This choice: "We need to get away, clearly the operation is compromised." she suggests. • Go Back...Chapter #7"We need to get away, clearly the operation." by: Mr. George   "No, you idiot. Nobody was planning on you... or me, becoming strippers." Agent Cochrane insisted. "We need to get away, clearly the operation is compromised." Taking your hand, she leads you towards the fire door. "Your boss clearly infiltrated the organisation, and ensured we got redirected to these bodies." she insisted urgently.
"Besides, I doubt your boss, Joey Vincenzo, will be satisfied leaving us simply as strippers."
Shifting to jab you with an outstretched finger, "You know what happens to vulnerable women, you know what you did to those women. Well, now Joey's put you back in that position."
She looked genuinely terrified, and as you think back on those crimes, you realise how cheap and easy your Witness relocation was. The peril, and utter fear gripping your stomach deserves far worse. You know that Joey will ensure you suffer every degradation you infliced on the people you trafficed across the border. He'll ensure you pay every 'personal price' needed to humiliate you for the attempt to provide evidence against him.
"Is it alarmed?" Cochrane hissed. "When I open this door, do we have to start running immediately, or can we still sneak away."
Frowning you try to work out why he's asking you.
"The hit is going down right now." she insists, "and soon Joey'll realise we weren't killed in the attack. Then he'll know we're in these damned bodies." She tugged at the neckline of her dress. Making her bust shimmy and roll delightfully. Your pleasure evaporates quickly, as you feel your own bust, and wide hips reminding you (as if you still needed it), of your own voluptuous body.
With an ally, you take a calmer look around. Realising the agent is right, you're both backstage at one of his strip clubs. The private rooms still available for those more 'intimate' dances.
Frowning, you shake your head, as you assume not. Agent Cochrane presses the bar, and the door swings open. No alarms sound, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You've not revealed your position, and no horde of heavies are heading to recapture you, and hustle you back to the changing rooms.
The door leads out into a dark alley. The light, warmth and comfort of the strip-club offer you a false sense of comfort and safety. You have to ask, and are afraid of the answer, "Do you know where we're going?" The words coming in a terrified rushing whisper.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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