Michelle was bored.
She had settled into a life where her existence consisted of watching daytime TV and cooking supper for her husband Derek.
Then one day she had a call from Andy, the detective. The call brought it all back; the death of her friend, the job that she had done on the murderer; and Andy.
Andy with the glorious penis, That massively thick penis that she had managed to accommodate on that special day, stretching her to widths she had only fantasised about..
Andy wanted her to meet him at the local police station to discuss something. He wouldn't say what but she was intrigued, so as requested she didn't tell her husband but quietly drove into town.
She was admitted to the interview room which had a poster on the wall announcing that the Commissioner was seeking views on his priorities, which according to a marker pen included kissing the backsides of 'community leaders'.
Andy entered the room, looking buff in his tight polo shirt and jeans that showed a bulge in precisely the right place.
"You're looking good," she greeted him.
"I try to hit the gym most days," he looked up to the ceiling. "We have a room on the top floor with some running machines, that sort of thing."
She didn't mean that sort of thing.
They performed a time-honoured rite of inconsequential chat for a few minutes before mentioning the reason for the visit.
~**~
"I'm on another operation now, of course." Andy settled back in his plastic chair, allowing Michelle to check out his bulge again. She wasn't disappointed; it was as impressive as ever. "It's sort of similar, of course because that's the area that I work. Briefly we have a guy who is making millions by money laundering for drug dealers. How it works is by someone in one country who wants to transfer funds somewhere, will give money to our man. It's a variation on the traditional 'smurfing' scam.
"That person makes a transfer into a bank account, which could be in any country even their own, then someone else somewhere in the world will be paid cash or acquire a Mercedes. Or something like that. Anyway, because there are a couple of intermediaries in different countries and no funds actually go to the country of interest it's difficult to establish what is going on.
"It's the origin of all international banking really. In the old days the government would pay someone called Rothschild in London a load of money and a week later the troops fighting Napoleon in Spain would be paid. No money was actually shipped out, it was all on the nod by different members of the family. Same thing, the Mafia will do something similar of course.
"Anyway, what we need is someone to get close to a bloke. Just collect names of associates, that sort of thing. Are you interested?"
She thought for a moment, "What's involved? Isn't it dangerous?"
He shook his head. "No of course not. This guy is a financier not a hit man, he's probably never even smoked a 'shroom in his life. We're not talking about El Chapo here. What we need is someone to join in with his circle of friends, just listen and report back."
"So why me? Don't you already have undercover people like yourself?"
Andy sighed. "It's complicated. Basically we need someone from outside to act as informer. For some stupid bureaucratic reasons we can't use undercover officers as much as we want to. There will be a female officer with you from the covert unit to start with but we think that things will move into scenarios where officers are not permitted to go. We don't know how far the officer will be able to go, an informant can do things that an officer cannot, so we need someone to register as such and just go with the flow.
"The thing is, the situation is that we need someone of your qualities."
~**~
Michelle got herself ready. She wore a long black dress and high heels, her luxuriant mane of red hair piled high to show off her neck. She was slim, but the dress was cut to emphasise her hips and narrow waist further. The neckline was low, slashed right down her cleavage almost to her navel. She couldn't wear a bra but the material was secured to her breasts with a thin line of sticky tape. She even admitted to herself that she looked amazing in the mirror.
Derek couldn't come, but he was away on a business trip anyway.
The cab collected her at the allotted time and a female cop was already riding inside to accompany her. The cop was called Heather and was dressed similarly for an exotic night out with a scarlet pencil-thin dress fastened around the neck with a choker band, showing an acre of tanned side-boob. She was fit and had toned arms, hints of biceps even without tension. The dress would have allowed a woman with bigger boobs to have popped out of both sides at the same time.
"I'll be with you tonight, the story is that we are single, so it wouldn't be right for a man to be by our sides. With any luck we'll catch his eye and the operation will be up and running. Just remember to keep your phone with you and switched on at all times."
Michelle clutched her handbag which contained the cell-phone that she had been supplied with and already contained all her contacts.
Heather continued, "If you stay like that, you'll catch his eye, for sure. Might even have his eye out." She grinned, "You're going to have one heck of a time with those pokies."
Michelle looked down, her nipples were erect and clearly poking through the thin dress. Damn her red hair and pale complexion, she could feel her colour rising. She breathed slowly and calmly, looking out of the window at the world passing. When she checked again, her nipples had subsided.
Soon they were at the venue, the opening of an exhibition at an art gallery in town. Heather had the invitations and led their way past the security staff. Inside they were handed glasses of champagne and offered nibbles from trays.
The artist greeted them, full of false cheerfulness. Soon she moved on, allowing the women to glance at the bits of trash that had been arranged into shapes of animals. Presumably this was a meaningful comment on the environment, Michelle could only hazard a guess. Certainly there would be no room for any of the pieces in her house even if she had the enormous amount of money that seemed to be required.
The man who Heather indicated as the subject of their investigation was similar to Michelle's age; in his early thirties. He was dressed expensively and had two women fawning at him. Both the women were apparently naked but for a pattern of black duct tape stuck strategically across their bodies. The strips were arranged in dramatic angles and it struck Michelle that the tape was more artistic than the exhibits on display.
After a while he wandered over and stood alongside Michelle. She had been told almost nothing about him -- not even his name, so that any conversation would be more natural. She introduced herself and he informed her that his name was John. He was looking for art investments but this was overpriced nonsense even beyond any Turner Prize nomination.
They chatted for a while and Michelle gave her cover story, mostly the truth of how she had come with a friend, had never come to an art gallery before and knew little of the subject.
