The Interpreter Ch. 03

The KGB security detail was openly going about their business the same as the FBI. They were not being furtive and neither were the FBI, on the contrary they were openly advertising their presence to the delegates. The two agencies had a grudging accord. It served both their interests that the convention run smoothly and to that end there was an informal détente between them.

"I'm going to keep an eye on the Professor. You stay down here in the lobby," Vince said to Bob.

"You're going to keep an eye on her ass," Bob Munson chuckled.

Bob didn't mind staying behind. Babysitting the Soviet delegates was easy work and he got paid the same whether he was chasing down bad guys or sitting in a hotel lobby sipping coffee and checking out the asses of the passing ladies. He took a seat in the lobby and got to work comparing the asses of the women in the lobby to those on his 'female cartoon characters I'd like to fuck' list.

Vince got into the same elevator as Valerie Sokolova and Mikhail Blavatsky with some of the other delegates. Valerie was struggling to carry the Professor's oversize briefcase as well as her own handbag and for a fleeting second he considered offering to help her but he didn't want to draw undue attention to himself in the elevator car so he stood against the back wall of the car and checked out her ass and legs.

The photograph in the file did not do her justice. Valerie was quite striking with a pretty face framed by her jet back hair, a curvaceous figure, small but perky breasts, long legs and a squeezable bottom all wrapped up in a nice tight skirt-suit and shimmery nylons. He could smell her perfume from the back of the car. The Professor was talking to her quite animatedly in Russian.

Vince got out of the elevator after them and watched Valerie accompany the Professor to his room and then leave after a little while and proceed to her own room. He wandered down the corridor and checked the room numbers against the list he had been given and satisfied that it was correct, he went back down to the lobby.

That evening Valerie emerged from her room wearing a strapless, floor-length, emerald-green, charmeuse evening gown, matching four-inch high-heeled pumps, accessorised with a faux ruby choker, bracelet, drop earrings and a slim black clutch. Her makeup was daring and sexy: smoky eyes, red lips, rouged cheekbones; her hair had a sheen that glistened under the overhead lighting in the ballroom.

She had dutifully picked up the Professor from his room. He had made an effort and wore a tuxedo and had combed over his balding pate and had smothered himself in cologne. Mikhail almost looked decent but his mood was still foul and he did not compliment Valerie on her appearance but openly leered at her, especially when the side split opened and showed off her nyloned limbs.

The ballroom had been set up with tall tables and stools around the perimeter and a wet bar at one end; the middle of the room was left open so the delegates could mingle. White-coated waiters and short-skirted cocktail waitresses carried trays of champagne and canapés.

Mikhail Blavatsky paraded Valerie around the room, showing her off as if she was his possession. They mingled with their American counterparts; Valerie interpreting Mikhail's Russian into English, embellishing it to make him sound more refined and funny than he actually was when he told jokes.

When she could finally get Mikhail by himself she whispered in his ear.

"Professor, I have a mission to undertake so I must leave you alone. Mishka Malkovsky is over there with the other academics. She speaks perfect English and can interpret for you," Valerie pointed to a woman in a cocktail dress who was also an interpreter.

"I don't need Mishka. I have you!" Mikhail snipped.

"Professor, you know that my work for you is a ruse and that I have important duties to perform," Valerie said impatiently.

Mikhail grabbed Valerie's wrist.

"Petra told all about the so called duties that she would be required to perform. You are nothing more than a whore," Mikhail hissed.

"I am an officer in KGB Directorate Five and you are preventing me from carrying out my duties," Valerie hissed back at him and tried to pry her wrist from his grip.

"Is there a problem here Comrades?" Yuri Godekin had sidled up to them, looking dashingly handsome in a black suit and tie.

Mikhail begrudgingly released Valerie's wrist and she rubbed the sting out of it.

"I warn you Professor that if you keep Miz Sokolova from performing her duties there will be consequences," Yuri said levelly.

"Miz Sokolova, your mark is over there in the blue uniform," Yuri pointed with his chin across the room.

Valerie took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sashayed away across the room.

"What consequences?" Mikhail spat at Yuri.

"You might have a tragic accident. Remember what happened to Petra Donevski," Yuri gave Mikhail a sinister smile and Mikhail blanched.

He walked away to join the other academics; his eyes now locked on the long pantyhose-clad legs of Mishka Malkovsky. She was no Valerie Sokolova but she was still an attractive woman with great legs.

"Well hello; my night just got better by a thousand percent," Colonel Steven Braxton said to Valerie when she stopped at his table to put down her drink.

"I just needed to get away from the crowd so that I can have a cigarette," Valerie gave him her brightest smile.

"And you speak perfect English too. My night has got better indeed. I'm Colonel Steven Braxton United States Air Force," he grinned at her.

'As if his uniform and name bar wasn't a giveaway,' Valerie thought but returned his smile and introduced herself as Professor Mikhail Blavatsky's aide and interpreter.

"Well he sure is lucky but I'm afraid you aren't, you can't smoke in here," Steve gave Valerie his most engaging smile, knowing it made him look even handsomer.

Valerie knew she couldn't smoke in the ballroom but she put on her disappointed face and took a half-step so that the hip-high split in her gown opened and showed off all of her legs. She smiled inwardly when Steve Braxton tried not to look but couldn't stop himself.

"Follow me and I'll take you to where you can smoke," Steve said and walked towards one of the ante rooms.

He knocked gently to see if it was occupied and then slipped inside and Valerie followed. He led her to the far side of the room and opened the window.

"Blow your smoke out of the window Valerie," Steven indicated the window where the curtains were billowing softly in the breeze.

"Want one," Valerie took cigarettes and a lighter from her clutch, put a cigarette in her mouth and shook the pack at him.

"I don't usually but why not. I've only just met you and already you have me indulging in bad habits," Steven grinned.

He took the gold lighter from Valerie and lit her cigarette, leaning in so he could smell her perfume and look down her décolletage. He lit his own cigarette and handed the lighter back to Valerie and her fingers lingered on his hand and her smoky shaded emerald eyes held his.

They chatted while they smoked, Steve Braxton turning his charm up to full brilliance, enchanted by this beautiful sexy woman with the Russian lilt to her seductive voice. They tossed their cigarette butts out the window after crushing them out on the sill and Steve Braxton was frantically trying think of a reason to keep this delightful creature engaged when Valerie leaned into him and pressed a keycard into his hand.

"Room 525. I implore you please come up to see me. I need to talk to you about things that I cannot possibly talk to you about here," Valerie leaned in and softly kissed his cheek, ensuring her pert breasts pressed into his chest.

She turned and walked away knowing that her sheath-dress was giving Steve a great view of her buttocks and legs and slim waist.

Valerie went back into ballroom. Yuri spotted her immediately; he had watched her engage with Colonel Steven Braxton and follow him into the ante room. He was almost proud of her and although he would never admit it, a little jealous of Braxton.

"He has the key. The rest is up to him," Valerie said leaning on a corner of the bar.

Yuri stood beside her with his back to the bar; both of them appeared to be waiting for their drinks.

"I'll go up to my room and prepare the camera; make sure you remove the picture covering the lens. As soon as the Colonel enters your room I'll start the camera. Keep the action on the bed so it is in view of the camera," Yuri whispered.

"I know what to do," Valerie's hissed.

She wasn't sure if it was nerves or Yuri's constant niggling at her that made her angry or was it that she was about to lure a stranger up into her bedroom and fuck him on camera so that he could be blackmailed. She had no sympathy for the married cheating American Colonel who thought he had beguiled the pretty young naïve Russian girl but she did feel a little self-loathing for what she was about to do to him.

Yuri turned to her and gave her a stern expression.

"Remember your training," he whispered and walked away.

Valerie heard the soft knock on her hotel room door and then the door clicked open and Colonel Steven Braxton stepped inside and softly closed the door. Valerie was standing in the middle of the room with a worried look on her face. He made a show of putting the key down on an occasional table inside the door and then he strode over to her.

"What is it you need to tell me?" Steve took Valerie's hand in his.

"I think I can trust you because you were so kind to me downstairs so I will come straight out with it. I know that after I tell you what I have to tell you that you will find me repugnant but I also think that you are good man who will listen to what I have to ask you," Valerie began.

The wheels were already spinning in Steve Braxton's head. The girl was in some kind of trouble and she needed his help and she trusted him. He had used his position of power and authority before to seduce women or bend them to his needs; it was one his favourite ruses. Pretend to care about a woman's problems, get her into bed and then abandon her.

This hot Russian chick with the cute perky tits, bubble-butt and long legs would be quite the conquest and once he'd finished with her, who would give a fuck about some low-ranking Rooskie bag-carrier. He could promise her the world, fuck her brains out and then walk away knowing that she couldn't say a thing and that is exactly what he intended to do.

He put on his caring, serious face and looked into her eyes with empathy and took her hands in his.

"I am not what I appear. I am a transwoman pretending to be a real woman. I stole my sister's identity papers when she died in an accident and I assumed her identity. We were close, only one year between us, and she knew that I wanted to be woman and she helped me feminise myself," Valerie let mascara-streaked tears run down her cheeks.

"I know that she would forgive me and be happy that her death meant that I could come out from the shadows and be the woman I always wanted to be but I'm always sacred and terrified that the authorities will find out about me," she took the handkerchief offered by Steve Braxton and dabbed her cheeks.

"Do you know what they do to my kind in Russia? If they don't kill me they will send me to an internment camp, probably for the rest of my life. They will find the doctor who did my surgery and he will suffer the same fate," Valerie dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

"I wish to seek asylum," Valerie sighed and fell into Steve Braxton's arms, shaking with fear.

She and Yuri Godekin had rehearsed this many times. The story was implausible but would probably be believed by an American who had no idea how thoroughly the delegation would have been vetted and scrutinised. He wouldn't ask why Valerie approached an Air Force Colonel instead of someone from the US State Department to ask for asylum. His predatory nature would likely make him brush aside any rational thoughts and questions as he became enraptured with Valerie's looks and sexuality and how he could use her plight to get into her pants.

They were right.

The wheels were spinning in Colonel Steven Braxton's brain as to how he was going to turn this to his advantage. He had no power or legitimacy to offer political asylum. This loopy Russian underling had come to the wrong guy if she was looking for compassion and protection. Braxton knew that he should inform the State Department immediately. The American delegation had been thoroughly briefed what to do in event they were approached by a Soviet operative or a civilian requesting asylum.

"There, there, Valerie. You're safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you," Steve pulled her into his embrace and took the opportunity to feel up her tits before he put his hands on her ass and held her close.

"Oh, thank you Steve, I don't know how I will every repay you," Valerie whispered into his ear breathlessly, feeling his cock stir against her hip through his pants.

"You know I will need to verify your story before I talk to my people," Steve said, his lips pressed to her glossy black hair.

"I'll do anything Steve. I understand. Maybe it's best if we just get to the crux of the matter and I show you that I am real," Valerie whispered and felt Steve's cock twitch against her leg.

She stepped back from him and pretended that she was going to remove her dress but Steve pulled her back into his embrace.

"No need to rush Valerie. I like to unwrap my presents slowly so that I can fully appreciate what's inside the wrapping," Steve used one his cheesy lines on her.

Valerie knew that she had Steve Braxton right there. She cleared her mind and let her training take over. All she had to do was let this man use her for his pleasure and he would seal his own fate, which as far as Valerie was concerned he deserved.

Steven kissed her and Valerie responded, opening her mouth to receive his tongue and extending her own. His hands were all over her, caressing her breasts, squeezing her buttocks and stroking her thighs. He knew when to be gentle and when to be forceful; he gently stroked her inner thighs and then squeezed her bottom firmly. He kissed her neck and caressed her breasts though her dress and her nipples engorged as did her cock which was held in place by her pantyhose and tight black nylon panties. She was deliberately not taped.

Steven lowered Valerie onto the bed and stared at her magnificent young body lying on the bedspread with her arms spread out like a beautiful angel. He tore off his clothes and joined her on the bed, climbing on top of her, pressing his cock to her nylon-shrouded thighs, his mouth on hers, his hands squeezing her small firm breasts.

"I should get out of this dress," Valerie gasped.

She wanted out of the dress for a number of reasons: She didn't want it ruined; it needed to be obvious to the camera that she was a transsexual woman and the dress might cover her genitals, but more ashamedly she actually wanted to feel Steve's body on hers when he fucked her.

Steve leapt off the bed and rolled Valerie over. He was now in a rush to unwrap his present and he unzipped the bodice of her dress and then rolled her on her back and pulled the dress off her. The dress had inbuilt cups to support Valerie's breasts and when Steve tossed her dress aside Valerie lay on the bed dressed only in panties, pantyhose and high heels. Steve could barely contain himself.

He leapt back on the bed and began kissing Valerie who found his kisses to be very sensual and arousing. Now that his flurry of impatience to undress her was over he took his time; teasing her with his mouth and fingers. He kissed her softly but sensuously, his tongue wriggled sensuously inside her mouth. His fingers caressed her breasts, circling her areolas and then softly pinching her engorged nipples. Steve put his mouth on her breasts and she cradled his head while he suckled her teats; teasing them with his tongue and then nipping them with his teeth.

Valerie lay back moaning like a slattern. Her superiors wanted her to be a whore so she might as well be one. This thought flashed across her mind but was forgotten when Steve began to stoke her thighs while his mouth worked her breasts.

His fingers circled the delicate nylon pantyhose, caressing her flesh through the gossamer fabric, starting just above her knees and slowly working his way up each leg, stopping where her legs met her torso. He traced the crease where her hip joined her leg and found her pudenda.

To Steve it felt like a smooth perfect V. The tight nylon panties over the sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose looked the same as it would on any woman but he could feel that there was no labia under the sheer fabric, just soft pubic flesh.

Valerie froze when Steve pushed his hand inside the waistband of her pantyhose and forced his finger between her legs.

"What do we have here?" Steve's smile was a leer and Valerie lost any compassion she felt for the man.

He found her semi-erect penis wrapped in her empty scrotum and let it spring free. Valerie did the equivalent of a kegel and her testes descended from her inguinal canals and filled her scrotum. Steve arranged Valerie's penis along the flat of lower belly and snugged the pantyhose and panties back in place.

"Well it seems you are telling the truth," Steve smirked and began to stroke Valerie's cock through the layers of silky fabric and Valerie groaned.

She reached for him and found Steve's engorged manhood leaking precum which she used to lubricate the shaft as she stroked him. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her as they slowly stroked each other's penises. Valerie felt rings of delight as Steve circled his fingers around her hard phallus and jerked his hand up and down. She reciprocated and wrapped her fingers around Steve's hard spongy mass, her fingernails tracing the thick veins, her fingertips fluttering on his fraenulum, causing him to gasp.

Then she gripped his cock and began to stroke it.

Steve could only endure the pleasure for so long before he was close to extremis and he pushed Valerie's hand away and lay on top of her, kissing her, pressing his cock against hers through her panties and nylons but hardly moving.

"I don't want to cum yet," he gasped.

They lay like that, kissing and caressing, hardly moving until Steve's feelings of ejaculatory inevitability dissipated and then Valerie disentangled herself and made her way down Steve's body, stopping to lick then to nip his nipples, causing him to gasp, her tongue slid across his flat belly where she poked it in his belly button and licked up his salty sweat and finally down to his thatch of pubic hair.

His erection had subsided a little and his penis was in a semi-erect state. Valerie engulfed it and glided her lips up and down the shaft while her tongue went to work on his glans, flicking the fraenulum and lapping at the corona. She felt Steve shudder and his cock became rampant again. Her crotch was pressed into Steve's face and he kissed her hard cock through her pantyhose and then began to lick it.

Valerie knew that Yuri would want pictures of Colonel Braxton committing what his wife and superiors would consider depraved acts. The feel of his mouth on her genitals through the layers of her almost transparent nylon panties and sheer pantyhose was exquisite and she wriggled her pubis against his mouth encouraging him while she slavered at his hard cock.

She felt Steve pull aside her panties and tear out the gusset of her pantyhose with his teeth. He guided her erect penis to his mouth and sucked it.

Steve seldom fellated the 'ladyboys' he picked up in Asian brothels when he was overseas or the drag queens and transvestites he met in gay bars in America but there was something compelling about this spectacularly beautiful Russian woman. Even though she had the genitals of a man, there was nothing male about her and the way she was working her lips on the shaft of his penis, her tongue on his glans and her fingers tickling his scrotum inspired his to reciprocate.