Chapter 1

Angie was truly a neighborhood brat that acted more like a tomboy than one of the silly pieces of fluff that learned at an early age the benefits of secretly dropping their drawers for the other gender. She was not the type one would ask to bend over to be shown something of masculine superiority because she would probably start cutting with her stashed switchblade sitting like a patient scorpion inside her knickers.

Her two older brothers, Nick and Harry, were a pair of punks that hired out as muscle for the union hall big-shots and both had a reputation of overly nasty attitudes and shortage of brain power. They were always playing dirty tricks on their little sister, but she never ratted them out to their adoptive parents. Their real parents had been accidently killed in a shootout with a bunch of thugs. The enforcers were called in by the shipping owners to help bust up a desperate strike called by the union bosses. It was just another work stoppage at the wrong time to show management they needed to give them more respect when negotiating a new contract.

In fact, with the way she dressed and the way she kept her hair as short as a boy, most strangers seeing her for the first time automatically assumed Angie was just another punk from the sleazy streets lining the dark, drab dockside tenements. She encouraged such thinking because it was far easier for her to browbeat her fellow females on the sly and keep the demanding hands of impetuous lads with no morals or sense of humanity off her novice bum and budding breasts.

Soon, even her brothers started calling her “Angelo” instead of Angie and she spent hours of every day to get her upper-body strength up to par with her dangerous older siblings. She had the advantage of not folding up like a broken umbrella if some wise-guy kicked her between the legs and could usually cut them enough quick enough to scare them away before they knew what hit them. After some abject lessons in chaotic street-fighting, she had a reputation that was more impressive than her far less intelligent brothers, Nick and Harry.

Angie didn’t mind taking her foster brother’s demanding shafts under her tender, loving care when they were in a dry spell of not having a willing female to tend to their personal needs. She did, however, draw the line at anything more than milking them for instant relief. Her anti-submissive persona kept her from having any boyfriends and she was not interested in fun and games with the sex-obsessed pretty young things willing to do almost anything to secure a boyfriend for the Saturday night dances.

In a way, she was a bit jealous of her older brothers for their added appendages and thought that if she had one of those things, she would be able to satisfy some silly fluff and be “one of the boys” just like any other rude male. The only thing was she couldn’t stand their feminine constant chatter and the stuff they put on their face to make the boys think they were prettier than they really were underneath. Besides, she hated the way they were prone to crying and getting all emotional over stuff that didn’t seem to bother her at all.

The closest she came to getting any action of a sexual nature was when “Danny boy” Murphy in a state of complete intoxication pulled her jeans down and stuck his thing in her bum thinking she was a “he” and needed a lesson in taking care of older boys nocturnal needs. It was a rude awakening for Angie and she wanted to damage Danny’s pretty face so bad it hurt more than her loss of pride at having to take it all the way up with nothing to say about the matter.

The thing that bothered her most was that it confirmed her suspicion the good-looking Danny was twisted just like the lads that haunted the shower rooms at the public park. That bothered her a bit because she did have sort of a thing for Danny and she did her best to hide her curiosity about the size and shape of his man-stick deep inside her sexually confused hard-bitten exterior.

She was ashamed of her lack of control when it came to the handsome Danny-boy, but pretending to be a boy to gain his favor was the only way she could retain his abnormal interest. The other young gang members treated her like she was just another one of those weird gender conflicted boys that served a useful purpose during periods of incarceration. Her hidden secret was that she was naturally addicted to cock because she was a normal female with all the instincts of a female in heat and was not a twisted punk with a bent nature. Her two foster brothers knew the truth but they treated it like a big joke and kept it to themselves.

Angie came to the attention of the union organizers and they hired her for “clean-up” duties after periods of high-intensity conflict. Slowly, she graduated into the more difficult position of taking care of business on the front end and arranged for “accidents” to eliminate unwanted opposition. The fact that she was a woman was not an issue because she was seldom seen or heard by the upper echelons of the system. They automatically assumed her codename of “Widow-maker” was for a shadowy male figure to whom an anonymous profile was a top priority. Her assignments were given to a cut-out that also acted as the banker for all financial transactions. She never actually met the cut-out and that was for her own safety and his as well.

Her career was lucrative and she enjoyed the challenge of devising various “accidental” circumstances to eliminate the targets selected for her as a new assignment. She had yet to come across one that didn’t deserve to be put down because of his disreputable assorted vices.

She had not actually found a boyfriend other than Danny-boy that she could count on to use her mouth or her nether regions for personal pleasure. She was ever so careful to keep him in the dark about her true gender knowing he had little, if any, interest in female company.