile High Club' but they had to keep it secret from the hosties and the other passengers.
The man sighed when Crystal's hand snaked under his blanket and she took his puny little cock in her hand. It was only four inches fully erect but Crystal had seen smaller in her line of work so she didn't think it was extraordinary.
She smiled at the man and licked her lips seductively and the man supressed a groan as Crystal softly stroked his throbbing cock.
He then supressed a scream when Crystal removed her hand from his shaft and gripped his scrotum and wrenched it. She squeezed it hard and the man felt like his testes were about to pop. His face was strained and sweat ran down his forehead and cheeks as he held a scream of agony inside him. He hissed and let out a low moan as Crystal twisted his testicles and then let them go.
She turned her back on him and went to sleep listening to the man moaning and whimpering softly. The man had a pronounced limp when he disembarked the aircraft and hobbled away down the concourse.
A limo picked Crystal up from the airport and drove her to the Ambassador Hotel where the concierge arranged for her to check in and had her bags sent up to her room. She was instructed to go to the office of Fred Winebrow, the casino manager and entertainment director, before she did anything else.
The front of house in the casino was all glitz and glamour but behind the scenes it was dusky and downtrodden. The Ambassador was an older casino that catered for middle-market patrons rather than the elite sophisticates and high rollers that frequented the more upmarket establishments.
Fred Winebrow appeared to be as dusky and downtrodden as the casino he managed with his ill-fitting cheap suit, front-porch belly and comb-over.
"Well aren't you the little chickadee? Most of the female impersonators in the show only dress like women when they are performing," Fred said by way of introduction.
"I thought you were a full-timer when we booked you under the name Crystal Greystone and there was no male name offered. You done this kinda work before?" Fred openly gawped at her appreciatively.
"I work the Pink Parrot nightclub back east as a performer and hostess but this show is a bigger production," Crystal admitted.
"Not much to it. Do your show as usual, sing your set then join the girls for the chorus-line finalé. Show plenty of T and A, show off those legs, smile prettily and be friendly to the punters after the show.
There's a matinée, a supper show and a late show. Rehearsals start tomorrow at nine beginning with costume fitting. If you fuck a john up in your room you kick me back fifty, if you leave with him it's still fifty. You got it toots?" Fred smiled at her with his crooked teeth.
"It was all explained to me by my manager but not the part about fucking the customers. I'm not a hooker," Crystal said pleasantly enough.
She needed the job because Brett Beaumont was about to arrive in Las Vegas so she didn't overreact.
"That's up to you. Some of girls do, some don't. I don't care so long as I get my kickback," Fred smirked.
"Ok thanks Mister Winebrow. I'd like to head up to my room now. It was a long flight and I'm tired," Crystal picked up her travel bag.
"Hey, hey, hey missy, you forgot one thing," Fred stepped between her and the door and openly leered at her.
"Really? That's how it is?" Crystal sighed resignedly.
Fred nodded and unzipped his fly.
"All the showgirls give me a fuck or a blowjob when they first get here.
Consider it your audition," Fred chuckled.
"I don't fuck the trannies very often but you're something special Crystal," Fred freed a rather large appendage that was bloated and ready to go.
Another time and another place Crystal would have given Fred Winebrow the same treatment she gave the man who groped her on the plane but Crystal was pragmatic. She had sex with men whom she despised when necessary for `the cause'; it was an essential weapon in her arsenal. Her job at the moment was to work at the Ambassador as a showgirl and lure Brett Beaumont into a honey trap.
"Ok Fred. It's just this once so let's get this over with and make sure you use this," Crystal rummaged in her travel bag and produced a tube of K-Y Jelly.
Ever pragmatic, Crystal turned around and bent over Fred Winebrow's cluttered desk and presented herself. Fred smiled and dropped trou; this girl had an ass to die for. Fred hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Crystal's leggings and slid them down to her knees, her pert buttocks and long legs clad in the shimmering sheer pantyhose she wore under the tights were a magnificent sight and Fred stroked his cock to full tumescence.
He pushed his cock into the crevice between Crystal's buttocks and rubbed it, delighting in the feel of her silky pantyhose on his sensitive staff. Fred put his hand between Crystal's legs and found her tuck.
He'd fucked a few of the trans showgirls over the years and he knew how they presented that perfect V in their crotch that so fascinated the audience. He rolled down her pantyhose and ripped away the tucking tape and then he pulled her pantyhose back up.
"You're taking liberties Fred, just get it over with please," Crystal wriggled her buttocks invitingly and Fred put his cock back on her ass and began to rub it.
Crystal's testes had descended and her flaccid cock was pressed flat against her belly, held there by her pantyhose and Fred reached around her and began to stroke it. Crystal was only human and when Fred began to caress her penis through the gossamer fabric she began to become tumescent.
Fred grinned as he felt Crystal's cock begin to swell and he pressed his cock into the crevice between her buttocks and Crystal obligingly pushed back. He reached for the lubricant and snagged a little hole in the back of Crystal's pantyhose, smeared his cock with the emollient and pushed it through the hole, nestling his glans in Crystal's cute little pink puckered bud. He wiped his greasy hands on his pants and gripped Crystal's hips and slowly slid his cock all the way inside her.
Not having to look at Fred's rather unpleasant face and shabby fat body was a blessing in a way because Fred knew how to use his cock and bent over the desk like this Crystal was able to enjoy it without watching him. He was stroking her now fully-erect penis through her pantyhose while Fred's cock slid in and out of her anus, his belly smacking on her buttocks as he fucked her.
Fred's cock was the perfect girth and length and it ignited those wonderful little sparks of delight from her stretched sphincter and the bulbous head pressed on Crystal's prostate and she began to leak precum which Fred rubbed into her cock as he massaged it.
Crystal let out a little whimper and Fred smiled and fucked her a little harder but not too much, he was enjoying fucking this long-legged transsexual. Her anus gripped his cock like a satin glove, she was tight but pliant and when she wriggled her buttocks it created a wondrous sensation that caused his cock to pulsate.
Crystal was actually enjoying being fucked but she was tired and ready for bed so she used all her tricks to trigger Fred's climax: wiggling her bottom, clenching and unclenching her sphincter, moaning appreciatively, uttering little obscenities, and pushing back to meet his thrusts. All of this also increased her own pleasure and Fred's fingers massaging her throbbing cock, smoothing the silky nylon along her steely shaft, was driving her own desires.
They climaxed together and Crystal's knees buckled with the intensity of her orgasm. Fred held her up, pushing her into the desk, driving his cock all the way inside her tight anus as he spewed his glutinous issue deep in her bowel. Crystal felt Fred's cock tremble as his hot seed filled her, his glans pressing on her prostate, his fingers squeezing her hard member and she swamped her pantyhose with creamy semen and her anus clenched tight around Fred's thrusting cock as she came.
"Oh my!" Crystal's verbal appreciation was understated; but only because her orgasm was so delicious and fulfilling.
Fred enjoyed the sensation of Crystal's pantyhose sheathed ass pressing into his belly as he emptied his issue deep inside her back passage as it rhythmically quivered around his shaft. He'd really like to turn her around and kiss her pretty mouth but Fred was pragmatic and took his pleasures where and when he could. Crystal's cock was filling his hand with her warm viscous spunk and the musky smell of sex filled his little office. Fred was a softy under his gruff exterior and he was glad the sexy young vixen had enjoyed herself when he fucked her.
Fred pulled his cock from Crystal's ass with an audible plop and his cum dribbled from her distended sphincter. Ever the gentleman he dropped a box of Kleenex in front of her face and snatched a handful of tissues to wipe Crystal's cum off his fingers before he pulled up his underpants and trousers. Crystal wiped away the semen leaking from her anus and consciously closed her sphincter then she dealt with the mess in the front of her pantyhose.
Having dried the front of her pantyhose and her cummy asshole as proficiently as possible under the circumstances, Crystal pulled up her pantyhose, tucked her genitals as best she could and then pulled up her pink spandex tights. Her tuck wasn't as tight as it was before but it was passable.
"Well that was fun," Fred lit a cigarette and offered the pack to Crystal who took one and lit it.
"And that's a onetime deal you said?" Crystal waved at the cloud of smoke surrounding her face.
"Honey, I get all the pussy I want from the girls who come in here applying for jobs in the casino. Every cocktail waitress, housemaid, cashier and even some of the hookers in Las Vegas dream of becoming a showgirl or they want to be a blackjack dealer or croupier. My dick is nearly worn to a stub," Fred chuckled.
"I wouldn't have bothered with you but you're so goddam pretty and you're special. I don't mind a little tranny tail now and then but yes honey, you've paid your dues," Fred said almost dismissively, waving her away.
"Well good because I need to sleep," Crystal dropped the tube of K-Y in her travel bag and took her leave.
Crystal was quietly surprised that her room was reasonably adequate.
She'd expected it to be as shabby as the back of house given that the room was comped as part of her contract. She noted that the room had an interconnecting door to the adjoining suite and she wondered who lived next door. She showered quickly, washing away her makeup and the last of Fred Winebrow's cum. She fell into bed exhausted and slept until seven the next day.
Crystal went down to rehearsals wearing a leotard, dance tights, heels and a t-shirt, her makeup light. She stopped to get a to-go coffee at the twenty-four-hour café; the clientele looking tired after a night of gambling and carousing. The casino theatre was called `The Envoy Cabaret' and the seating was arranged around small tables, giving the place the intimate ambience of a nightclub. It seated an audience of around a hundred.
She followed the voices coming from back of stage and found the other `girls' in the dressing room. Including Crystal there were seven performers in the Boys Will Be Girls Spectacular. Five of them were male drag queens and there was one other transwoman. The men were getting out of their male attire and putting on tights and heels for the rehearsals.
There wasn't a straight man in the house.
Crystal introduced herself to the other girls briefly and then met up with the producer and costume designer. For her solo act she had brought her own evening gown and a brunette bouffant wig that she wore at the Pink Parrot which the producer and designer inspected and gave a nod of approval. For the finale, the all-girl review performed as a chorus line all wearing the same costume consisting of a red and black jacquard push-up corset with hook and eye front and lace-up back. The bustier was worn with a blue satin jacket, white full-cut panties, a feathered headpiece and rhinestoned fishnet dance tights over sheer pantyhose and black high-heeled dance shoes. Crystal sarcastically thought the red, white and blue ensemble very patriotic.
The girls all wore matching blonde wigs provided with the costume.
Crystal had already provided her measurements and the designer fitted her in the tight costume and fussed around adjusting it and made notes as to where it needed to be let out and taken in. The cost of the ensemble was taken out of the girls wages but at least they got to keep them after the show.
"I'll have this ready for a final fitting tomorrow before the dress rehearsal," the designer scurried away with the costume.
The rest of the morning was spent with the choreographer. Crystal was allotted her placement at the end of the chorus line because she was so tall. The other trans girl had a very similar stature and took the spot at the other ned of the chorus line. The other six girls were veterans of the show and had the choreo down pat. It was simple and consisted mainly of high-kicks, sashays, shimmies and shakes, more burlesque than dance and it didn't take Crystal long to get it right.
After a light lunch the girls rehearsed their individual acts. Crystal and Michelle Dupree, the other trans girl, had solo singing numbers, one of the queens did racy stand-up comedy, two did choreographed lip-synchs which included death-drops, splits and other gymnastics and the other two did a `Mutt and Jeff' comedy double routine.
It was obvious to Crystal that the others viewed her as an outsider; an interloper brought in by Fred Winebrow to fill a vacant position.
Crystal didn't mind. She didn't want to get to know the drag queens outside of their professional employment. This operation would go smoother if Crystal remained alone and detached from the others.
Michelle Dupree was a different kettle of fish and seemed to see Crystal Greystone as some sort of soul sister and invited her to get a drink together after the rehearsal. It turned out that Michelle had the room adjoining Crystal's.
Crystal and Michelle perched themselves in a far corner of the L-shaped cocktail bar and both ordered beers. They were thirsty after the rehearsal.
"Don't worry about the other girls, they've been a troupe since the review started and you're new, they'll warm to you," Michelle smiled.
The other `girls', were all men who performed as drag queens but it was common in the business for drag queens to refer to each other using the female vernacular.
"That's fine. I'm just a temporary replacement; the girls at the Pink Parrot can be just as bitchy," Crystal smiled warmly.
None of the other girls would warm to Crystal if they knew that it was a KGB operative who had staged the accident that caused the drag queen missing from the review to break her leg which created the opportunity for Crystal to be offered the vacant position.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Michelle leaned in and Crystal could smell her perfume and a little perspiration; they were still dressed in their dance tights and leotards.
Crystal nodded and took a long sip of her ice-cold beer.
"Are you a transwoman? It's just, I notice, if you don't me saying, that you are still using breastforms and don't appear to have had any surgery," Michelle blushed a little.
Crystal was ready for the question. Her backstory had been crafted and practiced with her handler.
"You know how hard it is to transition and I'm not just talking about the prejudice and misinformation. I'm under the care of a psychiatrist who is supportive of my need to become a woman but before he will approve any surgeries he wants me to live full-time as a woman for an extended period to prove to him and myself that I'm not making a mistake," Crystal lied.
"But you can just... you know. There are places overseas where you can go and get surgery and hormones," Michelle whispered looking carefully around the quiet bar.
"I know that but I promised myself I'd do it this way and have my psychiatrist confirm that the feelings and urge I have to transition are real. I don't want to go to Mexico or Asia and come back a woman and then find I've made a huge mistake," Crystal said sagely.
"That's noble of you. I couldn't wait. I went abroad and had the procedures and came back and had to go through the process of changing my identity. I got a good lawyer and on all of my identity documents except my birth certificate I'm identified as female," Michelle explained.
"Transforming cost me my friends and family. No one from my old life wants anything to do with me and my family have disowned me. My tribe is now with the gays and other transwomen," Michelle said, speaking sadly.
"Now a question for you. Have you fully transitioned? Is that real or that a very good tuck?" Crystal glanced down at Michelle's crotch and grinned.
Michelle laughed raucously, causing some of the clientele to turn their way and admire the two heavily made-up women dressed in dance attire sitting at the corner of the bar.
Michelle reached out and squeezed Crystal's forearm gently.
"It's a tuck honey. That's why I'm working in Vegas as a showgirl.
As soon as I've saved enough money I'm going to get vaginoplasty and that's me done," Michelle said with some finality.
"Look you're young. What are you? Early twenties? I'm only twenty-five myself. My tentet is to enjoy life while you can so don't wait too long to transition if you feel it's right for you. Leave the bottom surgery until last and then if it turns out that you were wrong about your identity you can always transition back. I've known a couple of queens who have done it," Michelle said sagely.
"Is the lecture over now? Can we have a real drink?" Crystal took Michelle's hand in hers and kissed the back of it overdramatically and grinned.
Michelle laughed raucously again and nodded.
"Two gin and tonics here please barman," she called out.
"And I'm paying," a middle-aged lothario called out as he weaved his way through the chairs and tables followed by two other men.
"Like moths to a flame," Michelle chuckled.
"That is one advantage of being a woman. You never pay for your drinks," she said and they both laughed.
Las Vegas Nevada, March 1985
Crystal had no real interest in establishing a relationship with Michelle Dupree but when she made her daily report to Steven Boland, always from a public payphone, he advised Crystal to befriend Michelle but of course to keep their relationship perfunctory. It would help Crystal's cause to have a friend of similar leanings and orientation. It was best that she was not seen as a loner which might draw suspicion in a town like Las Vegas where everyone partied.
Costumes were fitted, rehearsals were finalised and photographs were taken of the cast, both individually and as an ensemble. In-house marketing commissioned banners and advertising posters. A billboard was erected outside of the casino and flyers and posters were distributed throughout hotel lobbies, bars and restaurants along The Strip. The show was ready to open for its second season with Crystal Greystone now in the troupe.
More importantly the KGB operative working at the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory reported that the Project Excalibur' team were making final preparations to relocate to the Nevada test site to observe the Cottage' test and Brett Beaumont was heading to Las Vegas to blow off some steam ahead of them.
Indeed Brett Beaumont was driving along the I-15 in his cherry-red Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme two-door convertible with the top down. He was blatantly ignoring the double-nickel speed limit posted on this stretch of the highway and was in flagrant violation of the open container law. He figured if he was arrested or incarcerated he would soon be released and the violation expunged because he was just too important to the nation's national defence program and he was right.
Brett was a frequent transgressor of both the law and the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory code of conduct but he was always given a pass because his brilliance and expertise in X-ray laser technology was unsurpassed. He liked to drink, gamble and fornicate and bend the rules.
This was tolerated by the project directors but frowned upon by the military and government agencies involved in the project who considered him a security risk.
Brett Beaumont knew about the security detail that followed him whenever he was working on Project Excalibur outside of the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory complex but so long as the contracted security agent remained discreet and did not interfere with Brett's fun he didn't care. In his own head he was a white night or Shakespeare's Hal' whose inordinate and low desires' and yearning for ale-houses and brothels hid portents of a man destined for greatness on the world's stage.
In other words Brett Beaumont was a brilliant narcissist hell-bent on lechery.
He arrived at the Stardust Resort and Casino, dropped his car with the valet and breezed through the VIP check-in and promptly fell asleep on the enormous bed and slept off a twenty-four binge which included drinking a fifth of Jack Daniel's Old No.7 Tennessee Whiskey during the long drive.
Brett woke up ravenous and had a late breakfast in his suite washed down with two Bloody Marys then he went down to the gaming rooms and won, and then he lost, and then he won again. He also won the admiration of the cocktail waitresses and dealers who he tipped very handsomely.
He went back to his room to change for dinner and found that the concierge had left an envelope containing a complementary ticket for the `Boys Will Be Girls Spectacular'. He inspected the accompanying flyer and thought it would be fun to see the troupe of female impersonators.
If the pictures on the flyer did them any justice the female impersonators were unclockable as anything other than beautiful women.
This could be very interesting, thought the man whose tastes in bed partners were very eclectic.
Crystal had simply bribed the concierge at the Stardust with cash to have the ticket sent to Brett's room. The concierge had wanted a blowjob too and Crystal promised him one if Brett attended the show.
Brett entered the `The Envoy Cabaret' at the Ambassador Hotel and was led to his seat at a small intimate table just as the house lights dimmed. He drank champagne, suffering through the support acts and then the Spectacular began. The women were indeed beautiful with their pretty faces, coiffed hair, cinched waists and long legs; there was no way to tell them from the real thing. In fact some of them were uber-feminised, almost too realistic, like mannequins or life-like dolls.
Then Crystal Greystone came out on stage and the spotlight hit her. She stood still, looking down at her feet and then she raised her beautiful face and gazed at the audience. She was tall and her legs were long and shapely and sheathed in sheer flesh-toned nylons, she was wide hipped and slim waisted, her shoulders narrow. In the red satin evening gown, split to the waist, you would never guess that it wasn't a woman under that glitz and glamour.
Crystal began to sing `Anyone Who Knows What Love Is' and her eyes seemed locked on Brett Beaumont's throughout the performance. He felt as if she was singing the beautiful ballad just for him. She finished the song to raucous applause and blew kisses to the audience which Brett of course believed were all for him.
The other queens were entertaining and he was taken with Michelle Dupree's solo performance, she was the other standout in the ensemble beside Crystal. The closing number had all the girls in a chorus line, singing and dancing and Brett sought out Crystal and found her at the end. His eyes locked on her and she seemed to be smiling directly at him.
The show was completed with an encore and then the MC advised the audience that the girls were getting changed for a meet-and-greet and would be happy to mingle with the audience to have their photographs taken and sign autographs. It was another scam conjured up by Fred Winebrow to milk every penny from the performers. The girls didn't receive any of the profits from the meet-and-greet but it was compulsory, the obligation buried in the fine print of their contracts.
Those queens who moonlighted as hookers saw it as an opportunity to pick up a john but to the others it was a chore and being opening night with the new line-up, a big crowd had remained behind for the meet-and-greet.
Crystal came out in a black mini-skirted cocktail dress with sheer shiny flesh-toned pantyhose and black fuck-me pumps, her makeup heavy, her shag bob styled with burgundy highlights faming her pretty face. As the newest member of the ensemble she drew a lot of attention, posed for a lot of photographs and signed a lot of autographs for men who were very handsy and women who were jealous of her.
Brett Beaumont hung back and bided his time waiting for most of the crowd to disperse. When Crystal was finally alone he made a beeline for her but just before he got to her Crystal was approached by another member of the ensemble, a pretty girl from the review of similar build to Crystal with pixie-cut cherry-red hair with copper highlights and swept bangs.
She had a school-girl body shape with narrow shoulders and hips and long shapely legs. Her silver lame mini-dress clung to her leggy frame.
Brett recognised her from the performance and she and Crystal were talking animatedly.
He was not perturbed and broke into the conversation and introduced himself.
"Professor Brett Beaumont ladies, may I say that you were both spectacular," Brett said by way of introduction.
Crystal lowered her eyes demurely, smiled and whispered thank you.
Michelle just glared at him.
"Rather rude of you Mister Beaumont, my friend and I were having a private conversation," Michelle gave him a sardonic grin, deliberately using the title Mister' rather than Professor'.
"You're Crystal Greystone and you're Michelle Dupree, at least according to this advertising flyer," Brett waved the flyer like it was a fan.
"As I said, we are having a private conversation," Michelle glared at Brett's impertinence.
"I paid extra for the meet-and-greet so therefore I expect to meet and greet you missy," Brett snapped back.
Crystal was pissed at Michelle; this was not how her first meeting with Brett Beaumont was supposed to play out but she didn't show any emotion.
"Excuse me Michelle. Follow me over here Professor Beaumont and you can have your meet-and-greet and autograph and I'll have the photographer take a picture of us together should you so desire," Crystal took Brett's hand and led him to a quiet corner leaving Michelle fuming at being snubbed.
"Professor Beaumont is my father, please call me Brett," Brett smiled at Crystal and openly gawped at her from head to toe.
"Are sure you're not a girl," he smiled at Crystal like schoolboy would smile at a girl he fancied in homeroom.
"I'm whatever you want me to be Brett. The term transgender woman is becoming popular, some call me a transsexual, others call me names I'd rather not repeat," Crystal smiled at him wryly.
"Michelle and I live full-time as women, the other girls only dress like women to perform," Crystal further explained.
"But you called them girls?" Brett looked a little confused.
"When they are in drag, presenting enfemme, they call each other girls.
It's confusing to outsiders but not to us," Crystal took Brett's flyer from him and scribbled a practiced signature on it that was nothing like her real signature.
A handwriting analyst would have a hard time matching the signature to Kyle Gordon's handwriting. Crystal would have to play a delicate game.
If things worked out as she hoped, it would be impossible for her not leave evidence of her interaction with Brett Beaumont, but she intended to leave as little as possible.
"Why don't we blow this scene honey? You wanna go and get a drink?" Brett smiled at Crystal, focussing his charm on her.
Crystal looked around and saw that most of the other performers had left, some of them in the company of male patrons. Fred Winebrow stood off to one side dressed in a threadbare tux looking like a caricature of Batman's `The Penguin' nursing a drink and taking in every nuance.
He'd know which of the girls had picked up johns out of the crowd.
"I'm just going to be up front about this Brett just so your expectations are managed. I don't moonlight as a hooker," Crystal looked him in the eyes.
Brett gave her what her hoped was his best killer grin.
"I'm just asking you to join me for drink Crystal. We can take it from there, play it by ear so to speak," his eyes sparkled.
There was no doubt that Brett Beaumont was handsome, confident and used to getting his way. It was also evident that he had money, his suit was expensive and meticulously tailored, his fingernails were manicured and his hair cut and styled perfectly. His gold cufflinks and tiepin were embellished with emeralds and his shoes were designer. A lot of women would have found all that glitz attractive and many a girl had undoubtedly succumbed to his charm and his killer smile.
"Sure; we can go for a drink," Crystal picked up her handbag and he guided her though the thinning crowd to the door and into the lobby.
The casino staff hailed Brett a town car and be tipped the valet generously and held the door for Crystal and appreciated the acres of leg she displayed getting into the back seat. They chatted pleasantly about the show as the car made its way to the Stardust Resort and Casino where Crystal knew that Brett was staying but he had failed to mention to her.
They were just going for a drink but the venue just happened to be at Brett's hotel. Crystal smiled to herself, Brett was hedging his bets.
They drank champagne in the Starlight Lounge', Brett sipping not gulping because he was hoping to score and wanted make sure he could perform. Crystal let Brett lead the conversation which moved on from the show and focussed on her and she provided him with a backstory that would stand up to investigation. Crystal had spotted the tail at the The Envoy Cabaret' and he had followed them and was sitting far enough away from them not to attract attention but close enough to keep them under surveillance.
Crystal assumed that the tail was Secret Service, US Marshal Service or possibly a private contractor. In any event he wasn't trying too hard to be inconspicuous. It was most likely the case that the assigned security service wanted foreign operatives to know that Beaumont had security assigned to him to warn them away.
Crystal deliberately stayed away from questioning Brett as to what he was doing in Las Vegas and what he did for a living; she let him assume that she assumed that he was just another business professional in town for good time. She knew that someone with Brett's ego wouldn't be able to wait too long without talking about himself.
"You haven't asked me any personal questions Crystal, all we have spoken about is you. Aren't you interested?" Brett finally went there.
"Let me guess," Crystal smiled at him a little cheekily and seductively, her eyes sparkled and she took a generous sip of champagne.
"Businessman, but nothing tawdry, probably a banker or an investment or securities broker, possibly a high-end stockbroker or something corporate? Am I even close?" Crystal grinned.
"Nowhere near it," Brett chuckled.
"I'm a scientist. A very special kind of scientist," Brett said soberly.
"Never!" Crystal looked appropriately impressed.
"Wait! Are you an inventor? Did you invent something that made a lot of money?" Crystal played the dumb showgirl.
Brett made a show of looking around to see if anyone was listening.
"Nowhere near it again. I'm a nuclear scientist who specialises in X-ray lasers. I'm in town to blow off a little steam before I head out into the desert to oversee some tests," Brett said very self-importantly.
"But that's all I can tell you. The rest is classified," he said smugly waiving at a waitress to bring them another bottle of champagne.
Crystal could see why the Government considered Brett Beaumont a security risk. He was using his position to big note himself to a pretty young showgirl whom he had only just met. Crystal went goo-goo eyed and behaved like she was suitably impressed.
"Should we take this second bottle up to my room?" Brett asked, putting his hand on Crystal's knee.
He wasn't much of a seducer. He was blunt and over-confident but that suited Crystal's purpose.
"I have rehearsals at nine tomorrow and it's already late but I suppose I can come up for one drink," Crystal gave him `her' best killer smile and Brett grinned like a Cheshire cat.
Brett tipped the waitress and asked her to have the champagne sent up to his room and accompanied Crystal to the elevators. Crystal watched Brett's security detail look over at them and then look at his watch.
The man would have seen Brett pick up Crystal at the meet-and-greet and made the assessment that Crystal was like a hundred other showgirls and hookers that Brett had bedded whenever he went gallivanting and as soon as he sure that Brett was tucked up in his room he would call it night.
In the elevator Brett closed in on Crystal and took her in his arms and kissed her. Crystal allowed him to do so and returned the kiss but not too passionately, just enough to let Brett know that she was interested.
Brett was excited. He'd never been with a transwoman before and this was going to be a little daunting but also exhilarating. This girl looked like a woman, she felt like a woman, she smelled like a woman but he knew that underneath that cocktail dress she was unique.
The champagne arrived just after he led Crystal into his suite and Crystal made the appropriate platitudes regarding how impressive his VIP suite was and settled herself on a white leather divan while Brett poured drinks. He'd taken off his tie, jacket and shoes and was relaxed, looking forward to a pleasant evening.
Crystal kicked off her heels and folded her feet under her and reposed, all the time checking the hotel room layout against the plans she had memorised. Everything was pretty much as per the floor plan, importantly she had caught a glimpse of the room safe under the writing desk and confirmed that it was the type that locked with a four-digit code. A quick scan around the room revealed that Brett might be loose with his tongue but he adhered to physical security protocols. There were no classified documents left lying around.
"So tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing a place like this?" Brett said cheesily as he sat down beside her.
"I'm being seduced by a mad scientist," Crystal grinned at him.
"How do you know my intent is to seduce you?" Brett leaned in close and Crystal kissed him.
The kiss lingered and soon tongue was introduced and they lay down on the chaise lounge and cuddled and canoodled. Crystal lay on her back and Brett straddled her, kissing her, stroking her cheek and then he moved his hand down her torso to her breasts.
"There's nothing there for you honey. They're fake," Crystal chuckled.
"They feel real," Brett smiled at her.
"The best silicon breastforms that money can buy; give me a sec," Crystal disengaged for a minute and carefully removed her breastforms.
"Now you see the real flat-chested me," Crystal laughed.
"You look like flapper but that's ok I'm a leg man anyway," Brett put his hand on Crystal's calf and stroked it.
"Well they're real," Crystal smiled at him.
"They're magnificent," Brett traced a finger from her calf to the top of her thigh, stropping when he came to the hem of her dress.
"May I?" Brett was wide eyed.
"Help yourself honey," Crystal said seductively.
Brett slid his fingers under the hem of Crystal's dress and slowly and sensuously slid the dress up her thighs. As more leg came into view, shrouded in the silky transparent nylons, Brett's cock became harder.
Her stockings felt wonderfully seductive, so smooth and silky; her legs were long and lithe.
Crystal just lay there amused and let Brett stroke and caress her legs.
Brett gasped when he finally lifted her dress up to where her legs joined her torso. He traced his fingertips along the little wrinkles in her pantyhose and then lightly caressed her pubis. He liked the look and feel of her black satin panties and admired how they clung to her crotch which was smooth and curved but featureless like a Barbie Doll.
"Where is it?" Brett grinned at Crystal and leaned into her and kissed her softly while his fingers stroked her pubis and thighs.
Crystal was becoming uncomfortably tumescent so now was the perfect time to reveal her secret.
"It's a secret. Where do you think it is?" Crystal smiled at him and kissed him quickly.
"It must be here," Brett smiled and pushed his hand between Crystal's legs.
Making a game out it removed any apprehension or nervousness that Brett might feel about caressing a woman who had male genitalia. He found Crystal's semi-erect penis lying along her perineum, held snug by her pantyhose and panties.
"When I'm on stage performing or wearing a leotard or swimsuit I tape it. For now it's just my pantyhose holding it there," Crystal explained.
"Can I take it out," Brett said eagerly.
"Are you sure it won't spoil the illusion?" Crystal asked.
"I want to see it," Brett sulked.
"Then have at it honey," Crystal smiled and opened her legs a little.
Brett slipped his fingers inside the waistband of Crystal's sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose and pushed his fingers into her crotch where he found her long sleek penis between her legs. He pried it free and it sprang upright along her lower belly, held there by her panties and pantyhose.
"Just give me a second," Crystal grunted as she arched her back and lifted herself off the lounge a little and pushed down with her diaphragm and her testes descended into her scrotum and Brett felt them fill the sac.
"How do you do that?" he was amazed.
"Honey, I've been sitting on a secret all night," Crystal giggled and Brett laughed along with her until she pulled his face to hers and kissed him passionately and started to unbuckle his belt.
Brett became impatient and he stood up and shucked out of his remaining clothing so that he was naked then he lay on the lounge beside Crystal and took up where he had left off caressing her thighs. His cock was hard and he pressed it against her leg, enjoying the sensation of her sleek nylons of the sensitive skin of his cock.
Crystal lay there passively letting Brett fondle her and rut against her, their kisses soft and sensuous. Brett's inquisitiveness returned and his fingers found their way to the bulge in her panties and he tentatively stroked Crystal's cock. He could feel the outline of her hard cock through the nylon and satin. He could feel it pulse and quiver as it became fully hard.
"Am I doing it right?" Brett asked.
"What do you think?" Crystal smiled at him seductively and closed her hand over his and guided it back to her hard prick.
She opened her lips and slipped her tongue into Brett's mouth and reached for his manhood. She caressed his long thick cock, admiring the girth of it.
"I never thought I'd be so turned on by a cock but only because it's attached to you and it looks so cute clothed in those shiny panties," Brett caressed Crystal's cock and she shuddered with delight.
"You've got quite the nice appendage too dear," Crystal stroked Brett's quivering flesh and a bead of precum formed at the eye.
"I wanna try something kinky," Brett said and lay on top of Crystal and pressed his cock against hers.
He kissed her and she put her arms around him and lifted her legs and locked them around his waist. He loved the feel of her pantyhose on his tender flesh.
His cock pressed on Crystal's through the fabric of her slinky panties and hose and they both enjoyed the sensation of cock rubbing on cock.
Their kisses became more passionate and then frenetic as they rutted against each other. Crystal raked her nails down Brett's back and buffed her silky-hosed legs against Brett's flanks; he pressed down on her, grinding his cock against hers, relishing the sensations.
"I'm going to come," Crystal whispered into Brett's ear as she felt her climax welling up from deep inside her.
Her scrotum was roiling; full of semen, ready to release her load.
Brett's cock was tingling with delight as he rubbed it faster against Crystal's panty-clad phallus. He felt his orgasm begin to build.
Brett broke the kiss and pushed himself up with his forearms so he could see their cocks frotting against each other and Crystal shuddered and Brett smiled when he saw a globule of warm semen bubble through her panties. He rubbed his cock in the puddle of spunk and smeared it all over her panties and then he ejaculated too and his own seed comingled with hers as his orgasm washed over him.
Crystal pulled him down and smashed her lips against his and drove her tongue into Brett's mouth as she writhed and wriggled beneath him, pressing her cock against his as it juddered and spewed forth her creamy issue. The feel of Brett's quivering organ spilling his seed on her pantied penis was ecstatic.
The two lovers kissed and cuddled and rutted and ground against each other, their cocks smeared with each other's warm semen. Even after their orgasms had subsided they lay in each other's arms and kissed and caressed each other.
Finally Brett climbed off Crystal and he gazed at the mess they had made.
The front of her panties was sodden with cum, the bulge a little smaller now that her cock was flaccid.
"Wow that was amazing and we didn't even fuck!" Brett chuckled.
"We can do that next time," Crystal smiled up at him.
"Aren't you staying the night?" Brett sounded disappointed.
"I have rehearsals and a matinée tomorrow honey and I need my beauty sleep," Crystal sighed.
"I only have one more night in Vegas before I have to head out to the test site," Brett sounded whiney and Crystal had to keep her smile forced.
"But you're coming back through here after the test though?" Crystal tried not to sound too inquisitive.
"You're damn right I am and I want to see you again honey," Brett was picking up his discarded clothing up off the floor.
"You go ahead and get cleaned up. I want to take off my dress so I don't get spunk on it. I'll clean up after you," Crystal smiled up at him and Brett nodded and padded off to the bathroom.
Crystal shot bold upright and ripped off her dress, dropped her cum-soaked panties and raced across the room to where Brett had left his keycard on the sideboard. She opened her handbag and slipped the card into a card reader and waited until the little red diode turned green, anxiously watching the bathroom door. She heard Brett turn off the taps and she tossed the card back on the sideboard and snatched up her dress, breastforms and panties.
Brett made a grab for Crystal as she walked past him to use bathroom, she looked so sexy wearing just her pantyhose but she evaded him and made it into the bathroom where she used a damp towel to wipe away as much semen as possible from her pantyhose crotch, then she dried it as best as could and tucked her cock under her perineum. Her panties were too cum-soaked to wear and she found a baggie under the sink and put the panties inside it and tossed them in her purse. She slipped her breastforms into her bra cups, shimmied into her dress, fixed her lipstick and hair and exited the bathroom to find Brett wearing a bathrobe and drinking champagne.
"That was fun honey but I have to go," Crystal walked over to him and kissed the side of his mouth.
"But we didn't really fuck," Brett whined.
"I told you; next time. I'm not going anywhere and you know where to find me," she kissed the tip of his nose playfully and scooched out of the way when he reached for her.
Crystal took a car back to the Ambassador Hotel and Casino and stayed up long enough to make a copy of the keycard to Brett's hotel room door then she used a payphone in the lobby to update Stephan Boriliski on her progress.
To be continued
Author's Note: I would deeply appreciate a comment or two as a scant reward for my efforts. An intellectual once wrote: "Writing should almost always be a communication between writer and reader, and therefore feedback is the best way to sample how that communication is developing"
Author's Note: I would deeply appreciate a comment or two as a scant reward for my efforts. An intellectual once wrote: "Writing should almost always be a communication between writer and reader, and therefore feedback is the best way to sample how that communication is developing"
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Michele Nylons
michelenylons@msn.com