The Ramon Vargas Affair

Warning! This story contains material of an adult nature and is intended for mature readers and for personal use only. No copyright infringement is intended.

A Silk Stalkings Adventure

The Ramon Vargas Affair

*

Chapter 1: Preparing To Enter The Fray

Rita turned off the warm spray, squeezed the surplus water out of her hair, squirted a generous helping of shaving foam over her crotch, and rubbed it well in, before stepped out of the shower cubicle. She sat down on the fluffy lavatory seat cover, spread her legs apart, then reached out for the Ladyshave sitting on the glass wash-basin shelf. With her beautiful face a study in concentration, she began to carefully shave off the thick, curly brown thatch, with the safety razor, until just a narrow vee of luxuriant pubic hair remained, obscuring her sex.

When she was totally satisfied with her handiwork, she stepped back under the shower, and washed off the remaining shaving foam and surplus hair, still clinging to her nicely padded pudenda. "The things I do for this damned outfit!" she muttered, running her fingers down over the unfamiliar smoothness. "Ah, well..."

She stepped out of the shower, and toweled herself dry, on the large, pink, fluffy bathtowel, before applying a liberal quantity of baby talc to her newly tender parts.

Rita Lance was a real looker; five-feet five inches tall (excluding heels), and weighing 115 pounds in the raw, the brown-haired, green-eyed, B.A. in Criminology, had a face and figure that most women would've killed for. Hence her current predicament.

When she'd finished drying her shoulder-length hair, she stood and reached over to the shelf above the wash-basin, and picked up a small, plastic device, some three-inches in length, and a half-inch in diameter, that looked a little like a shortened, plastic cigar holder. She turned it over, in her hands, examining it, once again. A fine gold chain, about four-inches in length, was attached to the one domed end, with a tiny clasp at its end.

She twisted the top half of the cylinder, until it gave a quiet click, and raised it to her full, eminently kissable lips. "Testing, testing! One, two, three... This is Sergeant Rita Lance calling! Can you hear me Lorenzo, over?" she murmured.

"I hear you, Rita, loud and clear!" replied a tinny voice from the built-in speaker.

"Is the homing signal working, Chris?"

"Coming in loud and clear! Have you fitted it yet?"

"No, but I'm just about to!" she replied, blushing, in spite of herself.

"Okay, over and out, partner!"

Rita twisted the case to off, and sat back down on the lavatory seat. Taking a tube of KY Jelly from the wall-mounted cabinet, she smeared a liberal quantity over the surface of the device, and over her right index finger. Spreading her thighs apart, she eased apart her labia, with the fingers of her left hand, and slipped the lubricated digit inside her sex, moving it back and forth, several times, thoroughly lubricating her love tunnel.

"Mmmm!" she closed her eyes, and rocked back and forth on the seat, thoroughly enjoying this aspect of the activity.

She shook herself, with a small sigh of regret, and stopped frigging herself off. "There's work to be done, Sergeant!" she reminded herself.

She removed her finger and sought out the small, gold ring, attached to the freshly pierced end of her clitoris. "Another sacrifice!" she groaned. Holding the ring firmly between two, crimson-painted fingernails, she carefully clipped the end of the chain to it, and then took a deep breath, before inserting the well-greased device into her pussy, and pushing it in, as far as the length of chain would permit.

"Oh, Jeez!" she gasped, closing her eyes, as the cylinder slid home. "I just hope the chain doesn't break!"

Closing her thighs, she stood up, and carefully moved across to the clothes hook, on the back of the bathroom door. She took the black leather thong from off the hook, and carefully stepped into it, pulling it up over her shapely thighs and tight ass, and positioning it over her mons, before letting out her pent-up breath.

"There, the damned thing can't fall out now!" she muttered, as she eyed her near-naked reflection in the full length wall mirror. The wisp of underwear clung tightly to her hips, plunging down at the front, and barely covering her sex and the narrow strip of associated pubic hair, but clearly outlining her prominent nether lips, as it clung tightly to them.

She turned around to view her rear in the mirror. The pencil-thin strips of clinging leather, curved down from high on her hips, to join and disappear into the valley between her shapely buttocks. She bent forward, her legs astride, and examined the reflection of her crotch, through her legs. "It looks perfectly innocent!" she mused, not realizing what she'd just said. "No-one would ever realize that you were wired, Rita, love!"

She'd decided to dispense with a bra. "Anyway," she thought, running her hands over her breasts, "my boobs are firm and shapely enough to do without, and it suits the role I shall be playing!"

Satisfied, she opened the bathroom door, and padded into the adjoining bedroom. A simple, little black dress, made of stretch Lycra, was draped over the end of the mattress. She gathered it up and slipped it over her head, wriggling it down over her shapely figure, until it was clinging to her hips. She reached behind her and zipped up the zipper, that started at the base of her spine, and ended between her shoulder blades. She tugged at the plunge neckline, until her dark areolae were just about hidden, then adjusted the bootlace-thin shoulder straps, before turning to examine the reflection of her rear. The short skirt barely covered her ass, finishing at just above mid-thigh. She tugged at the hem, self-consciously.

"This is a totally impractical piece of evening wear," she told herself, with a sigh, "but just the sort of outfit that a high-class hooker might wear to a party!"

She sat down on the edge of the bed, and carefully rolled on a pair of sheer black stay-put stockings, with lacy tops, that reached almost to her crotch, before slipping on the matching pair of black pumps, with five-inch stiletto heels. "This outfit would be no damned good, in the pursuit of a felon!" she advised herself, with a grin, getting to her feet and wobbling, precariously, on the unaccustomed footwear. "Jesus, they make me feel ten-feet tall!" she exclaimed. She almost had a nose-bleed from the sudden altitude!

She sat down on the dressing table stool, and spent the next five minutes brushing and back-combing her hair into its usual full-bodied shape, with the help of a can of Max Factor hairspray. She then applied her make-up, using far more mascara, blusher, and eyeshadow, than she would normally have worn. She finished off with a thick layer of crimson lipstick, to accentuate her wide, full mouth, and then added some lip gloss, to give them the 'wet' look.

"There, that should do, you little harlot!" she murmured, with a grin, rising to her feet.

She sashayed into the living room, with an exaggerated sway of her hips. "How do I look?" she asked.

Sergeant Christopher Lorenzo, turned away from the TV set, where he had been engrossed in a Major League Baseball match, and his jaw almost hit the carpet. "Holy cow, Rita," he exclaimed, when he'd recovered from the initial shock, "you look absolutely stunning! If I didn't know it was you, I'd run you in for just looking like that! There ought to be a law against it!"

"Thank you kind sir," Rita replied, with a grin, giving him a slight curtsy.

"I shouldn't try to much of that!" Chris advised, returning her grin. "That pelmet your wearing, in place of a skirt, doesn't leave much room for maneuver, you little tease!"

"I've got to look the part!" she replied, with a pout, walking over, and wrapping her arms about his neck. As she pulled him up against her, she could feel the growing bulge in his pants, so she deliberately rubbed her crotch up against him.

"Hey, cut that out, Sam!" he ordered, gruffly, gripping her arms firmly, and gently pushing her away. "We've got work to do! Are you wearing the wire?" he asked, trying to focus his mind on the mission.

"Uh huh!"

"Better let me see?"

"Oh, you wicked, wicked man!" she exclaimed, fluttering her eyelashes at him, and stepping back a pace. She placed her hands on the outside of her thighs, and slid the short skirt up about her waist, revealing her skimpy, black thong. "How's that?"

Chris swallowed hard. By now, he had a raging hard-on, and it was pretty painful. "Spread 'em!" he ordered.

"Yes, officer!" Rita murmured, spreading her thighs wide apart, with an amused smile playing on her lips. "Would you like to take down anything, officer?"

Chris ignored her teasing, and reached forward, to run his hand over the bulge of her sex. She gave a small, involuntary gasp. "Seems okay! Turn around and bend over!"

Again, she complied, wordlessly, and he slipped his hand between her thighs, searching for any obvious protrusions.

"Hmm, no signs of the device! Are you sure you're wearing it?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Well, if you don't believe me, you could explore further?" she offered, huskily, getting more and more turned on by his intimate examination.

Chris pulled his hand away, as if he'd just been stung. "Ah, no, that won't be necessary, Sergeant Lance!" he replied, blushing furiously.

His face suddenly became deadly serious. "Now, you're sure you know what you have to do, Rita?" he asked. "This is a highly dangerous mission, and if it was up to me, you wouldn't be allowed to take such suicidal risks!"

Her face set in a stubborn frown. "Look, Chris, don't give me any of that male chauvinist crap!" she snapped, going red around the ears, as she smoothed her skirt back down. "A woman can do just as good a job of this, as any man!"

He grinned, the tension suddenly broken. This was the Rita he knew and loved. "I don't think a guy would be able to compete, on the equipment front!" he replied, eyeing her up and down, appreciatively.

"Why you..."

Chris grabbed her wrists, before her fists made contact with his chest, and he pulled her up against him, and lightly kissed her on the lips.

"Pack it in, you dumb cluck!" she gasped, pulling away. "You'll muss up all my makeup!"

"Seriously though, Rita! If there's the slightest sign of danger, then get on the radio, and me and the boys will be swarming all over the joint, before you can count to ten, armed guards or not!"

She smiled, and patted him on the cheek. "Nothing is going to go wrong, darling!" she insisted, trying to look a whole lot more confident than she felt.

Chris looked at his watch. "Com'on, time we were on our way!"

Rita just managed to grab her purse, as he whisked her out of the door.

"No incriminating evidence in there, I hope?" he growled.

"Just my makeup, and a few rubbers! You never know when you might need one?" she replied, with a twinkle in her big, emerald-green eyes.

Chris just snorted.

Chapter 2: The Initial Briefing

As the unmarked car left the apartment building, and headed for the suburbs of Palm Springs, Rita cast her mind back over the events leading up to her current predicament.

-oOo-

It had all started last Monday afternoon. Things had been pretty quiet around the Homicide Department for a couple of weeks or so, and Rita had been getting decidedly bored. She was lounging back in her chair, head back, trying to balance a pencil on her curled upper lip, when she heard a bit of a commotion coming from the adjoining corridor. She looked up to see Captain Lipschitz arguing with two guys in grey suits.

"Shit!" she muttered, swinging her shapely pins off the corner of the desk, much to Chris Lorenzo's disappointment, as he'd been getting a fine view of the tops of her silk stockings. "Top brass!" she hissed to her partner, as she straightened her skirt, and picked up the first case file that came to hand, whilst keeping an eye on the approaching visitors.

"I wonder what they want?" Chris murmured, leisurely removing his own feet from the top of the radiator, and sitting upright. The two detectives were the only ones in the squad room, everyone else being out on a case, earning an honest buck!

"They look like Feds to me, Sam!" Rita muttered, slipping on her shoes. By now, Harry had herded the two Suits into his office, and they'd all sat down, Harry behind his big, battered oak desk.

They continued to talk, animatedly, with much waving of arms, and the occasional glance through the glass partition, in Rita's direction. "Uh, oh," she thought, "this does not look like good news, honey chil'!" She pretended to immerse herself in the report, whilst straining to catch a few words, but without much success.

Suddenly, the connecting door opened, and Captain Lipschitz stuck his head out. "Rita, can you pop into my office for a few minutes, please!" he murmured, with a disarming smile.

"Sure Cap!" she replied, smiling, almost knocking her chair over, in her haste to get up.

She swiftly followed him into the office, as the two Suits both rose to meet her.

"Rita, I'd like you to meet Agents Hancock and Lister, of the Federal Bureau of Investigation!"

Hancock shook her hand. "Glad to meet you, Sergeant Lance!" he said, with a smile that held no real warmth. "We've heard a lot about you!"

Rita released his clammy hand. "Well, you have a distinct advantage over me there, Agent Hancock!" she replied, demurely. "I know absolutely nothing about you!" She didn't particularly care for the tall government agent.

"Agents Hancock and Lister are here in Palm Beach on the trial of an international gang of drug traffickers!" Harry explained.

Rita wrinkled her brow. "What's that got to do with Homicide, Captain?" she enquired, in a puzzled tone.

"Nothing... directly!" interjected Lister. "We're here to try to enlist your help in our investigation!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you Sergeant!" added Hancock, with a superior smirk.

"But why me?" she asked, crossing one shapely leg over the other, and causing her skirt to ride up several inches of silk-stockinged thigh.

Hancock's eyes seemed glued below her waist. He looked up and caught her scornful stare, and blushed, fingering the collar of his shirt. "Because of your outstanding record in both the Homicide Department and the Vice Squad!" he replied, blinking. "And your, ah, obvious physical attributes!" he added, seemingly almost as an afterthought.

"The FBI want you to go in as an undercover operative in a drug bust, Rita!" Harry interjected. "I've already expressed my reservations about one of my officers being subjected to such a risky operation, especially a woman, but the decision is ultimately up to you!"

Rita's notorious mercurial temper flared up. "I hope you aren't casting any doubts upon my professional competence to do the job, Captain Lipschitz?" she replied, icily.

"No, no, of course not, Sergeant!" interjected Lister, in a soothing tone. "We're only too aware of your Medal of Valor awards, and your various other citations!"

"Why haven't you chosen one of your own people for this mission?" Rita asked, somewhat mollified, turning back to the two FBI men.

Hancock looked decidedly embarrassed. "We suspect we might have someone in our organization, who's on Vargas's payroll!" he admitted.

"Vargas?"

"Yes, Ramon Vargas! He is the head of this drug trafficking organization, that we are hoping to take out!"

"Hmm, the name does sound vaguely familiar!" Rita replied, frowning in concentration.

"Vargas is one of the biggest drug peddlers in the Western hemisphere!" Lister explained, pulling a face. "We believe that he and his associates, are about to flood the southern United States with cheap Colombian cocaine, in a massive operation to further push up their user base! We want to stop that happening, at ALL COSTS!"

Rita couldn't help notice the emphasis on the last two words. "So, where do I come in?" she asked, stone-faced.

"We need someone to infiltrate his Palm Springs headquarters," Hancock continued. "We believe he has some valuable information stashed there! The place is a veritable fortress, complete with a small army of armed guards, but he does have a weakness for beautiful women!" He boldly allowed his eyes to run over Rita's figure. "Every Wednesday evening, he sends one of his trusted lieutenants, one Miguel Sanchez, over to the 'House of Dreams' on Crawfish Street, to select a woman for the following Saturday night's, ah... entertainment!"

Rita was only too aware of the 'House of Dreams'. It was a high class bordello, in the Latin quarter of the city. To her knowledge, it had never been raided, in all her time with the Vice Squad. Rumor had it, that the Madame had friends in high places on the City Council, perhaps even someone in the Mayor's office?

"Where do I come in?" she sighed, already knowing the answer in advance.

"We want you to assume the roll of a high-class whore," Hancock added, with a big smirk, "if you think you're up to the role, that is?"

Rita felt a flash of anger. "It won't be the first time I've had to assume the part of a hooker, in the course of my duty, Agent Hancock!" she retorted.

Hancock smirked. "But this time, you may have to go all the way, to allay the suspicions of your host!" he murmured. "Do you think you're really up to that, detective?"

Rita thrust her chin forward, determinedly. "If I have too, in the course of my duty!" she retorted, blushing, in spite of herself.

"Look, you don't have to go through with this, Rita!" Harry added, with a concerned look on his face. "You can always tell these guys to go to hell!"

"No, no.... I'll do it!" she replied, stubbornly, her eyes locked to those of Hancock, who was grinning, broadly. "Now, how about telling me exactly why you're sending me in there, to be ravished, Agent Hancock?"

He grinned. "According to a reliable informant, Vargas has a complete list of all his criminal contacts throughout the U.S., which he keeps in a wall safe in the master bedroom! Many of these people are dealers, or important pushers, who will be taking part in 'Operation Dreamtime'," he added. "Your job, is to get a copy of that document, so that we can nail all the major players in one fell swoop, and thus avoid a potentially disastrous breakdown of law and order in our society!"

Rita grinned. "I'm afraid you've got your wires crossed, Agent Hancock! A safe-cracker, I am not!"

"You will be supplied with the combination!" added Lister, eyeing her shapely legs, as he did so. "The biggest problem, is ensuring you are the girl who is chosen by Sanchez, this coming Wednesday!"

"And how do we do that pray?" she asked, grim-faced.

"We make sure that you, ah, interest Sanchez enough to make him select you!" said Hancock.

"Come on to him, you mean?" she replied, looking slightly bemused.

"Well... yes, but Vargas is well known for his kinky preferences in women, so you must also appeal to that darker side of his nature!"

"But, how...?"

"We thought a little vaginal jewelry might help do the trick?" Hancock added, keeping his face straight. "Perhaps a dog-tag attached to your, um, vagina, in some way, might capture his interest?"

Rita blushed a bright red. "No fucking way, buster!" she snapped, jumping to her feet. "What the hell sort of girl do you think I am?"

"Calm down, Sergeant!" the Captain ordered. "There is a sound, tactical reason for that suggestion!"

"I'm damned if I'm gonna sit here and listen to this pervert getting his rocks off!" Rita snapped, angrily.

"Shut up and sit down, Sergeant!" ordered Lipschitz, in a stern, commanding voice.

Rita plumped back into her seat, a surprised look on her beautiful face. The Cap didn't usually use that sort of tone with her, at least not in front of strangers.