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.
He said that he was in the import-export business and owned a model agency, that the girls with him were 'promo' models there to create press interest. He was always looking for good looking women and would she be interested in some model work?
This was of course what Michelle was waiting for. Certainly she was interested, if the pay and conditions were suitable. Heather was also interested and soon they were holding business cards.
The Duct Tape Girls started to put on a show, dancing and strutting around, then challenged men to rip away pieces of the tape. Heather and Michelle quietly left.
~**~
Michelle called the number on the business card, using the cell phone. A woman answered, apparently a secretary for John King Associates. Would Michelle and her friend like to come in for a talk? Yes, Michelle and Heather would, thank you very much.
A week later Heather collected her again from her home and both went to an office which was not far from the art gallery. The secretary had a name-badge with her name proclaimed as 'Crystal Weisz' and was young and attractive.
After a short wait they were ushered in to see John, who explained that the role was to be glamorous at various events, which could be anything from an art gallery exhibition to Cannes Film Festival. It all depended on what the client required in terms of the age and look of the models. Michelle had a fresh natural look with her large breasts and trim waist, whilst Heather was more athletic with her small pert chest and shorter legs.
"OK, time to see what you look like without the clothing." He was casual but straight to the point.
Michelle was disconcerted to be told to undress by a total stranger, but Heather didn't flinch. She withdrew to the back of the room where there was a couple of soft chairs and a coffee table and pulled her top off. She had jeans and trainers on, but wriggled the jeans down over her shoes. She tossed her top and jeans onto the table and stood waiting in her panties and bra.
Michelle removed her dress, which zipped up at the back and stood in her heels, bra and thong.
John was impatient, "And the bras please."
Heather was wearing floral underwear with panties which clung to her well-developed glutes. She unfastened her bra and dropped it with the rest of clothes. She had an even tan over her small boobs but was muscular with a flat stomach and obviously worked out regularly.
Michelle followed suit with her lacy lingerie and instinctively held her arms across her large breasts. Her thong combined with her black heels to accentuate her long legs, but she was suddenly conscious of a lack of muscle tone. Sure, she wasn't old and still had her looks but she had never had a body like the one next to her.
The firm voice from across the room told her to drop her arms and she complied, feeling the man's eyes staring at her exposed breasts.
"How comfortable are you with people seeing you like this?" John stood. "There is a meeting going on downstairs, what I want to see you do is go down the fire escape to the floor below and serve refreshments to the people there. Everything is ready on tables, just pour the coffee and tea, offer it around the room with the biscuits and leave."
He walked past them and opened the fire-escape door. There was a cold draught that stiffened her nipples as Michelle looked outside. Was she seriously expected to walk outside almost naked for all the world to see and then into a room full of strangers?
Heather glanced at her and walked out onto the iron stairway. She started to descend, so Michelle followed. Fighting the desire to cover herself, she steadied her balance using the balustrade as her heels teetered on the metal grid surface.
Gingerly she made her way down the flight of stairs and found that the door was wide open to the room below, with Heather already inside. The temperature was warmer inside on her bare skin but all eyes were on her as she stood next to a table by the window. There were cups and saucers, with flasks of tea and coffee. Heather was filling the cups so she busied herself handing the refreshments around the room of men.
