“I’ll get inside Ms. Martinez. Won’t be hard to miss; she’s the--”
“YOU WILL INFILTRATE AS JULIA MARTINEZ. IS THAT CORRECT?”
Should’ve figured they know. They know all. “That’s correct.”
“UNDERSTOOD. AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS DURING THE NEXT HOURS.” You’re about to hang when you hear a cryptic farewell. “GET USED TO THIS TONE, NEWBIE. YOU’LL BE USING IT A LOT.”
The caller hangs, and you snap the phone shut. Epsilon must be loving this.
--
As promised, you get a second call, this time requesting your presence at Heinlein Plaza. You’re asked to destroy the page you received and bring the pen case, the phone and the taser on an otherwise empty purse, which Silva conveniently keeps out of sight in her closet. You’re also ordered to keep the keys near the location, which you comply with – on Silva’s usual hiding spot under a fake pot.
You do carry some cash to pay for the taxi, as you don’t want to keep them waiting and you don’t want to walk your way there. Once you arrive, the phone rings. “AGENT,” the voice tells you. “YOU WILL TAKE A TAXI. ASK IF THEY CAN TAKE YOU TO EDGEFIELD. THE RESPONSE TO EXPECT IS, ‘I CAN TAKE YOU AS FAR AS STARKY’S’. YOU MUST RESPOND, ‘TAKE ME TO JULIA MARTINEZ’.”
“Got it.”
“ACKNOWLEDGED. WE EXPECT NOTHING BUT SUCCESS, AGENT.”
After the call ends, you walk all around looking for taxis. Your first attempt brought no success, as the driver immediately agreed. The second, however, twisted things a bit. “I can take you there, but only as far as the diner.”
“You mean Starky’s?”
“Yeah, there.”
“Can you take me to Julia Martinez?”
He nods, asking you to step back. He checks the back trunk, nods again, then steps in. “For you, ma’am, I will.”
As you step inside, moving away from the plaza outskirts, you notice the driver turns his two-way radio off and – without missing a beat – addresses you. “Julia’s belongings are on the bag behind. We’ll stop at a safehouse between locations; you’ll be able to change there. Also, I’ll need your phone.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see once you change.” As if tripping a switch, the driver fires up the radio and speaks. “Command, this is Cab #229. Taking passenger from Heinlein Plaza to Edgefield.”
“Copy, 229.”
He turns the radio off, relaxing. “Gotta keep appearances, y’know. What type?”
You know what he’s talking about, but you feel he’s way too casual for an agent of an organization sworn to utmost secrecy. You choose to troll him. “I swing both sides.”
“Both sides?”
“Men and women. You’re talking about my type of partner, right?”
He snorts, nodding. “Good one. I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about, though.”
You rest your hand near the taser, wary of his approach. “Keep pressing me on, and I’ll give you a terrible review.”
“Come on! I got your girl behind and I’m taking you there. Can’t I get a little scoop?”
“Spilling the tea got me into trouble.”
He nods and snorts. “Either you’re a newbie or one of the bigwigs.” He glances at you, and instinctively you feel he’s worthy of trust. “Well played. Most newbies reveal things they shouldn’t.”
“This is how you entertain your clients? That’s not ideal small talk.”
“You learn a lot from small talk,” he advises you. “Never forget that.”
--
You’re surprised as what can constitute a “safehouse” for the Organization. The taxi leaves you in a bed & breakfast, giving you some instructions. “Tell the one in charge you need to use the bathroom. They’ll probably try to talk; make sure you tell them Akbar says ‘hi’.”
“Sure,” you tell him, figuring that must be the keyword. He opens the trunk and you notice a hefty duffel bag inside; you heave it and step inside, the chime alerting the employee at the counter – a hearty middle-aged blonde woman that reminds you of your mother. You make reverent steps as you approach her. “Hello. Can I use your bathroom, please?”
“Sure, sure! Where do you come from?”
“Tyneside,” you tell her. “Making a little visit to some acquaintances from Edgefield, though.”
“Lovely. Well, the bathroom’s over there,” she says as she points at a corridor. “Feel free, but try not to dirty it up, alright sweetie?”
“I won’t.” You start to move, stopping after a couple steps. “By the way, Akbar says ‘hi’.”
As you turn your back on her, you feel a strong arm holding you. It’s the employee – or rather, the owner – pulling you aside. “Those bathrooms are dirty. How about you use mine?”
“Thanks. I’ll try to leave it as it was.”
The owner opens a room beside the office, out of sight from the counter. The bathroom – as it is a bathroom – has a shower and a few drawers full of boxes of brand-new personal hygiene items like soap, toothbrushes and razors, alongside clean towels and new underwear. One of them has wheels, leading to a hidden trapdoor below.
You set the duffel bag atop one of the towels to examine it. As you expect, you recognize the delectable tan and long black hair of your former Spanish teacher, complete with some clothes. You also notice her purse, complete with ID and some money, as well as one each of the black and brown pens.
You pull her skin, admiring her beauty. Julia Martinez is surprisingly young, making her popular with the students. She’s the dream of many a student, always wearing tight pants and sleeveless blouses showing her delightful curves. She’s also very friendly, and many students stay after classes for a chat, making her very approachable.
You never expected you’d be borrowing her curves in your life. Had you found about the pens through other means, you might have slipped inside her, probably to prank Jimmy. But now that you know there are more C-Sets out there, it feels odd to have those thoughts – perhaps because they’re innocent compared to what others could do with them.
You undress, releasing yourself from the drab business suit you’ve been wearing since you left home. You lift her skin to admire her, snickering. “It’s been a while, Missus Martinez. Didn’t expect to see you again like this.” You hug her, letting your hair brush her cheeks. “Pido que me perdone por usar su piel,” you reply in her native Spanish. “Pero cuidare bien de usted.”
You slide your legs inside hers, giving it a good stretch. You make her toes dance, admiring the perfect tone. You enjoy how her hips swallow yours; you already have killer legs, but her Caribbean curves easily dwarf yours. She might not be as slim as you, but you couldn’t care – the hourglass figure is still there, especially as her breasts squish yours. And once you press her face on yours...
You look at the mirror. Gone is Adrienne’s Mexican and Brazilian features. They are replaced by a wild mane, a fiery look, a candid smile and more curves than an old mountain road. You tease your borrowed hair, giggling. “Ay padre, but look at this beauty!”
You take a sniff of her panties – wine red and lacy – and absorb her scent. (You even lick them, a little perversion you allow yourself.) You slide inside them, and when they touch your groin, you rub them in. You admire her matching bra squeezing your breasts, hiding your nipples from the thin fabric of the sleeveless shirt she wears, form-fitting as the jeans she’s wearing.
You check the bag and her purse for a scrunchie, trying to replicate one of her usual styles, but you found none. You do find one at the drawer, leaving it aside to ask if you can borrow it. You adjust her open-toe sandals, taking a deep breath to assimilate the idea that, for the time being, you’ll be Julia Martinez.
You take the opportunity to check the other contents of the bag. You move the pen case, putting the pens inside, to your new purse, alongside the burner phone and the taser gun. There are two phones inside, but it’s the second one that intrigues you – styled like those from the eighties, on a bag with some accessories, with a note inside.
[For when you need to call agents.]
You store your clothes inside the duffel bag and step away, noticing as the owner approaches you. “Everything to your liking?”
“I was wondering – can I borrow one of your scrunchies? I promised I’d leave everything as I saw it, but--”
“Keep it,” she tells you. “Everything inside is for your use, my dear.”
“Thanks!” You make a top ponytail with it, then grasp her hands. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome here anytime, alright?” She leads you to the counter, then gives you one of her business cards and makes a little mark while whispering to your ear. “Ask for Sophie and remember to tell me how Akbar is doing, alright?”
“I’ll keep you informed of what he’s doing,” you respond. She sends you away with a kiss and a tender look. The taxi awaits you, and as you approach it, you grab the burner you’ve been using.
“Finished?” the driver tells you.
“Yes. Made a lovely new friend in Sophie.”
He grins, grabbing your burner and the duffel bag. “I’ll leave you where you left your car, ma’am.”
“Thank you very much. I think I changed my mind about my review – travel has been excellent thus far.”
“Then I’ll aim to please.” He opens the door for you, letting you step inside as he stores the bag. Inside, you check the cash at hand and the meter, only to notice it’s off. You grab the brown pen and separate a few bills, waiting until he’s on his way before commenting.
“You like me so much that you’re giving me a free trip?”
“Courtesy of the house.”
“I’ll leave a few extra bills out of courtesy.” You move to the middle, pointing the brown pen at yourself. “Just remind me of them, alright?”
“I will.”
You set your purse aside and click the brown pen. When you wake up, you’ll become Julia Martinez for real...
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