In Sharpe Focus
Copyright© 2023 by corsair
Chapter 34: Down Time
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 34: Down Time - Who shot JR Ewing? I mean who shot JFK? One was a fictional Dallas, and the other has much fiction attached. Agent "Jackie" has been voluntold to investigate a coup in progress and begins with an investigation into a dead actress, a trip down a rabbit hole.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Coercion Mind Control Reluctant Slavery BiSexual TransGender Fiction Crime Fan Fiction Historical Military Mystery Restart War Science Fiction Alternate History Body Swap Paranormal Magic Incest Rough Sadistic Gang Bang Swinging Interracial Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Oral Sex Petting Voyeurism Water Sports Body Modification Small Breasts ENF Nudism Prostitution Transformation Violence
We spent six nights in hotels, eating in cafes and restaurants, waiting. I suggested to the others that perhaps I could be left behind. The answer was unanimous: “NO!”
Gem pretended to be male and married to Mae. I pretended to be married to Billie. As John Wilson I signed for my wife, too--didn’t need to present our marriage certificates. It was agreed that we’d always have two rooms--sometimes in different hotels--so if Dallas PD kicked down the door to arrest me, the entire team wouldn’t be rolled up. Plus--I’d spend time in Gem’s and Mae’s room.
“You’re paranoid,” Mae chided.
“I survived,” I said, and then I added, “or did I?”
“No existential crisis allowed,” Gem objected. “Mae, how many times did you catch the FBI team before you invited them to lunch?”
“They were so embarrassed,” Mae said. “Six times. I told them that as long as they were following me around, I’d buy them lunch.”
“I pretended to ignore my shadows,” Billie said. “Watching me watching movies must have gotten boring. It was even more fun when Mae and I went shopping.”
“I still want to slip my watchers,” Gem complained. “It would be easy. Put on a dress. When arrested, a strip search would reveal that I was not guilty of cross-dressing and my credentials would prove that I was born female, matching up with fingerprints on file.”
“Why do you want to pick on these poor southern boys?” Mae asked.
“They’re assholes!” Gem snarled.
“That’s their job description,” Billie quipped. “Jackie, are you going to spend the day in the courthouse again?”
“Yes,” I said, “and I’ll hand over my report to 488th Military Intelligence Detachment with a copy forwarded to 112th Military Intelligence Group. I should have finished my list of probable safe houses for subversive groups in two days. And yes, 4011 Turtle Creek Boulevard, Dallas, Texas, is on the list.”
“Where’s that?” Mae asked.
“General Walker’s residence,” Gem answered.
“I tracked a ‘Scotty,’ and it looks as if William Duff is ‘Scotty.’ It seems that he can’t keep his trap shut, bragging about being British commando to all the ladies,” Billie giggled. “For someone without a paycheck, he sure had money to burn.”
“I’m going to look at the police blotters again,” Gem said. “You two girls have the hard part. How many of those safe houses for rent do you plan to check on today?”
“Six,” Billie said.
“Eight,” Mae added.
“Show-off!” Billie snickered.
“I’m tired of wearing clothes,” Billie complained.
“Speaking of clothes, have you noticed that aside from the YMCA there’s no nudity in the safe houses?” I shook my head. “I had to check the Y because I went for a swim. Gem wasn’t qualified. But that place is on the safe house list, too. Check-in is rather casual and there’s no ID requirements. I ran across several standard intelligence aliases in the sign-in book.”
“You’re being mean,” Mae criticized. “We barely get to bathe. Night gowns are pretty, but sleeping in them is getting old. You got to skinny dip! Why can’t we?”
“That’s because there are something like a hundred people watching our every move,” I said. “Don’t forget to keep your credentials handy. You are to be armed at all times. Standard rules--anybody who attempts to disarm you is the enemy and you are to shoot them and vanish.”
“Yes, Mommy,” Gem scoffed. “Wait--if you were naked, you didn’t have YOUR gun with you.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “I had to move with a purpose because several naked men tried to engage me in conversation. They were showing off their hard-ons. I don’t know if they were Vice or actual homosexuals, but I swam my 20 laps and put my clothes back on. My tell tales had been disturbed. Dallas is feeling a lot like Berlin but with a Texas accent.”
“Which Berlin?” Gem asked.
“Well, East Berlin is more run-down,” I admitted. “Anyway, be very careful about bathrooms.”
“Safe for us,” Mae said. “All I need to do is scream when they follow me inside the woman’s room.”
I inspected her Smith and Wesson Terrier anyway--and her five rounds of .38 Smith and Wesson. I checked Gem’s Colt Cobra with the barrel shroud and six .38 Special cartridges. Billie’s .32 Colt Pocket Hammerless had a full 8-shot magazine plus one cartridge in the chamber--given the grip safety, her Colt was safe even when Billie didn’t use the thumb safety. My own Browning, it used to be Gem’s, was loaded with a round up the spout and I downloaded both magazines one shot, giving me 25 rounds total. I also went overkill with a concealed Commando dagger and a flat, all-metal Black Cat k55k--and a spring cosh. I wanted a couple of hand grenades, but cooler heads talked me out of them. Whatever secondary weapons my team possessed they didn’t share with me.
“Why so much ammo?” Gem asked. “Expecting a gunfight?”
“I am.”
Ask a silly question...