0 comments/ 51422 views/ 7 favorites The Ramon Vargas Affair By: Angelique Bouchette Warning! This story contains material of an adult nature and is intended for mature readers and for personal use only. No copyright infringement is intended. A Silk Stalkings Adventure The Ramon Vargas Affair * Chapter 1: Preparing To Enter The Fray Rita turned off the warm spray, squeezed the surplus water out of her hair, squirted a generous helping of shaving foam over her crotch, and rubbed it well in, before stepped out of the shower cubicle. She sat down on the fluffy lavatory seat cover, spread her legs apart, then reached out for the Ladyshave sitting on the glass wash-basin shelf. With her beautiful face a study in concentration, she began to carefully shave off the thick, curly brown thatch, with the safety razor, until just a narrow vee of luxuriant pubic hair remained, obscuring her sex. When she was totally satisfied with her handiwork, she stepped back under the shower, and washed off the remaining shaving foam and surplus hair, still clinging to her nicely padded pudenda. "The things I do for this damned outfit!" she muttered, running her fingers down over the unfamiliar smoothness. "Ah, well..." She stepped out of the shower, and toweled herself dry, on the large, pink, fluffy bathtowel, before applying a liberal quantity of baby talc to her newly tender parts. Rita Lance was a real looker; five-feet five inches tall (excluding heels), and weighing 115 pounds in the raw, the brown-haired, green-eyed, B.A. in Criminology, had a face and figure that most women would've killed for. Hence her current predicament. When she'd finished drying her shoulder-length hair, she stood and reached over to the shelf above the wash-basin, and picked up a small, plastic device, some three-inches in length, and a half-inch in diameter, that looked a little like a shortened, plastic cigar holder. She turned it over, in her hands, examining it, once again. A fine gold chain, about four-inches in length, was attached to the one domed end, with a tiny clasp at its end. She twisted the top half of the cylinder, until it gave a quiet click, and raised it to her full, eminently kissable lips. "Testing, testing! One, two, three... This is Sergeant Rita Lance calling! Can you hear me Lorenzo, over?" she murmured. "I hear you, Rita, loud and clear!" replied a tinny voice from the built-in speaker. "Is the homing signal working, Chris?" "Coming in loud and clear! Have you fitted it yet?" "No, but I'm just about to!" she replied, blushing, in spite of herself. "Okay, over and out, partner!" Rita twisted the case to off, and sat back down on the lavatory seat. Taking a tube of KY Jelly from the wall-mounted cabinet, she smeared a liberal quantity over the surface of the device, and over her right index finger. Spreading her thighs apart, she eased apart her labia, with the fingers of her left hand, and slipped the lubricated digit inside her sex, moving it back and forth, several times, thoroughly lubricating her love tunnel. "Mmmm!" she closed her eyes, and rocked back and forth on the seat, thoroughly enjoying this aspect of the activity. She shook herself, with a small sigh of regret, and stopped frigging herself off. "There's work to be done, Sergeant!" she reminded herself. She removed her finger and sought out the small, gold ring, attached to the freshly pierced end of her clitoris. "Another sacrifice!" she groaned. Holding the ring firmly between two, crimson-painted fingernails, she carefully clipped the end of the chain to it, and then took a deep breath, before inserting the well-greased device into her pussy, and pushing it in, as far as the length of chain would permit. "Oh, Jeez!" she gasped, closing her eyes, as the cylinder slid home. "I just hope the chain doesn't break!" Closing her thighs, she stood up, and carefully moved across to the clothes hook, on the back of the bathroom door. She took the black leather thong from off the hook, and carefully stepped into it, pulling it up over her shapely thighs and tight ass, and positioning it over her mons, before letting out her pent-up breath. "There, the damned thing can't fall out now!" she muttered, as she eyed her near-naked reflection in the full length wall mirror. The wisp of underwear clung tightly to her hips, plunging down at the front, and barely covering her sex and the narrow strip of associated pubic hair, but clearly outlining her prominent nether lips, as it clung tightly to them. She turned around to view her rear in the mirror. The pencil-thin strips of clinging leather, curved down from high on her hips, to join and disappear into the valley between her shapely buttocks. She bent forward, her legs astride, and examined the reflection of her crotch, through her legs. "It looks perfectly innocent!" she mused, not realizing what she'd just said. "No-one would ever realize that you were wired, Rita, love!" She'd decided to dispense with a bra. "Anyway," she thought, running her hands over her breasts, "my boobs are firm and shapely enough to do without, and it suits the role I shall be playing!" Satisfied, she opened the bathroom door, and padded into the adjoining bedroom. A simple, little black dress, made of stretch Lycra, was draped over the end of the mattress. She gathered it up and slipped it over her head, wriggling it down over her shapely figure, until it was clinging to her hips. She reached behind her and zipped up the zipper, that started at the base of her spine, and ended between her shoulder blades. She tugged at the plunge neckline, until her dark areolae were just about hidden, then adjusted the bootlace-thin shoulder straps, before turning to examine the reflection of her rear. The short skirt barely covered her ass, finishing at just above mid-thigh. She tugged at the hem, self-consciously. "This is a totally impractical piece of evening wear," she told herself, with a sigh, "but just the sort of outfit that a high-class hooker might wear to a party!" She sat down on the edge of the bed, and carefully rolled on a pair of sheer black stay-put stockings, with lacy tops, that reached almost to her crotch, before slipping on the matching pair of black pumps, with five-inch stiletto heels. "This outfit would be no damned good, in the pursuit of a felon!" she advised herself, with a grin, getting to her feet and wobbling, precariously, on the unaccustomed footwear. "Jesus, they make me feel ten-feet tall!" she exclaimed. She almost had a nose-bleed from the sudden altitude! She sat down on the dressing table stool, and spent the next five minutes brushing and back-combing her hair into its usual full-bodied shape, with the help of a can of Max Factor hairspray. She then applied her make-up, using far more mascara, blusher, and eyeshadow, than she would normally have worn. She finished off with a thick layer of crimson lipstick, to accentuate her wide, full mouth, and then added some lip gloss, to give them the 'wet' look. "There, that should do, you little harlot!" she murmured, with a grin, rising to her feet. She sashayed into the living room, with an exaggerated sway of her hips. "How do I look?" she asked. Sergeant Christopher Lorenzo, turned away from the TV set, where he had been engrossed in a Major League Baseball match, and his jaw almost hit the carpet. "Holy cow, Rita," he exclaimed, when he'd recovered from the initial shock, "you look absolutely stunning! If I didn't know it was you, I'd run you in for just looking like that! There ought to be a law against it!" "Thank you kind sir," Rita replied, with a grin, giving him a slight curtsy. "I shouldn't try to much of that!" Chris advised, returning her grin. "That pelmet your wearing, in place of a skirt, doesn't leave much room for maneuver, you little tease!" "I've got to look the part!" she replied, with a pout, walking over, and wrapping her arms about his neck. As she pulled him up against her, she could feel the growing bulge in his pants, so she deliberately rubbed her crotch up against him. "Hey, cut that out, Sam!" he ordered, gruffly, gripping her arms firmly, and gently pushing her away. "We've got work to do! Are you wearing the wire?" he asked, trying to focus his mind on the mission. "Uh huh!" "Better let me see?" "Oh, you wicked, wicked man!" she exclaimed, fluttering her eyelashes at him, and stepping back a pace. She placed her hands on the outside of her thighs, and slid the short skirt up about her waist, revealing her skimpy, black thong. "How's that?" Chris swallowed hard. By now, he had a raging hard-on, and it was pretty painful. "Spread 'em!" he ordered. "Yes, officer!" Rita murmured, spreading her thighs wide apart, with an amused smile playing on her lips. "Would you like to take down anything, officer?" Chris ignored her teasing, and reached forward, to run his hand over the bulge of her sex. She gave a small, involuntary gasp. "Seems okay! Turn around and bend over!" Again, she complied, wordlessly, and he slipped his hand between her thighs, searching for any obvious protrusions. "Hmm, no signs of the device! Are you sure you're wearing it?" he asked, suspiciously. "Well, if you don't believe me, you could explore further?" she offered, huskily, getting more and more turned on by his intimate examination. Chris pulled his hand away, as if he'd just been stung. "Ah, no, that won't be necessary, Sergeant Lance!" he replied, blushing furiously. His face suddenly became deadly serious. "Now, you're sure you know what you have to do, Rita?" he asked. "This is a highly dangerous mission, and if it was up to me, you wouldn't be allowed to take such suicidal risks!" Her face set in a stubborn frown. "Look, Chris, don't give me any of that male chauvinist crap!" she snapped, going red around the ears, as she smoothed her skirt back down. "A woman can do just as good a job of this, as any man!" He grinned, the tension suddenly broken. This was the Rita he knew and loved. "I don't think a guy would be able to compete, on the equipment front!" he replied, eyeing her up and down, appreciatively. "Why you..." Chris grabbed her wrists, before her fists made contact with his chest, and he pulled her up against him, and lightly kissed her on the lips. "Pack it in, you dumb cluck!" she gasped, pulling away. "You'll muss up all my makeup!" "Seriously though, Rita! If there's the slightest sign of danger, then get on the radio, and me and the boys will be swarming all over the joint, before you can count to ten, armed guards or not!" She smiled, and patted him on the cheek. "Nothing is going to go wrong, darling!" she insisted, trying to look a whole lot more confident than she felt. Chris looked at his watch. "Com'on, time we were on our way!" Rita just managed to grab her purse, as he whisked her out of the door. "No incriminating evidence in there, I hope?" he growled. "Just my makeup, and a few rubbers! You never know when you might need one?" she replied, with a twinkle in her big, emerald-green eyes. Chris just snorted. Chapter 2: The Initial Briefing As the unmarked car left the apartment building, and headed for the suburbs of Palm Springs, Rita cast her mind back over the events leading up to her current predicament. -oOo- It had all started last Monday afternoon. Things had been pretty quiet around the Homicide Department for a couple of weeks or so, and Rita had been getting decidedly bored. She was lounging back in her chair, head back, trying to balance a pencil on her curled upper lip, when she heard a bit of a commotion coming from the adjoining corridor. She looked up to see Captain Lipschitz arguing with two guys in grey suits. "Shit!" she muttered, swinging her shapely pins off the corner of the desk, much to Chris Lorenzo's disappointment, as he'd been getting a fine view of the tops of her silk stockings. "Top brass!" she hissed to her partner, as she straightened her skirt, and picked up the first case file that came to hand, whilst keeping an eye on the approaching visitors. "I wonder what they want?" Chris murmured, leisurely removing his own feet from the top of the radiator, and sitting upright. The two detectives were the only ones in the squad room, everyone else being out on a case, earning an honest buck! "They look like Feds to me, Sam!" Rita muttered, slipping on her shoes. By now, Harry had herded the two Suits into his office, and they'd all sat down, Harry behind his big, battered oak desk. They continued to talk, animatedly, with much waving of arms, and the occasional glance through the glass partition, in Rita's direction. "Uh, oh," she thought, "this does not look like good news, honey chil'!" She pretended to immerse herself in the report, whilst straining to catch a few words, but without much success. Suddenly, the connecting door opened, and Captain Lipschitz stuck his head out. "Rita, can you pop into my office for a few minutes, please!" he murmured, with a disarming smile. "Sure Cap!" she replied, smiling, almost knocking her chair over, in her haste to get up. She swiftly followed him into the office, as the two Suits both rose to meet her. "Rita, I'd like you to meet Agents Hancock and Lister, of the Federal Bureau of Investigation!" Hancock shook her hand. "Glad to meet you, Sergeant Lance!" he said, with a smile that held no real warmth. "We've heard a lot about you!" Rita released his clammy hand. "Well, you have a distinct advantage over me there, Agent Hancock!" she replied, demurely. "I know absolutely nothing about you!" She didn't particularly care for the tall government agent. "Agents Hancock and Lister are here in Palm Beach on the trial of an international gang of drug traffickers!" Harry explained. Rita wrinkled her brow. "What's that got to do with Homicide, Captain?" she enquired, in a puzzled tone. "Nothing... directly!" interjected Lister. "We're here to try to enlist your help in our investigation!" "Me?" "Yes, you Sergeant!" added Hancock, with a superior smirk. "But why me?" she asked, crossing one shapely leg over the other, and causing her skirt to ride up several inches of silk-stockinged thigh. Hancock's eyes seemed glued below her waist. He looked up and caught her scornful stare, and blushed, fingering the collar of his shirt. "Because of your outstanding record in both the Homicide Department and the Vice Squad!" he replied, blinking. "And your, ah, obvious physical attributes!" he added, seemingly almost as an afterthought. "The FBI want you to go in as an undercover operative in a drug bust, Rita!" Harry interjected. "I've already expressed my reservations about one of my officers being subjected to such a risky operation, especially a woman, but the decision is ultimately up to you!" Rita's notorious mercurial temper flared up. "I hope you aren't casting any doubts upon my professional competence to do the job, Captain Lipschitz?" she replied, icily. "No, no, of course not, Sergeant!" interjected Lister, in a soothing tone. "We're only too aware of your Medal of Valor awards, and your various other citations!" "Why haven't you chosen one of your own people for this mission?" Rita asked, somewhat mollified, turning back to the two FBI men. Hancock looked decidedly embarrassed. "We suspect we might have someone in our organization, who's on Vargas's payroll!" he admitted. "Vargas?" "Yes, Ramon Vargas! He is the head of this drug trafficking organization, that we are hoping to take out!" "Hmm, the name does sound vaguely familiar!" Rita replied, frowning in concentration. "Vargas is one of the biggest drug peddlers in the Western hemisphere!" Lister explained, pulling a face. "We believe that he and his associates, are about to flood the southern United States with cheap Colombian cocaine, in a massive operation to further push up their user base! We want to stop that happening, at ALL COSTS!" Rita couldn't help notice the emphasis on the last two words. "So, where do I come in?" she asked, stone-faced. "We need someone to infiltrate his Palm Springs headquarters," Hancock continued. "We believe he has some valuable information stashed there! The place is a veritable fortress, complete with a small army of armed guards, but he does have a weakness for beautiful women!" He boldly allowed his eyes to run over Rita's figure. "Every Wednesday evening, he sends one of his trusted lieutenants, one Miguel Sanchez, over to the 'House of Dreams' on Crawfish Street, to select a woman for the following Saturday night's, ah... entertainment!" Rita was only too aware of the 'House of Dreams'. It was a high class bordello, in the Latin quarter of the city. To her knowledge, it had never been raided, in all her time with the Vice Squad. Rumor had it, that the Madame had friends in high places on the City Council, perhaps even someone in the Mayor's office? "Where do I come in?" she sighed, already knowing the answer in advance. "We want you to assume the roll of a high-class whore," Hancock added, with a big smirk, "if you think you're up to the role, that is?" Rita felt a flash of anger. "It won't be the first time I've had to assume the part of a hooker, in the course of my duty, Agent Hancock!" she retorted. Hancock smirked. "But this time, you may have to go all the way, to allay the suspicions of your host!" he murmured. "Do you think you're really up to that, detective?" Rita thrust her chin forward, determinedly. "If I have too, in the course of my duty!" she retorted, blushing, in spite of herself. "Look, you don't have to go through with this, Rita!" Harry added, with a concerned look on his face. "You can always tell these guys to go to hell!" "No, no.... I'll do it!" she replied, stubbornly, her eyes locked to those of Hancock, who was grinning, broadly. "Now, how about telling me exactly why you're sending me in there, to be ravished, Agent Hancock?" He grinned. "According to a reliable informant, Vargas has a complete list of all his criminal contacts throughout the U.S., which he keeps in a wall safe in the master bedroom! Many of these people are dealers, or important pushers, who will be taking part in 'Operation Dreamtime'," he added. "Your job, is to get a copy of that document, so that we can nail all the major players in one fell swoop, and thus avoid a potentially disastrous breakdown of law and order in our society!" Rita grinned. "I'm afraid you've got your wires crossed, Agent Hancock! A safe-cracker, I am not!" "You will be supplied with the combination!" added Lister, eyeing her shapely legs, as he did so. "The biggest problem, is ensuring you are the girl who is chosen by Sanchez, this coming Wednesday!" "And how do we do that pray?" she asked, grim-faced. "We make sure that you, ah, interest Sanchez enough to make him select you!" said Hancock. "Come on to him, you mean?" she replied, looking slightly bemused. "Well... yes, but Vargas is well known for his kinky preferences in women, so you must also appeal to that darker side of his nature!" "But, how...?" "We thought a little vaginal jewelry might help do the trick?" Hancock added, keeping his face straight. "Perhaps a dog-tag attached to your, um, vagina, in some way, might capture his interest?" Rita blushed a bright red. "No fucking way, buster!" she snapped, jumping to her feet. "What the hell sort of girl do you think I am?" "Calm down, Sergeant!" the Captain ordered. "There is a sound, tactical reason for that suggestion!" "I'm damned if I'm gonna sit here and listen to this pervert getting his rocks off!" Rita snapped, angrily. "Shut up and sit down, Sergeant!" ordered Lipschitz, in a stern, commanding voice. Rita plumped back into her seat, a surprised look on her beautiful face. The Cap didn't usually use that sort of tone with her, at least not in front of strangers. The Ramon Vargas Affair "The reason for that suggestion," continued Hancock, smoothly, "is to explain the presence of a small, gold ring!" Rita eyes flashed angrily, and she was about to make a retort, when he held up his hand. "The true reason for that ring, is to attach a small radio transceiver and infra-red camera device, which can be secreted in your, um, vagina, to avoid detection, during the body search! And believe me, young woman, you will be subjected to the most thorough body search, before you are even allowed into the presence of Vargas. He is totally paranoid about his personal security!" "You don't think we would allow you in there, unless you were wired, do you Rita?" Harry added, showing some fatherly concern. Rita nodded, and started to calm down. "S-Sure Cap!" she responded, feeling the sweat break out on her forehead. "Er, what sought of device are we talking about, exactly?" she added, turning her face back to Hancock. He grinned, enjoying her obvious discomfort. "It's a miniature, cylindrical, combined radio transceiver, automatic tracking beacon, and infra-red spy camera. It is also small enough to cause you minimal discomfort, when hidden inside you, and is attached to the ring in question, by a fine, gold chain!" She glanced up at him, with a raised eyebrow. "So it doesn't accidentally get, ah-um, lost!" he added. She gave him a sickly grin, and nodded. "How is... er, how is this, um, ring going to be attached to my, ah...." "The Bureau doctor will pierce your clitoris!" he replied, with a twinkle in his eye. "It will be no more painful than when you had your ears pierced, and will enable the ring to remain well concealed! Also, when you remove the ring, the holes will be almost unnoticeable!" "I suggest that, once inside, you remove the transceiver at the earliest opportunity, and secret it somewhere about the mansion!" added Lister, in a serious tone. "That uncomfortable, huh?" Lister blushed. "No, no! I mean the chances of its discovery will increase, the longer it is left you-know-where!" Rita grimaced. He didn't need to paint a picture, she understood what he was getting at! "How do I manage to get a job in this brothel?" she asked. "It has all been arranged with the Madame!" Harry replied, secretly admiring her coolness and courage. "Someone high up, must have a lot of influence with her? She's agreed to take you in tomorrow, as one of her girls, despite her obvious reluctance! Nobody likes to mess around with Vargas!" Rita swallowed hard, and nodded. "What about clothes a-and things?" "Those will be provided, after your visit to the doctor, in the morning!" Hancock growled. "Sanchez usually arrives at the 'House of Dreams' at about 8:30 pm, Wednesday evening, to inspect the girls, and make his selection for his master. Be warned, Sergeant, he usually likes to try the girl out, before confirming his selection!" "At least I shall have a little time to get acclimatized first!" Rita replied, bitterly. "Yeah, and remember any money you make from the Johns, is liable for taxation!" added Lister, with a dry chuckle. "Very droll!" she replied "I'll agree to do the job on one condition, that Chris Lorenzo is my back-up man! I want him on the other end of the wire-tap... just in case!" The two FBI agents exchanged glances. "Agreed!" said Hancock, reaching out to shake her hand. "Good luck Sergeant! Lister will now brief you fully on the operation, and on the use of the miniature radio transceiver!" -oOo- "Are you all right, Rita?" The brown-haired girl came out of her reverie, and turned her head to Chris. "What?" "I asked if you were all right?" "Yeah, sure, Sam, just a little nervous, I guess!" She tugged at her low neckline, where one of her shapely breasts was threatening to fall out. "Better drop me off a few hundred yards away from the joint, and I'll walk the rest of the way!" "Sure! Me and the Feds will be in the third floor, front apartment, of that old tenement block opposite. If there's the slightest hint of danger, abort the mission and yell for back-up! Understood?" She smiled, and lent over and brushed her lips against his cheek. "Sure, honey, no problem!" Chapter 3: Wednesday's Preliminaries The movement of her hips, as she twisted, made her acutely aware of the transceiver hidden inside her, and Rita's mind drifted back to late Wednesday morning, and her introduction to Madame Bouverie's bordello. She'd been introduced to all the other girls, as a temporary addition to their little flock, whilst one of the regular girls, Melissa, was on vacation, and she'd been assigned Melissa's bedroom, for entertaining the customers. She remembered thinking how young most of the other girls looked! The Madame had already warned her, privately, that she would be treated no differently from her other girls, and would be expected to take on her fair share of the workload, whether she was an undercover policewoman or not! "As far as I'm concerned, you're just another of my girls, and I expect you to entertain the clientele, just like the others!" she explained, with an amused smile. "Fifty percent of everything you earn here, belongs to the house!" Rita looked shocked. "Surely you don't expect me to have sex with your clients, do you?" she gasped, blushing furiously. "Of course I do, honey! You are temporarily replacing one of my other girls, and occupying her place of work!" Nanette Bouverie replied, indignantly. "I'm damned if I'm going to loose out on the house takings, while I bend over backward to accommodate the PBPD! Anyway, it should provide some invaluable experience for you, before Miguel's arrival, this evening!" she added, with an amused grin on her face. Rita swallowed hard. Her throat had suddenly gone dry. She had previously steeled herself for a possible sexual liaison with Sanchez, but she hadn't anticipated any sexual athletics with any of the other customers of the 'House of Dreams'! Seeing the expression on the detective's face. Nanette added, "You can ask the other girl's for advice, if you get stuck! Oh, and you can use any of the lingerie or equipment you find in Melissa's room, she's the same size as you! All your vital statistics were faxed over yesterday, and I mean ALL of them, dearie!" "T-Thank you!" Rita replied, in a subdued voice, feeling like turning on her high-heels, and making a bolt for the exit. She sucked in a deep breath, pushing out her shapely chest. "Well Ms. Lance, you volunteered for the damned job!" she told herself, steeling her nerve. "You sure don't look like any other cop I know!" Nanette conceded, with a grin, eyeing Rita's shapely figure, and her clinging red dress, and matching high-heels. "Well, I'd better introduce you to the rest of the girls?" the Madame continued. "What's your cover name, by the way?" "Lola... Lola Pagoda!" "Lola Pagoda?" parroted the Madame, with a raised eyebrow, and an amused grin. "Holy shit!" "Look, I didn't choose the fuckin' name, it was one of those FBI jokers!" Rita snapped, a little annoyed. "Okay Lola, keep your hair on! Let's go meet the other girls, before business commences for the day?" -oOo- Rita had visited the Bureau's Medical Technician, across town, earlier that morning, to have her clitoris pierced and the gold ring fitted, followed by a precautionary full medical examination, which was at the Med. Tech, Jim Bryant's insistence. The minor surgery involved, had been simple, and totally painless, thanks to a local anesthetic, and, after fitting the small, gold ring, the Medic had suggested that she have her nipples pierced at the same time. "It will add to the authenticity!" he insisted, secretly admiring her shapely, naked figure. She had full, rounded breasts, with large, dark areolae, and prominent nipples, even in their unaroused state. She had a slim waist, further accentuating her firm bust, and nicely flared hips, with firm, rounded buttocks. "Now here's a girl who keeps herself in good shape!" he mused. "If you think so? You're the doctor!" she replied, as he reached out to tweak her nipples into full erection. She squirmed with pleasure, at his touch, but managed to assume an air of professional detachment, as he went about his work. Afterwards, he handed her two more small, gold rings, attached to the ends of a short length of fine, gold chain. "You can fit these if you want to, but the sooner you start wearing them, the sooner you'll get used to them!" he suggested. "If you don't wear your, ah, body jewelry, then the holes will heal up in a relatively short space of time, and become almost invisible!" "Thank heaven's for that!" Rita breathed. "Thanks doc!" she replied, now where's the gizmo?" The Medical Technician took the small cylindrical device, with a short length of chain attached, from his desk drawer. "I understand you've already been fully briefed on the operation of the radio and camera?" he enquired, looking into her clear, green eyes. "The location radio beacon is switched on permanently, by the way!" "Uh, huh!" Rita nodded, nervously. "You clip this end of the chain to your clitoris ring, and insert the device, as deeply as possible, into you vagina. I recommended the liberal application of some sort of lubricant first, such as KY jelly! Here, I think I have a tube somewhere?" The Technician rummaged around in his desk drawer, then handed her a full tube of the stuff. "Thank you!" she said, with a forced smile, taking it from his hand. "Now, is there anything else? Oh yes, this!" He handed her a small, heart-shaped, gold tag, on a fine, three-inch chain, with a tiny clasp. 'What's this?" Rita asked curiously, examining it. It had the words 'I'm Lola' etched onto the one side. She turned it over, and read 'I'm game for Anything' on the other side. She glanced up, with dawning comprehension. "You can attach it to your clit ring, when you're not carrying the radio!" he explained. "It will help allay suspicions, if anyone should discover your vaginal adornment!" "Oh!" "You can get dressed now, young lady!" added Jim, with a grin. "Good luck!" -oOo- "Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh...." The mark grunted, in time with his powerful thrusts, and the creaking of the bedsprings, as he fucked into Rita's pussy. She joined in with little gasping noises, trying to convince herself that she wasn't really enjoying it, despite the fact that her nipples were sticking out like organ stops, and her thighs were gripped tightly about his hips. She tried to imagine that it was Chris making love to her, but her partner and sometimes lover had an altogether gentler style of love-making. Large, meaty fingers, clutched at her breasts, squeezing them, kneading them, pinching and pulling at the erectile tissue, almost ripping her nipple rings from her flesh, in his frenzy of arousal. "Oh, Jesus, oh yesss, that is sooooh good!" she moaned, eyes closed, her head jerking from side to side, feeling her orgasm fast approaching. She wasn't acting any longer, she was really becoming turned on! With a grunting shudder, the man's hips paused, momentarily, as he climaxed, shooting his hot load into her, then he began to piston into her again, but more slowly, until his penis began to shrink inside its Latex sheath. With a groan, he rolled off her, onto the bed alongside. "Jesus, that was good babe!" he panted, smirking all over his fat, ugly face. "That was the best fuck I've had in ages!" Rita opened her eyes, and twisted her head to look at him. "We aim to please, sir," she murmured, with a faraway look in her big green eyes. "How about a little kiss for Arnie, Lola honey?" he murmured, leaning in. She pushed him away, firmly. "No kissing, Mr. Swartz!" she insisted. "This is a purely a business transaction, remember. He sighed, casually pulling off the used rubber, and tossing it into the wastebasket, alongside the bed. "When can I see you again?" he asked. "I'm only here on a temporary basis, whilst one of the other girls is on vacation!" she replied, sitting up and watching, as he pulled on his shirt and trousers. "So, when can I see you again?" he asked again. "I-I don't know if my husband would like it!" she replied, demurely, fluttering her lashes at him. Arnie knew when he was being given the old run-around. "Okay, bitch, how much do I owe you?" he snarled, pulling out his billfold. "Three-hundred!" "Three...? Jesus, Lola, you're the most expensive fuck in the whole of Palm Springs!" he protested, with a pained look on his face. "You have to pay for the best!" she murmured, holding out her hand for the cash. She'd been making money hand over fist, ever since the doors of the brothel had opened for business. The clients had seemed to take an instant shine to her, and she'd been kept hard at it ever since. "At this rate, I will be able to retire from the force early!" she told herself, with a silent giggle. "See you around, honey?" Arnie growled, as he finished dressing, and headed for the door. "And tell that husband of yours he's a lucky son-of-a-bitch!" he added. Then he was gone. Rita rolled over and looked at the bedside clock. "Seven-thirty! Sanchez was due in little over an hour. She should have plenty of time for two or three more clients, before then!" She padded into the en-suite bathroom, for a quick shower. -oOo- Rita squirmed, nervously, as she sat on the chaise-lounge, in the reception area, awaiting the arrival of Sanchez, along with all the other hookers employed by Madame Bouverie. "Not 'other hookers', just 'hookers'," she mentally corrected herself. "I'm just doing my duty! If I've had a little fun, and made a few bucks on the side, then so what?" The rest of the clientele had all finished their business some fifteen minutes previously, and the place was closed to all-comers, except for Vargas's man, for the next hour, at least! She glanced at her watch, anxiously, and received suspicious stares from several of the other girls, many of whom, were already becoming jealous of the new girl's popularity. "What if Sanchez doesn't choose me? Then the whole plan will be well and truly down the pan!" she thought, fidgeting, nervously. "These high-heels are killing me!" she muttered, under her breath, looking at the collection of scantily-clad beauties around her. She was wearing a short, silk kimono, and five-inch, stiletto-heeled mules. "He's bound to pick one of the others!" she groaned, under her breath. "This whole mission is going to turn into a fuckin' fiasco!" Her meanderings were interrupted by the chime of the front-door bell, and her heart missed a beat. Madame Bouverie scurried off to greet her important guest in person. "Somebody must have one hell of a hold over her, to get her to co-operate with the PBPD, on this one?" Rita mused. The Madame quickly returned, ushering a dark-eyed, olive-skinned, Latino of average height and build, into the room, in front of her. "As you can see, Senor Sanchez, the girls are all ready for your personal inspection!" she gushed. The man nodded, casting his eyes around the assembled whores. Finally, they alighted on Rita. "And who have we here?" he asked, with a slight Spanish or maybe Portuguese accent. "This is the new girl, Lola... Lola Pagoda! She is standing in for Melissa, whilst she is on vacation for a couple of weeks! Come here girl!" Rita climbed to her feet, and walked over slowly, eyes suitably downcast, her face partially obscured by her long, chestnut-brown hair. The man raised her chin, with the knuckle of his right index finger, and stared into her big, green eyes. "Pretty! Show me what else you've got girl!" Rita stepped back a pace, and unfastened the sash of her kimono, pulling it open and slipping it off her shoulders, and letting it fall to the carpet. She was wearing a lacy corset, that pulled in her narrow waist even further, and left her firm breasts completely exposed. Lacy suspenders were clipped to the lacy tops of her black stockings, and she stood, with legs slightly parted, on her sky-high heels. She wasn't wearing any panties; the customers always liked to see what they were paying for! Sanchez slowly ran his eyes down over the girl's luscious figure, pausing at her breasts, as he noticed the nipple rings, and the fine gold chain draped between them. "Hmm, a nice touch," he decided. "Senor Vargas likes something a little out of the ordinary!" He continued his inspection down over her firm, flat belly, alighting on the rich, dark triangle of the pubic bush, obscuring her sex, and crowning the tops of her smooth, white thighs, above the lacy tops of her stockings. "Nice," he murmured, "very, very nice!" Suddenly, his gaze caught a metallic glitter, between the tops of her thighs. "Open your legs wider, girl," he commanded, frowning. "Si, Senor!" Rita obediently spread her thighs wide apart, and pushed her hips forward. "What have we here?" Sanchez chuckled, bending down and running his hand between her thighs, and grasping the heart-shaped tag, attached to a fine, gold chain. He read the inscriptions, and chuckled again, gently prizing apart her fleshy folds, to see the ring attached to her clitoris, from which the name-tag dangled. He released the name-tag, and rose to his feet. "Well Lola," he exclaimed, with a shark-like grin, "you may be just what my boss is looking for, for this coming Saturday night!" "Th-Thank you, Sir! I always tr..." He held his hand up, cutting off her words. "But first I have to find out if you are worthy of that honor! You must give me a blow job!" "Certainly, Senor Sanchez!" She held out her hand for his. "Please follow me to my room!" "No, right here!" "Here?" "Yes, here, in front of the other girls!" This caused a chorus of gasps and giggles from the audience. "But, Senor!" "Are you refusing, girl?" There were more girlish giggles. Rita blushed deeply. "No, Senor, but it would be far more comfortable in my bedroom!" "No more 'buts', bitch! On your knees, and get on with it!" he snarled, growing impatient. Rita gave a defeated sigh, and slowly sank down onto her haunches, before reaching up to unfasten the waistband of his pants, and pull down the zip of his fly. She tugged his trousers down, around his ankles, and stared at the bulge in the front of his silk boxer shorts, then, taking a deep breath, she pulled the Calvin Kline underwear down about his knees. Freed of its constraints, his cock sprang up into semi-erection. She had to admit it was a pretty impressive-looking object, probably seven-inches in length, when fully erect. She took it in her left fist, sliding her hand up and down its hot, pulsating length, as she lent forward and licked the tip of the circumcised glans, trying to recall how Chris liked it best. She felt it growing hotter and harder in her grasp, as Sanchez groaned with undisguised pleasure. She pursed her full, red lips, and slipped the knob between them, sucking it in-between her pearly-white teeth, too the back of her throat, whilst running her tongue along the underside of the shaft. "Oh yeah, babe! Do it to me!" gasped the Latino, pulling her head onto his crotch. "This bitch is good!" he thought. Rita raised up higher, trying to align her throat with his cock, fighting back the nausea and natural urge to gag, as she pushed his shaft further and further down her throat, gulping with her efforts. When her nose brushed his tangle of pubic hair, she gently withdrew, until just the glans was retained between her tightly clinging lips, then she went down on him again. There were murmurs of appreciation, for her technique, from the audience. "Holy Mother of Mary!" Sanchez gasped, as her head bobbed up and down, faster and faster. "Aaaaauugghh!" With a loud cry of pleasure, he shot his load, flooding Rita's mouth and throat, with his thick, sticky cum. The Ramon Vargas Affair She swallowed as much as she could, the remainder oozing from the corners of her lips, as she slowly sucked him dry, and his cock began to shrink. Almost regretfully, she allowed the shrinking penis to slip from her lips, and she wiped the excess spunk from her lips and chin, with the back of her hand, inadvertently smearing her lipstick over her face. "How was that, Senor?" she asked, looking up and smiling, like a Cheshire cat. "Good!" he panted, pulling up his shorts and pants. "The Madame will give you the address and time for Saturday night! Do not be late, Lola! Senor Vargas does not like being kept waiting!" "Is there nothing else I can do for you in the meantime, Senor?" Rita purred, stroking his thigh. "Unfortunately no, chiquita! I am already late for another appointment, but we will get together soon, my little one, I promise you!" He turned back to the Madame. "You have done well!" he growled, stuffing a five-hundred dollar bill into the top of her décolletage. Chapter 4: Into The Lion's Den "Rita, Rita, were almost there!" "Huh?" Rita blinked, and realized that Chris was shaking her arm. Glancing down, she saw that her skirt had ridden up, and she was showing the crotch of her leather thong panties. She pulled the hem down, self-consciously, before replying. "Pull over here, Sam, and I'll walk the rest of the way!" He pulled in to the sidewalk, and Rita opened the door and swung her legs out, knees together, preparing to stand. "Remember what I said, Rita?" he growled, as she rose onto her heels, and closed the door behind her, before leaning in through the open window, and giving him an eye-full of her boobs, down the front of her low-cut neckline. "Just don't hang around, if I yell for back-up!" she said, looking worried, for the first time. Before he could reply, she had spun around on her heels, and click-clacked away, along the sidewalk. Chris watched her shapely ass swaying from side to side, in the short, tight skirt, before she disappeared around the bend. "God, she's a sexy bitch!" he muttered, as he looked in the mirror, and then pulled out from the curb. Rita's heart was all of a flutter, as she walked up to the large, wrought-iron gates, set in the high wall, that surrounded the Villa Bellavista. She had noted that there was broken glass cemented on top of the wall, and an electrified fence overhanging the grounds. There was a call button and speaker set in the left-hand pillar, and two CCTV cameras pointing at her, from on top of high poles, just within the grounds. She pressed the red button, and waited, fidgeting with her purse. "Yes, what do you want?" demanded a metallic, foreign-sounding, male voice. "My name is Lola Pagoda," she replied, bending forward to speak into the microphone next to the speaker. "I have an appointment with Mr. Vargas!" There was a short pause. "You may enter!" said the voice. There was a loud click, and the automatic gates swung inward. Rita stepped through, hesitantly, and turned, as the gates swung closed, with a loud clang, behind her. "You've really burnt your boats now, girl!" she muttered to herself. Suddenly, a man stepped out of the bushes alongside the driveway, carrying an Uzi machine gun in the crook of his left arm, and grabbed her elbow with his right. "This way, Senorita!" he growled, forcefully propelling her along the driveway, toward the house. "Senor Vargas is waiting for you, and he don't like to be kept waiting!" Rita stumbled a couple of times, on the rough gravel, but her escort kept her upright. She'd observed at least two other armed guards patrolling the grounds, in the fading light, and realized that the Feds would have a hell of a job on their hands, if they had to storm the place to rescue her! He pushed her through the pillared entrance, and paused, whilst they were scanned by another CCTV camera. With a click, the large glass doors swung inward, and Rita noted their thickness. "Bullet-proof, by the look of it?" she murmured to herself. As they entered, another guard attached himself to their retinue, and they continued through the entrance foyer, until the came to some large, oak, double doors, with an armed guard standing outside, obviously on sentry duty. "Purse!" he growled, holding out a huge hand. Rita gingerly handed over her purse, feeling almost naked without it. "What the hell, I AM almost naked!" she told herself, eyeing the man, belligerently. He rifled through the contents, mainly various items of makeup, and grinned at the sight of the condoms and the KY jelly, before handing it back to her. "She's clean!" he informed her guard. "You can take her through!" The big man nodded, and opened the door, ushering her inside with a jerk of his head. The room was quite large, with perhaps a couple of dozen people inside, standing around in small groups, talking, with canned music playing quietly, in the background. The hum of conversation died away, as they entered the room, and her guard placed a restraining hand on her elbow. "Wait here!" he muttered, in a quiet but firm tone. A short, olive-skinned man, maybe no taller than herself, stepped forward, with a smile playing on his lips. He had short, greasy, jet-black hair, a long, drooping, black moustache, and slightly pock-marked features. Rita recognized Sanchez, standing to one side of him, and figured that this swarthy, cruelly handsome, Latin-American type must be Vargas, the notorious drug baron. "So, Miguel, this is the beautiful Senorita that you have chosen for my pleasure this evening?" he murmured to his aide, his dark eyes, glistening, as he boldly examined Rita. "Welcome to my humble abode, Miss Pagoda!" Before Rita could respond, Vargas turned his eyes on her escort. "Has she been body searched?" he snapped. The guard colored. "N-No Mr. Vargas!" he stammered. "We checked out her purse, and I figured she couldn't be concealing much in that dress!" "Imbecile!" Vargas hissed. "Do it now, immediately!" As the guard stepped forward to frisk her, Rita held up her hands. "Allow me?" she murmured, one hand moving to the zip of her dress. With one smooth movement, she had unzipped the back, and then flicked the straps from her shoulders, letting the dress fall about her ankles. She stood facing Vargas, wearing just her brief, black, thong bikini bottoms, high-heels and stay-put stockings, with her long legs slightly parted, and hands on her hips. "As you can see, I am not carrying any concealed armaments, or wire-taps!" she murmured, with a slight smile. "But, if you would like me to remove my remaining items of attire, I will gladly do so, Senor?" Vargas stared at her crotch, noting how the minute strip of black material barely covered her sex, clinging so tight that it clearly outlined the lips of her vagina. He had suddenly developed a raging hard-on. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, and he had had hundreds of women. He shook his head. "No, no, that will not be necessary, Lola! You may replace your dress, I am perfectly satisfied that you are not an assassin, sent her by my enemies to kill me!" This caused a ripple of mirth throughout the assembled crowd, who had been struck dumb by the unfolding events, up until that moment. "Thank you!" Rita replied, keeping her knees together, as she squatted down and retrieved her dress, and pulled it back up over her shapely figure. "I take it that you are my host, Senor Vargas?" "That is correct, my dear!" he replied, with an oily smile, as he walked over to her. "Allow me to zip you up?" he added. "Thank you Senor Vargas!" Rita gave him her broadest smile, as he finished zipping her, and casually ran his hands over her shapely ass. "I had not realized that there would be so many, ah, other guests here this evening? I had assumed that I would be catering for your pleasure exclusively?" "My other guests will be departing in an hour or so," Vargas replied, with an oily smile, "and then we shall have the whole night to ourselves, mon cherie! You do realize that you will be expected to spend the whole night here?" "Of course, Senor!" Rita gave him her most dazzling smile. "In the meantime, please come and meet my other guests, and have a drink?" He snapped his fingers, imperiously, and a dusky-skinned beauty in a revealing French Maid's outfit, hurried over. "What would you like to drink, my dear?" he enquired. "A dry white wine would be lovely!" Rita replied, smiling, and batting her eyelashes. The girl hurried off to attend to her request, and Vargas noticed a dark areola peeping out of the top of Rita's low-cut neckline, and smiled to himself. "She may be beautiful, but she is still just another slut!" he reminded himself, with a slight smile. Noting the direction of his gaze, Rita pulled up the narrow strap, that had slipped from her shoulder. Taking her by the elbow, Vargas steered the girl over to his second-in-command. "Lola, I think you already know my trusted lieutenant, Miguel Sanchez!" he said, with a smirk. Miguel gave her a predatory smile. "Good evening, Ms. Pagoda!" he replied, formally. "You look quite ravishing, this evening, if I may say so?" Rita returned his smile. "Why thank you, Miguel!" she replied, trying to relax. Inside, she was quaking with fear. "How had she allowed the Feds to talk her into this madcap scheme?" she asked herself. "Who are all these people?" she enquired of her host. "Just business acquaintances," Ramon murmured, gripping her upper arm, possessively. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, my dear!" The waitress returned with her drink, and she hardly had time to take a sip, before Ramon dragged her off to meet some of his other guests. -oOo- A little while later, Ramon took her to one side, and produced two little blue pills from out of his pocket. "Take one of these!" he murmured. "What are they?" Rita asked, eyeing the pills, suspiciously. "Something that a pharmaceutical company that I have a stake in, has been working on! A derivative of something called Viagra!" he replied. "It is a new wonder drug based on Sildenafil Citrate, that should help us both to relax! I couldn't help but notice that you seemed a little up-tight, this evening, Lola, my dear!" "I-I'm not used to having all these people around!" she replied, taking a tablet from his hand. "Are you sure these things aren't habit forming?" He smiled at this, and popped the other pill into his mouth. "No, no, they are perfectly safe mon cherie, and should help us both to perform to our maximum capacity, later, when we are alone together!" He gently squeezed her ass cheek, as he spoke. Rita felt a thrill of fright run down her spine, as he nuzzled her throat. She dare not make him suspicious by refusing to take it. She tossed the pill into her mouth, and quickly washed it down with the remains of her drink. "That's the fourth glass of wine I've had!" she reminded herself. "I shall have to take it steady, or else I'll get too drunk to complete the mission successfully!" she muttered, under her breath. "Did you say something, my dear?" Vargas murmured, glancing up from where his face had been buried in her soft, chestnut tresses. His left hand cupped her right breast, through the thin material of her dress. "N-No!" she replied, looking a little flushed. -oOo- Sometime later, when the guests had all departed, Rita, Vargas and Sanchez, sat in huge, plush armchairs, in the library, drinking brandy, and in the case of the two men, smoking large Havana cigars. Rita had become increasingly hot and bothered, despite the skimpy nature of her outfit, and she squirmed about on her seat, eyeing the two Colombians, and awaiting the next move. For some reason, her nipples had become fully erect, and were rock-hard, brushing against the low hem of her neckline, and turning her on even further. Her pussy was itching like crazy, and she wanted to rub it badly, to help relieve the sexual tension that had built up. Vargas gave her an amused grin. "Ready for bed, my dear?" he enquired. "Mmm," she murmured, arching her back, and surreptitiously rubbing her stockinged thighs together. "I don't know whether I'll get any sleep though? My whole body feels as if it is on fire!" I shall get Maria to show you up to the master bedroom," he replied, with a swarthy grin, picking up a small brass hand-bell, and ringing it, daintily. Within seconds, the door opened, and the maid appeared, although she was no longer wearing her French Maid's outfit, but a long, sheer negligee, and from the look of it, very little else! "Please escort the Senorita to the master bedroom, Maria!" Vargas murmured. "I shall be along shortly!" "Yes Ramon!" Rita was surprised by the servant's apparent familiarity with her master. "Please follow me, Senorita Lola!" Maria added, turning to exit the library. Rita got to her feet, swaying a little from the unaccustomed quantity of booze, and her six-inch stiletto heels. "Goodnight!" she murmured, smiling at Sanchez. "And I shall see you shortly, Ramon?" He nodded. Rita followed the girl out into the hallway, and up a wide, marble staircase, to the upper floor, admiring the shapely figure of the young Mexican girl, beneath her translucent nightwear. Beneath the flowing garment, she appeared to be totally naked, except for a pair of very brief, black lace panties. The master bedroom was the third door on the left! "According to the FBI, the wall safe should be on the left-hand wall, hidden behind a painting of a reclining nude!" the female detective recalled, as she followed the maid inside. "Ah, there it is!" She felt a huge wave of relief, as she spotted the oil painting. "The bathroom is over there, Senorita Lola, if you wish to freshen up a little!" Maria informed her, pointing to her right. The bedroom was dominated by a huge, four-poster bed, complete with canopy, and heavy drapes. "Huh? Oh yeah, thanks! Perhaps I'd better!" Rita replied, tossing her purse onto the bed, and heading for the open doorway. As soon as she was inside the bathroom, she closed the door, and lent back against it, her heart pounding like a tom-tom. She had to get rid of the transceiver, or it would surely be discovered. She peered around, desperately, and noted that the low-level toilet cistern was positioned close to the wall, with a narrow gap behind it. "Ideal!" she breathed, fumbling under the hem of her skirt, dragging aside the tight leather covering of her thong, and locating the end of the chain, where it vanished into her snatch. She slowly eased the torpedo-shaped device out of her pussy, and noted that it was saturated with her secretions, as she unclipped the chain from her clit-ring, fumbling with the slippy fastening. Her nubbin was hard and erect, and throbbing. "Oh shit! Let's hope the fuckin' thing still works?" she muttered, experiencing a feeling of rising panic, as it finally came free. She twisted the one end of the device to ON. "Lance to Lorenzo, Lance to Lorenzo! Come in please, Chris... over!" she hissed. There was a faint crackle. "Hearing you loud and clear, Rita!" replied the worried voice of her partner. "Is everything all right? Over!" "Everything's going according to plan, but I shall have to go off the air for the next few hours!" she whispered. "Call you when it's safe to do so. Over!" "Okay Sam, but don't take any unnecessary risks!" "I won't! Roger, over and out!" She'd always wanted to say that. Rita switched off the radio, wiped it clean on a tissue, and carefully pushed the device into the narrow gap, between the wall and the bottom of the cistern. She felt a great sense of relief, that the incriminating evidence was no longer hidden on her person "Everything all right in their, Lola?" called the voice of Maria, from within the bedroom. "F-Fine!" Rita replied, pulling down her panties and sitting down on the john, to relieve her bladder. She was dying to bring herself off, but she had already spent far too long in the bathroom, and the girl in the other room was getting suspicious! -oOo- Sergeant Chris Lorenzo put down the radio transmitter and drummed his fingers on the tabletop, starring at the blinking green homing signal, on the oscilloscope screen of the portable tracking unit. "I hope Rita's going to be all right?" he muttered, with a worried frown on his handsome face, brushing a stray lock of his brown hair back from his clear blue eyes, in obvious agitation. Harvey Hancock slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Lorenzo, your partner knows how to take care of herself!" he exclaimed, with somewhat forced joviality. "Besides, if there's a cock-up, we'll storm the joint, and rescue the broad!" He took another giant bite from his pizza. Chris gave him a sour look. He didn't much like the over-confident, loud-mouthed FBI Agent. "Provided we can get passed that small army that Vargas keeps on the grounds!" he retorted. His mind was trying to imagine just how far Sam might have to go, in the pursuit of her duty? He had heard some highly disturbing tales about Vargas and his late-night romps, over the last couple of days! Chapter 5: Lie Back And Think Of America When Rita returned to the bedroom, she was surprised to see Maria lying stretched out beneath the bedcovers, her raven-haired head propped up against a pillow. Her negligee had been removed, and was draped over the high back of a chair. "What's this?" Rita asked, gruffly. Maria smiled at her, sweetly. "Ramon cannot be satisfied by just one female!" she declared, sweetly. "Now hurry up and get undressed, Lola. Maria is cold, and wants a little cuddle!" Rita shrugged, then reached behind her back, arching it slightly, as she located the zipper and pulled it down. "I don't usually get involved with other women!" she replied, as she shrugged the straps from her shoulders, and pushed the dress down over her hips, before stepping out of it. "If Vargas wants a lesbian love scene, then Vargas gets one!" Maria warned, in a serious tone. "Don't ever try to cross him, Senorita!" Rita sat on the side of the bed and pulled off her heels, with a sigh of relief. "What are you to him, Maria...?" she asked, as she bent forward to roll down her silky-smooth hose. "Maria Mendoza! I am whatever Senor Vargas wants me to be!" Maria answered, with a smile, watching Rita pull the stockings from her feet. "Senor Vargas had certainly chosen well, this time!" she added. Rita walked over to a chair and draped the stockings and her black dress, over the back of it. "Black suits you, Senorita!" Maria complimented, noting how the leather thong clung to the American girl's hips and nicely padded pubic mound. She wriggled about beneath the sheets, then produced her lace panties, which she held high in the air. "There are mine!" she announced, tossing the wisp of underwear onto the chair containing her negligee. "Now how about yours?" Rita tried to hide her blush, as she thumbed her thong down over her hips and thighs, and stepped out of it. "Where is your name-tag?" Maria enquired, her dark eyes glittering, as Rita turned away and bent forward slightly, to place the thong on the chair. Rita's blush deepened. "Sanchez had a big mouth!" she cursed, silently. "I-I'm not wearing it! It is in my purse!" she replied, straightening up. "Ramon will be most disappointed, I think!" Maria murmured, pouting, prettily. "Why don't you put it on, Conchita?" "If... If you think I should?" Rita peered around for her purse, and spotted it on the nightstand. She fumbled through the contents, and drew out the shiny piece of body ornamentation. She sat on the edge of the mattress, with her back to the young Mexican girl, and gently parted her swollen labia. Just the touch, almost took her to orgasm, and she gave an involuntary gasp of pleasure.