Code Name Tequila Ch. 01

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Sexy shemale super spy infiltrates the world of auto racing.
13.7k words
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Part 1 of the 23 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 04/29/2009
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It was a beautiful day in San Diego. The sun was shining, and Ria Ortega was enjoying sea breeze on her face as she stood in Embarcadero Marina Park watching the sea. Out on the water sail boats tacked and jibed as they headed into San Diego Bay. Ria smiled and thought how far she was from the drug dens and slums of Oaxaca.

She had seen so much killing over drugs in her short life. It was a world she had thought she had escaped, but now events were pulling her back into it, though this time on the right side of the fight, she hoped. She looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes until the final interview. She turned her back to the water, and walked towards the hotel. She walked towards a new life.

Parked in a van a few blocks away, two men in suits watched Ria walk along the road on close-circuit television. The van was stifling hot, but the men dared not open a window lest someone figure out there was something suspicious going on. Instead, they sat in their black suits and stewed in their own juices.

They quietly watched the video screens showing the dark-haired Mexican beauty walk along, her 5 foot 7 frame beautifully curved. She was wearing a tight shirt that showed off an excellent set of c-cups, and a tight pair of black pants that showed off a well shaped ass.

One of the suits turned to the other. "Do you think she can do it?"

The second man leaned back in his chair, wiping the sweat from his brow. "She better. This is our best hope."

* * *

Pablo was waiting in the lobby of the San Diego Marriott Hotel & Marina for Ria. Pablo greeted Ria in Spanish, and throughout their discussion they spoke their mother tongue. Pablo was a large man, and after shaking hands, Pablo directed Ria towards the far corner of the lobby. Ria walked, trying to shake her ass as sexily as she could. She couldn't see, but was sure Pablo would be watching her as she walked. Behind her, she could hear the fat man wheezing and shuffling as he walked.

They sat down on some comfortable couches in a quiet corner, and Pablo went into his spiel. Ria had already heard it before, but she smiled and nodded politely, trying to make as good an impression as she could.

"The Pan-American Grand Prix Racing Series is looking to become the premier open-wheel racing series on this side of the Atlantic. We know we can never touch the supremacy of Formula One, but that is too Asia and Europe focused. Indy car here in America suffers from being over shadowed by NASCAR in the USA, and unwatched by those outside of the states. By holding races not just in the USA, but all across the Americas, we hope to draw interest into the series, especially from Latin America."

"The Cabo Blanco Racing Team is one of 8 teams on the grid this year, each fielding 3 cars. Our sponsor, Cabo Blanco Tequila, really sees this as an opportunity to grow their brand outside of Mexico, and looks at Pan-Am GP series to give it an international, upmarket appeal. For the racing team, the sponsorship keeps a steady flow of investment capital to keep the team running. For us, pleasing our sponsor is very important."

"To that end, we are looking for ambassadors to work at our hospitality tents throughout the series, entertaining key clients and those influential in the liquor market. We aim to prove to Cabo Blanco that their investment in this team was the right move and pays dividends. That's why we are talking to you. We want you to be one of our ambassadors."

Ria smiled and nodded, trying to look as interested as possible. In reality, though, she was sceptical of the whole spiel. "Ambassadors, my ass," she thought. It was all just fancy talk for "pit bunnies," good looking girls in short skirts and tight tops to make old farts with money feel like they were sexy and important.

Lying, Ria said, "I am really looking forward to helping the team and Cabo Blanco, spread the word about Pan-Am GP racing and the smooth taste of Cabo Blanco's brand line. Personally, I am partial to the Cabo Blanco Platinum Promise."

Pablo smiled. "A girl with excellent taste. Platinum is very smooth. Have you had a chance to try the Mayan Reserve?"

Ria shook her head. Mayan Reserve was Cabo Blanco's most exclusive tequila, clocking in at over five hundred dollars a bottle. Frankly, Ria was lying about the Platinum. She was more than happy with the Silver Select brand, but she knew that if she was going to impress Pablo, she should try and prove she could push the up-market stuff.

Pablo clicked his fingers, and a waiter came over. "Two glasses of the Cabo Blanco Mayan Reserve, please," he said, looking smug. The waiter nodded and walked away. Ria smiled appreciatively, but secret was thinking that Pablo seemed like a really idiot, trying to show off with his wallet, no doubt to make up for his fat body, sweaty brow and thinning hair.

While waiting for their over-priced liquor, Pablo continued talking about the job. "As you know, there are different levels of ambassadors. At all the races, we hire local girls to temporarily work the booth in the open area, as well as some of the more menial serving duties in the hospitality tents. We have four levels of hospitality that we offer to our VIPs, the highest level for our most important guests is in our owners' box, where, of course, you'd also get to meet the owner's of Cabo Blanco Racing, Luis and Rodrigo Tabernas."

Ria knew that prior to getting the sponsorship from Cabo Blanco, the team had been called Tabernas Racing, after the million brother owners. Originally from Argentina, the brothers now lived an international life style, jet setting around the world and buying things like horses, football clubs and car racing teams. How they made their money originally was very shady, and how they managed to double their wealth during the crash in Argentina in 2001 was even more mysterious, at least to those in the business press.

"To work in the most exclusive tents, we need ambassadors who can speak multiple languages. What languages do you speak again?" Pablo asked.

"I speak English, French and Portuguese, with a touch of Italian," Ria said. "Oh, and of course, Spanish." Ria always had a knack for languages. Even though she had been brought up speaking Spanish, she learned English in her early teens working the streets of Tijuana, hustling American tourists. As she got older, she saw her ease with languages as the gateway out of poverty, and made an effort to learn the others.

The waiter came over, and put down the two glasses. Pablo picked up his glass, and looking over the rim of it, locked eyes with Ria. "It is in this area, the owners' box, that we want you to work."

Pablo took a sip of his glass, trying to look superior. Ria faked being overjoyed, forcing herself to giggle like a stupid girl. "Oh, Pablo, that is so wonderful. I really know I can do an excellent job for the brothers' and Cabo Blanco!"

Pablo put down his drink, and wiped the smile off his face. "There is just one thing, though. I understand from Isabella that you are... what is the right word?"

"Transgendered," Ria said. She hadn't kept it a secret. She had been born a boy, but had been living as a girl for the past 11 years, even though she was only 22. Despite being born a boy, though, very few people could tell. She had a nice, shapely figure thanks to a black-market hormone treatment she had purchased in Mexico, and she had her breasts augmented to the beautiful c-cups when she was 18. Having posed as a woman for so long, she was expert now at walking like a woman, and sounding like one too. And she was very good at making sure her penis stayed tucked away between her legs, even when wearing the skimpiest of bikini bottoms.

She might not have even told Isabella, the woman she had first interviewed with, about being a transsexual, accept for one fact. She had been told that Luis Tabernas had a thing for transsexuals, and letting that information out was sure to increase her chances of getting herself assigned to the owners' box.

Pablo nodded, taking another sip of his tequila. He put the glass down, and looked at Ria in the eyes. "Now, are you sure you can keep yourself... hidden... in the uniforms? Because we at Cabo Blanco are an employer that does not discriminate, but we need to be sure that you can maintain the... complete illusions... of femininity when dealing with our clients."

Ria stood up and gave a slow twirl. Pablo stared at her pants, which were incredibly tight. He could not see any bulges or curves out of place.

"I can keep myself tucked away in anything," Ria said, sitting back down and taking a sip of the tequila. It was a nice taste, she admitted, but she couldn't say that it tasted like it was worth 10 times the price of a regular glass of tequila.

Pablo seemed satisfied. Isabella had been less easy to please. She had made Ria strip down to her panties and bra. Isabella then performed a very thorough, though clinical, examination of Ria's form. She grabbed her breasts to test for firmness. She flicked her stomach to test tautness. She even ran her hand over Ria's ass, and between her legs to make sure Ria's penis couldn't be felt. Ria had passed that inspection, and now appears to have passed Pablo's inspection as well.

Pablo smiled and downed the last drops of his tequila. "Well, Ria, I think it is safe to say that you will make a fine addition to the Cabo Blanco Racing team. The first race is 3 weeks from now in Las Vegas. In the meantime, we'll need you to go through some training, to make sure you understand the sport and the Cabo Blanco product line, so you can represent it to our customers. That will take place at our testing facility in Córdoba, Argentina. We'll be leaving two days from now. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," Ria said. She was already packed and ready to do, leaving as she was in a temporary house not far inland from hotel.

"Great," Pablo said, standing up and shaking Ria's hand. "Welcome aboard."

* * *

Ria walked three blocks from the hotel, and once she was sure she was not being followed, picked up a pay phone and dialled the number she had been given. The phone ringed 4 times, and then someone picked up.

"Anglo's Butchers," a voice said in English

"Can I speak to Arthur Millington?" Ria asked in English with only the slightest accent.

Ria heard a click, and then a different voice came on the line. "Code in," the voice said.

"Tequila, three-eight-zero-seven-five," Ria said. Tequila, she thought to herself. Bunch of smart asses.

"Confirm," the voice instructed. Ria knew this meant they wanted her to repeat the code-in phrase.

"Tequila, three-eight-zero-seven-five."

Somewhere in a basement in Langley, Virginia, a computer performed a series of complex calculations to compare the voice pattern of the woman on the phone with the voice pattern on file. It was able to confirm with a 98.6254% probability that the voice on the phone was agent code-name Tequila, a non-employed contractor working in the field to infiltrate the Tabernas' organization.

A green light appeared on the screen of operative handling the call, along with a direction to transfer the call.

"Hold for Black Oak," the voice said, and Ria heard another click.

Black Oak, now there was a spy name. When she was recruited by the CIA for this job, Ria had really been hoping for a cool spy name. Some joker in Virginia, though, on seeing that she would be posing as a spokesmodel for a racing team sponsored by a Tequila company, decided the liquor would be a good choice. Ria hated the code name. She had suggested some others, but Black Oak was not impressed.

Black Oak came on the line. As usually, his deep baritone voice was without any sort of inflection to portray emotion.

"Report," he commanded.

"I'm in the owners' box. Off to Cordoba two days from now," Ria reported.

"Acceptable," Black Oak said. He wasn't much for praise. "Report to the safe house and organize with Chambers. He'll get you up to speed, but once you are out on the road, you'll pretty much be on your own."

"Thank you, Black Oak," she said, but he had already hung up. Ria headed back to the safe house to speak with Agents Chambers, who had been her "handler" for the past month. Last two nights with him, she thought sadly. She was going to miss him.

* * *

At a ranch quiet ranch house over looking the waters of the Mar Chiquita salt lake near Cordoba, Argentina, Luis Tabernas was looking over his newest recruits. Three ladyboys flown in direct from Thailand were standing in front of him, completely naked. He examined their smooth, hairless bodies and felt the large cock between his legs start to rise. Luis was a good looking man in his late forties, with a full head of thick black hair that was just turning grey at the temples. He used to be very physically fit, but as he ages, his body has started to turn a little soft. He wasn't the muscled stud that he was in his twenties, when he and Rodrigo staged a coup and took over the drug business in Cordoba, but he was still a good looking man.

"You, on your hands and knees," he said to one of the ladyboys, speaking in English as he knew they didn't speak Spanish. The ladyboy obliged. Luis walked up and pulled his cock out of his pants. It was eight inches long and thick. Without any preparation or lube, Luis pushed himself all the way into the poor Thai girl's asshole. She yelped with pain, but Luis didn't stop. He started pumping in and out of her tender asshole.

"God, I love a tight, fresh asshole," he said. He looked up at the other two girls, who stood there staring at Luis fuck their friend. "I am going to use you two as well, just like I am using her, and you can stay here for as long as you are tight. Once your ass becomes loose, though, you can just go and fuck off back to Thailand. Don't worry, though, you'll be rewarded handsomely."

The two girls giggled nervously as their friend started to pant and groan with the pain of the constant pounding.

"Don't worry, baby, it gets better over time," Luis said. In reality, he didn't know if that was true, nor did he care. All he knew was that he was going to pound these trannies for a couple of days until he could get his hand on that beautiful pit girl slut that Isabella had sent him the picture of. "Ria Ortega," he said. "Now that's a piece of ass I am really going to abuse!"

* * *

Ria was born as Vincent Hilario Giovanni Ortega in Oaxaca, Mexico a little over 22 years ago. He was born into a poor family, and his many siblings became easy pickings for the gangs and pimps that flashed a little wealth and made promises of easy cash.

Vincent started working as a drug mule at the age of 8, picked because if he was caught the police would not arrest him, but merely give him a good beating and send him home. Vincent was wily though, and able to slip the police and army on most occasions.

The police weren't the only threat, though. An 8 year old boy holding drugs could be an easy target for those looking to steal them. To protect himself, Vincent learned to fight. He learnt Mexican street fighting, a mix between martial arts, self-defence and all-out brawling. It was a style of fighting that saw nothing wrong with gouging eyes, kicking groins or chocking off the air supply of your opponent, as long as you ended up on the winning side.

After a few months of running drugs for the gangs without being caught, he was rewarded with a small amount of money as a bonus. Most of the money he made had gone straight back into the family, a fact that his parents were not proud of, but felt they didn't have a choice.

The bonus, though, his parents told Vincent he could buy what he wanted with. He went to the market, and returned with a set of girl's underpants and a sun dress. His father was furious and his mother wailed endlessly. Poor Vincent cried, confused why his choice was causing so much trouble. He had so little that was bright and colourful, and this was a chance to wear something pretty. Why was that a bad thing?

The dress and panties were burned, and Vincent was depressed. He started staying out later at nights, and keeping more of the money he made running for himself. One night, out on the streets, he saw older boys standing on corners, wearing dresses, just had he wanted to. The boys seemed very popular with the men who drove up in their cars. Vincent wanted to be just like those boys, and so he started hanging around them more and more.

The boys taught Vincent about dressing up, and what the men wanted with the boys. Vincent was shocked, but listened intently. One night, one of the boys gave Vincent and dress and put him on the corner. "Just do what the men ask you to do, and take their money," the boy said. Vincent was happy to be in the dress, though wasn't really looking forward to doing the things that the men might ask.

Vincent was saved from having to perform with any men, though, as the news quickly got back to Vincent's house what was going on. Vincent's father came and grabbed Vincent off the street. The next Vincent was sent away from Oaxaca to live with his aunt in the country. Vincent was bored in the country, though, and after a year, ran away to Tijuana, and place he had heard that a smart young boy could make lots of money off rich Americans.

Vincent took to Tijuana like a fish to water. His skill in picking up the English language, plus the fact he was a cute 10 year old by this time made him irresistible to the American tourists, especially the women. He would show them around a bit, maybe help them get something they wanted, and in return he take some money. Usually, he managed to take a lot more than the Americans were expecting, either by picking pockets or through other scams.

Vincent started spending his money on pretty dresses and other girlie clothes, and by the time he was 11 had given up on living as a boy. At that point, Vincent changed his name, going through a few different variations until finally landing on Ria, the mouth of the river. Ria loved the water, and so the name seemed fitting.

Ria continued hustling tourists, and as she got older migrated into selling drugs and finally selling herself. Ria realized that the good life was not to be had from conning tourists, but rather becoming rich enough to be a tourist that could be conned. After meeting a Portuguese couple and learning enough Portuguese to communicate in just a few hours, Ria decided that she could make her money by learning languages, helping people communicate with each other. So she took to studying languages, and soon was fluent in English, Portuguese, French, Italian, Germany and a smattering of Chinese.

Unfortunately, knowing a lot of languages in Tijuana was not the key to endless wealth. Ria thought her ability with languages would led her to being the personal assistant of an international businessmen, or working as a translator for the UN. Instead, she wound up giving guided bus tours. At least, she figured, it was better than working as a street walker on Tijuana's mean streets.

A year ago, Ria was approached by an American who introduced himself as Donald Edwards. He was a good looking man, with dark full hair and dark eyes. He was in his late thirties, Ria guessed, and well muscled.

"I am a representative from the Business Development Bank of Eastern California, or as we like to call it that B.D.B.E.C. I am conducting some research into potential investments in Oaxaca for the BDBEC. I am looking for some one who can do some interpreting for me, as well as driving. I understand that you are from Oaxaca originally, do you think you could act as my chauffer and guide?"

Ria agreed, and they agreed on a very healthy price. The next day, after a short but bumpy plane ride in a small four-seater plane owned by the BDBEC, Ria was driving Mr. Edwards through the streets of Oaxaca. Ria quickly became suspicious of Mr. Edwards true intentions, as the "businesses" that he was visiting were for the most part in very shady parts of town. Not only that, but in many of the places, Mr. Edwards entered without Ria along. "If he had wanted an interpreter, why does he keep leaving me in the car?" she wondered.