PATRICIA M, the perils of a sultry stewardess by Christopher Zisi | THE XTREM COLLECTION 06

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An International Crime Novel

by Christopher Zisi

Chapter 1: Patricia Patricia Marceau! The statuesque blonde is one of those rare air hostesses that can make even the most tired and put-upon traveler forget their destinations. The AIR FRANCE stewardess was ecstatic to be back to work. The management at AIR FRANCE had no choice but to bring her back.

The Flight Attendant Union was a powerful force. All the stewardesses knew that AIR FRANCE’s corporate bigwigs would never have been suspended for the same alleged infractions. Most of the other stewardesses were happy to have Patricia back. The 30year-old beauty was an inspiration to them.

The five foot seven blonde loved being a stewardess. She got to see the world, meet handsome men, and explore who she was as a human being on this mortal coil known as life.

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The last two weeks were frustrating. After her reinstatement, Patricia was assigned several standby shifts. Waiting in the AIR FRANCE lounge at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle Airport was boring. Still, Patricia learned not to complain. One more strike and she was out… or so management told her. During her six-month suspension, she had plenty of time to think.

Only after agreeing to anger management training and taking the Jim Mitchell Leadership and Communication course, was Patricia taken back on probationary status. This was all bullshit. Yet, she needed to keep her job.

The sultry blonde began to wonder if she would ever be called. Then, her AIR FRANCE iPhone rang.

“Yes!...” Okay, it was Flight 1622 to Munich and a quick turnaround. Still, it was a start.

She would be able to look hot for businessmen and pilots and show off her fabulous legs wearing her shiny red heels, again. Today Munich, and perhaps Tokyo or Rio de Janeiro next week.

The statuesque beauty, sporting the non-regulation three-inch shiny red heels, alluringly strode to her gate. Her slightly tight uniform, jacket, blouse, scarf, skirt, and her bold pumps, carried her nicely. She passed four KOREAN AIR stewardesses on the way. The anger management and Jim Mitchell course seemed to have worked, she did not yell “Fucking whores!” to them. Back in late 2017, her brawl with the KOREAN AIR stewardesses was what had gotten her suspended the first time.

The 2017 brawl was more of a beat-down. As usual, Patricia was looking good. The makeup was vibrant on her face, the perfume was aimed to drive men mad, and her legs in those red pumps told every man: “Ravage me and make passionate love to me!”

While approaching her gate, on that fateful day, Patricia caught the eye of two KOREAN AIR pilots. The two handsome Asians immediately forgot about the two KOREAN AIR stewardesses that had been vying for their attention. Both pilots undressed Patricia with their eyes and raped her with their minds.

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The two KOREAN AIR stewardesses, Kim and Christina, were ravishing beauties themselves.

When their two pilots began to focus on Patricia, Kim and Christina sneered at the AIR FRANCE beauty. Patricia, knowing she defeated her rivals in the seduction game, gave them an equally hostile stare and in perfect Korean, sniggered: “Fucking amateurs!”

Kim and Christina bolted at Patricia. Skilled in Shotokan Karate and Tango, the AIR FRANCE hostess used a few moves to defeat her attackers. Kim ended up headfirst in a trash receptacle. Her beautiful face came to rest at the bottom of the receptacle in a pile of discarded Szechuan Pork and fried rice. Christina ended up nude and hogtied with her own undergarments opposite Gate 25. Patricia told her management the two Koreans started the brawl. The KOREAN AIR lawyers told AIR FRANCE another story. AIR FRANCE believed the Korean lawyers.

Still, Patricia knew she did what she had to do. That suspension was only three months.

The second suspension occurred in 2018. Patricia loved being a stewardess. She was tired of reading articles in Air Stage (a flight attendant magazine) on proper ways to tie scarfs.

The French beauty submitted an article to the magazine. An article she believed all her stewardess colleagues would want to read… and learn from.

Air Stage’s editor called AIR FRANCE when he read what Patricia had submitted. AIR FRANCE called in Patricia after a Tokyo to Paris flight and laid down a six-month suspension.

Corporate was alarmed that one of their hostesses would pen an article entitled “18 ways to Kill Man Using Objects Found in Your Make-Up Case.” At first Patricia believed that AIR FRANCE was miffed that she only came up with 18.

When she read the letter they presented her, Corporate used words like “terrorist,” “Unstable,” “social disorder.” Her response to corporate caused them to expand the three-month suspension to six months. Patricia was sincere, and in no way joking, when she told them: “If those Malaysia Air babes knew the stuff in my article, the plane wouldn’t have gone MIA!” (MIA is an abbreviation for “missing in action”, Ed).

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Patricia, with her new anger management training, pushed those memories out of her mind… for now. Heads were turning as she strode to Gate 20 to meet Flight 1622. Asian men, European men, and American women all gave her a look of lust. Munich was a shithole. Okay, maybe not a shithole, but Patricia wanted five-star hotels, erotic showers with handsome pilots, and perhaps a champagne breakfast with those same aviators.

Instead, Munich was good for the standard airport HILTON, annoying families with toddlers, and breakfast buffets featuring Fruit Loops and stale croissants.

“Get over here, whore!” Catherine Binoche, the dumpy and smelly stewardess beckoned Patricia. The two hated each other. “I’m the number one, you are the number seven.”

Patricia was not happy about this. As the number seven, she would be stationed at the back of the airplane with the poverty-stricken university students. These pukes always wore sandals exposing their toe-nail fungus. “I see AIR FRANCE chose not to get rid of the riff-raff… you fucking whore.”

Patricia gave Catherine a smile.

The 55-year-old Catherine was retaining water and was big-boned… Patricia decided not to mention this. Focusing on Chapter four of Jim Mitchell’s Everyone is Your Friend, she just gave the smelly witch an insincere smile.

Catherine was angry for two reasons. One: Every man would focus their gazes on Patricia.

Two: Every woman would focus their gazes on Patricia.

As the number one, Catherine would be serving First Class passengers. Catherine was sick of being humiliated by the whore who should have been fired. Many of the First-Class passengers would wander to the rear of the aircraft, during the flight, and flirt with Patricia. This always happened, when the two flew together.

“Hello Catherine!” Patricia’s smile infuriated Catherine. “It is so nice to work with you again. I had so much fun last time. Where was that flight to? Ah yes! Cairo!”

Catherine’s face turned red.

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An especially important Saudi sheikh was in First- Class for the Cairo Flight. The man was trying to buy AIR FRANCE. He called AIR FRANCE corporate in the middle of the flight: he ordered them to move Patricia to First-Class and the “smelly goat” to the back of the plane. Corporate radioed the pilot and the change was made.

“If you want, we can switch-up again.”

Catherine started to run at Patricia, but two other stewardesses grabbed her.

“I’m going to rip your tits off!” Catherine’s face was deep red. Patricia blew her a kiss and continued onto the aircraft to meet the pilots.

Chapter 2: Hans Dietrich Hans Dietrich was in love. He had been in love before… but never like this. The goddess in the AIR FRANCE uniform was the most beautiful woman who ever walked the planet Earth.

The way the vixen wore her red belt on her black dress… and the loosely tied scarf… made Hans sweat. His underwear was now wet. He had to have her. The Munich based computer programmer was sure the sultry stewardess would love him, if only she got to know him.

The 32-year-old German was not handsome. Homely was a better description. He stood five-foot five and weighed 260 pounds. He wore a white dress shirt, no tie, and black slacks. Belts were not an option for this obese man… suspenders did the trick. His 220 IQ was working overtime. In his mind, Hans told himself that the AIR FRANCE vixen would not have been so decked out if she had not known he was on the flight. God’s providence must have brought them together. The fat man did not notice that perspiration had soaked the underarms of his shirt. The deodorant stopped working an hour ago and the homely German was also a smelly German. Hans was sure the vixen with the red belt did not care about odors and excess weight… true love would prevail. She would instantly fall in love with him and the two would marry as soon as they reached Munich.

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The flight to Munich was now sold out. Hans was seated in 44C, an aisle seat. Row 44 was the second to last row on the plane. Flying Economy was not Hans’ choice, but his talents weren’t yet appreciated. Major tech firms would not hire him. Being self-taught meant he had no university degrees. With no degrees, he remained unemployed and living in his mother’s attic.

After First-Class, families with strollers, wheelchairs, AIR FRANCE Platinum Elite, Business Class, Economy Plus, and Zones One and Two, Hans was called to board.

He was nervous… the true test was coming up. If the vixen with the red belt… a red leather belt… was in love with him, she would be waiting for him at his seat. All the other hostesses had cloth belts… his woman had a leather one. This could only mean she wanted him… and now!

Down the gangplank he went and finally entered the pane. If the vixen was indeed waiting for him in the back of the aircraft, he would give her the pre-marital sex she so desired in the airplane latrine, after the pilot turned off the FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS sign.

Fate would take care of his initial moments with the beautiful hostess. Hans had another problem. Mother. Mother believed all young woman were hussies and not good enough for her son. Hans’ father fell for one of these hussies many years ago and left. Surely, Mother would see this hostess’ charm and saintly aura. That is what Hans told himself. They would live together in Mother’s attic so Mother would have plenty of time to get to know her.

“Welcome aboard!” Hans was jolted out of his fantasy. A brutish and big-boned stewardess with a red face greeted him. Her nametag identified her as “Catherine Binoche.” She was scary and Hans hoped he would not have to see her again.

Hans carried a briefcase as his carry-on. Inside the briefcase was a grenade, an UZI (Israeli machinegun), and a pack of breath mints (spearmint). He hoped his new girlfriend would not be frightened when he sprang into action. Hans guessed she would support him fully, after all, she was in love with him.

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Hans could not see the back of the airplane yet. He passed rows six and seven. Then, he passed row 23 and saw her.

The most beautiful woman in the world was waiting for him. This confirmed Hans fantasy… she did want him. As soon as this jet landed in Pyongyang, he would fly her back to Munich with him to meet Mother.

Chapter 4: Rudger Scharff Rudger Scharff was not happy. Sure, it was time to go home… even though Munich was the dullest city in Europe. Still, the blonde and exotic looking air hostess he spotted before the call to board was nowhere in sight. Sitting in First-Class, seat 2B, the burly ex-rugby player was hoping to ask her out. Whoever that beauty was, she must be stationed in the back of the aircraft, Rudger thought. What made matters worse was the big-boned, red-faced lady who seemed to be the First-Class stewardess.

Rudger developed a fool proof plan. After the flight was underway and the FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS light dimmed, he would wait for someone to use the First-Class bathroom. He would, then, get up and walk to the rear bathroom. That way, he could meet that blonde hostess. Unmarried, Rudger was eager to meet a nice woman. At the age of 32, the Eton and Oxford graduate had risen through INTERPOL’s ranks rapidly. Scharff, the grandson of Hanns Scharff, was currently the youngest INTERPOL station chief. Munich was not the most exciting assignment, but it was a springboard… hopefully.

Rudger was startled out of his fantasy he was just forming about the blonde hostess…

“Can I get you a drink before we take-off, Mr. Scharff?” Catherine Binoche, still red-faced, began her pre-flight service.

Rudger looked at the First-Class stewardess and almost cried. He usually did not drink alcohol, but he needed to loosen up and fast.

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Ah…” Rudger almost asked Catherine if the blonde in the back could take his order.

Correctly, he decided not to ask this… Catherine looked like she could beat him up. “Yes… I’ll have a Jack and Coke.” He needed one after being interrupted by Catherine.

Catherine gave him a seductive smile: “Yes, Mr. Scharff… anything else?”

Gross! Thought Rudger… “Ah… no, that’ll be fine.”

As Catherine retreated to mix the cocktail, Rudger watched the Economy Class passengers pass him on the way to the rear of the aircraft… What a waste! The Economy-Class passengers were mostly depraved twenty-somethings with open-toed sandals and scraggly hair. To think that sultry blonde would be serving them and not him!... Rudger knew the AIR FRANCE crews stayed at the airport HILTON in Munich. This presented a perfect opportunity.

There was a quaint watering-hole next door called Crown’s Club. Rudger would ask the blonde if she would meet him there for a drink later tonight. Fool proof. She would realize it was next door to her hotel and immediately accept…

Rudger began getting incredibly sad. Who was he kidding? The INTERPOL stud possessed a fear of talking to beautiful women. He would always start stuttering and freeze in midsentence. The blonde hostess was worth leaving a comfort zone for but, worth it or not, Rudger had serious doubt if he could pull this off.

“Ahhhh!” Rudger let out a short scream. He was startled by the brutish hostess.

“Your rum and Coke, Mr. Scharff!” Catherine was trying to give the stud her most seductive look. This was not working. Rudger thought about telling her that he had actually ordered a Jack and Coke, but that would prolong the time he would have to look into her face.

“Yeah… thank you.” Rudger took the cocktail and quickly looked away to some imaginary lint on his sleeve. Catherine went to the third row to take their drink orders.

As soon as Catherine began taking orders from the third row, a little fat man caught Rudger’s attention. He sped on the airplane.

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He was wearing a soaked shirt and carrying a black briefcase. He looked like a pervert or a hijacker. Rudger giggled: the sweaty man almost knocked Catherine down when he motored past the third row. He seemed to be on a mission and Rudger was happy he was not a First-Class passenger.

Chapter 5: Solange Dubonet Solange Dubonet was thrilled: she was going to work a flight with her idol, Patricia Marceau!

The perky AIR FRANCE hostess just got off probation and aspired to be exactly like Patricia.

Patricia was always nice to her. She readily gave her great advice.

What a contrast Patricia was to Catherine… thought Solange.

Catherine, “the beast” as the 23-year-old beauty referred to her, was demeaning and always looking for an opportunity to write her up. Solange loved being friendly to all passengers. If the beast saw her smile and talk to a man… she would write her up.

Solange knew Catherine was jealous… the only people who lusted for Catherine were American women.

AIR FRANCE Flight 1622 to Munich was taxiing. Solange was the #8… therefore would man the rear of the airplane with Patricia. This would make the flight bearable… even fun. The passengers in the back three rows all smelled bad… sweat, curry… and Russian dressing… nauseating! Solange had so much to talk with Patricia about… so much to learn. Men… make-up… uniforms… substituting leather accessories for regulation ones… and ways to kill aggressors.

Patricia loved talking to Solange. Solange reminded Patricia of herself ten years ago.

The two beauties began their talkfest as they buckled into two flight seats behind the rear latrine.

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Patricia waxed eloquent: “Use dental floss! Soak it in kerosene and it becomes the perfect fuse. The elements in MAYBELLINE eyeshadow, mixed with just a little bit of ammonia-nitrate can cause quite a spark. With the right combination, and just a little bit of ESTEE LAUDER base… well, the explosion can blow off a man’s hand.”

Solange was awestruck: “That wasn’t in your article, was it?”

Patricia was beaming: “No! When I was on suspension, I rewrote the article. I now have 25 ways to kill a human using my make-up kit.”

“Is Air Stage going to print it?” Solange sounded hopeful.

“No way, Jose!” Patricia was adamant. “Last time I sent those stooges one of my articles, they sent it to Corporate… Mercenary Today is going to publish it.”

“Oh cool!” Solange had been reading Mercenary Today since she was 14 years old. “I love that magazine. I’ve ordered from their catalog so many times… I even have this tactical catsuit, it is so easy to accessorize with.”

“Oh, the Galls one? I so want to order that one,” Patricia wasn’t kidding, “You actually ordered that one? The gray or black?”

“Oh please… black! Do I look like a whore!?” Solange was indignant in this answer and both ladies laughed. “Besides, if you want a tactical belt, the colors for those just never work with gray.” Solange was correct and Patricia was nodding.

Then, the horror began. The plane took-off and rapidly climbed. During the ascent, Solange noticed Patricia fondling her make-up case. In a perfect segue, she changed the topic of discussion to smart strategies of make-up application for stewardesses. Neither saw Hans Dietrich approach. For a fat man, Hans was quick. The insane usually are. Hans was upset that a whore was dominating Patricia’s time. He was eager to grab Patricia and pull her into the latrine and love her. If it were not for this whore, he would’ve had that done by now. The two ladies showed no sign of ending their discussion.

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Hans grabbed his briefcase from under the seat in front of him. He popped it open, pulled out his UZI and leaped out of 44C. He, then, took two strides to the rear of the airplane, reached for Solange’s seatbelt fastener, clicked it open, grabbed the 23-year-old beauty by her scarf, and threw her down the aisle. Solange was petrified. She landed in the aisle between 38C and 38D. An asthma attack prevented her from breathing.

“I love you!” The would-be hijacker unbuckled Patricia and scooped her into his midsection. “Love me! Mother will approve!”

Patricia was now Hans’ hostage. Her only concern was for Solange. The sultry stewardess saw Solange gasping for breath. She also saw Solange’s medic-alert bracelet and assumed Solange an asthmatic.

Every university student in rows 42 through 45 was filming with their smart phones.

“Solange!... Let go of me!”

Hans was not letting go: “Forget about that whore… she’s a vessel of Satan!… Mother will tell you about girls like that!” Hans was desperate for Patricia to move on from her colleague.

“Let me go you, beast!... Solange… breathe, love! Breathe!” Patricia was trying to strive forward, but Hans was too strong. “She needs me, let me go!”

Hans held Patricia around the neck.

Still holding her make-up bag, she shouted to the nearby passengers: “Someone find her purse!… Get her inhaler! She needs her inhaler!” Solange was turning blue.

“I love you! You have to meet mother!” Hans needed Patricia to focus on him, not the whore in the aisle.

The university aged passengers kept filming.

“Solange!” Patricia was not going to stop trying to save her friend.

From the front of the airplane, Rudger Scharff shot out of 2B and began a sprint to the rear of the aircraft.

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“Mommy!” Hans could only think of one thing to do. Solange had to die so Patricia would stop focusing on her.

The sweaty fat man, still clutching Patricia, moved forward toward the suffocating Solange. Standing a meter from the blue faced and dying Solange, he pointed his UZI at Solange’s midsection. Patricia broke loose and dove on top of her friend.

Draped over Solange, she screamed: “You’re not going to hurt my friend!” Her scream resonated through the entire aircraft.

“Get off her, she must die!” Hans’ left hand grabbed Patricia by her scarf and threw her on top of the passenger sitting in 38C, a feminist studies major at Munich University. Hans knelt so he could hold the UZI five centimeters from Solange’s blue face. “Die, whore! Die!” Hans began depressing the UZI’s trigger.

“Die, fucking bastard! Die!!!” Patricia had pulled her mascara pencil out of her make-up bag. As Hans knelt, she shoved the pen up Hans’ left nostril, and into his brain. Hans died before he could depress the trigger. The fat man fell forward on Solange.

Rudger Scharff pulled the fat man off Solange.

Patricia was quick. She slid under Solange, held her upright and in a loving tone exhorted: “Breathe my love… you can do it!” She, then, urged the stranger, Rudger: “Please, her purse is in the last overhead compartment, bring it to me!”

Rudger was an obedient sort. In less than three seconds he delivered Solange’s purse to Patricia. Patricia furiously dug inside and found the inhaler. She put the bronchodilator in Solange’s mouth and squirted twice.

Solange started breathing again; her face returned to normal color.

“That’s right, love, breathe!” Tears streamed down the faces of both beautiful hostesses.

Solange began crying uncontrollably. Patricia kept hugging her younger colleague: “There, there… it’s okay now… I have you, it’s all right… that’s fine… let it out!” Both hostesses sat in the aisle. They let it out and cried in each other’s arms for several minutes.

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All the university students kept filming. All would eventually receive large checks for the footage from media outlets around the world.

Rudger ripped a blanket off the passenger in 37C and draped it on top of Solange.

Sniffling still, Patricia looked into his eyes and sobbed: “Thank you.”

Rudger opened his mouth and tried to say: “You’re welcome,” but nothing came out.

No one noticed the aircraft had turned around and landed at Charles de Gaulle.

A tactical team charged onto the plane followed by EMTs (Emergency Medical Technician,

Ed).

Rudger identified himself to the tactical team. Two commando looking guys in black rolled Hans over and handcuffed him. EMTs surrounded Solange and Patricia: “Please ma’am, I need to put her on a stretcher.” A handsome young EMT was now talking to Patricia.

“I’m not letting go, she’s my friend.” Patricia held onto Solange more for her own benefit than Solange’s. She was still shaking with fear. The EMT understood.

“Okay ma’am, how about if you help us lift her onto the stretcher behind me? You can still hold her.” Patricia agreed and got onto the stretcher with Solange.

As the two stewardesses were wheeled down the aisle, every passenger applauded.

The aircraft had not made it to a gate yet.

Stairs had been rolled over to the entrance door in the middle of the plane.

Two husky EMTs carried the stretcher down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs another EMT approached the stretcher and spoke to Patricia: “Ma’am, please, if we could put you in that ambulance over there, we’re going to put your friend in that.” He pointed to a medivac (helicopter).

“Her name is Solange Dubonet!” Patricia was not going to let her friend go.

The EMT from the airplane spoke up: “That’s okay Reggie, we can put them both in the medivac.” Reggie understood.

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Chapter 6: Saint-Louis Hospital de Paris [AP-HP] Solange and Patricia sat in a curtained off area of the emergency room of Saint-Louis Hospital de Paris. Neither of them remembered their helicopter ride.

A nebulizer did wonders, and Solange was breathing fine. The two air hostesses embraced each other. Both women were still shaking. A pretty nurse in green scrubs slid through the curtain: “How are the two heroes doing?”

Helena Leclerc had been watching the news coverage on the television in the ER waiting room (ER, Emergency Room, Ed.). It was terrifying. Her two patients were true heroes.

Solange and Patricia forced smiles realizing Helena was trying to be nice. Sensing the duo did not want to talk about the recent horror, Helena moved on: “These are low dose tranquilizers… they will help your nerves…” Helena expected to have to do more of a selling job.

The stewardesses grabbed the pills and swallowed them before Helena could give them a cup of water.

“Right.” Helena was glad they took the tranquilizers. The fright could trigger another asthma attack if Solange weren’t careful. “You folks have some visitors.”

Guy and Marie Dubonet were hurried to Saint-Louis Hospital de Paris by police escort. The scared couple burst through the curtains and embraced their daughter. Patricia let go.

Mr. and Mrs. Dubonet were sobbing. Guy Dubonet spoke first: “It’s okay, you’re fine now, we’ll bring you home.”

Marie looked over to Patricia. She recognized the hostess from the news footage. She embraced her: “Thank you… thank you… you saved our daughter… she’s all we have.”

Patricia was crying again.

Helena was also teary eyed: “Patricia, can I see you for a second?” Helena motioned for Patricia to follow her to the other side of the curtain.

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The nurse saw she was not ready to leave her friend yet: “It’s okay, her parents will be with her, just for a moment.” Patricia was confused. What did anyone have to see her about?

Helena was gentle and loving. She softly held Patricia’s right hand: “Just for a moment, love… someone wants to see you.” Now, Patricia was really confused.

Helena led Patricia to the other side of the curtain where Rudger Scharff was waiting. She, then, went back to Solange and her parents.

“Ah… yes… I’m… well… my name… ah…” Rudger was struggling. Sweat started beading on his forehead.

“You’re the hunk in 2B!” Patricia’s smile was radiant. “I know who you are… I so wanted to serve you today… but I was number seven.”

Chapter 7: Rudger and Patricia Patricia sensed Rudger’s nervousness. She thought it was cute: “You’re going to ask me out for dinner!” Patricia figured she would give the handsome hunk a prod.

Rudger’s stammering was increasing.

Helena slipped back to their side of the curtain. The lovely nurse handed Rudger two of the same pills she gave the beautiful duo a few minutes earlier. Rudger shook his head no.

Patricia grabbed the two pills from Helena’s hand and approached him.

Now standing 15 centimeters in front of Rudger, Patricia went to work: “Be a big boy and open up!”

Patricia raised her hand to Rudger’s mouth and stuck two pills in it. Helena gave Patricia a smile, then, handed Rudger a cup of water. The obedient hunk washed the pills with the water.

“Now, where are you taking me for dinner?”

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Rudger stopped shaking and smiled: “I know a place… my friend Yvan will give us a corner table.” Rudger could not believe what he just said. He was about to ask Helena for the whole bottle of pills she just gave him.

“Sweet!” Patricia was game: “Oh… just one minute, wait here!”

Patricia snuck back to the other side of the curtain. Guy Dubonet gave her a warm smile: “Don’t let him take advantage of you!”

“Don’t worry sir, you should give that warning to him.” Patricia gave that same smile back to Guy. The AIR FRANCE hero removed her red leather belt and walked over to Solange. She reached to her friend’s waist and undid her cloth belt. Solange was wide-eyed.

“Here, my love!” Patricia wrapped the leather belt around Solange. “I have more of these.” Solange sprung forward and hugged Patricia.

“Thank you!” Solange did not know exactly what she was thanking Patricia for, it could have been for dozens of things.

“I’ll call you in the morning. Go home and listen to your mom and dad, they’ll take good care of you!” Patricia slipped back to the other side of the curtain: “Let’s go!”

The pills were mild. Rudger began shaking and stammering again.

The hunk INTERPOL agent was not ready for what happened next. While he was walking out of the emergency room with Patricia, she took his left hand in her right and pushed up against his side.

“Am I going to get my mascara pencil back?” The question was a sincere one. Part of being a good stewardess was the proper application of make-up.

Rudger surprised himself by getting the next sentence out: “It’s still up the fat man’s nose… do you want it back?”

Patricia made a face of mild disgust: “I got that at the airport in Seoul, it was expensive.

Tell them to pull it out and wipe it off.”

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Rudger gave her a confused look.

Patricia laughed: “Well, on second thought… maybe not.”

Patricia and Rudger laughed hysterically.

“Nine o’clock already!” Patricia could not believe it was so late. Rudger looked exhausted.

The blonde realized he was genuinely concerned about her. The two departed the emergency room through two sets of sliding glass doors. A black AUDI drove up. Rudger opened the door of the back seat, guided Patricia in, sped around to the other side and got in next to her: “YVAN’s!”

An anonymous driver responded: “Yes, sir!”

Patricia figured she would have to take the initiative: “So, other than the hunk in 2B… who are you?”

“Rudger Scharff, INTERPOL Chief, Munich.” Rudger hoped this would impress Patricia.

“INTERPOL? You mean us going out to dinner is in official capacity?” Patricia looked disappointed.

“No, going out to dinner is a date! I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Rudger knew he was still under the effect of the pills Helena gave him. He made a mental note not to have any alcohol at YVAN’s.

Patricia blushed, she slid against Rudger and put her head on his right shoulder. She thought it was cute that Rudger’s whole body tensed as she did this. The two sat in silence the rest of the ride. 12 minutes later the AUDI pulled in front of YVAN’s and the anonymous driver opened the door on Patricia’s side. Rudger slid out after her.

The square-jawed driver looked at Rudger: “Take your time Chief, I’m at your service all night.”

“Thank you, Marcel,” responded Rudger; he tensed up again when Patricia grabbed his right hand.

The two walked into YVAN’s. Patricia nestled against the agent.

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Yvan Cournoyer, a short bald man of 68 years, owner (and Maître) of YVAN’s met the couple at the front door. He recognized Patricia right away… the AIR FRANCE uniform was a big clue. Yvan embraced Patricia with tears in his eyes:” Vive la France!” Patricia was stunned. Rudger looked at her with a sad smile: “You’re a hero.” The INTERPOL chief knew that being a hero in the war on terrorism could be dangerous.

Yvan led the couple into a back candle-lit room of his restaurant. The small banquet room was reserved for them. Patricia was impressed… so was Rudger.

“Please!” Yvan pulled out a chair for the sultry stewardess. She was still awestruck.

Rudger pulled out his own chair.

“Now my friends, Jocelyn will bring you menus but, please, choose the veal!” Yvan kissed the forefinger and thumb of his right hand and made an exaggerated kissing sound.

“What can I bring you two to drink?” Yvan looked at Patricia.

“Can I have a Sloe Gin Fizz?”

“Of course, Madam!” Yvan assumed she needed a drink.

“Rudger?”

“Oh, I’ll just have a Coke.” Rudger was already feeling tipsy.

“No! Yvan, can you bring him a double vodka with a shot of lime juice?”

Yvan nodded excitedly.

“No… eh… I shouldn’t… eh…” Rudger was stammering again.

“Oh, yes, you should! We both need to loosen up… besides, we have a driver.”

Yvan backed away leaving the couple alone. Patricia gave Rudger a big smile: “You know, Solange would have died if you hadn’t come along.”

Rudger blushed: “Oh no, I don’t think so. You were the hero. You saved her life.”

“I was so scared, I don’t even remember most of it.” Patricia was tearing up again.

Jocelyn arrived with their drinks. He put the Sloe Gin Fizz in front of Patricia who grabbed it and downed it in its entirety before he could put Rudger’s double vodka on the table.

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Rudger gave Patricia a surprised look.

“One more, Jocelyn, and for him, too!”

“No!… eh… I…” Rudger’s stammering was betraying him.

Jocelyn was game and backed away toward the bar.

“Drink, please! I assume we need to talk!”

Patricia was quite correct.

“I know you think I’m beautiful… from you that is high praise and I’m all for romance… especially with you… but you have some bad news for me, I can see it in your face.”

Rudger downed his cocktail: “Yes… I would never let anyone hurt you, Patricia.”

Patricia reached across the table and put her right hand around Rudger’s left hand which still held his glass.

“Spit it out Rudger, my sweet, and then we can get to the romance!” Patricia was beginning to shake again.

What happened next did not help.

Jocelyn brought two more drinks over.

Rudger downed his in less than three seconds.

“Oh boy, this is gonna be bad!” Patricia was scared and desperately wanted Rudger to hold her.

Rudger did not want to tell Patricia what he needed to tell her. Instead, he wanted to go over to her side of the table and hold her tight: “The man who tried to kill you and Solange… well, his name is, or was, Hans Dietrich.”

Patricia nodded and downed her second Sloe Gin Fizz: “Hans Dietrich?”

“Patricia, Hans is, or was, a dangerous man: over the past six hours, I have had my men arrest 16 of his cohorts here in Paris. All awfully bad men.”

Patricia desperately wanted another Sloe Gin Fizz and for Rudger to hold her: “16? So, you got them all?”

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Rudger did not want to keep going: “No Patricia, there are a lot more throughout the world! It is a terrorist cell. A bad one and part of their signature is bloody revenge. They have undoubtedly seen the video of your heroics on the newscasts. The CIA is telling us that your name, ‘Patricia Marceau’ is mentioned in a lot of the chatter their spy satellites are picking up.”

“Chatter?... Spy satellites?” Patricia was numb.

“Yeah, their spy satellites focus on dangerous terrorists. Their cell phones, their girlfriends’ cell phones, their social media posts etc. The CIA is blaming global warming, climate change and North Korea’s desire to acquire more weapons of mass destruction.

We can ignore them; they get off on global warming and WMDs.*” Patricia turned white and nauseous.

Rudger bolted out of his chair, came around to her side of the table, seized a cloth napkin from her lap, dipped it in a glass of ice water, and applied it to her forehead.

“Rudger…” Patricia could say no more.

“Patricia… I will never let anyone hurt you… never!” Rudger was sincere.

Patricia threw both her arms around Rudger.

Rudger felt like Jell-O and started shaking.

“Get used to it, Rudger! I’m going to be holding onto you a lot, from here on out.”

Patricia knew she had finally found her man.

Rudger prayed silently: “God, please put words in my mouth… words that I can say without looking like a fool!”

A full minute passed and God delivered: “Patricia, I have this handled. Now, let us get on to the ‘romance’ part of our evening!”

*Nuclear, radiological, chemical, or biological weapons are Weapons of Mass Destruction, Ed.

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Chapter 8: Helga Dietrich Toni Kruger wished the ugly fat woman would just kill her. The concierge clerk at BAYERISCHER HOF HOTEL Munich was not going to get loose from her straps.

She tried struggling but her wrists and ankles were beginning to bleed. A ball gag strapped to her head prevented any begging. Clad in some shiny leather boots, black hose, a tight black skirt, and a white shiny blouse, the attractive blonde was now a prisoner.

Over the span of a few hours, the ugly fat woman was content with slapping Toni and hurling insults: “Whore!” “Hussy!” “Cunt!” “Slut!” Then, she brought out the electric prod and continued the torture. Toni’s mascara was streaking down her cheeks. The fat lady had already used shears to cut off most of her long blonde hair.

Helga Dietrich was a master torturer… it was a hobby. The ugly woman had always been ugly. Her only devotion in life was to her son, Hans. When Hans traveled, Helga did her best to rid Munich of its “whore” population. Women like the slut tied to the chair in front of her only served to turn good men into deviates. The way they wriggled their ass when they walked. The smell of bordello perfume. The red lipstick. Because of women like this, Helga’s only son was addicted to porn.

She found Toni outside The BAYERISCHER HOF HOTEL. The whore had just purchased a salad for lunch. She was carrying the salad in a white paper bag. Every man she passed on the street stopped to stare at the black-booted whore. Helga knew this bitch’s only mission in life was to fornicate and ruin the purity of good men and boys.

Helga was well practiced in abduction techniques. In less than ten seconds, she fired a tranquilizer dart into the whore’s right buttock, grabbed her before she hit the ground, shoved her into the passenger’s seat of the van, buckled her in, and drove off. The skank’s salad remained on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Toni would not wake until she was bound in a chair in Helga’s bedroom.

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Then, the telephone call came. Helga put down her pliers and answered her flip phone. The ugly woman’s face contorted; she walked over to her television and put it on. News coverage was from Paris… videos were being shown.

She saw it: a fucking slut hussy of a high-flying hooker murdered her son. Fuming, Helga made a call from the same flip phone: “I don’t care what it takes, bring me that AIR FRANCE hussy!”

Toni was wide eyed. Helga was red-faced and screaming. The mother of the former Hans Dietrich put down the pliers and picked up a paring knife: “Let us try something a bit more painful!”

She stepped over to Toni, applied the paring knife to her face, and went to work on it for the next ten minutes.

Toni Kruger’s corpse would be found 48 hours later in a sewage ditch, naked, with her breasts cut off and her face completely cut away.

Chapter 9: Guy, Marie, and Solange The morning after. No one was speaking of the monster who tried to kill Solange. Guy and Marie were remarkably close to Solange. Their daughter always made them so proud.

Neither parent slept last night. The thought that anyone would try to harm Solange was terrifying.

“Frosted Flakes, with a sliced banana in it!” Marie made Solange breakfast for the first time since before her daughter went off to stewardess school. “An English Muffin with apricot preserves and white cocoa, your favorites!”

“Awwww, mom, I love you!” Solange spent the night at her parents’ house instead of her apartment near Charles de Gaulle.

Guy had always been close to his daughter, and her number one fan.

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“Hey sweetie, remember this one?” Guy had found some old photo albums.

“Awwww, dad! Of course, not! What was I… two?”

“You were three. We told you to blow out the candles and you dumped your fruit punch all over that beautiful cake mommy made you.” The Dubonets laughed uncontrollably.

“Oh… my… Gawd!… I absolutely don’t remember that.” Solange was enjoying being pampered.

“Here, remember this one?” Guy pointed to a picture on the next page.

“Yes! That is hysterical. Look at my face! I look so guilty!” Solange was laughing again.

Marie tried to act disapproving: “You were guilty. You were only four and you lit four firecrackers and blew up the Macron’s Bassett Hound.”

“He chewed up my Barbie!” Solange was indignant.

“That’s right, Marie. That mangy thing had it coming.”

“Oh Guy! You always take her side.” Marie could not suppress a smile.

Solange was into this and eagerly flipped the page. In unison the Dubonet family laughed at the next picture.

“Hey, that’s little Jean Ratelle! Why is he looking so sad?” Marie could not remember.

Solange remembered: “That’s in the fifth grade, he built the Eiffel Tower out of toothpicks.

Before the teacher could see it, I made a concoction of ammonia, Clorox, some Skittles, and rubbing alcohol. You should have seen his face a minute earlier when my concoction blew up his Eiffel Tower!”

Guy and Solange laughed hysterically. Marie hid her face, she did not want Guy and Solange to see she was laughing, too.

Still flipping through the album, Solange stopped three pages later: “Oh… my… Gawd! … I forget about him!”

Guy glanced at the photo: “That’s Phillippe what’s his name…”

“Phillippe Bouchard.” Solange remembered.

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“Where are his ears?” Guy’s question was sincere.

“Hey, wasn’t he your very first boyfriend?” Marie was remembering.

Solange didn’t answer, but Guy did: “Yes! He cheated on you with that…”

“Gymnast!” Solange finished Guy’s thought.

Guy asked again: “He doesn’t have ears, where did they go?”

“C4 explosive… somehow it ended up in his oatmeal… no one ever figured out how...”

Solange was smiling.

“Solange?” Marie had a disapproving tone.

“Now, I remember the gymnast! Joan Richard! didn’t she die in a bicycle explosion?” Guy was curious.

Solange looked guilty: “I’m sure I wouldn’t know. Hey mom, can I have the other half of that English muffin, too?”

Marie was smiling again: “Of course, dear, and I’ll refill your Tony the Tiger mug with some more cocoa.” Marie was a doting mother.

“Awwww... I love you mom… I love you dad!” Solange really adored her parents.

In unison, Guy and Marie responded with beaming smiles: “We love you, Solange!”

Chapter 10: Hung Over Waking up was a mistake. Rudger tried to remember how many vodka cocktails he had.

Fifteen, maybe? He looked at the clock beside his bedside in his Paris luxury apartment: 1:04pm. “What!!!!” Rudger panicked. He launched out of bed, naked. “No! I have too much to do!” The naked INTERPOL chief needed to call Patricia, she needed his protection.

Rudger never slept beyond 6:00am.

His master bedroom in his South Pigalle (SoPi) apartment overlooked Le Carmen, across the street. (South Pigalle is in the18th district of Paris, Ed).

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Rudger opened the door to the walk-in closet and picked out a blue necktie and a white dress shirt.

The garments were thrown on the bed with some clean underwear.

“Shower!” The hulking international cop did not realize he was talking to himself. Needing a shower, he burst into the bathroom: “OH MY GOD!!!!!!” Rudger screamed.

“Oh, thanks a lot. I think I look pretty good!”

Patricia’s presence in his soaking tub shocked Rudger. He was in panic mode: “Ah… eh… oh… I…” “Now… Now, it’s too early for cocktails, shall I call that sweet nurse for some more of those pills?” Nude and lathery in the tub, Patricia was not doing much to calm Rudger down.

The INTERPOL agent backed out of the bathroom.

He was now trying to talk to Patricia on the other side of the door: “Eh… I mean… I…” Rudger was falling in love with Patricia. The thought that he might have taken advantage of her during the night sickened him… he threw up.

“Oh sweety! I’m coming, I’ll help you.” Patricia slowly rose out of the tub, “Do you have a robe I can borrow?”

“No! I… eh… stay in!” Rudger was lucky, the vomit fell into a wastepaper basket. He took it into the kitchen, sealed it in a plastic garbage bag, and put it by the front door.

“Can you take me to Le Carmen tonight?” The beauty yelled from inside the tub.

“No!” Rudger was not doing well. “I mean yes!” Rudger was ashamed. Did he take advantage of that beautiful woman? He would have rather died than to soil her: “We… ahhh… did… No?… Oh no?…”

Not really in the form of a question, still, Patricia found Rudger easy to connect with: “Oh! No! Of course, not! You were a perfect gentleman.” Rudger let out an enormous sigh of relief.

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“Marcel helped us both back up here. We were pretty gone. I insisted he put you in the bed. Your sofa was wonderfully comfortable.”

“Thank God!” Rudger was flustered.

“Why? Aren’t you attracted to me?” Patricia feigned hurt feelings.

“Ah… yes… I mean… I mean yes… but…” It was useless. He would have been more successful using interpretive puppet theater as a means of communication.

“I’m just messing with you. You were so sweet. I just woke up an hour before you did. I needed a bath. Now, I need a robe and some clothes!” Patricia had slept in her AIR FRANCE uniform and did not want to put it back on. She decided to tease him a little more: “Hey, do you have a bra and panties I could borrow?”

“Um… Um…” Rudger was dying.

“Kidding! But how about a robe?”

Rudger did have one. He started to walk over to his walk-in closet when his iPhone alerted him that his man, Marcel, just texted. The phone was beside his bed and he read the text: I am coming up to your apartment now, I have a change of clothes for Patricia. I had a policewoman pick them out.

Now, Rudger was eager to turn the tables: “Yes, I have a robe! And I do have a bra and panties for you!”

“What?” Patricia was shocked. Rudger opened the bathroom door a crack and slid his black robe in. “You don’t have a bra and panties, you’re kidding!”

Rudger heard a knock on his front door. Marcel handed him two shopping bags: “Don’t rummage through it, her undies are in it too!”

Rudger handed Marcel the garbage bag with the wastepaper basket inside: “Get rid of this!” Marcel left after giving Rudger a wink.

“Who was that?” Patricia was standing five feet behind Rudger, wrapped in his robe.

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“A policewoman picked out some clothes for you at your apartment.” Rudger handed Patricia the two shopping bags.

“Oh! Great!” She looked in the bags: “Oh my, I don’t know who that policewoman is, but you should see the panties… do you like thongs?” Patricia was a little embarrassed. She remembered she needed to do laundry… the naughty intimates were the only clean ones: “Can I change in your bedroom?”

Talking was not going to happen for Rudger. He just nodded. Patricia talked through the bedroom door as she dressed: “My manager at Charles de Gaulle called… that’s what woke me at noon! I’m a hero. Hah! She had no idea how scared I was. She told me I would be on paid leave for a week and to show up next Tuesday. A psychologist must clear me.

Apparently, that’s standard procedure. If I pass, she can get me on the Hong Kong flight next Thursday!”

Rudger was thrilled. He sensed the glee in Patricia’s voice. Patricia sashayed out of the bedroom and Rudger’s jaw dropped. The Air vixen was wearing a tight red halter top, a black leather motorcycle jacket, black stretch vinyl pants (not too tight), and black leather boots.

“You like?” Patricia spun around for Rudger. He liked.

“This feels so weird wearing a thong with this get-up.” Rudger blushed.

“Is this place yours?” Patricia was impressed with the SoPi apartment “Yes!” Rudger was relieved… he could talk: “I keep an apartment in Paris since I come here a few days every fortnight.”

“So, we can see each other a lot?” Patricia turned red. “Oh, I’m sorry, you probably have a girl. I didn’t mean to…”

“No!” Rudger had his groove back. “No! We can see each other! I have just you!” Rudger knew this did not sound suave, but Patricia was beaming.

“Good!” Patricia was in love.

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“I can do the 1622 a lot, and you can show me your Munich apartment…” Patricia hoped she was not seeming too forward.

“You’d like it. It’s in the artsy section of Munich, Maxvorstadt.” Rudger was in love.

“Are you an artist?” Patricia could not see the former rugby player as an artist.

“I do mosaics.” Rudger was eager to show Patricia his work.

“Oh! Like the little tiles that make pictures. Really?” Patricia hoped she did not sound stupid.

Beaming again, Rudger explained: “Yes, my work is displayed in a few places around Munich. There’s a children’s park where I captured a beautiful sunrise… you would like that one.” Rudger stiffened as Patricia, in her motorcycle get-up, stepped closer to him.

She could not wait anymore: “Shut up, you, fool and kiss me!”

Chapter 11: Helga’s Attic The attic in Helga’s four-story house near downtown Munich used to be Hans’ apartment.

Now that Hans had been murdered by a high-flying hooker, Helga (Hans’ mother) was converting it.

The bed and furniture were donated to her favorite charity: The Fund for Child Victims of Western Imperialism… Hooks and metal hoops were drilled into the wooden support beams. Metal loops were drilled into the floorboards. 2,140 European, Japanese, and American porn magazines (formerly belonging to Hans) were strewn on the floor. The sticky magazines were a symbol for who the next prisoner was going to be. The fat mother of the fat failed hijacker constructed shelving units on the wall and stocked them with blowtorches, pliers, saws, power drills, bottles of hydrochloric acid, icepicks, syringes, steak knives, electric prods, sandpaper, a cheese grater, and a whip. But she felt she needed more…

She made a note to visit the hardware and S&M store.

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Pictures of the beautiful Patricia Marceau, most from newspapers and magazines, were tacked on to every wall… The whore needed to die… “Hussy!” Helga could not control her outbursts. She put several empty jars on another shelf, stuck tape on each jar and labelled them with a Sharpie: “Eyes,” Teeth,” “Ears,” “Boobs,” “Fingernails,” “Toenails,” and “appendix.” The ugly hag made another note to buy five more jars…

In the three weeks since the cunt murdered her son, Helga developed another perfect plan.

Patricia Marceau would die horribly… She would die over the span of three days.

Chapter 12: Rio “Oh! My! Gawd! It’s the Jesus statue!” Solange was ecstatic. “This is sooooo nice… Hey, why aren’t you wearing a bikini? It’s Rio, babe!” Solange gave Patricia a disapproving look.

“What’s wrong with this?” Patricia thought her one-piece, hot pink swimsuit was both sexy and appropriately modest.

Solange and Patricia worked the Paris to Rio flight.

AIR FRANCE was generous of late in giving their hero choice assignments. So far, she had only requested the AIR FRANCE Flight 1622 to Munich… with a longer layover. Rudger and her were becoming quite inseparable. With her twice a week flights to Munich and Rudger’s continued stints in Paris, the two had opportunity to talk about mosaics, each other, and the future.

Solange took longer to come back. Her interview with the psychologist did not go as swimmingly as Patricia’s. Nevertheless, when Solange was cleared, Patricia thought it would be nice if they flew somewhere agreeable together. AIR FRANCE agreed.

“So… is the INTERPOL hunk going to give you a ring soon?” Solange was forward. “Here!”

She handed the bottle of HAWAIIAN TROPIC suntan lotion to Patricia and laid on her back.

“Do my front!”

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“Oh gross! I’m not doing your boobs!” Patricia had limits.

Solange’s bikini taste had few: “Come on! Every hunk on this beach will be over here if you feel me up!”

Solange gave her friend a disappointed look: “Besides, Rudger isn’t here… you can fool around.”

“Well, not with you! I’m sure we can call Catherine… She’d love to rub your boobs!”

Patricia felt bad talking about Catherine. The mean hostess had been so nice to her since her return.

“Don’t even say that!” Solange apparently did have limits.

“Hey! Get that guy to rub some of that stuff on your boobs! What was his name?” Patricia remembered their night at the roof top bar at the MARRIOTT. “I’m sure I don’t know.” Solange’s playful demeanor disintegrated.

“Yeah, when I left you to go to bed, you two were still pawing each other.” Patricia did not take any of Solange’s nonverbal cues.

“You must be mistaken.” Solange grew stiff.

“Escobar! The stud from Cartagena… that’s it… Escobar!” Patricia figured Solange and Escobar would have a lot of pre-marital sex during the night. “Solange, you need to be careful. He had cartel written all over his face.”

“You must be mistaken; I don’t know any Escobar.” Solange was now rubbing HAWAIIAN TROPIC on the tops of her boobs.

“Say, didn’t Escobar have a baseball cap on… what was it… MANCHESTER UNITED?” Patricia was genuinely curious.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about… now, if you’re not going to rub my boobs, shut up and let me!”

“Okay, fine… I was simply curious. I’m sure it was just a coincidence.” Patricia finally caught on to the fact Solange did not want to talk about Escobar.

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Still, earlier that morning, when Patricia went on her sunrise jog, she came across a police scene just outside THE MARRIOTT. Apparently, a charred body had been hurled off one of the top floors. Her and Solange had 20th floor suites. Out of good decorum, Patricia kept jogging and did not see much.

While jogging around the scene, she did see a body smoldering covered in a tarp. What caught Patricia’s attention was the MANCHESTER UNITED baseball cap laying on the sidewalk, just two meters from the charred dead man.

“Okay, partner! I’ll pull my straps down and you can rub some of that HAWAIIAN TROPIC on my shoulders.” Patricia figured she needed to get Solange in a good mood again.

“Yippee!” Solange shot up, pulled Patricia’s straps off her shoulders and went to work. The men at the beach all converged on the sexy stewardess duo.

Chapter 13: Lunch Rudger arrived in Brussels just before lunch. The Boss summoned him. This was not rare…

The Boss liked Rudger… immensely.

Rudger was 30 years his junior, and The Boss always treated. The two met at Peck 47, a trendy overpriced Brussels café. Every time Rudger ate there, he would swing by MCDONALD’s for a couple of cheeseburgers on the way back to the office.

“Have some of this CHABLIS… great on the palate!” The Boss loved expensive wines.

“No sir, I’m not good with alcohol!” Rudger did not want to make a fool of himself in Belgium.

“I understand, you are smart. Don’t let me corrupt you!”

Perfect segue… thought the Boss.

“Say… speaking about being corrupted, how is Miss Marceau?”

Rudger blushed and a sheepish smile grew on his face.

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The Boss saved him from stammering: “Say no more! Hey, she seems like a terrific gal!

You aren’t planning to let her get a way, I hope!”

Rudger did stammer: “Ah… well… you see… ah… no!”

There… he said it.

“Smart man!” The Boss obviously approved.

“Hey, have a cup of the cold cucumber soup… it’s divine!”

Rudger had his limits: “No!” The Boss laughed.

“I bet if Miss Marceau made you cold cucumber soup, you would eat it.”

“Well sir, she’s prettier than you.”

Rudger was starting to relax. Since he began dating the AIR FRANCE hostess, his stammering had greatly improved.

The Boss giggled and sipped his CHABLIS: “You know Rudger, you have done an amazing job. Since the raids you orchestrated in Paris, 155 of Han’s cohorts have been arrested all around western Europe. We live in a safer world now. Those guys were all psychotic killers.”

“Sir, I know, but…” Rudger was not as impressed. “Unless we get the top guy, the head of the snake, all those psychopaths will be replaced. Europe has enough of them to choose from.”

“No idea who this guy is?” The Boss looked grim.

“No. We believe he’s in Munich. We know Hans Dietrich was one of his top guys.” Rudger was frustrated.

The Boss gave Rudger a fatherly look: “You’re worried about Miss Marceau. You think the snakehead will want to make an example of her.”

Rudger nodded: “She’s not the type of gal who will take round the clock protection.”

The Boss laughed: “Really!? It sounds like… from what I’ve heard… she’s had it!”

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Rudger blushed: “Ah… yeah… I have spent a lot of time with her. Still, I can’t be with her all the time.”

“Be careful, Rudger! Right now, Miss Marceau is bait. They’ll definitely come after her.”

The Boss was legitimately scared for Patricia… and Rudger. “He’s being careful and he’s planning. He will strike though… maybe in a week… maybe in a year.”

“I know sir.” Rudger knew one thing: he would never let anyone harm Patricia.

“Rudger, this guy, whoever he is… is in or around Munich. How about if I transferred you to Paris on an indefinite assignment? That way you could keep an eye on Patricia and keep her out of harm’s way.”

“I agree sir. Patricia said no. She is determined not to let this terrorist cell inconvenience her.”

“My kind of woman… that is if I was 30 years younger! Take care of her Rudger!” The Boss knew Rudger would.

“Now… should we head over to MCDONALD’s and get some real food?”

Both men laughed.

*** As Rudger and The Boss were sneaking off to a Brussels MCDONALD’s, Helga Dietrich was murdering another German beauty.

Katja Hesse was a cocktail waitress at Crown’s Club Lounge, the one in downtown Munich.

The tall thin brunette could afford her own apartment with just the tips she made.

Unfortunately for Katja, Helga saw her one morning wearing a black leather mini-skirt and white hooker boots. When Katja strutted by Helga’s house, the ugly fat woman charged out the front door. She tackled the beauty, slammed her noggin on the pavement four times and dragged the poor waitress into the house. Katja screamed, but the entire abduction took less than ten seconds.

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A bold move, admitted Helga, though she had to work off some frustration… She dragged Katja into her house, kicked the beauty in the midsection and ended her protestations.

Katja attempted to get her breath back. This was not going to happen… Helga found a sledgehammer in her kitchen pantry... and… five swings later, Katja’s head was unrecognizable… “Fucking whore!” Helga felt much better. Crafting a state-of-the-art torture chamber in her attic had helped her in her time of mourning.

Suddenly, the vibration of her flip-phone indicated a call…

Being the Queen Bee of Europe’s most vicious terrorist cell meant hearing bad news occasionally. Yet, Helga was easily set off.

News from Brazil brought news of failure: her man Escobar was missing and believed dead.

Police supposed that Rio drug gangs identified Escobar as a Colombian cartel boss and burned him alive. They had no suspects but the Colombians were sending their heavy hitters to Rio to war with the neighborhood gangs. Escobar was assigned to seduce Patricia Marceau and her cohort, drug them after sex and put them on a freighter destined for Bremen. Helga would collect them there. Escobar did not complete his mission. The whores were able to board the AIR FRANCE jet back to Paris later that night.

Helga looked down at the formerly sultry cocktail waitress. She took several deep breaths.

Annihilating whores and sluts just brightened her day. After the bad news she received earlier, Katja had come by at a perfect time.

Chapter 14: Mandolin Serenade Patricia Marceau’s face had never been in so much pain. The smile that adorned it stretched so many muscles. The smile was not going away. The joyous laughter did not help. Rudger just continued strumming his mandolin and crooning: “The sight of you leaves me weak, there are no words left to speak…”

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Rudger moved in close. He was serenading the woman he loved with his favorite ditty.

“But if you feel like I feel, please let me know it’s for real…”

Patricia had never been happier. Rudger had finally allowed her to visit his apartment in Munich. Up until now Rudger’s shyness had prevented this.

“You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off you.”

Rudger, with a motion of his right hand, implored Patricia to join him. “bah da… bah da… bah da da da da da… bah da… bah da… dahhh!!! I love you baby…”

Patricia M, the sultry stewardess, was now in complete and total love with Rudger. “… and if it’s quite alright, I need you baby… to warm the lonely night…”

Rudger continued for a couple more minutes before the song ended.

Patricia’s face was red. She was sure it was swollen. She knew for a fact, now, that a smile did utilize over a hundred muscles.

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“Oh my god!!! Where did you learn the mandolin?”

Rudger was blushing: “Awwww, I just fiddle with it. I picked it up in Beirut when I was there.” Rudger had never dreamed he would ever sing to a beautiful woman, not with his shyness.

Patricia wrapped both her arms around her man: “Oh Rudger, I don’t want to leave!”

Now, she wept. In an hour, Rudger would bring her to the airport for her flight home.

“I’ll be in Paris in a week, then you can sing to me!” Rudger sounded excited.

“Oh no… you really don’t want to hear me sing… really!” Patricia believed she couldn’t sing: “Hey! I can do better… I’ll teach you the Tango!”

“Ah… I… no… no… eh…” Rudger knew what the Tango was.

“Oh no, you’re going to learn… I’ll teach you!”

Rudger could not stop it, it just shot out: “I love you Patricia!”

Still embracing the INTERPOL mandoliner, Patricia cooed: “I know, I love you, too.” Dressed in her AIR FRANCE uniform, she was tempted to resign right now and never let go of Rudger.

“We’ll be together next week and, then, the week after, I’ll be on the 1622 again from Paris… and we’ll Tango.”

“There are still some bad people out there, Patricia… I wish you would take a leave of absence and stop flying… just for a little while…” Rudger didn’t finish his sentence before the sultry Patricia cut him off.

“Oh no… besides, who is going to watch out for Solange if I’m not flying?” Both laughed at this. Solange and Patricia had become awfully close. Solange needed Patricia’ mentoring.

Solange’s devotion to Patricia Marceau reminded Rudger of a Golden Retriever’s devotion to his master… this was okay with the INTERPOL hunk. He was grateful that Solange kept so close to his love.

“Hey! Solange is coming with me on that flight… in two weeks.” Patricia and Solange were flying a lot together. They buddy-bidded their schedules so they could be together.

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“She’ll be with us next time you serenade me unless you find her some INTERPOL dude… a handsome one!”

Rudger laughed: “I’ll take care of it.”

Patricia felt obliged to her girlfriend to add: “Handsome, and don’t forget rich!”

Rudger knew: “Yep!” Time was flying by: “Oh no!” Rudger looked at his watch. “I should drive you to the airport.” The INTERPOL hunk frowned like a little boy. His lower lip began to quiver. Patricia kept embracing him for another several minutes. Before they had to let go of each other, the sultry stewardess whispered in his right ear: “Soon, my love. Soon!”

Chapter 15: Fuck Fuck Shit AIR FRANCE Flight 1194 was an easy one.

The less than two-hour jaunt was going to be a fun gig for Patricia and Solange. The two beautiful hostesses pushed the snack and beverage cart down the aisle. Most of the Economy Class passengers only wanted a soft drink and pretzels.

Patricia looked very sleek in her black uniform, red leather belt and red high heels. She smiled as she peered down at the man in 18C: “Something to drink?”

“Fuck! Fuck! Shit!” The sweaty man was not winning friends with the cabin crew.

“Well, fine… I guess not…” Patricia answered indignantly.

“No, no!” Solange saved the day. She gave Patricia a stern look and bent forward.

The young hostess whispered to the blonde air vixen: “He has Tourette’s Syndrome. Be nice!” Then, in a louder voice, she added: “Sir, would you like a Coke?”

The sweaty man in 18C nodded his head eagerly: “Shit! Shit! Fuck! Yes!” Patricia was red faced and shocked that her young charge had saved her from a meeting with the Human Resources Police at AIR FRANCE corporate.

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“Oh, yes, of course!” The sultry stewardess poured the contents of a can of Coke into a plastic glass and put it on the sweaty man’s tray table. She, then, gave him two little bags of pretzels: “There you go, sir.” She sported a sweet smile.

“Fuck! Shit!” The greasy man was sweating some more.

“Awww, you’re so welcome!” Patricia was glad to be on his good side. She was also relieved to be continuing up the aisle.

The man in 18C was not just a man with Tourette’s Syndrome. With 278 dirtbag terrorists picked up and arrested, he was the bottom of the bench. The Portuguese terrorist was one of the last few of Helga Dietrich’s henchmen. Because of Rudger’s intense operation, Helga’s ability to task terrorists in Europe was almost lost.

Abel Salazar was in love… The young stewardess understood him. Her nametag said “Solange” and he would gut her soon…

Solange would look so enticing with her entrails leaking out… After Solange’s gutting, he would abduct the blonde whore. His plan was fool proof. He would await outside customs until the two beauties cleared. Before the babe Solange and slut Patricia boarded a shuttle bus to the airport HYATT, he would make his move. The Queen Bee in Munich had provided Abel with their pictures and itineraries. Below the trash receptacle at the HYATT shuttle, a Bowie knife had been secreted. When the babes were waiting to be picked up… he would gut one and grab the other. Easy.

In the meantime, he would molest Solange. This was expected to happen in Lisbon.

The beauties finished their beverage service and buckled into the rear flight seats.

“Oh my God! Have you tried CLAIROL’s new Root Touch-Up Color?” Solange was excited.

“No, is it good?” Patricia was all ears.

“You have to try it… I swear, it lasts two days! Besides, with the same chemicals, it won’t only blow someone’s hand off, it’ll penetrate the ribcage.” Solange was excited.

“Really?!”

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Patricia had already sent her newest article into Mercenary Today.

“Really! And guess what, the CLAIROL new color is easily activated by radio transmission… no fuses needed!” Solange had been busy while Patricia was visiting Rudger.

“No fuses?!” Patricia was all ears.

“If you have a battery source… any battery… you can detonate it from 50 meters…”

Solange was beaming.

Patricia feigned concern: “Okay missy… how do you know that exactly?” The blonde hostess did not really want to know the answer to this.

Solange winked at her mentor. The airplane landed. She rushed to the front of the airplane to help usher the passengers off…

Patricia decided to sit this one out. She remained at the back of the airplane.

As all the rows in front of 18 emptied, Abel got up. He looked back but could not see the blonde slut. Carrying no bags, the burly sweaty terrorist walked forward.

Solange saw Abel approach and gave him a warm smile: “Bye-bye!”

“Fuck! Fuck!” With both arms free, Abel embraced Solange and squeezed both of her buttocks, “Shit!”

Solange did not seem to mind. The other stewardesses began moving forward. When Abel released his love grip, Solange immediately signaled to her friends to stand down.

Abel was excited about seeing Solange’s entrails… and about seeing Patricia’s, too.

Solange was cool. When the remaining passengers gave her a concerned look, she just smiled, coolly. Abel’s erection already occurred when he embraced the young air hostess.

His man-organ felt up Solange’s crotch, through her uniform. The erection would stay with Abel until his death.

No one noticed Solange slip her make-up compact into the back pocket of Abel’s dirty denim jeans… This was only fair: as Abel’s hand traveled around to her rear, Solange’s hands traveled around to his back pockets.

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40 minutes later the beautiful hostess duo passed through customs with their bags.

On their way to the HYATT shuttle, they turned every male head and a few female ones.

“Oh my god, Solange! Are you okay?” Patricia would not get off the molestation that occurred earlier.

“Hey, when you look as good as I do, you have to expect this stuff.” laughed Solange.

“Besides, he was mentally challenged, you shouldn’t be so hard on him, Patricia.”

Patricia felt bad.

The blonde AIR FRANCE vixen could not have been more impressed with Solange’s maturity and coolness.

“I know, but I just don’t like it when someone tries to hurt my best friend.”

Patricia was sincere.

“Oh… I love you Patricia!” Solange was almost in tears. “Hey, let’s pick up some dark, swarthy Portuguese men tonight at the bar!”

“I’m taken, girlfriend!” Patricia was beaming.

“Okay, fine! No pick-ups… just cocktails!” Solange faked dejection.

The HYATT shuttle appeared in the distance and both ladies heard: “Fuck! Fuck! Shit!” behind them.

Patricia cringed. Solange looked at her Rolex and played with the winding mechanism.

A soft pop, emanated from behind the stewardesses. They heard some screaming before the HYATT shuttle arrived.

“Let’s get on first, we’ll get the back seats!” Solange was eager.

Both air hostesses rushed on.

Meanwhile, about ten meters from where Solange and Patricia were waiting, Abel laid on the ground. Cut in half by a weird explosion, his entrails were leaking out both his halves.

The screaming intensified and, in a minute, 10 airport police officers were trying to get people away from the mess.

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Chapter 16: Mai Li Mai Li looked good and she knew it.

Manning Peking East Art Gallery alone was fine with her. The Hong Kong native was in Germany on a temporary work Visa. Sales had been slow. This was not bad news. The beautiful Asian only had to sell one painting a week to make a profit. The great Chinese artist, Woo Lam, was an eccentric sort. He never made public appearances. Instead, he elected to have sultry Chinese babes represent him, especially overseas. The eccentric artist was in demand. Just one of his paintings could fetch 40,000 Euros. Woo Lam knew his art was only worth half that, at best. Hiring beautiful and flirtatious models was a good way to drive the price up.

The painter had picked up Mai Li at The Shanghai Auto Show, a year ago. She was a trade show model and looked good all oiled up, laying on the hood of a CHEVROLET Corvette. The 40-year-old artist knew he had to have her… and he got her. During periods of vicious and deviant pre-marital sex Mai Li showed Woo Lam some moves.

Double jointed and agile moves coupled with profuse sweating, allowed the model to impress her new employer.

Mai Li did not disappoint. She manned art exhibitions in Amsterdam, London, and now Munich. Her charge was to sell one painting a week. She averaged five sales per week. The closer a potential buyer got to one of the gallery’s paintings, the more flirtatious Mai Li became. If the potential buyer were a German hunk (preferably blond and blue-eyed), she would show him the special stock in the back room. Of course, the special stock was vicious and deviant sex.

Woo Lam’s art captured Carnal Brutalism at its best. Any decent university art class, when introducing its students to Carnal Brutalism, would discuss Woo Lam. 8:00 pm approached and no customers were in the gallery.

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When the shop was empty Mai Li would stand by the front door and softly caress her hips through her tight suede skirt. If this did not work, she would apply more lip gloss (tangerine). If this did not work, she would softly caress the area between her breasts through her black, tight sheen sweater. This form of exhibitionism did not always yield customers, but it always drew a crowd. Usually German men, and sometimes American military women.

Mai Li strode over to the featured painting in the gallery.

Titanium Penetration captured the Carnal Brutalism style perfectly. Just by substituting loud red and blacks where pastels would normally be called for, the subconscious would begin working overtime. The substituted colors, along with the acute angles and dripping images of fluid, sent desires of misogyny and sexual conquest to the viewer of this art.

Because of the interest in this work, Mai Li expected a bidding war that would drive the price up to over 100,000 Euros.

Staring at Titanium Penetration aroused the Asian beauty. She suddenly had a desire to be ravaged and gang raped. Woo Lam knew what he was doing.

Mai Li’s hands slowly made their way to her groin area, when the bell at the front door signaled a customer. The Asian looked at her Rolex: 7:59pm. The aroused art gallery clerk turned from Titanium Penetration toward the front door. An arrow from a crossbow entered her neck, missing her jugulars but severing her spinal cord. Mai Li, paralyzed, went limp and fell on the floor in front of Titanium Penetration.

“Fucking, cock-sucking whore!” Helga Dietrich was angry. “Slut! You, gook cunt!” The crossbow wielding fat woman stepped over to Mai Li’s limp body. The Asian was on her right side. Helga used her right foot to kick the beauty onto her back. Mai Li could not move or talk. Paralyzed from the chin down, all she could do was cry.

Earlier in the day, Helga received word by secret telegram that Abel Salazar had failed.

She needed to get her frustrations out; slaughtering the beautiful always did the trick.

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The angry mad woman looked down into Mai Li’s eyes: “Fucking hussy… not so sexy now!”

Her prey immobilized, Helga put down her crossbow. She pulled out a boxcutter from her fatigue jacket pocket, knelt and went to work on Mai Li’s suede skirt. With her blade, she cut the skirt off, then, pulled down the Asian’ sleek black pantyhose. Mai Li’s tears increased… she knew she was doomed.

Helga continued her rant: “Asian whore! See if you can fuck this!”

With her right hand, the fat woman ripped off Mai Li’s black thong. Her left hand grabbed another crossbow arrow from its quiver. After separating the Asian’s legs, Helga went in for the kill. Now grasping the arrow with both hands, she swung the arrow downward into and up Mai Li’s crotch. A continuous flow of blood leaked onto the gallery floor. Blood loss would kill the beautiful model within two minutes.

“No more sucking cock for you, cunt!”

Not quite done, Helga unhooked a canteen from her tactical belt. The canteen was filled with kerosene. She poured the kerosene all over Mai Li’s face, struck a match and, before leaving, lit the Asian’s head on fire. Helga was only in the gallery for four minutes. She did not stick around long enough to see the flames shoot up from Mai Li’s head and engulf Titanium Penetration.

Chapter 17: Detective Work German law enforcement was baffled. Over the past two years, 33 beautiful women had been tortured, humiliated, and murdered in and near Munich.

Mai Li was the 33rd.

Prime Minister Angela Merkel began micro-managing the investigations. Her charge to the German cops was round up and interrogate all Neo-Nazi skinheads. She also tasked Munich and national police to look for ways in which Munich could reduce its carbon footprint.

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By curbing climate change/global warming, the evil intensity of the citizenry would be reduced… or so Angela Merkel extolled.

Handicapped by the Prime Minister’s guidance, detectives were not able to develop investigative leads into the murder of Munich’s most beautiful.

Far away, in a Paris attic apartment, a beautiful amateur detective ignored Ms. Merkel. The rogue detective, clad in her air hostess uniform, searched databases, pored over news articles, and developed a psychological profile of the killer.

On one wall of the detective’s attic was a large street map of Munich with red pins denoting the murder sites. On another wall, were pictures of all 33 victims. Profiles of the 33 unfortunate beauties had also been developed.

The young detective was horrified. A pattern was indeed there: a profile of the suspect was formed… and finally… a link between the murderer and Europe’s most brutal terrorist cell.

With enhanced knowledge of psychological profiling, the detective made another mystifying discovery: the fiend was… a woman!

Midnight came and the amateur detective kept working. The discoveries were pulling the killer nearer to home.

Illegally accessing the records of DINERS CLUB credit cards, BARCLAYS credit cards and to flight itineraries of several Germans, the young stewardess/detective also identified the next victim.

At 12:30am, the detective’s phone rang… only one person called at this time…

“Patricia! Hi bestie! What’s up?!”

“Solange!... Couldn’t sleep, was hoping you were still awake,” Patricia wanted to get together with Solange and tell her more about Rudger. “Let’s do brunch tomorrow… my treat!”

“Yes! I’m game…10:30?”

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Solange also wanted to see her best friend: “L’Hôtel Napoléon?”

“Perfect! See you there!” Patricia sounded happy. Solange sounded happy, too and, at the same time, the young amateur detective was also disturbed: if anything bad happened to her best friend…

Well, Solange was bent on not letting that happen… Time for bed, she thought. The one a.m. hour approached fast. Staying up all night was no longer an option. She had something on her calendar for tomorrow: brunch with Patricia! The young stewardess was now beaming. The woman who saved her life was becoming the big sister she never had.

Patricia was kind, smart, and cared. Other than her mom and dad, Solange never met anyone who actually liked her and cared about her.

Before hopping into the bed beside her work desk, she said her prayers: “Dear God… please, oh please, don’t let anyone hurt Patricia. They can hurt me, but please don’t let anyone hurt Patricia. Also, make Rudger marry her soon so he can take good care of her, too. Oh yes, and I pray for REVLON to adjust the chemical compound of their mascara so it doesn’t spazz out so bad in humidity… I mean… Come on, you can part the Red Sea, send a small miracle their way so we, gals, don’t have to look like whores whenever the humidity rises! So, there, I guess that’s it… Amen!”

RING!!!!

“Who the…?” Solange remembered she was just talking to God. “Eh… who is that?”

Solange prided herself that she did not say the work “fuck” after talking to God. She looked at her iPhone… Princess Velnuvia of the Planet Hecuba was calling.

“Hello Princess! I’m so happy to hear from you!” Solange was the only Earthling who treated the extraterrestrial princess with respect.

“I have three bits of news for you, my pretty.” The Princess enjoyed giving information to Solange. The local Munich police all regarded The Princess as insane. Solange treated her with respect.

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“The Slithis* has spawned and will contaminate all of Germany’s water supply. This will turn every German into a slave of his.”

“Oh no, thank you for telling me Princess, I’ll adjust the alpha ray beams, that should neutralize him.” Solange knew how to humor The Princess. Usually, when The Princess gave the cops this type of information, they called her a “Fucking Whack Ball.”

“But wait! There’s more!” The Princess had been busy. “Even worse than the Slithis, is a demon woman.”

Solange was never short with The Princess: “A demon woman?”

“Yes, she drinks the blood of the beautiful hoping to become beautiful.” The Princess sounded sincere.

“Oh, so she isn’t now?” Solange took out a notepad and got ready to write.

“She’s fat and ugly!” The Princess was also fat and ugly, but to her credit she did not see herself as fat and ugly.

“Wait a sec!… I’m writing this down.” Solange was indeed writing this down.

“She has killed dozens of beautiful women including a China woman in one of those hoitytoity art galleries.”

The Princess, who lived in sewers and dark alleys tended to see a lot of things no one was supposed to see: “She used a crossbow and burnt the pretty thing’s face off.”

Solange smiled: “Do you know where this demon dwells?” Solange had the lingo down.

“I do.” The Princess talked for the next 14 minutes. Now, Solange had the address of the woman who wanted to murder Patricia.

After she hung up with the alien Princess, the stewardess went over her notes and smiled: “Got you, bitch!”

*From Stephen Traxler’s movie Slithis [1978]: a mutant sea monster, Ed.

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Chapter 18: Brunch at L’Hôtel Napoléon They looked so alluring. The stewardess duo was clad in their black AIR FRANCE Air Hostess costumes, a non-regulation red leather belt… and of course the boots.

For Patricia, the non-regulation black leather (very shiny) boots with three-inch heels.

Solange had the same boots, except in red. Brunching in their uniforms was necessitated as both beauties were on standby.

The stewardesses had been sitting at a patio table at L’Hôtel Napoléon for almost a half hour when they begrudgingly ordered. Obviously, the duo would be there for a while, but management did not mind. Sultry babes on their patio was something L’Hôtel Napoléon did not mind… at all. The tea arrived after a few minutes: Earl Grey for Patricia, Green for Solange.

Solange was sipping her tea when Patricia told her about Rudger’s serenade.

With no warning, Solange spit out the sip she just took in: “What!?” Patricia feigned annoyance at this gesture.

“A fucking mandolin!? Are you fucking kidding me!?” Solange was laughing hysterically.

“Hey! He was so sweet!?” Patricia was trying not to laugh.

“Oh, sure! So, next time he serenades you… let me guess… he’ll pull out his accordion!”

Solange was laughing so hard she was now crying.

“Come on!” Patricia suppressed her giggles nicely. “Besides, he told me he loves me.”

Patricia, now, developed tears.

Solange stopped her laughter. She looked at Patricia with a look of love and joy: “Oh Patricia, I knew it! And continue… you told him you loved him?” Solange was not assuming anything.

While blushing, Patricia Shyly nodded.

“Oh Patricia! I am so happy for you!” Solange was beaming, as was Patricia.

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The red booted stewardess got up from her chair, marched around the table and hugged the sitting Patricia from behind: “So, do you think he’ll serenade me?” Solange was dreaming.

“No,” answered Patricia.

“Okay, fine!” Solange returned to her chair. “How about a foot massage? Do you think he’d give me a foot massage?” Solange was trying not to smile.

“No!” Patricia threw her napkin at the red booted vixen.

“Oh Patricia! Do you think anyone will ever sing to me or give me a foot massage?”

Solange was starting to get sad. She knew Rudger would marry Patricia soon… this was good. She also knew Patricia was her only friend. Solange desperately wanted a man to love, one that would love her.

“Solange, dear!” Patricia reached across the table and with both hands held Solange’s right hand. Solange was trying to not cry. “I know someone will… and a lot sooner than you think.”

Solange went on: “Oh Patricia! I’m sorry! I am happy for you. I’m just going to miss you and I don’t like being lonely.”

Solange sniffled for a few seconds, then, perked up: “Hey, in the meantime, we’ll share Rudger!… Kidding!”

The AIR FRANCE iPhones of Patricia and Solange went off simultaneously. With the same coordination as synchronized swimmers, the stewardess pair picked them up, answered, and hung up.

“Fuck! I’m the number three on the 3620 to Atlanta! Atlanta is such a shithole!” Solange hated Atlanta, as did all AIR FRANCE hostesses.

Patricia was about to tell her to watch her language. She decided not to as Solange was right about this pathetic American city.

“I’m the number one!”

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Solange was overjoyed: “Oh cool! If you’re the number one and I’m the number three, we can sit in the flight seats next to each other!” Both stewardesses were beaming.

Solange tried to push her luck: “Hey! Call Rudger, tell him to meet us at the hotel and we could have a threesome!”

“Solange! No!” Patricia was not smiling.

“Okay… just thought I’d try.”

Patricia paid the tab and the two ladies got up.

“So, on our flight to the shithole you can tell me all about the bridesmaids dresses you’ll pick out… I like blue, not pink.” Both babes were laughing again.

Before they left, Patricia noticed a weird man drooling a couple of tables over, now whispering.

“Solange, that guy’s been staring at us for the last hour. I wonder who he is.”

Solange lied: “I’m sure I don’t know.” Solange had no patience for weird men stalking either her or Patricia. “On the cab ride to Charles de Gaulle, I’ll tell you what I discovered about mixing some REVLON stuff with some CLAIROL stuff.”

“Oh good!” Patricia was excited. “Does it make a boom?”

Solange gave a sneaky smile: “Well… not a boom… something a bit quieter… still lethal, though.”

Patricia did not see Solange pull a black compact out of her purse.

“Come on, let’s walk out together! We need to pass right next to that drooling creep.”

Both beauties walked out and seemingly ignored the creep as they walked by his table.

Chapter 19: The CIA Creep The two sultry AIR FRANCE hostesses walked by the table of Michel Desjardins… CIA’s main man in Paris.

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Desjardins imagined how fun it would be to rape and kill the haughty hot stewardesses.

Picking up his Android, he clicked on the AIR FRANCE app. In two short minutes he booked a First-Class ticket on AIR FRANCE flight 3620 departing in the afternoon. Atlanta was a crime-ridden shithole. The stewardess corpses could easily be explained on the local Atlanta population… most of which were criminals.

At heart, Desjardins was a misogynistic rapist. Therefore, he excelled as a CIA operative.

He understood the CIA’s mission better than anyone: wiping out terrorist organizations was the last thing the CIA wanted, the Agency’s mission was to co-opt them. The CIA would eagerly allow the terrorist organizations to murder innocent people if those cells cleared with the Agency first. The CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY usually agreed, but occasionally vetoed the plan. If a terrorist group were to inadvertently target another terror cell… well, the Agency had to act.

Michel’s efforts were successful. Scores of Al Qaeda and Taliban groups were being paid billions in U.S. taxpayer dollars. The groups were kept running and the CIA could claim they needed more money to fight terrorism. Helga Dietrich’s European cell, which purported to fight for the exploited people of the Third World, had almost been wiped out.

Desjardin needed to preserve it. Helga Dietrich had contacted Michel a week ago for help.

Michel knew Hans Dietrich’s death required to be avenged. The sloppy Helga intended to do it in Munich… To protect her from her own anger and sloppiness, he would take care of Patricia and Solange in Atlanta.

The 45-year-old CIA operative was a Ph.D. from PRINCETON UNIVERSITY. He also was a board member for HABITAT FOR HUMANITY (a U.S. based charity purporting to help low-income families), THE PEACE CORPS (a left-wing humanitarian agency), and GREENPEACE. These charities gave him great cover to travel the world.

Michel had not raped since his Afghanistan assignment. Practice always made perfect or, so he always told himself.

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The rapes of Patricia and Solange needed to look legitimate.

The CIA did not want law enforcement to come calling, but Helga and her cell needed to be preserved.

The CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY looked for the West to believe intelligence agencies were vital for their protection. If the Helga’s of the world were not blowing up banks and police stations, citizens might think they were safe.

The night before, Michel Desjardins conducted a dry run at the airport HILTON. He seduced two Air Asia stewardesses and brought them back to his suite for a threesome. There, he drugged the two Chinese beauties, raped them, and hacked them to pieces. The two Asian hostesses were dumped in the Paris sewer system. Bai and Ruby would eventually be missed by AIR ASIA. However, Desjardins had a heart: in two days, he planned to give the Paris cops an anonymous phone call detailing the location of the two victims. By that time, Paris sewer rats would have eaten away any solid or DNA evidence.

The plan for Patricia and Solange would be the same. They would be eaten by Atlanta sewer rats… of course, after rape and torture. Helga would resume her bank and police bombings, and everyone would be happy.

Michel signaled the garçon. He had the intention to catch a cab for the airport, too. He still smelled Patricia’s perfume even after he watched her board a taxi with Solange…

“What’s this?”

Those two words were the last words ever uttered by Michel Desjardins, the CIA’s finest: he picked up a black make-up compact that someone had left on his table. Not thinking, he opened it. When the chemical contents of the compact mixed with the Paris air, a fine mist developed. The vapors immediately disintegrated Desjardins’ lungs. When the garçon brought the CIA stud his check, Desjardins’s head lay on the table next to the compact with blood pouring out of his nose and mouth.

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Chapter 20: Li Zhang Li Zhang wore many hats. She was a beautiful daughter… okay, so she never knew her mother. She was a great lover… okay, so she murdered most of her paramours. She was a brilliant scholar… okay, so her diplomas and honors from SHANGHAI UNIVERSITY OF FINANCE AND ECONOMICS were forged. She was a moral pillar of Chinese womanhood… okay, so she was a nymphomaniac homicidal maniac. Well, Li Zhang, in fact, was many things. The sultry assassin/secret agent for Beijing took pride in being interesting.

Today, Li Zhang was an AIR ASIA stewardess. The AIR ASIA hostess uniforms were so sexy.

Tight and red, they also sported a mostly unbuttoned white blouse and some shiny red heels. Her layover in Paris gave her ample opportunity to see the sights, identify known CIA operatives, and conduct counterintelligence against the Americans.

The Chinese seductress/agent did her job well. She often teamed up with Bai Wong and Ruby Lin. Together, the three stewardesses would infiltrate and compromise America’s CIA Paris operations.

Four hours ago, Li Zhang awoke. Her beautiful hostess uniform was strewn all over the hotel room. She quickly pieced together the events of the previous night. The snoring Australian football player next to her was a clue. What was his name? The stud was rather good, Li thought. He was brutal and unmerciful. A perfect match for her.

Li Zhang slowly slid off the bed. Her aches and bruises brought back memories of deviant satisfying sex and many orgasms. She decided to let “the animal” live. Tonight, she would bed him again, inflict bruises and aches on him, then, kill him.

The naked beauty walked over to the coffee table where the packs of her VIRGINIA SLIMS and the football player’s CAMELS lay. She put one of each in her mouth and struck a match.

After lighting both, she walked back to the bed…

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The Australian tripod had not woken yet. Li laid her naked torso on top of him, pulled the CAMEL from her mouth and gently placed the cigarette between the stud’s lips. The Australian player finally began to stir. The vixen removed her VIRGINIA SLIM from her hungry lips and placed it in the ashtray beside the bed. She softly blew the cigarette smoke into the stud’s face and, with her free right hand, stroked the athlete’s side. Her right hand went to his crotch and began massaging his man-organ. The Australian was awake, now.

“Beat me into obedience, dick-face,” Li softly cooed.

Usually, Li Zhang loved being the dominator. This time was an exception. This football player knew what he was doing. He certainly knew how to satisfy a real woman.

The bloke rolled over and straddled Li. Flat on her back, Li displayed a seductive look of want. The Australian slapped her right cheek and spit on her face.

“Game on,” Li whispered. Her whisper was too soft for the stud to hear.

75 minutes later, Li Zhang was ready to face the new day.

“One more time, love?” The football player spoke and this annoyed Li Zhang.

“I already told you last night, shithead! What part of ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP’ don’t you understand?” The Australian looked hurt. The sultry Asian slid off the bed one more time.

Now, more bruised and achier, she wanted a shower.

“Come on!” She grabbed the player’s erect penis as if it were a leash and led the athlete to the shower. “Clean me off, and good!”

The Australian knew what he was doing; all ten of his fingers worked to clean off the naked and lathered-up stewardess/assassin. The football player caressed, wiped, probed each of the beauty’s orifices, and smeared shower gel appropriately. 20 minutes later, the duo stepped out of the shower.

The naked athlete followed the naked stewardess out of the bathroom. She found her iPhone next to the cigarette packs on the coffee table.

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Suddenly, dread enveloped the satisfied stewardess: Bai and Ruby had not texted her… The three stewardesses/agents were supposed to keep tabs on each other… especially on assignment.

“Hey baby, how ‘bout warming up my sausage?” The athlete was getting annoying. The naked Asian spun around and delivered a karate kick to the Australian’s head rendering him unconscious.

“Bai! Ruby!” Tears welled in Li Zhang’s eyes. She knew.

Her beautiful friends, the besties she shared so many orgies with, were dead. Probably horribly murdered after humiliating torture and rape… Still naked, Li activated the app on her iPhone which could open any hotel door. She ran down the hall to check on room 1002 and 1008, Bai and Ruby’s hotel rooms. Both rooms had not been slept in. She remembered the drooling man. The CIA operative which her buddies had seduced in the lounge. What was his name? “Michel Desjardins!” Beijing supplied Li Zhang with an app that could tell her anyone’s hotel room in France. She punched a few keys: “1805!”

The naked stewardess took the stairs. In under two minutes she was inside Michel’s room.

Blood was spattered on the white walls. In one corner was Bai’s hand. On the coffee table was one of Ruby’s eyeballs. Li vomited. On all fours, the AIR ASIA babe was dry heaving. A hacksaw, still dripping of blood, hung off the coffee table. On the floor, below her, were blood-drenched pliers.

Li Zhang looked up and, in Mandarin, screamed: « 复仇! » (“Vengeance!”, Ed).

Chapter 21: Flight 3620 Patricia Marceau loved being an air hostess. She sashayed up and down the thin aisle with a dancer’s dexterity. Lifting carry-on bags, fitting them in overhead bins, serving pretakeoff cocktails to her First-Class passengers… she did it all.

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The children on the flight were enthralled. Tango moves were evident in the way this beauty went about her job. Forward. Backward. Dip. (Okay, maybe no dips… but this was not just a routine for Patricia…it was a dance!).

After watching Patricia seduce in every task she undertook, four little girls (one in 12A, one in 14B, one in 16A, and one in 17C) changed their minds and decided they wanted to be stewardesses when they grew up.

Two of Patricia’s First-Class passengers, a 77-year-old Jesuit (3C) and an 85-year-old widower (2A), flirted with her. Patricia brought them cocktails. They both offered to buy her a drink and laughed as First-Class drinks were free.

Solange was not so lucky; she was getting her posterior pinched by scraggly Paris art students several rows back.

Time for take-off!

The two AIR FRANCE beauties occupied the front flight seats. Both were giddy. Neither liked Atlanta, but the rooftop bar at the hotel was very nice.

Solange was happy to be away from the art students: “Sold out, I think. Don’t these people know that Atlanta is a shithole?”

“I think most have connecting flights there… no one is stupid enough to actually stay in Atlanta.” Patricia was thinking about the first Mai Tai she was going to have at the rooftop bar... “Hey, the guy in 2C isn’t here, he must’ve missed the flight!” The blonde stewardess checked her AIR FRANCE Tablet. “Some guy named Desjardins… I wonder what happened.”

“I’m sure I don’t know!” Solange was a master at changing the subject. “So, I ordered another dagger holster for my catsuit. The old one rode way up into my crotch. This one stays just an inch above the knee.”

“Oh cool! These companies need to start making better holsters for us women. We’re not all built like American servicewoman!... We actually have shape.”

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Patricia was writing more articles, all for Mercenary Today: “I might write an article about this!”

The phone buzzed and Patricia grabbed it.

The stewardess sitting in the rear of the airplane could be heard laughing by Solange.

Patricia hung up.

Solange did not ask, but the sultry blonde told her anyway: “About six dirtbag art students are cramming into the two latrines… they all have the runs.”

Patricia was laughing.

“I’m sure I don’t know anything about that… Hey! I’m saving for a new crossbow!” Again, Solange was the master of changing the subject.

Patricia again offered Solange the advice of the experienced: “Good. Now, if you get the WICKED RIDGE brand, just know you will be breaking your nails everyday so, watch out for that. But, TENPOINT is easier on the pull back, your nails should do fine, and you only lose minimum accuracy beyond 25 meters.”

Solange had pulled out a mini-notebook and wrote down all of Patricia’s advice.

“Awww, you’re so smart. When Rudger marries you, you will still be my friend, won’t you?”

Patricia was now beaming: “Solange! We’ve only been dating a short while.”

“I know, but… I know he’s going to marry you soon!... We’ll still be friends?”

Solange did not have other friends. She valued Patricia’s friendship.

“Oh Solange! It’s way too early to discuss marriage… but we’ll always be friends, you and I. Besides, who else would be my maid of honor?”

Solange was happy. She smiled wide.

“Hey, when you pick out the bride’s maids’ dresses… make them tight!…” Solange had thought this out. “They should show our boobs!”

“Whatever!” Patricia rolled her eyes.

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Chapter 22: Crime Scene Li Zhang took care in dressing. Donning her red AIR ASIA uniform necessitated a strict routine.

After taking a 35-minute bath, utilizing an herbal bath bomb, she moisturized, then, applied her make-up, brushed her hair, put on her silk naughty undies… her hose, her white blouse, her tight red skirt, her jacket… and her shiny red pumps.

By 3pm the stewardess was ready. She had one mission for today: find Michel Desjardins and kill him. Actually, she had two missions: find Desjardins, torture him, then, kill him. Li did not know that the CIA operative’s lungs melted a few hours ago.

Beijing provided the sultry Asian with a record of Desjardins’ BANKAMERICARD activity. Li’s blood red nails browsed online on her tablet…

“L’Hôtel Napoléon!”

Li looked at her ROLEX. Desjardins paid a tab at L’Hôtel Napoléon late in the morning… that would be Li’s first stop. Killing Desjardins would have happened eventually. Beijing was upset that this CIA operative had arranged for millions of U.S. dollars to funnel into Al Qaeda cells in northern India and Pakistan. These deranged Muslims were infiltrating into western China (Tibet) and trying to spread Islam. Beijing did not need this. Obedience was valued by her government. The military and police presence in western China were ill equipped to handle the Muslim incursion.

A young taxicab driver allowed the beautiful Li to sit up front. The Chinese stewardess/assassin played up the seduction by allowing her short tight skirt to ride up her thighs as she sat in the front seat. The cab arrived at L’Hôtel Napoléon and parked behind four Paris police vehicles.

“Wait here love! I won’t be long.” While giving the young taxicab driver this order, Li squeezed his right bicep. The cab driver was now quite erect.

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The constables guarding the entrance to L’Hôtel Napoléon patio were not prepared. They attempted to stop the advancing stewardess.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” Li, even in heels, had a mean karate kick and flattened the two constables. HAZMAT* teams had cleared the area of fumes (*abbreviation for hazardous materials = dangerous substances, Ed) and pronounced the crime scene safe.

Inspector Delon was a no-nonsense female Paris detective. When the police beauty saw Li arrive at the table next to her, she tried to be tough: “Get the fuck out of here, bitch!”

Li Zhang would have none of that sass. She delivered one of her kicks to the Inspector’s midsection; Delon keeled over.

“Shit!” Li Zhang looked at Desjardins’ corpse, picked up the black compact and rapidly strode back to her taxi.

Serge, the taxi driver, had never met anyone like Li before. Exotic and all woman. He figured asking questions was not a good idea.

“There’s a parking garage two blocks up.” She said. Serge knew. He nodded.

“Park in the lower level! You and I need some privacy.” Li Zhang had not had an orgasm in over six hours, this couldn’t go on much longer.

Serge pulled into the garage and found the ramp to the lower levels. The taxi sped down to the bottom level. Li stripped out of her uniform. Stripping in the front seat of a car was easy for her…

By the way, stripping in the backseat of a car was easy for her too…

Actually, stripping anywhere at any time was easy for Li, the sultry stewardess/assassin…

Li Zhang remembered a year ago, while on an operation in Tokyo, the Yakuza abducted her… Even in the trunk of a car, gagged and handcuffed, Li Zhang was able to strip easily.

This was an asset for an assassin…When the four Yakuza thugs opened the trunk, the gagged, handcuffed, and nude Li seduced them. Once seduced, the four Japanese thugs were easy prey.

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Serge pulled into a spot against the wall. No other cars were parked on the bottom level.

The lighting was dim, and the air was stale and humid. Serge began to speak. Li stopped him: “Shut the fuck up! You will not speak! I’m going to rape the shit out of you, and you will obey me!” Li Zhang needed sex and now.

The stewardess ripped off Serge’s clothes in less than a minute. Her face homed in on his man-organ. Both were drenched in sweat within three minutes. The slippery duo then went at it for the next 45 minutes. Eventually they spilled out onto the floor of the garage. Serge developed some initiative: he turned Li over and gave it to her from behind.

Li screamed several times: “Slap my ass! Do it now!” Serge obeyed and Li screamed some more. The amorous and panting duo climbed back into the taxi. Serge found his Camels and lit two.

The duo puffed the cigarettes in silence.

Serge, then, made a motion to grab his boxer shorts which were hanging from his rearview mirror.

“Did I tell you to get dressed?!” Li’s dominatrix personality was shining through. Serge looked horrified. Any more sex with Li, especially right now, could kill him. Li Zhang was unmerciful and pounced on Serge.

90 minutes later, a naked Li Zhang drove Serge’s Taxi out of the parking garage. The naked Serge was crumpled on the floorboard beneath the passenger seat. Li Zhang drove to the Taxi line at the Airport HILTON at Charles de Gaulle. After parking, she shot out of the driver’s side of the taxi with her AIR ASIA uniform under her arm. She left the naked Serge on the floorboard. Not an unselfish sort, Li programmed her contact information into Serge’s smart phone… he was rather good.

Li Zhang had four hotel rooms around Paris. This was one of them, Room 1616 of the HILTON. In her room, she ran another bath. After tossing an herbal bath bomb in the tub, she slipped in.

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As the almost scalding water and bubbles went to work, Li Zhang examined the compact.

She smelled it and was stunned: “Shit! This bitch found a way to mix CLAIROL with REVLON! I have to find her.”

Chapter 23: Rooftop Drinks The two beauties sipped their cocktails while beginning to sweat.

Atlanta was not famous for their cool breezes… or anything else good. The rooftop bar at the PEACHTREE betrayed the malaise of this city.

Leon, the bartender, was from Manila. He was making a boat load of cash for his family back in The Philippines.

He loved beautiful stewardesses and had befriended Patricia and Solange.

Trapped at the hotel for the entire summer by roving Atlanta crime gangs, Leon always looked forward to the beautiful duo’s layovers: “Most of the stewardesses in America are beasts… or old men… you two are beautiful.” Leon was sincere.

“Awwww, you’re so nice!” Patricia blushed.

“Easy boy!” Solange perked up as Leon put the Mai Tai in front of Patricia and the Cape Cod (Vodka and cranberry juice) in front of Solange.

“She’s taken now!”

Leon grew ecstatic: “Oh, Miss Patricia! That’s wonderful… a pilot?”

Patricia was blushing some more.

Solange answered for her: “No… an international secret agent.”

“Ah, James Bond! You are more beautiful Miss Patricia than his old girlfriends… Ursula Andress and what’s her name? Ah yes… Jane Seymour.”

Leon was a film aficionado.

“Bless you, Leon!” Patricia gave Leon a wink.

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The bartender was about to leave as he saw an exaggerated pout from Solange: “You too, Miss Solange, you are more beautiful than any Bond girl!”

“Thanks Leon!” Solange was beaming: she knew she was more beautiful than Jane Seymour, who could argue? But Ursula Andress?! She loved Leon.

“That’s weird!” Patricia was coming back down to Earth.

“No! Jane Seymour is all make-up. She probably has fat ankles.” Solange had thought this out.

“No, no!” Patricia cut her off. “All those art students, getting the runs at the same time!…”

Solange looked away: “I’m sure I don’t know anything about that… So, if I get my crossbow from TENPOINT, I get three free arrows…”

Patricia sipped her cocktail: “Yeah, they’ll be aluminum. Throw them away! Get fiberglass ones or you won’t be able to puncture anyone’s lungs from over 25 meters!”

Solange whipped her little notebook out and wrote down that guidance. “Cool!”

“Why are we still wearing our uniforms, it’s hot?” wondered Patricia.

“Because, my darling vixen, we look hot in them! Men love them.” Solange was always practical… okay, maybe not always. On cue, two National Football League players from the New Orleans Saints (the team was staying at the hotel), approached.

In unison Patricia and Solange sneered and barked: “Fuck Off!” The two brutes backed away and sneered: “Fucking lesbos!”

AIR FRANCE had warned their hostesses about American football players. Most were rapists and marijuana junkies. Neither Solange or Patricia had any patience for druggies… and Patricia had no patience for rapists.

The two ladies closed down the bar after midnight. Leon was sad to see them leave. He cried. Patricia and Solange gave him elongated hugs. “We’ll be back! We promise.”

Solange felt bad about leaving Leon.

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11:30 the next morning, the two AIR FRANCE vixens met in the lobby after sleeping late.

They were ready to go. Solange heard all the sirens outside but did not seem concerned.

Patricia was: “What’s all that?”

“I’m sure I don’t know!” Solange was about to change the subject to Chinese throwing stars when a young bellboy intruded.

“Riots! The football game was cancelled. Two of the New Orleans Saints players were murdered!”

Solange was about to yank Patricia’s arm and pull her toward the airport van.

Patricia was curious: “Really? How?” The bellboy was so happy to be talking to beautiful women... Atlanta didn’t have any of its own: “Looks like Colombian drug gangs. They were cut into small pieces.”

“I’m sure we don’t care about that… Come on, Patricia!”

Solange tugged harder and led Patricia onto the airport van.

Chapter 24: Man-Tat Ng Man-Tat Ng was in love.

He had lived in Beijing all his 35 years. The tall (almost two meters) handsome Chinese intelligence officer was also very shy. He had never kissed a woman, before. Besides, Chinese women were either ugly or had baggage. The good-looking ones were all assassins with annoying extended families. One just did not date a Chinese babe; one had to date her gawking parents, weird grandparents, useless siblings, and probably a smelly great grandparent.

The hulking intel officer had given up on finding a woman. Then, a miracle happened.

One of the aforementioned assassins sent some intel and requests from Paris.

Man-Tat Ng was assigned to analyze it and answer the requests.

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Li Zhang was in France, undercover as a stewardess, and was trying to get to the bottom of the assassination of her two colleagues. Serious stuff.

Tapping into credit card records and stored video feeds, Man-Tat Ng was able to view Desjardins’ last moments on this side of the sod. On a surveillance video, he even saw them: two AIR FRANCE stewardesses! Two beautiful air hostesses the greasy CIA guy was obviously following!

Moments before the creep’s lungs melted, one of the hostesses placed an object on his table. This AIR FRANCE hostess was not just a beautiful stewardess, she was the most beautiful woman on the planet…

The lady was clad in her AIR FRANCE uniform; Man-Tat Ng was able to focus in on her nametag: Solange Dubonnet. Solange… Man-Tat Ng had to meet her.

The intel genius was sad. The two slain operatives were beautiful. He knew he would never had had a chance with them, but still… women who looked like that made him proud to be Chinese.

However, Solange Dubonet was special. The intel genius snapped himself out of his puppylove trance. Who was he kidding? He was never going to Paris.

“Man-Tat Ng!”… It was Chang… “Turn off your computer, you’re going to Paris!”… Chang was Ng’s boss… “Now!” Man-Tat Ng knew he did not hear his boss correctly: “Excuse me, sir?”

“Li Zhang has requested you. She needs immediate analysis, and the boys’ upstairs figure she needs a bodyguard.”… Chang was a grandfatherly figure to Ng. “Oh yes, my good man, don’t let Zhang take advantage of you! If you know what I mean.” Chang winked at Ng, and Ng blushed.

Man-Tat Ng couldn’t believe what came out of his mouth next: “I need to talk to Solange Dubonet, the AIR FRANCE hostess!” Wow! He wondered if he said that. The look on Chang’s face suggested he did.

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“You son of a gun! I didn’t think you had it in you.” Chang was very aware of Ng’s shyness.

“Well, have at it, my boy!”

Chang did something un-grandfatherly, then: he took out his wallet, and pulled something out: “Hey! If you don’t know how to use one of these, ask Zhang!” The old man shoved a condom into Ng’s shirt pocket. “It’s ribbed. ask Zhang about that!”

Ask Li Zhang about condoms?

“How about those sexual harassment in the workplace lectures we just got?” Ng asked in all seriousness.

“My boy! If you don’t sexually harass Li Zhang when you get to Paris, she’ll castrate you!”

Chang was laughing hysterically. “Hurry up, there’s a car waiting downstairs to take you to the airport!”

Ng was shocked: “Now?!... I have to pack!”

“No time! Zhang is buying you two weeks’ worth of clothes; they’ll be waiting for you in your Paris hotel room.” Chang had everything covered.

“Now, move!”

Ng was obedient. He ran toward the elevator. Three minutes later, he exploded out of the Beijing office building. A chauffeur signaled to him from a shiny black limo.

“Wait! I’ll be back in three minutes.” Without any regard to traffic, Ng sprinted across the busy street.

His target was a small gift shop, usually catering to tourists.

Lai Ming, the 84-year-old proprietor gave Ng a smile. He had been in Ming’s shop many times, always looking at the same item. Today, however, there was something different in Ng’s eyes.

“I see! You are in love!”

Ng could not answer. Lai Ming reached behind her and gently pulled the item off a shelf: “Would you like to hold it before I wrap it?”

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Ng did. Holding the item seemed to send a weird energy through him. His love for Solange was now pulsating and not just in his underpants. Ng, unable to speak, gave the item back to Lai Ming.

Lai Ming held it with care, carefully wrapped it in tissue paper, and put it in a shiny red wooden box. Ng pulled out his wallet. He had never spent that much for a gift before.

“No, my boy! You are in love. There is no monetary price on love. The beautiful woman you give this to will take care of you for life… She’s a lucky woman.” Ng was trying to say something. Lai Ming helped him out: “Now go! Go find her and start the rest of your life!”

Ng ran out of the little shop and sprinted back to the limo.

One horrific thought came to Ng’s mind as he climbed into the limo: What underwear would Li Zhang pick out for him?

Chapter 25: Return from Atlanta Solange was tired. All she wanted to do was to take a hot mineral bath, moisturize, and develop new explosive compounds. The AIR FRANCE van delivered her home. Atlanta was indeed a shithole, but she had fun with Patricia.

Solange’s building was old, and the elevator usually did not work. No matter, Solange figured the aerobic exercise of stair climbing was good to strengthen her asthmatic lungs.

With her stewardess suitcase and purse the beautiful air hostess clambered to the attic apartment.

Her key unlocked two locks on the heavy door and she entered.

“I love you!” Man-Tat Ng had rehearsed this line over a thousand times. His French and English were not up to par. Immediately after saying this line he, with both hands, pushed forth a little red box with a ribbon on it.

“Awwwww!” Solange was blushing. “I love you, too!”

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Solange, in normal times would have murdered any intruder in her apartment. Something about the big China-man was different: “Ooooh! Is that for me?” The stewardess saw the gift box.

She put down her purse next to her bag and stepped closer to Ng. The huge Asian began shaking.

“Can I open it?”

Ng was now sweating and nodding profusely. He meant to say “Yes!” but “I love you.” came out.

Solange was blushing: “I love you, too!” She gently received the box and carefully untied the yellow ribbon. The red wooden box would have been a nice gift, alone. It was obviously very old and probably an antique. Solange opened it: “Oh… My… God!!!”

The stewardess was awestruck. She stepped over to an end table that she usually placed her mail on and set the box down on it. Softly, she pushed aside some tissue paper and pulled out a crystal eagle with its wings outstretched.

“Just like a bird searching for freedom: you are the beauty that makes the sky part of Heaven.” Man-Tat Ng was astonished he got that line out, but he did. “I love you!”

Solange began crying: “I have never seen anything so beautiful. I love you, too.” She stepped closer to Ng, who was now shaking harder. The beautiful stewardess, clad in her AIR FRANCE hostess uniform (with her red leather belt and non-regulation boots), stood on her tiptoes. She planted a wet kiss on Ng’s right cheek. Her loud red lips made sure to leave a bit of moisture. Ng would never realize the moisture on his cheek as he fainted.

“Oh… This is fucking great… just great!” Li Zhang had watched the entire show from the corner. Clad in her stewardess uniform as well, the AIR ASIA hostess/assassin was ready to throw up herself.

“Who the fuck are you? Some bimbo reject from HOOTERS AIR?”

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Solange did not appreciate this intruder.

THE AIR FRANCE hostess quickly lost interest in Li Zhang and knelt to her knees beside the unconscious Ng. This initial meeting was not going the way Li Zhang anticipated. “Bimbo?!” the hostess/assassin had to admit she did have some bimbo in her… but this Euro-skank had no right to call her one: “Listen, cunt face…”

Solange motioned with her right hand for silence: “Shhhhh… he’s coming to…”

“Oh great, Romeo and Juliet !… I’m going to vomit!” Li was now desperate to get control of the situation.

“I love you!” cooed Ng looking up at Solange’s face.

“I love you!” cooed back Solange.

“Stop it! Please!”

Li Zhang was pleading. Both parties ignored her.

“I love my eagle. I’ve never had anything so beautiful.” Solange was teary eyed.

Li Zhang’s impatience nearly proved bloody: “Where’s your make-up case, Juliet?”

“In my suitcase, but if you like having ten fingers, I’d leave it alone!” Solange did not know why she spared the AIR ASIA skank from a little booby-trap.

Li Zhang was stunned. Her impulsiveness had almost got her blown up. Solange had saved her.

“Hey, ask him to show you his underwear!”

Ng shot Li Zhang a vicious glance.

Li Zhang could not resist: “White boxer shorts with red hearts all over them.”

Solange ignored Li. Her hands were caressing Ng’s face.

“Are you feeling better, my sweet?” Solange bent down further and kissed Ng’s forehead.

Realizing she was not going to be able to interrogate Solange, Li Zhang went to Plan B: “Listen, I’m going to leave the two of you to get acquainted… but I’ll be back!”

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Ng did not hear her, but Solange did. Still making goo-goo eyes at Ng, the AIR FRANCE hostess answered: “Whatever.”

Li Zhang needed to visit Patricia. She anticipated this meeting would go better: “Before I go: CLAIROL and REVLON… half and half?”

“Oh sure! You try that, if you want to scrape your face off the wall with a spatula…”

Solange was smiling at Li Zhang’s ignorance.

Li Zhang was mystified: “Then what?”

“52 percent REVLON, 48 percent CLAIROL… It has to be unstable, but not too unstable that it will go off right away.” Solange was always eager to mentor other stewardesses.

Li Zhang was agape: “Then… Wait! I don’t understand. Then how…”

Solange interrupted: “Just one drop of Benzelene solution… one drop… not two.”

Li Zhang was amazed. Beijing’s scientists could not figure this out, but this AIR FRANCE hostess had: “Shit!… Okay, I’ll be back in an hour!”

On her way out, she told Ng in Mandarin: « 不要让她使用电话! » (“Don’t allow Solange

to use the telephone!”, Ed).

Li Zhang did not want Patricia Marceau to know that she was coming to see her.

Solange kept caressing Ng’s head and face. Before Li Zhang departed, a tinge of guilt came across her… after all, the AIR ASIA skank did bring her the hunk: “Hey bimbo!”

Solange could not resist. Li Zhang paused. She was about to call Solange a cunt.

“Make sure you leave the REVLON and CLAIROL in the sun for one hour and 22 minutes before mixing them. Add the Benzelene solution drop to the REVLON, not the CLAIROL… then mix them!” Despite their confrontational relationship, Solange imagined her and Li Zhang becoming great friends.

Li Zhang was about to say something obscene to Solange. She, then, realized the AIR FRANCE babe trusted her. Li Zhang hated to admit it, but she saw her and Solange becoming great friends.

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Solange knew Li Zhang was headed over to see Patricia. She wondered if Patricia would sell the AIR ASIA hostess into bondage.

Li Zhang left, having absolutely no clue about what was about to happen to her. Solange knew…and smiled. The crystal Eagle, sat on an end table, faced the two lovers to be as if it were a fire crafted guardian of their forthcoming love. Solange's left hand gently undid Ng’s belt and…

Chapter 25: Feeling Fresh Patricia had only been home for 90 minutes. She had planned to unpack and refill her suitcase for her next trip. She also planned on taking a hot bath utilizing an herbal bathbomb, and then donning her motorcycle outfit (leather pants, boots, and leather jacket).

She thought about Rudger. She even decided to put the red thong on underneath the pants.

Patricia blushed at the thought of this. The sultry stewardess knew her current kinky mindset was brought on because she missed Rudger so much. As much as she wanted to hop in a hot bath, Patricia decided to call Rudger.

“Hi babe! You home?” Rudger made Patricia call him after returning from every flight. He was still worried a terrorist would try to take her out.

“I am, and I miss you…” Patricia was going to say more. She wanted to tell Rudger she was going to put on a red thong and think about him. Tears swelled as her feelings of love for Rudger overcame her.

“I know. I’ll be there tomorrow. Hey! You have my key. Spend the night at my apartment and have brunch waiting for me when I arrive… I’ll be there before noon.” Rudger needed to see Patricia now, but would have to wait a little while longer.

“Okay… I will.” She kissed into the phone a dozen times and thought how silly she must have looked.

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Patricia and Rudger hung up.

Patricia was excited. Immediately her thoughts went to preparing a special brunch for her man. Mimosas, strawberries, and eggs… that should do it.

“Fucking disgusting! You can’t be serious!” The half-naked AIR ASIA stewardess, hogtied in the middle of her living room, snapped Patricia back to reality.

Patricia went over to Li Zhang and poked her with the stun gun, once more: “What part of Shut-the-fuck-up don’t you understand, whore?” Li Zhang squealed.

“Now, shut up and let me concentrate!” Patricia had thought about asking the Asian beauty why she snuck into her apartment. Truthfully, she really did not care; she went to her computer and signed into her account at the Mercenary Today web page. Her iPhone went off… Solange…

“Hey, girlfriend, what’s up?” Other than Solange and Rudger, Patricia would not have answered.

“Not much babe. How about you?” Solange always loved talking to Patricia.

“Not a whole lot. Hey, guess what?” Patricia’s tone got enthusiastic.

“Oooh! What!?” Solange sensed Patricia’s enthusiasm.

“Well, you remember the slut last year? You know, when we first met in Frankfurt… We were about to get on the plane…” Patricia had not thought of this episode much, until now.

Solange remembered: “You mean the LUFTHANSA hostess, the one that called you a slut?”

“She called YOU a slut!” corrected Patricia.

Solange giggled. She remembered the LUFTHANSA babe did not like her flirting with the LUFTHANSA pilot: “Yeah! How was I to know she was engaged to that pilot?”

“Yeah, her!” Patricia had signed into her account and went to the PLACE AN ADVERTISEMENT section of the web page.

“What ever happened to her?” Solange was curious.

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“Oh, I guess I never told you: I sold her to some French Foreign Legion troops in the Belgian Congo for morale purposes.” Patricia was surprised Solange did not know this.

“Oh yeah, now I remember! You followed her into the bathroom and used the stun gun on her... I remember now! I helped you hogtie her.” Solange had forgotten about this up to now.

“Right.” Patricia paused.

“Yeah, hold on!... Asian beauty clad in an Air Asia hostess costume, very experienced…” Patricia kept typing.

“Oh, I see! Ah! Eh… That’s why I’m calling…” Solange was relieved. Patricia had not sold Li Zhang into bondage yet…

“Spit it out Solange! I have to finish this classified ad, post it, and then I have a date with an herbal bath-bomb…” Patricia was about to hit SUBMIT. Solange sensed she had to spit it out: “No! The Asian skank is our friend!”

Patricia was annoyed: “Well, she’s about to be the love toy of French Foreign Legion troops in the African jungle… Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t post this ad!”

Solange didn’t know what to say: “Ha! I knew you’d understand.” Solange had just saved Li Zhang from a fate worse than death. “I’ll tell you later, you go have your bath… then, call me!… I have big news for you.”

Patricia was excited: “Oh really? Is it a… man?”

“Well… yes!” Solange was beaming and Patricia could hear it in her voice.

“I’ll call you back in an hour.” Patricia hung up and deleted her un-submitted ad. She then turned her attention to Li Zhang, who had heard the entire conversation. “This doesn’t mean I’m pulling your AIR ASIA uniform off EBAY! I already have a full-price offer, some Japanese guy who goes by 強姦野郎.” (Violator of the Nubile, Ed) Li Zhang sensed she was allowed to talk again: “You, fucking cunt! Give me my uniform back!”

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“No!” Patricia was angry. “Maybe, if you knocked instead of sneaking through the window, I would consider that… but no, you snuck in like a criminal! I’m going to cut you lose. You will clean my kitchen and I will talk to you after my bath.”

Li Zhang thought about calling Patricia a cunt again, but the sultry stewardess was still holding a stun-gun.

“I need a bath, too!”

“Fuck you, pervert!” Patricia cut the twine binding Li’s hands and ankles. “Now, get to cleaning and I’ll find you some clothes after my bath!”

The bath was a good one. The herbal bath-bomb did wonders. Patricia felt bad about selling the skank’s AIR ASIA uniform to a Japanese pervert, but… 300 Euros was 300 Euros.

Patricia had a busy day ahead of her, and a busy morning tomorrow. She quickly put on her leather motorcycle outfit… and yes… the thong went on underneath!... Rudger would appreciate it… though he would never see it.

The refreshed AIR FRANCE beauty stepped out of her bedroom, walked through her living area and into her immaculate kitchen: “Wow! I have to say… you have done an amazing job!”

“Why thank you!” Li Zhang’s voice emanated from behind her.

Patricia spun around to deliver another compliment, but her face immediately showed consternation: “I might’ve known! Take those off!”

Li Zhang was wearing Patricia’s AIR FRANCE uniform. She even put on the boots and leather belt.

“A bit frumpy for my taste, but it’ll do.”

“Frumpy! At least I don’t look like a high-flying hooker, bitch!” Patricia caught herself and counted to 10 in her head. “Okay! Fair is fair and I am sorry for selling your uniform to some Japanese fetish-ridden businessman.” The apology made Patricia feel better.

“All right… and I’m sorry for sneaking in through your window!”

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Li Zhang knew she needed Patricia’s trust: “Are you also sorry for electrocuting me and hog-tying me?”

Patricia smiled: “Well… no!” Then she laughed.

Li Zhang also laughed: “Hey, call Solange! Tell them to come over.”

“Them?” Patricia did not wait for an answer. “Oh, shit! Just a second!” She picked up her iPhone and called Rudger.

“Hi baby!” Rudger answered right away.

The Asian hostess only heard Patricia’s half of the conversation.

“Oh Rudger!… Yes!… Well… The leather motorcycle outfit and…” Patricia turned away from the curious Li Zhang and whispered “… You know, that shiny red thing I told you about…”

Li Zhang could not keep quiet: “Gag me with a spoon, bitch!”

“Shut up!” Patricia was ready to slug the Asian. “No! Not you! A stewardess friend of mine!…. Hey, do you mind if I bring Solange and my stewardess friend over to your place?...

Awww, thank you, love.”

Li Zhang was ever the interrupter: “And Man-Tat Ng!” “Hold on, love!… Shut up!... Sorry dear, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Patricia was not really angry, just a bit red-faced after allowing a stranger to hear her love talk to Rudger: “Mind your own business, bitch!”

“No! Besides, Solange is going to bring Man-Tat Ng with her.” Li Zhang was all into full disclosure… at least for now.

“What is a Monday Ring?” Patricia did not really want to know.

“No! Man-Tat Ng! He’s a hunk intelligence officer. Him and Solange are going to be married and cause international stirs for the next 50 years… God help the planet!” Li Zhang knew her explanation probably led to more questions from Patricia.

Patricia held up her hand signaling Li to cease.

“Can you help me fix a romantic brunch?”

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Li Zhang smiled: “I’m your girl!” The Asian beauty was lying. She could not cook, but with a smart phone, anything was easy.

Chapter 26: Helga and the CIA Max Brundt was the top CIA man in Munich. He was also Helga’s handler.

For the most part, he allowed Helga to blow up banks, an airplane occasionally, and even some police stations.

Max inspected Helga’s attic torture chamber: “I see you have thought this out.”

Helga was anxious to get the CIA’s blessing for Patricia Marceau’s tortuous execution.

“Okay, Helga. Do me one favor: send me some movies of the torture!” Max was sweating.

He was in to all the kinky S&M and BDSM porn. At the thought of a pretty stewardess getting tortured and whipped, he was erect. “Oh, here!” Max gave Helga a brown paper bag. “The Tablet is an AIR FRANCE one, you’ll be able to see every stewardess’ schedule.

Patricia Marceau is highlighted. Just click on her name and her schedule will come up!...

The iPhone is a clone of Patricia’s… You’ll see all her texts and get a call history of all her calls and her incoming ones… There is a homing app on this one. Just push it and it will show you the location of her phone anywhere in the world!” Helga smirked. The CIA always seemed immensely helpful.

Max was not quite done. He went on: “Just one more thing... Her panties… I want them!”

The sweaty CIA operative had a collection of panties of raped and tortured beauties.

Helga nodded: “Easy!”

*** Meanwhile, 700 Kilometers to the south, Man-Tat Ng looked like he was having a panic attack.

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“Whoa, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Solange had just got dressed after a lot of sex. “I hope I was okay; did you enjoy me?”

Man-Tat Ng was holding his iPhone; a notification just came through. “I love you!”

“Awwww, I love you.”

Solange put on some lacy naughty undergarments. Man-Tat Ng was erect again.

The French stewardess also put on a semi-tight suede skirt (ecru), and a shiny red satin blouse.

“So, whatever your name is: pumps or boots?” Solange held up some red stilettos in her right hand and black go-go boots in her left.

Man-Tat Ng was drooling. He pointed to the boots.

Solange gave him a smile: “Naughty boy!”

Still panicking, Man-Tat Ng called Li Zhang. He spoke in Mandarin for the next 12 minutes.

*** On the other end of the phone, Li Zhang listened carefully.

Patricia noticed that her new Asian friend seemed frightened.

*** Neither Patricia nor Solange understood what their new Asian friends were conversing about. Soon they would be briefed on some awfully bad news.

After Man-Tat Ng hung up, Solange came over to him. She wrapped both her arms around his mid-section: “It’s okay my love… whatever it is, we’ll get through this together.”

Solange did not want to let go: “So… do you have a name?”

Chapter 27: The Plan Patricia was focused. She did not want to be distracted. Solange was on the same page.

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But Li Zhang thought Patricia was insane and Man-Tag Ng was scared.

Patricia was up early and ready. Solange would be over soon with the groceries. Li Zhang and Man-Tat Ng were also on their way. Rudger was good natured about allowing Patricia to use his apartment. The sultry stewardess intended to give him a proper thanks.

At 7:15am the doorbell rang. All the company arrived simultaneously. Patricia opened the door to Solange, clutching two bags of groceries and slipping her tongue into Man-Tag Ng’s mouth. Li Zhang looked like she was about to vomit. The trio stepped inside the apartment.

Patricia seized the moment: “Okay, kids, we have a lot of work to do, and all of you have to be gone in four hours!”

Solange finally separated from Ng. She looked at Patricia, pointed to Ng and instructed: “This is Mantooth Nagy!”

Man-Tat Ng looked at Solange: “I love you!”

“Awwww, I love you, too!” Solange was happy. Patricia picked up on this and Li Zhang rolled her eyes. Solange ran into the kitchen to put down the groceries.

Ng surprised Patricia by handing her a bouquet of colorful flowers: “To beautiful friend!”

Ng smiled warmly. Patricia blushed.

“Awww, thank you… eh… Manny.” Patricia was impressed. She ran into the kitchen to put the flowers in the water.

Ng, in a serious tone, spoke to Li Zhang in Mandarin: « 我需要更多的避孕套.» (“I need

more condoms!”, Ed).

“Hey bitch, get in here!” Patricia yelled from the kitchen.

“Hey cunt! Be patient! Loverboy here needs more condoms! You have any!?”

Man-Tag Ng still had not learned English or French, so he did not know what Li asked.

Patricia did not answer, but Solange burst out of the kitchen with her purse and, in an excited voice, said: “I do!”

Ng looked at Solange: “I love you!”

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“Awww, I love you, too!” Solange was in love.

Li Zhang rolled her eyes and ran into the kitchen. Patricia greeted her: “Oh good! Finally, would you cut up that pineapple and wash the strawberries? I’ll get the fondue pot ready.

Look in the drawers!... There are some fondue sticks somewhere.”

Li Zhang was obedient. She was dressed in tight leather pants and a black sports bra: “Hey, you don’t suppose when Rudger arrives… well… I could stay around and maybe the three of us…”

Patricia halted her: “Gross! No! Are all you Chinese horny perverts?”

Li Zhang looked back into the living room where Solange was undoing Ng’s trouser zipper: “Ah! We are now!”

Patricia, remembering this was not her apartment, yelled to Solange, “Solange! Can you and Maurice make some coffee?”

Li Zhang rinsed off the strawberries. She found a big knife to cut them: “Listen, Patricia, I don’t know why I’m doing this, but for some reason I like you and I don’t want you to die!”

“Get all the skin off and make the chunks a couple centimeters square!” Patricia did not appear to be listening.

Li began again: “Ng…” “Who?” Patricia was only half paying attention.

“Loverboy in there!” Li Zhang continued: “Well, he has access to all smart phone data from CIA operatives all around Europe. Last night a greasy CIA guy gave the most lethal German terrorist permission and assistance to murder you.”

“Whatever!... Hey, do you think Murray and Solange would rather have cappuccino?”

Patricia found the cappuccino machine and lifted it up onto the counter.

“Patricia, please! I don’t want anything to happen to you! You’re my friend.” Li Zhang could not believe she said that.

Patricia put down the machine and look stunned.

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“Patricia, there is a CIA operative named Max Brundt. He’s a pervert. He wants to lick the panties off your cold corpse.”

Neither Patricia nor Li saw Solange slide into the kitchen… Ng had ejaculated and run into the bathroom…

“Oh, don’t worry! That Max guy died in a kiln explosion twenty minutes ago. He was making a pot.” Solange, holding up her iPhone, was reading a text.

Li Zhang was stunned. Nothing had ever shocked her: “What? How do you know that?”

“Uhm… I’m sure I don’t know.” Solange hid her iPhone behind her back.

“Li!” Patricia went over to Li and gave her a sisterly hug: “You will be happier in life if you don’t ask Solange too many questions… You know what I mean?” Patricia winked at Li. Solange was relieved. She did not want to explain about her Munich operative, Princess Velnuvia.

Ng came running into the kitchen. He looked at Solange: “I love you!”

“Awww, I love you, too!” Solange grabbed Ng’s right hand and led him out into the living room again.

Patricia was not going to divert from her plan. Rudger would arrive around noon and she would have a brunch filled with the most extreme aphrodisiac dishes imaginable: “Li! You and I have to hurry; I don’t reckon the two of them are going to be much help.”

Li Zhang was dumbfounded: “Eh! Do you want me to get the oysters ready to sauté… or do you two want them raw?”

Chapter 28: Mimosas and Sangria Patricia was more than a little tipsy. That was fine. Rudger would never take advantage of her. She snuggled closer to him on his sofa. He simultaneously pulled her towards him. The lovebirds had drained the last of the mimosas and were now finishing off the sangria.

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“Why do you have to leave so soon? Stay with me, here!” Patricia was getting sad.

“I have to get back to Munich. Besides, you’re heading there next Thursday, aren’t you?”

Rudger did not want to leave either… but duty called.

“I was given a turn… but I did a trade or two, so I’ll be in Munich through the next Sunday.

I don’t suppose you’ll have some free time… maybe we could go on a park tour, I want to see… and feel… those mosaics.” Patricia really did want to see more of Rudger’s mosaics.

“I think the sangria and those raw oysters are stirring something inside me.” The sultry stewardess giggled.

“I hope so!” Rudger put down his glass and turned his torso so he could wrap both arms around his love.

Patricia dropped her empty glass. The two kissed and made out for over 20 minutes.

“Someday… soon, we’ll be able to do more than just make-out.”

Patricia was beaming. She knew what this meant: “I can’t wait. Oh Rudger, I Iove you so much!”

Patricia felt her red satin thong screaming underneath her leather pants. Suddenly the sultry hostess felt a cascade of guilt: “You know, my sweet, I should tell you that I didn’t prepare all this alone.”

Rudger did not seem to care about this: “Did Solange help you? How is she?”

“Awww, she’s so cute… she’s in love. You should see this new guy! Some hunk… He has a funny name… Manny or Murray, or…” Patricia was really trying to remember.

“Man-Tat Ng.” Rudger was only trying to be helpful.

Patricia shot up, very startled: “How… how did you know?”

“His boxers are on the floor of the bathroom. Looks like he and Solange had a pretty nice time.” Rudger was laughing and so was Patricia.

“I was going to tell you about them.. Solange picked up the groceries so I could have the fondue, the beverages… oh, and the oysters, ready for you!”

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Patricia was giddy again, but only for a few seconds: “Wait! How do you know a guy just from his boxers?”

Rudger planted another passionate kiss on his darling: “I have to give him credit: white satin boxers with hearts all over them… nice!” The INTERPOL hunk stood up and scooped up his stewardess. He carried her into the kitchen: “Good, there is still some pineapple. I’m so hungry.”

Rudger stuck the pineapple chunks into the chocolate sauce and fed the first one to Patricia. Patricia was quite the seductress. She sucked on it before her lips pulled it off the stick. She, then, fed Rudger one and made sure to drip some of the chocolate sauce on his chin. After Rudger chewed the fondue treat, Patricia moved in and licked his chin clean.

Patricia was still feeling guilty and was about to elaborate on whatever they were just talking about. If only she could remember what they were just talking about…

“Anymore oysters?” Rudger was hungry. He needed to do something, like eat, so as not to ‘take advantage’ of the woman he loved.

The sultry stewardess giggled. She could feel his erection through his pants: “I don’t think you need any more.” Patricia remembered what Rudger and her were just talking about: “Oh, I want to be honest with you…I didn’t prepare them.”

Rudger smiled: “Whoever did, knew what they were doing. The last time I saw oysters prepared like this… oregano, I think…” Rudger paused and sniffed the serving dish that had contained the raw oysters.

Patricia had no idea: “Old bay… I think.”

“Ah right! Yes.” Rudger seemed satisfied. “Oh yeah, it was in Rabat. This Chinese assassin… what was her name?” Rudger paused again.

“Li Zhang.” Patricia was about to tell Rudger about the Chinese assassin.

“Right!”

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The INTERPOL hunk started to go on with his story: “Wait! How did?... No, I don’t want to know!” Rudger really did not want to know.

Patricia feigned offense: “What do you mean you don’t want to know?”

The sultry stewardess was half smiling and half pouting: “I should think that a story about Li Zhang and myself preparing an aphrodisiac brunch would be something you would want to know all about!” Patricia was trying not to laugh. “Hey, wait! Did she seduce you in Rabat?”

“Almost! She walked into my tent with a gift. Boxer shorts, satin, with hearts all over them.” Rudger knew he could be honest with Patricia. He was right.

“I balked at putting them on, so she pulled a plate out of her basket. Raw oysters. They smelled just like these. I knew I’d eat one and I knew I’d then make passionate love to her.” Rudger was smiling, and so was Patricia.

“Okay… continue!” Patricia wanted to hear more.

“Apparently she had just ripped off some angry Bedouins. These fools wandered Morocco and raped and pillaged any little town they came across. They were also funded by the CIA. Then, China sent Li Zhang into Morocco to assassinate the chief. She did… and castrated him. She kept his balls as a souvenir. I figured this out later, but Li mixed them with the oysters and was going to feed them to me.”

Patricia was laughing hysterically now: “I knew there was a reason I liked that bitch.”

Rudger was also laughing: “Well, just as she undid my belt, fifteen angry Bedouins charged in my tent and took her away.” Rudger was losing it, he was laughing so hard, tears streamed down his cheeks. “You would’ve had to seen it to believe it! I found her four hours later. The angry tribesmen had her hanging upside down, naked. They had her legs tied separately and pulled them apart. Two brutes, then, carried an erect goat toward her.

They were going to have the goat rape her.”

Tears of laughter were streaming down Patricia’s face: “Oh, go on! I have to hear this!”

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“I tossed two grenades and a tear gas cannister and all the Bedouins scattered. Not the goat! He was determined. You should have heard Li’s scream: “GET THAT FUCKING GOAT AWAY FROM ME!” Both Rudger and Patricia were losing it. They were laughing so hard their faces ached.

“I cut her down… I felt bad for the goat.”

Patricia was embarrassed; snot was shooting out of her nose.

Rudger sobered up fast: “So, Li Zhang helped you with this shindig?”

“I hope you don’t mind.” Patricia was genuinely apologetic.

“No! Not at all!” Rudger was sincere. “I’m glad the two of you are friends. I do have to warn you… Don’t mention the goat to her!”

Again, Patricia lost it: “You know I will!”

Patricia felt bad but, deep down, she knew she would mention the goat to her new friend.

Chapter 29: Kuala Lumpur Turn It was not actually a turn. Li Zhang would have to spend 20 hours in the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur. Undercover was undercover. In between murdering and blowing up things, Li Zhang also performed brilliantly as an AIR ASIA stewardess. The Paris to Kuala Lumpur flight was a long one. Usually this was no problem for the assassin. But, this time, Li had so much on her mind…

Beijing did not care if the CIA conspired with Europe’s deadliest leftist terrorist to murder an AIR FRANCE hostess.

Li Zhang did care. For some unknown reason, the Asian vixen felt affection for Patricia Marceau.

The Asian vixen also had affection for the serial killer psycho stewardess, Solange Dubonet.

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There was only one course of action for Li Zhang on the Paris to Kuala Lumpur flight; the Asian assassin did her best to get her mind off her new friends. She would return to Paris on Tuesday and resume protecting two French babes… who probably didn’t need protecting.

The best way to get her mind off the worries of the day was… vicious and deviant sex. The Asian beauty had not had a good orgasm in nearly six hours and this had to change.

Six hours ago, at Charles de Gaulle, Li Zhang was headed to her gate. She passed two hunk pilots from DELTA AIRLINES. DELTA was based in Atlanta (a real shithole). Most of DELTA’s stewardesses were hefty beasts. Li had just finished applying her make-up. The bright red lipstick complimenting her bright red uniform turned on everyone at the airport. Li gave the two DELTA pilots her look of love. Both hunks charged her. They dragged her into a family restroom and locked the door.

One of the pilots shoved his hand up her tight red skirt toward her crotch. The other hunk began fondling her breasts. Li Zhang moaned and screamed: “Ravage me! Now!” In 15 seconds the two pilots had Li’s uniform off, leaving her clad only in black lacy undergarments. Li Zhang clawed at the two pilots. Their belts were undone, and their flies were unzipped. One of the pilots got behind her. His erect man-organ pushed away her panties from the rear and found her anus.

The other pilot pushed her panties away from the front; his man-organ found her vagina.

Both hunks thrust their pelvises repeatedly. Li Zhang screamed in pain and ecstasy. The pilots’ hands were working her breasts through her bra.

Li Zhang had needed this domination ever since that AIR FRANCE babe got the drop on her, stripped her, and hogtied her. “Don’t stop!” Li Zhang kept the moment going for nearly twenty minutes. Eventually the amorous trio fell to the floor in exhaustion. Li needed them erect again. In the love-scuffle, her panties seemed to disappear. That was okay, Li had a kinky thong in her purse.

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With a long flight ahead, Li Zhang could not be sure if she’d be violated again over the next 12 to 16 hours. Solely clad in a lacy bra, the Asian beauty crawled over to one of the pilots.

She reached inside his trousers and pulled out his softening tally-whacker. Her vibrant red lips and tongue went to work on it. She did the same to the other pilot. Both DELTA AIRLINES pilots were fully erect again. They got back on their feet and lifted the seductress up between them.

“Okay, boys! Slap me silly and then switch sides!” The fly-duo was obedient and penetrated her orifices again.

Remembering her little orgy, Li Zhang beamed. She made a mental note to visit the cockpit in a few hours.

After arriving in Kuala Lumpur, Li broke away from her fellow stewardesses. The other beauties boarded a van for the airport hotel. Li would meet them there in an hour. A green TOYOTA minivan drove up.

The Asian beauty got in the driver’s seat as the other driver, just as he was ordered, walked away. Li drove to the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur and easily found the Masjid Jamek Mosque. The Imam at this place stopped paying his monthly tribute to the National Mosque of Malaysia. This tribute funded the Benevolent Fund for Suffering Children throughout the Muslim world. In reality, this benevolence fund funded the travel for high-ranking Malaysian imams to South African brothels, Saudi brothels, and Bangkok brothels. The Bangkok brothels provided imams with little boys (all under ten years old).

Li Zhang pulled to the front of this mosque, left the engine running, got out and strode to the rear. She opened the back of the van and pulled out a loaded Russian made grenade launcher. She aimed, though she was so close this was not necessary, and fired.

Boom! No more Masjid Jamek Mosque. The Malaysian government and the Imam at The National Mosque of Malaysia would blame the Israelis. Of course, the CIA had provided permission for this hit and would not refute the official story.

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The beautiful assassin walked away from the green minivan. Picked up by a blue airport van, she made it to the HYATT at the Kuala Lumpur airport.

Li Zhang hurried to her room. The vixen had been upgraded to a suite.

Before being able to strip out of her bright red uniform and hop into a shower, her guests arrived. Two other AIR ASIA stewardesses, the two pilots, and a stewardess trainee.

The orgy commenced after the two stewardesses and the trainee tackled Li Zhang and stripped her of her uniform. They, then, tied her to the bed. The two pilots took their turn with her. Simultaneously, the two stewardesses stripped the trainee and raped her. The trainee loved it and was honored to be part of an orgy with the legendary Li Zhang.

Li Zhang got loose and leapt on top of the trainee (Lily Chen). The two pilots also jumped on top of Lily, followed by the two other stewardesses.

In what followed, every orifice was penetrated and abused for all the participants.

Everyone was squirming except for Lily, who was at the bottom of the pile. Lily almost suffocated twice. Li Zhang abruptly called an end to the affair: “She can’t take anymore!”

Lily had been turning blue. “We need her alive!” Li Zhang, naked and sweaty, placed her hand in Lily’s crotch. “I need her alive! Everyone out, I need to be alone with Lily!”

Lily smiled; she was honored Li Zhang knew her name. When the pilots and stewardesses left, the naked and sweaty Li helped the naked and sweaty Lily to her feet. Li’s mouth went to work of Lily’s face. She licked the semen off Lily’s lips and chin. Lily was moaning again.

She fell to her knees and went to work on Li’s vagina. Li was screaming in ecstasy. Lily slowly got up, making sure her breasts rubbed against Li’s torso as she did. Li and Lily went at it again. Both slipped their tongues in each other’s mouths. The two beauties caressed each’s buttocks. Li turned Lily around and used her hands to reach around the trainee and caressed her breasts. Lily’s moans were getting louder.

“See you in Hell, fucking cunt!” Li reached for an AIR ASIA letter opener on the coffee table. This ornate trinket was given to her by AIR ASIA after her first anniversary of service.

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The assassin shoved the opener deep into Lily’s torso, under the ribcage, and up into the trainee’s heart. Lily Chen was dead in 15 seconds.

“Die, you motherfucking CIA rat!” Lily, AIR ASIA hostess-trainee, CIA informant, died with a smile on her face.

The next day, Li Zhang met her fellow crew members in the HYATT lobby. While waiting for the van to the airport, no one mentioned Lily. Li Zhang did not tell anyone she was wearing Lily’s thong.

The van was on time. The flight back to Charles de Gaulle would be a long one.

Li was aching but still in need of vicious and deviant sex. Halfway to Paris, South Korean actress Ahn Noo-ri began sucking face with her boyfriend, actor Danny Bang. Li Zhang decided she wanted to bang Bang and now. When Ahn got up from her seat, Li seized the moment. The beautiful star of The Yakuza File walked to the latrine. No one saw Li follow.

Before Ahn could lock the door, Li barged in and put a hand over Ahn’s mouth.

“Listen whore! I have four Yakuza buddies waiting at Charles de Gaulle… they didn’t appreciate that film you made.”

(In The Yakuza File, Ahn played a damsel in distress who ultimately outsmarted a vicious Yakuza gang.)

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go back to your seat and shut your eyes until we land. If not, I’ll have those Jap thugs rip your fucking silicone implants off.”

For effect, Li grabbed Ahn’s right boob. “Understand?”

Ahn was crying. She nodded yes.

In reality, Li Zhang didn’t have any Yakuza thugs waiting at the airport.

“Good! Remember: if you value your boobs, keep your eyes shut… and send Bang in here!”

Ahn valued her boobs. 90 seconds later, Danny Bang entered the latrine.

Li Zhang gave this Asian actor the most deviant sex he ever had.

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The Kuala Lumpur turn had restored Li Zhang’s self-confidence. The entire trip was a success. Being hogtied by Patricia Marceau, and almost raped by a Moroccan goat the year before, had played havoc with her self-esteem. Li needed these last couple of days. She figured she would gain control of her task at hand once she landed.

Finally, back in control and on top, Li Zhang looked upward to the sky, and confidently yelled: “I’m back! I am in charge! I call the shots!”

Chapter 30: Li Zhang, Not in Control Li Zhang felt an affection for Patricia Marceau. The AIR FRANCE stewardess was in mortal danger. The AIR ASIA hostess was bent on keeping her alive. Moments after landing at Charles de Gaulle, Li texted Patricia: Do not go to Munich on Thursday! You will be killed if you do!

Li was confident that she had earned Patricia’s respect. Besides, she had her groove back… her friend was bound to sense this. Patricia’s response came back in less than a minute: Go Fuck a goat, cunt! I’m going!

This was not the response Li expected. She also texted Man-Tat Ng. The loyal servant would surely be more respectful than Patricia: Status Update: what’s our fat German doing?

Man-Tat Ng would not disappoint Li. The obedient Intel Analyst turned operative was obedient to a fault. Li knew she could count on him to keep tabs on the situation during her absence.

Ah, good! A quick response… Li smiled, though not for long. Ng’s text: Bring more condoms!

“Fuck!” Li Zhang screamed. Everyone else at the shuttle station looked over to her.

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An over bubbly Japanese beauty wearing a NIPPON AIRWAYS uniform stepped over to Li. Li did not recognize her, but Kyoko had participated in an orgy with Li six months ago in Jakarta.

“Why such the long face Li? Just smile and the world will smile along with you!”

The joyful and looking radiant Kyoko, never saw what came in her direction. Li, without looking at the pretty Japanese stewardess delivered a vicious backhand sending Kyoko flying five meters into the busy airport terminal street. Buses, taxis, and limos came to a screeching halt so as not to run over the Japanese beauty. On her back and sprawled in the middle of the road, Kyoko would remain unconscious for the next few minutes. The sight of poor Kyoko, laying on her back, legs spread apart, arms outstretched, and blood leaking from her nose was a turn on for four Japanese businessmen. This quartet stepped over to her. Each took out their Samsung smartphones and began filming. The videos would each fetch over a million YOUTUBE views.

Li had no idea she just decimated the best NIPPON AIRWAYS had to offer. She texted Patricia back: Bitch!

She, then, responded to Man-Tag Ng’s reply: Tie her up and bring her to me at the HILTON! More of a crowd was gathering around Kyoko. Still unconscious, Kyoko videos were already being posted. Ahmad, a 16-year-old boy from Morocco, knelt beside her and began feeling her up: he slid his hands up her thigh, high into her crotch area.

Man-Tag Ng’s response would infuriate Li even more, especially because it appeared it was not from the hulk Intel Analyst/operative: Manny Can’t text now, he’s tied up. I’ll bring him to the Hilton. Then, I’ll tie you up, too. XoXoXo Kyoko began to regain conscious.

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A very pretty Charles de Gaulle airport policewoman approached Li. The assassin did not see her coming. Monique Darc was trained through the Jim Mitchell’s Leadership and Communication course. She was the perfect officer to diffuse the angry AIR ASIA hostess.

Confident and looking sexy in her very tight police uniform, Monique spoke to the Asian beauty: “Hello sister, can I help you with something?” Monique thought her approach was brilliant. She was not confrontational. If anything, she showed empathy and compassion to a suspect she would probably have to overpower and arrest.

The beautiful Monique Darc never saw the karate kick that landed on her right cheekbone.

Li’s kick sent the hem of her tight red stewardess skirt up to her hips.

The French police beauty was spread out near a trash receptacle. The top two buttons of her uniform’s shirt broke open revealing a terrific view of her cleavage and a white lacy bra.

The Japanese businessmen and Ahmad immediately lost interest in Kyoko and converged on poor Monique. Ahmad shoved his right hand into Monique’s groin. The Japanese businessmen filmed new YOUTUBE videos and Li stepped in a shuttle to the airport HILTON. The Asian assassin did not notice all the police cars and ambulances. The added emergency traffic delayed her arrival at her HILTON suite.

Li Zhang wanted to tie Patricia up and slap her silly. Her response to the French stewardess betrayed that hostility: Please, Patricia. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I beg you: cancel your Thursday trip! Please!!!!

Patricia’s reply was equally tender: Awww. Thank you, sis. I’m sorry I told you to fuck a goat. No need to worry. I’m no wallflower. BTW, Rudger’s parents are flying in from America. I will meet them on Saturday.

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Li began crying. If anything happened to Patricia… Well, the Air Asia stewardess was bent on not allowing anyone to harm Patricia.

As the shuttle pulled into the driveway at the HILTON, the police were busy at Charles de Gaulle. The four Japanese businessmen and Ahmad were the only witnesses to have stayed after the attacks. These five witnesses spoke almost no French. The cops spoke no Japanese nor Arabic. When Monique Darc was rushed to the hospital with temporary amnesia, Kyoko came to wondering where her panties were. The French cops interpreted the stories of the five foreigners as best they could… The unfortunate NIPPON AIRWAYS hostess, was arrested for the brutal attack on a policewoman. She was brought to the fifth floor of a local hospital to be locked away for 72 hours of psychological examination.

Chapter 31: The Killer The beautiful young stewardess knew Li Zhang was not going to like this.

Still, Li was a new friend and was not owed explanations.

“I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but I do love you!” Solange cooed to ManTat Ng. The Chinese Intel Analyst, turned operative, was now pouting.

“Oh my love, I have to leave for a few days… but I’ll be back!” Solange Dubonet tried to put a smile back on Ng’s face… alas, to no avail. “Oh, please don’t be sad.” Solange began crying. Man-Tat Ng cried too. The two lovers embraced.

“Just a few days, my love, and then we’ll be together forever!” Not knowing Mandarin, nor her lover’s name, made saying goodbye difficult for Solange.

“I love you!” Ng knew nothing else to say.

With a cascade of tears flowing down her cheeks, Solange, could only respond: “I love you!”

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Solange dressed her lover. She wondered about his boxer shorts; they were always so… vibrant.

“I love your shorts, my love. This one is so… suggestive!”

The AIR FRANCE stewardess slipped a pair of boxers on Ng. They were black satin with exaggerated red lips printed all over. “I’m going to put a note in your shirt pocket. Li will read it to you.”

“I love you!” Ng was whimpering.

“Awwww, I love you too!” Solange started bawling.

Ng grabbed her and held her close. They embraced for the next 15 minutes.

Only a text notification on Solange’s phone stopped them.

The slightly unbalanced beauty looked at her phone: “Okay, your taxi is here. Let’s go!”

Solange tried to sound happy. She led Ng downstairs: “Remember, give this note to Li!” “I love you!” Ng could say nothing else.

Solange was glad she had not put on her make-up yet. She had never cried this hard.

Through her tears, the stewardess put Ng into the backseat of a taxi and ordered to the driver: “Take him to the HILTON at Charles de Gaulle!”

Once back in her attic apartment, Solange grabbed Ng’s red wooden box and opened it.

For 30 minutes she caressed the crystal eagle and continued sobbing.

She, then, prayed: “Dear God, make what’s his name happy. Wipe away his tears. Bring me back to him soon, then, make me the best wife in the world to him. Please God, take care of my Chinaman as I go take care of Patricia! Amen!”

The young stewardess stripped naked and hit the shower. A cinnamon-apple shower gel helped her cheer up. After smearing it all over her body, she continued thinking of her new lover. She blow-dried her long hair, then, put it up in a bun like the Asian stewardesses usually do.

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For the young AIR FRANCE hostess, the make-up application was a science.

55 minutes later, every part of her face worked every seduction angle.

The back of Solange’s closet had her wardrobe for the next few days: a new catsuit!

The vixen slid into the tight black suit, quickly zippered it up, caressed her sides and cooed: “Oh Solange… you… are… so… hot!”

The French stewardess strapped on several tactical holsters, then, and filled them with the appropriate weapons.

Boots were next… Black shiny go-go boots. This footwear had no useful purpose except to make the wearer look trashy… but in an ‘oh, so seductive’ type of way.

The air hostess had now transitioned into a vixen/warrior… almost.

The beauty in black slid a big table away from the center of the floor and removed a small, and very worn, Oriental rug. With the help of a flat head screwdriver, Solange lifted off four floorboards. She threw the screwdriver aside, looked at the just revealed secret compartment, smiled and said: “Showtime!”

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Chapter 32: Kyoko Honda Such a sad story, the unceremonious and humiliating end to a beautiful woman’s career as an air hostess! She was the most beautiful NIPPON AIRWAYS stewardess ever… Kyoko Honda, the woman who made the sun rise every morning… This was her fate!

The two husky orderlies who had hold of one of Kyoko’s arms only knew what the police officers told them: the pretty NIPPON AIRWAYS stewardess went bananas and attacked a policewoman.

She seemed compliant and harmless now, but schizophrenics could explode at a moment’s notice. Thus, the dressed in all white orderlies hung on tight.

Poor Kyoko! She was trying to shake the cobwebs out. The blow to her head had sent her to la-la land for a while. She was afraid and crying as she was guided onto the freight elevator at Sainte-Anne Hospital Center (the ‘Centre Hospitalier Sainte-Anne’ is a Parisian hospital specializing in psychiatry, neurology, addiction etc., Ed). Her panties were gone, and her vagina felt like it had been violated. In Japanese, Kyoko told one of the orderlies: “わたし、強姦(やられ)ちゃったみたい” (“I think I may have been raped!”, Ed).

The brutish orderly did not understand Japanese. Besides, he learned long ago not to believe anything incoming patients said. As soon as the stewardess was brought to the fifth floor, she would be fitted with a straight jacket, sedated, and watched for three days.

Both orderlies knew that they would each have a turn at raping her while she was under sedation.

The elevator began its upward journey. The crying Kyoko started becoming hysterical: “お 願い、助けて。 強姦(やられ)たの。” (“Please, help me, I’ve been raped!”, Ed).

Kyoko did not know that her rape consisted of a Moroccan teenager sticking his fingers under her panties and up her vagina.

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Both orderlies were now erect. The beautiful Asian smelled so nice and her NIPPON AIRWAYS uniform was quite attractive.

As Kyoko contorted in panic, her body rubbed up against the two orderlies who could not resist. The elevator was slow moving. The taller hospital attendant, Pierre, slammed Kyoko against the back wall. The shorter one, René, grabbed both her breasts through her uniform. Kyoko screamed. Pierre kneed her in the stomach, sending the unfortunate beauty to her knees. René unzipped his fly, pulled out his man-organ and brought it to within a few inches of the stewardess’ mouth.

Then, on the fifth floor of the hospital, the doors of the elevator opened.

Neither René nor Pierre noticed the doors open. The two hospital attendants were ripped to shreds in a matter of seconds…

A lunatic horde packed the elevator. The maniacal rebels had just enjoyed a victorious coop. The sexual deviant section of the psychiatric ward, 44 patients (35 men, 9 women), engineered a masterful take-over. 14 orderlies and 12 nurses were strewn about the fifth floor. The nine female nurses were gang raped before being torn apart. Step two of the plan was, now, escape.

After shredding the two orderlies, the drooling sex perverts turned their attention to the pretty Japanese stewardess. Their plan of taking the elevator to the ground floor was momentarily sidetracked. Now, their grand strategy was amended to add in the rape of Kyoko Honda. They attacked and stripped her. Then, they violated all her orifices. Men psychos and women psychos were unmerciful. The crying and dripping Kyoko was dragged out of the elevator. A huge rapist picked her up and threw her behind the nurse’s station.

Numb, in shock, and soaked in man-fluid, Kyoko snapped. Her ninja warrior training kicked in. Kyoko’s grandfather believed his granddaughter should be taught in the ways of the ninja.

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She was a good student: when the horde dove over the nurse’s counter, Kyoko grabbed a scalpel and a syringe which were also on the floor and waited for the horde to come to her.

She slashed, kicked, punctured, slashed some more…

17 minutes later, 25 sexual deviants were dead on the floor and 19 had taken the elevator to the fourth floor. Kyoko Honda was no longer a diminutive NIPPON AIRWAYS stewardess.

The cobwebs in her head were all gone. Her memories of the previous hour and a half were clear. The naked beauty, covered in blood and armed with a scalpel and syringe knew what she had to do: Revenge!

She screamed: “Li Zang ! 今行くわよ。” (“Li Zhang! I’m coming for you!”, Ed) 2 minutes before that, Nurse Carol, who was the only fourth floor hospital staff not bleeding out, saw an insane killer arrive after the surviving lunatic horde left.

Her colleagues were all dead. The doctors were in pieces. The nurses were all ordered to strip while a mysterious lunatic ninja tried on their uniforms. If the uniform did not fit, the ninja-madwoman sliced their throats. Paralyzed with fear, Nurse Carol could not move her feet. After witnessing the carnage, she could only whimper.

Nurse Carol was the sultriest nurse in Europe. She had even adopted a pseudonym when MAXIM featured her in a photoshoot entitled Europe’s Sexiest Public Health Vixens. Not able to move, the centerfold/nurse could only cry and watch the naked ninja-madwoman approaching.

Kyoko Honda did not really want to kill Nurse Carol. Okay, maybe the old Kyoko Honda did not want to kill Nurse Carol, but the new one did! Most of the fourth-floor nurses were bigboned and retaining water. Nurse Carol’s build was similar to Kyoko’s. When the NIPPON AIRWAYS hostess, turned maniacal ninja-madwoman, neared Nurse Carol, the two ladies stared into each other’s eyes. Kyoko spoke first: “Strip!”

Nurse Carol was used to hearing this order. Usually, it came from hunk doctors or dominatrix women with whips.

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“Please, no! I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt me!”

Nurse Carol used her standard reply. In a strange way, she was beginning to enjoy this chance meeting with the ninja madwoman.

The agile nurse beauty found her uniform’s zipper behind the nape of her neck and gently pulled it all the way down. The MAXIM centerfold had only one strategy for survival: seduce her attacker.

After Carol unzipped her white uniform, she pulled her arms out of the sleeves and stepped out of it.

Licking her lips while shooting the ninja a look of love, the centerfold/nurse undid her black shiny bra. She was confident her striptease was seducing the would-be attacker.

Naked and filled with rage, the soaked in blood Kyoko was turned on by Carol: although she was holding a bloody scalpel, she was staring at Nurse Carol’s breasts. Carol picked up on this. She softly began massaging her boobs: “You like?”

“Everything!” The ninja-madwoman had business to attend. She needed all of Carol’s garments, including undies.

“You can have everything!” Carol gave her tormentor her best look of seduction.

The naughty nurse slowly rolled down her shiny white pantyhose revealing a sexy black thong. Without bending her knees, she leaned over, stepped out of her thong, pantyhose, and shoes all in one move.

Now, completely naked, she set her sights on disarming the ninja-madwoman.

“You like what you see?”

Carol had her groove back. She slowly stepped forward leaving her garments on the floor behind.

Kyoko Honda started licking her lips. Carol stood only a few centimeters from her wouldbe killer: “Please don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything!”

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Kyoko, if she had more time, would have made passionate love to Nurse Carol.

Nurse Carol decided to caress Kyoko’s upper arms. Her lips, then, shot forward and attacked Kyoko’s lips. Instantly, both beauties had their tongues inside each other’s mouth.

Carol moved forward even more. Her breasts were tightly pressed against Kyoko’s when she withdrew her tongue: “I can show you so much.”

As much as Kyoko Honda wanted to ravage Nurse Carol, there was no time to waste. In one quick jerk, Kyoko raised her right hand and sliced Carol’s throat. The Maxim centerfold hit the ground immediately and was nice enough not to bleed on her uniform.

Before the police tactical units could respond, Kyoko Honda, NIPPON AIRWAYS stewardess, turned maniacal ninja, showered off, moisturized, and dressed in Nurse Carol’s uniform.

While departing, Kyoko looked at Carol’s corpse, smiled, and said: “あなたが次の犠牲 者だわ。” (“You’re next Li Zhang!”, Ed).

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Chapter 33: All Babes to Munich Li Zhang… Chinese babe.

The sultry assassin/stewardess admired herself in the mirror: the loud red lipstick was a nice adornment to the AIR ASIA uniform. She would “dead-head” aboard a LUFTHANSA Flight to Munich early in the afternoon.

AIR FRANCE’s Flight 1622 was booked solid. The beauty walked out of her hotel suite bathroom and knelt beside Man-Tat Ng who was sitting on the edge of her bed.

The hulking Chinaman was crying and clutching a picture of Solange Dubonet. The picture of the AIR FRANCE stewardess was taken just after graduation from stewardess school. “没事的！我会把她带回来的... 我保证.” (“It’s okay… I am going to bring her back to you… I promise.”, Ed) spoke Li Zhang in Mandarin.

She tried to sound gentle… this was not easy for the beautiful killer. She also did something uncharacteristic of her cold, hard self: she put her arms around Man-Tat Ng and kissed him on the cheek. Ng’s devotion to Solange Dubonet touched Li: “我保证. 我会找 到她并将她带回你身边.” (“I promise. I’ll find her and bring her back to you.”, Ed).

Ng kept crying.

Finding Solange was not Li’s primary mission. Keeping Patricia Marceau alive was. Li Zhang knew that Solange was also heading to Munich to protect Patricia. Wherever the sultry stewardess was, Solange would follow… thus Li would find both.

The assassin had to hurry. Her LUFTHANSA Flight would take off 20 minutes after AIR FRANCE Flight 1622. The last time Li Zhang dead-headed on a LUFTHANSA Flight, carnage broke out.

Needing vicious sex, the AIR ASIA beauty found her way into the cockpit and began a threesome with the pilot and co-pilot. Two blonde LUFTHANSA stewardesses barged in, kicked the shit out of her, dragged her into the latrine and tried to flush her face down the toilet.

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Experienced in hand-to-hand combat, Li turned the tables on the blonde stewardesses: Lena’s panties ended up ripped off and down the throat of Kristen. Kristen’s thong ended up down Lena’s throat. Both German beauties had a toilet face wash before Li slammed their heads together sending them to dreamland for the rest of the flight.

Out of respect for her new buddy Solange, Li decided not to rape Man-Tat Ng. Her need for rough sex was screaming; she texted Sergei the cab driver.

“I’m going downstairs to meet my cab, don’t leave this room until I return.” Ng nodded.

*** Patricia Marceau… French babe.

The sultry stewardess was excited. Flight 1622 to Munich was her favorite flight to work.

Typically, she would arrive in the German city in the late afternoon and her airport hotel before dinner. By the time she showered and changed, Rudger would arrive to take her for a romantic dinner.

Patricia and Rudger refrained from sex. Both understood that they would wait for marriage… though neither spoke aloud of this.

Patricia was through with pre-marital sex. Several years ago, while lending support to the French Foreign Legion in the jungles of the Belgium Congo, she hooked up with Cesar.

The hulking Cesar was quite a man. The things the two did with each other in the jungle…

Well, Patricia tried not to think of it. She was pulling parasitic creatures off herself for months afterward. The relationship was pure carnal and after her brigade captured a government powerplant, Cesar moved onto a Belgium hottie they had taken prisoner.

Patricia felt used and cheap. She would never make that mistake again.

The AIR FRANCE hostess had blushed all morning. She altered her AIR FRANCE appearance a little more…

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Her naughty red lacy undergarments would not be seen by anyone, but she’d know she had them on. The feel of silk on her skin heightened her fantasies about Rudger. Someday, Rudger would see them. The wait was worth it. Her red leather belt was pulled just a bit tighter, highlighting her beautiful shape. Then, her boots… AIR FRANCE would not like this, but Patricia decided to flaunt her ‘hero’ status just a little. Instead of her non-regulation black boots, she donned high-heeled, red leather boots.

The sultry stewardess looked at herself in the full-length mirror: she was impressed… but more importantly, the passengers would be as well.

Patricia knew her posterior would be pinched by Japanese businessmen and American servicewoman on 1622. That was okay. It was important to convince passengers to choose AIR FRANCE over LUFTHANSA for flights to German destinations. Red leather was her way to help AIR FRANCE corporate with this goal.

The only negative, for Patricia, was Solange would not be flying with her. Her young friend was so much fun. The two had drawn quite close.

The last communication Patricia had from Solange was a text that stated: I’ll see you next week! I love you! If for some reason I don’t see you again, tell my mom and dad I love them!

Patricia tried texting her back, but her SMS went unanswered.

The French stewardess arrived at the airport gate 55 minutes after leaving her apartment.

Before arriving at Flight 1622’s gate, she got into a bit of a conflict with two LUFTHANSA air hostesses: Marta and Frieda whispered “whore” under their breath as they walked by Patricia.

The sultry stewardess thought about springing at them and strangling them with their own pantyhose, but knowing that Rudger would be meeting up with her in the evening, Patricia let them pass.

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AIR FRANCE had warned her about the consequences of beating up rival stewardesses.

*** Corporal Nancy Jackson, U.S. Army was feeling quite frisky: “What do you say… I can make you feel like no man could ever make you feel.” The nymphomaniac lesbian was on her way to Munich after some failed orgies in Paris. “I would gently remove that uniform of yours, lick your cleavage, and believe me, your nipples will be exploding by that point. I’d gently (I sense you like gentle), slide my fingers down your panties and make you groan!” Nancy sensed her new friend was beginning to get interested. The train ride was going to be a quick one. The ICE as it was called would travel up to 300 kilometers per hour. Dressed in camouflaged battle fatigues, the American lesbian went in for the kill.

Nancy leaned toward the beauty in the window seat and put her lips a few centimeters from the nurse’s ear.

She blew a hot breath as she whispered into the beauty in white's ear: “I can tell you’re already wet. Let me give you an orgasm like no other!” Nancy had to give it to herself: the beautiful nurse was almost hers. She read the nurse’s nametag: “Carol? Well Carol, how about it? Let’s sneak into the latrine and I’ll eat your pussy and have you screaming in ecstasy!” Nancy sensed she was close. She prepared for her next move.

The ICE sped through tunnels and neared Munich. In a quick, hardly subtle move, the lesbian’s tongue shot into the nurse’s ear: “Come on, Carol! I can do so much more for you!” Nancy’s tongue explored into Carol’s canal. “Admit it: your panties are soaked!”

Kyoko Honda enjoyed Nurse Carol’s uniform and undies. They still smelled like the seductive shower gel the vixen nurse had applied that morning. If she was going to have wild lesbian sex, it would have been with Nurse Carol… not this beast of an American. Yet, the American soldier was not going to let up: “Yes, ravage me, lick me, spank me, abuse me!”

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Nancy knew her seduction techniques were first rate, but Nurse Carol’s surrender was so much more complete than anticipated. The soldier glanced up and saw the latrine light at the end of the train car indicated it was vacant: “Follow me, slave! I’ll rape the shit out of you.”

Kyoko Honda obeyed. She was anxious to put the miserable soldier out of her misery.

Besides, she needed Euros. Securing Nancy’s wallet would be a lot easier after bleeding her out.

Most of the Munich bound passengers were asleep. This was good… Kyoko was not keen on witnesses.

Nancy opened the latrine door and grabbed the nurse. With a violent move, she threw the beauty in white against the wall. The beauty bounced off the wall right into her arms.

Nancy turned maniac. Her right hand viciously fondled the nurse’s breasts. Her tongue slobbered all over the beauty’s face, then, her left hand reached under the prey’s hem line and travelled to her groin.

Kyoko Honda was about to vomit. The thought of passionate sex with this monster was nauseating.

“Wait, master!” Kyoko Honda had to take some control. “I can do so much for you, too.”

Nancy was awestruck. Softly, Kyoko Honda removed Nancy’s paws from her private parts.

The latrine was small so the two were standing within 20 centimeters of each other.

“Watch this and if you approve, you can humiliate me and punish me like a bad dog!”

Nancy was drooling.

Slowly, Kyoko Honda stripped. She folded her uniform neatly (Nurse Carol’s, actually).

Seductively, she undid her bra and let if fall to her feet… She fondled her own breasts and licked her lips: “Soon, I’m going to have you lick these… and if you are lucky, I’ll let you leave a bite mark on one of them.” Nancy was the one moaning.

“Watch them closely… very closely.” Nancy obeyed and peered intently at Kyoko’s breasts.

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She did not see the Japanese’s hand reach around to her folded uniform and take a scalpel out of the pocket.

“That’s it, master! Now, look to the heavens and ask permission to own my breasts!” Nancy obeyed and looked toward the ceiling.

“Perfect!” Before Kyoko Honda finished saying the word ‘perfect’, she plunged the scalpel into Nancy’s jugular and twisted. Nancy would make some weird gurgling noises before dying.

Kyoko stepped up onto the toilet so her feet would not have to step in the pooling blood.

She grabbed her undies and uniform before reaching into Nancy’s pocket to steal a wallet.

Satisfied, the former and nude NIPPON AIRWAYS stewardess exited the latrine, busted the door handle to prevent anyone else from using it, and dressed in the aisle. The sleeping passengers had no idea of what just happened.

Within 30 minutes after the soldier’s murder, The ICE pulled into the Munich station.

Kyoko Honda licked the scalpel clean of Nancy’s blood. She held it up and smugly said: “Okay, Li Zhang, time for you to meet my little friend!”

*** About the same time Nancy’s jugular met Kyoko’s little friend, Omar crossed into Germany.

One of The Sultan of Brunei’s many sons, Omar had diplomatic immunity. The Arab royal was spending the month driving through Europe in his red NEUFELD sport-convertible.

The international playboy who had already made love (raped) to 35 European beauties still sought blondes… hence Germany. Sitting in his passenger seat while a French beauty did the driving, Omar looked silly: a crossbow arrow was till in his head, in one ear and out the other. Brain matter was leaking out of his left ear and his left eyeball was about to fall out of its socket.

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The French beauty, clad in a sleek black catsuit, was giddy. She had no idea that the pathetic playboy sitting next to her was the son of The Sultan of Brunei.

She did know that when a NEUFELD convertible appeared… she would have to seize the moment. The poor schmuck playboy never knew what hit him. Solange surprised herself with the accuracy of her shot at 40 meters.

As Omar and Solange entered Munich city limits, they received sneers from the local population. They assumed Omar was a drunk college kid playing a stupid prank. Solange looked at her ROLEX (actually, Omar’s ROLEX), and saw that Patricia’s flight would land in an hour. She needed to protect her friend; maintaining a tight schedule was paramount in doing just that.

Solange turned onto a side street and stopped in front of the Peking East Art Gallery… the site of Mai Li’s demise.

The rancid odor appeared first. Solange expected this and was determined not to be judgmental. Princess Velnuvia crawled out of a sewer grate covered in feces. The dripping alien regal stood up and peered at Solange: “Who is the fellow with the sagging eyeball?”

The question was a sincere one.

“Who? Oh, him! How should I know? Get in!” Solange was focused. Princess Velnuvia opened the passenger side door of the NEUFELD convertible and ripped Omar’s corpse from the seat. She then slid in.

“Put the top back up, we need privacy.” Princess Velnuvia was also focused.

“No!” Solange did not mean to sound so harsh to her reeking friend. “I mean, we’ll draw less suspicion if I leave it down.”

“Fine!” The alien princess sounded offended. “Target is gone… left her house two hours ago with a yellow work vest, a hard helmet, and a shovel.” Solange nodded and began driving: “First stop is target’s abode… then, we’ll collect Patricia when she leaves the airport. She’ll head to meet the shuttle for the HILTON.”

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“Cool!” Princess Velnuvia was picking up nicely on the vernacular of the Earthlings. While she was peering in the backseat at the crossbow, three machine guns, four handguns, 30 Chinese throwing stars and a copy of COSMOPOLITAN, Solange floored the gas pedal.

Chapter 34: Li Zhang Destroyed The LUFTHANSA flight to Munich seemed to crawl. Li Zhang, clad in her tight red AIR ASIA hostess uniform sat in 3A… first class. This courtesy extended both ways. LUFTHANSA hostesses on AIR ASIA were always upgraded, as well.

Finally, a break! From the intercom came: “Good news folks!”

THE LUFTHANSA pilot sported a fake Texas accent: “We’ll be touching down in Munich ten minutes early.”

Li Zhang was ecstatic… she needed to find Patricia quickly. Helga Dietrich was probably already at the airport. The AIR ASIA hostess sprung up and went to the restroom, unaware that her demise had already been plotted.

Marta and Frieda had been sickeningly sweet to their international colleague. Li Zhang was pre-occupied and ignored their pleasantries. No matter, the two blonde German stewardesses were happy to upgrade the sultry China-woman to first class. Both the blonde beauties hated Asians. German men found Asians hot and would ignore blonde stewardesses if an Asian vixen were aboard. No problem…

Marta held two syringes of a deadly poison. The two blondes were CIA operatives working in Germany. Just before take-off, the babes received a coded message on their tablets.

Their CIA handler was specific: “Kill Li Zhang! She must not survive the flight.”

Frieda and Marta had been waiting for Li Zhang to enter the latrine. The long wait had made them frisky. They looked at each other… Marta nodded: “Let’s have some fun!”

The blonde operatives used a special key to open the latrine lock.

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They poured into the tight bathroom and immediately started pummeling their Asian nemesis. Li Zhang was caught by surprise.

Frieda grabbed her hair and slammed her pretty face into the mirror. The glass shattered; a streak of blood fell from Li’s hairline.

Instead of injecting Li Zhang right away, the duo wanted to pummel and rape her. Marta lifted Li Zhang’s skirt: one of her hands travelled into Li’s groin… Then, Frieda slammed the back of the Asian’s head into the broken mirror. Li Zhang was losing consciousness fast.

She was not aware that Frieda’s tongue was invading her oral cavity.

Marta had moved her hands upward and was roughly fondling the Chinese assassin’s breasts.

Humiliated and bloodied Li Zhang withdrew from Frieda. She was able to mutter the word: “Amateurs.”

“Amateurs!” Marta was incensed. “Slut! Cunt! Say goodnight forever, bitch” The CIA operative reached into a pocket on her blue skirt.

Frieda looked at Marta in horror.

“What?... Oh shit!”

Those were Marta’s last words.

Li Zhang had messed up badly. Not seeing the ambush was an oversight. The sultry Asian was experienced. The CIA operatives were sloppy… and too easily seduced. When they molested and violated Li, the Asian slipped her hands in their pockets until she found the syringes. Just as Marta uttered her last words, she deposited the point of one of the syringes into Frieda’s throat and the other one into Marta’s eyeball. The LUFTHANSA babes were dead within five seconds.

Throbbing, Li Zhang tended to her head wound. It wasn’t serious but cuts on her cranium bled a lot. Fortunately, AIR ASIA uniforms were blood red. The Asian vixen felt the airplane touch down and taxi to the gate.

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As soon as she heard the door open, Li stormed out of the restroom and out. In full sprint, she headed to the shuttle section to meet Patricia.

Airport police hurried to the LUFTHANSA gate. They never saw the fleeing AIR ASIA assassin.

The cool German air felt so nice on Li’s face when she stormed out of the glass doors of the terminal.

“Yes! Patricia! Over here!”

30 meters to her right was the HILTON shuttle stop.

Even over some annoying construction taking place next to it, Patricia heard Li. The AIR FRANCE hostess was happy to see her friend and waved.

Li Zhang knew danger still abounded. She ran over to Patricia determined not to let her alone. No one was going to harm her new friend, or so Li thought to herself.

WHAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 35: Patricia Lands Patricia Marceau was excited. Her red boots and not so appropriate undies only served to heighten her excitement.

In a few hours Rudger would pick her up from the HILTON. The AIR FRANCE hostess so wanted to spend her few days at Rudger’s apartment… but that would have to wait for marriage.

Both Rudger and Patricia were determined to do things right.

The flight to Munich was fine. Some American high school girls kept grabbing her rear end.

A drunk Jesuit tried grabbing her breasts. Other than that, the passengers were very polite.

Munich’s airport was a lot more manageable than Frankfurt’s.

25 minutes after the last passenger departed the AIR FRANCE plane, Patricia was waiting for the HILTON shuttle. The shuttle was uncharacteristically late. This was not a surprise as a lot of construction was occurring at the airport, including right next to the shuttle stop.

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A jackhammer fired up. Patricia wished she brought some ear plugs with her. The jackhammer stopped and she heard her name called…

She turned toward the terminal entrance and saw an AIR ASIA hostess waving to her.

“Li!” Happy to see Li, Patricia was still confused. “What are you doing here?”

Li Zhang did not hear the question; she was too far away. In heals, she sprinted toward Patricia. Patricia put her bag down and prepared to give her friend a hug: “You shouldn’t have followed me here; I can look out for myself!”

Li Zhang was within two meters of the sultry stewardess.

So was Helga Dietrich. Dressed as a short fat construction worker, Helga swung a mighty shovel. The blade of the shovel slammed into Li Zhang’s head sending the vixen to the ground. Over the next few seconds, the mad terrorist, pummeled the helpless and unconscious Asian several times with the shovel. Li Zhang was a bloody pulp and now lay flat in the street in front of the shuttle stop.

Patricia was horrified. For a few seconds, she was paralyzed. Helga Dietrich tossed her shovel aside and turned to face the woman who killed her son. Patricia’s confusion intensified as her last thought was that the construction worker looked a lot like the hijacker who was going to kill Solange. Helga took a step towards Patricia and drew a gun.

Patricia held up her hands and yelled: “No!” At point blank range, Helga fired; The gun's projectile sent Patricia to the pavement.

Chapter 36: The Bloody Aftermath Li Zhang’s blood was streaming onto the pavement toward a sewer grate.

A Kuwaiti teenager named Khalid stepped into the street and peered down at the formerly beautiful AIR ASIA stewardess. Li Zhang, even assuming the role of a bloody pulp, had appeal. Khalid knelt and fondled her breasts. His hands voyaged up her legs and underneath her skirt.

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The gentle but perverted teenager slid off Li’s pantyhose before he removed and stuffed them in his jacket pocket. He, then, slid off Li’s lacy red panties.

Holding those panties in his right hand, Khalid took a long hard sniff. He slid his left hand up Li’s right thigh, all the way up, after stuffing the panties in his other pocket. The Arab teenager finished his work by finger raping the assassin. He was in Heaven!

His eternal fate might have been a mystery, but the crossbow arrow that penetrated his Adam’s apple and came out the nape of his neck facilitated that eternal destiny. The aroused pervert from Kuwait never saw the red NEUFELD convertible approach. Nor did he smell the rancid odor of feces as it came closer. Li Zhang’s latest rapist would never meet the 70 virgins (or was it 72?) promised to him by Muhammad.

Chapter 37: Helga and Patricia From the time Helga destroyed Li Zhang to the time her van sped from the scene, maybe 12 seconds had elapsed. The terrorist master steered her white van away from the carnage and out the airport exit. Patricia Marceau was belted into the passenger’s seat… handcuffed. Helga glanced at the beauty who murdered her son. She realized the tranquilizer dart was still stuck in her sternum. With her right hand she reached over and yanked the dart out of her prey: “I need you awake, slut!”

“Li! Where’s Li?!” Patricia instantly returned to consciousness. “What did you do to my friend!?” The sultry stewardess had no concern for herself… only for her new friend, Li Zhang.

Helga Dietrich was not sympathetic: “The fucking gook whore is in Hell! Where you will be soon!” Helga was seething. “You, high flying whores murdered my son! You, hussies, wriggling your asses and shoving your boobs at innocent boys! You, hussies are going to pay!!!”

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Helga’s spit was shooting onto the inside of the windshield as she delivered this diatribe.

“You’re just glorified porn stars! Whore!”

Helga seemed done for now.

Patricia was not remorseful: “Your fucking son was a pervert! He was going to kill Solange!” Patricia was trying to spring at her nemesis, but the seatbelt and the handcuffs made that impossible.

“Your friend was a cunt! The hussy had it coming!” Helga was adamant.

“You killed Li!” Patricia was now crying uncontrollably. “You killed my friend! I’m going to kill you! I’m glad I killed your pervert son!”

Helga laughed. Her van was speeding toward Munich’s art district.

“Now it’s time for you to pay! I have a surprise for you.” Helga thought of the torture chamber in her attic. The acid was ready. The pliers were ready. The blow torches were ready… so was the sandpaper, syringes, electric cattle prods, dildos fitted with razor blades, and surgical saws. “You’ll see your whore friend again soon… she’s waiting for you in Hell!”

“You’ll be the one going to Hell! I’m going to kill you! Get these handcuffs off me!” Patricia was serious. One way or another, she would kill this monster.

Adept at escaping handcuffs, Patricia was already fiddling with the lock; a safety pin tucked up her jacket sleeve was helping with this.

“Ooh! I’m scared! Please don’t hurt me!” Helga was mocking Patricia. “Here we are!”

Helga stopped the van in front of her house, a four-story structure in Munich’s art district.

“I’m taking you to the top, and then you’ll come back down in pieces!” Helga laughed again.

The fat terrorist flew out of the van and came around to Patricia’s side. She was anxious to commence her torture but just as she reached for the handle on the passenger side door…

BOOM!!!!!!!!

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The explosion threw Helga into the side of the van. Her left wrist was crushed and her body slammed into its the door.

Kneeling on the sidewalk, in front of her house, Helga smelled smoke. She looked upwards.

To her shock, the fourth floor of her home was ablaze. The entire top story was gone, replaced by angry and dancing flames. The German beast’s fantasies of torturing Patricia in the home-made torture chamber were now up in flames.

“What the…!” Helga was furious. She was so irate that she did not notice an odor of human feces. From inside the van, Patricia managed to undo the handcuffs and seatbelt.

Her hands were in the front of her body; she grabbed the latch on the door and opened it.

She, then, shot out of the van.

Helga was boiling. She sprang to her feet and while screaming, pulled a hunting dagger from her hip holster.

Patricia reacted fast. She delivered a karate kick that contacted Helga’s right hand, sending the dagger flying to a nearby flowerbed.

The fat woman was now two meters from the sultry stewardess. Dagger or no dagger, she was determined to strangle the life out of the hussy who murdered her son. She charged with the intent of wrapping her hands around Patricia’s neck.

Still off balance from delivering a karate kick while wearing red leather boots with sixinch heels, the sultry beauty was helpless to defend herself from the raging bull.

The feces odor seemed to intensify.

Suddenly, a crossbow arrow entered Helga’s right shoulder. The force of the impact knocked the terrorist-matron down, several centimeters from Patricia.

“What the fuck is this?” Helga was more angry than confused.

“That’s my friend Solange! And this is useful accessorizing!”

On the street below Patricia, was Helga, flat on her back. With that last barb aimed at her, the sultry stewardess lifted her right leg and slammed it down full force on Helga’s face.

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The heel of the right boot entered the ugly hag’s visage through the left eye. The force of Patricia’s stomp sent the heel past the eye and into the brain of the fat terrorist. Helga flopped like a fish out of water and died.

Carrying an empty crossbow, Solange quickly ran to her friend: “Patricia!”

She dropped the crossbow and embraced Patricia: “I was aiming for her head.”

The two stewardesses embraced and cried.

“Awww, that’s okay, it was still a nice shot. Hey, you look so hot in this catsuit!”

Patricia looked toward the burning house in front of them: “Do I smell CLAIROL?” Solange started giggling: “No, silly! REVLON!... REVLON and just a little bit of Benzelene solution… plus two drops of OIL OF OLAY. I love your boots… so hot! How many times did your ass get pinched on the 1622?”

“Awwww, Solange, I love you!” Patricia and Solange were giggling and crying as they continued to embrace. After several seconds Patricia asked (she had to): “What is that odor? did you fart?”

Solange looked mildly insulted: “No! I did not fart!”

Princess Velnuvia came out from the other side of the van: “I am Princess Velnuvia.”

Looking like she expected a hug, the alien royal spread her arms.

“Ah yeah!… That’s my Munich informant. She helped me save your life. You should probably give her a hug.” Solange was serious.

“Oh!” Patricia turned towards the Princess: “Thank you!” The sultry stewardess hoped a verbal thank you would do.

Covered in human feces the Alien was reeking terribly; Patricia was looking for another option, rather than hugging, but, Princess Velnuvia’s arms were still spread.

“Why don’t you hug her Solange?” Patricia was reaching. “She probably would be more comfortable with you.”

Solange was not biting.

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“I had to ride in a sports car with her for an hour! You hug her! Besides, she saved your life, not mine!” Solange was adamant.

“Oh, what the hell!” Patricia pulled away from Solange, ran to Princess Velnuvia and gave the paranoid schizophrenic informant the most loving hug she had ever received.

“Oh! I almost forgot! Li! We have to hurry, Li is dying!” Solange sounded panicky.

“Li!” Patricia screamed. “Oh my god!” Patricia saw the NEUFELD parked 30 meters away and spied the AIR ASIA hostess in the back seat.

“Li! Don’t die! Please don’t die!” The sultry stewardess sprinted to the convertible and yelled in horror. She leaped into the back seat with the unconscious bleeding Li. Solange and Princess Velnuvia jumped in the front.

120 seconds later, Solange pulled the NEUFELD convertible into the driveway of the emergency room.

Chapter 38: 10 Days Later Rudger and Patricia were making out in a waiting room on the fourth floor of the MarthaMaria Hospital in Munich. Swapping spit in public would have been a no-no a couple of weeks ago. The two-karat diamond on Patricia’s finger wiped away that no-no. Besides, Solange and Man-Tat Ng were doing more than swapping spit on a nearby sofa.

Both couples were heavy into passion. Patricia and Rudger were kissing, using their lips and tongues. Solange and her China-man graduated from kissing to a more carnal type of passion. Moans and groans emanated from the sofa containing Solange and Man Tat Ng. Patricia's and Rudger's faces separated.

The hunk INTERPOL agent cooed: "I love you Patricia."

Tears developed in Patricia's eyes. In a crackly voice the flight goddess replied: "I love you, Rudger."

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Without knowing the intimacy that was filling the waiting room, Dr. Weiss entered.

The middle-aged and scholarly physician interrupted the two couples with news of their wounded broken friend: “Hey, are they doing what I think they’re doing?”

Rudger was smooth and quickly got Dr. Weiss’ attention: “Doctor Weiss, can we see her? A nurse called us and said she is coming out of her coma.”

Dr. Weiss looked tired: “She has a lot of broken bones and a vicious concussion. The fractured orbital bones will heal, as will her jaw. An oral surgeon has already seen her and will be able to make some nice implants for the four teeth that were crushed. Your friend should be dead, she must be an amazingly strong woman.”

Solange and Man-Tat Ng stopped whatever they were doing on the sofa. The four lovebirds were beaming. They never thought Li Zhang would recover.

Dr. Weiss continued: “In a few minutes, the night nurse, who should just be coming onto her shift, will bring you in. Be brief, your friend needs rest.”

“Thank you, doctor!” Rudger and Patricia gave Dr. Weiss the warmest of smiles. Man-Tat Ng and Solange jumped up and down like school kids hearing their spelling test was cancelled.

The giddy quartet waited a long five minutes before the night nurse walked in: “You’re here to see Ms. Zhang?”

The four eagerly nodded.

“Awww, she’s come a long way. She is an extraordinarily strong woman. Please be brief, she needs rest.”

“We will!” Rudger could be counted on to follow instructions. The beautiful nurse led them to room 420.

On the stroll down the corridor, Solange whispered to Patricia: “These German nurses are so hot! I’d do one in a second!”

“Gross! Stop it!” Patricia looked disgusted.

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“Oh, you mean you wouldn’t?” Solange was persistent.

“No! Gross! Stop it!” Patricia was trying to keep her voice down.

“Hey, how about you me and that night nurse… a threesome in that lady’s room we just passed?” Solange was hopeful.

“Stop it! No! She might hear you!”

Patricia was about to hit Solange.

“Well good, shall I ask her, or do you want to?”

Solange was focused.

“Here we are! I’ll wait down the hall at the nurse’s station.” The beautiful nurse gave Solange a wink. She, then, turned around and retreated to the station.

The four entered the room.

The sight of the broken Li Zhang was almost too much to take. Bandaged, bruised, and unrecognizable, the Asian assassin opened her right eye.

“Li my love, you’re going to be fine.” Patricia was trying to hold back tears. “You have to get out of here soon, I need a bridesmaid… Solange can’t be trusted to do it alone.”

Li saw Patricia’s ring and smiled. The smile was very painful.

She looked at Man-Tat Ng and Solange and smiled again. Solange’s playful smile was just what Li needed.

“Li, Solange was the one who saved you. She rescued you and brought you to the hospital… and of course murdered that kid who raped you.” Patricia realized she said too much.

“Raped!? Who!?... What????” Li was getting more animated.

Solange stepped in: “Don’t worry! I shot him through the neck with an arrow and I took back your panties and pantyhose!... He thought he would keep them as a souvenir.”

“Awww, Solange!” Li began crying, and so did Patricia and Solange.

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“I brought you here. I’m going to come get you out of here in a few days. I am getting married, too. Me and, er… what’s his name… and you have to be there!” Solange was beaming and, now, Li was too.

“You are going to be the prettiest bridesmaid in Europe! We’re both going to pick out some really trashy and slutty dresses for you! You’ll like them: tight with lots of boob showing…

You can pick the color.”

“Okay, folks!” The night nurse had snuck into the room. “You can come back tomorrow.

Ms. Zhang needs rest.”

Rudger stepped up: “If you need anything Li, we’re here for you. We’ll all be back tomorrow.”

The hunk INTERPOL agent peered at the nurse and her nametag: “In the meantime, Nurse Carol will take good care of you!”

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THE XTREM COLLECTION BIO CHRIS ZISI

About Christopher Zisi Christopher Zisi is an American horror writer from Fredericksburg, Virginia. In 2013, he created the blog "Zisi Emporium for B Movies" which showcases his thoughts and witticisms of horror, exploitation, and science fiction films. To date, over 1500 films have been reviewed on this blog.

Mr. Zisi has published several books including three in THE XTREM COLLECTION by CREATORS UNITE. Those books are The Himalayan Devil Woman, The Ghosts of Brisbane and Abilene - The Bondage of Suyin Wong. Before writing about horror full time, Christopher Zisi was a Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI).

During his 25-year career with the FBI, Zisi conducted drug and organized crime investigations in the Baltimore Division and eventually moved to the FBI's training academy in Quantico, Virginia. At Quantico, he taught Interviewing and Interrogation, Detection of Deception, and also issues related to police involved shootings. The FBI sent Zisi to over 25 countries (including Vietnam, Cambodia, Guyana, Poland, The Maldives, and Brazil) to instruct on interrogation and detection of deception.

Christopher Zisi travels the world seeking inspiration and plot ideas for future works.

He has visited all 50 states and during his trip to Alaska in 2018, found inspiration for his upcoming novel, The Vixen of Vladivostok. He also spends a significant portion of his year in Kansas, visiting his son. It was in Kansas where he drew inspiration for his last book, Abilene - The Bondage of Suyin Wong.

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BY CREATORS UNITE MAGAZINE Darlene C. Deever Editor-in-Chief & Publisher Roy Bheer Executive Editor Emilie Flory Creative Director Jessy Chen & Midori Watanabe Translators Visual Conception/Memes: Dub Meter, Emilie Flory & AStyanaX COVERS by AStyanaX SPECIAL THANKS TO Nojan Namdar, Daniel Eledut and Damir Spanic | Lyne Vigeant and AIR FRANCE | Unsplash, Pixabay and HiClipArt PRESENTATION by AStyanaX SPECIAL THANKS TO Colin McMurry and Nojan Namdar | Unsplash and HiClipArt RESUME POSTER by AStyanaX SPECIAL THANKS TO Anthony Cantin and Guillaume Galtier | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 1 - France Airlines / Paris Glam AD SPECIAL THANKS TO Lyne Vigeant and AIR FRANCE | Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 2 - Leadership & Communication (Book Cover) SPECIAL THANKS TO Icons8 Team | Unsplash POSTER 3 - Air Stage Magazine #460 (Cover) SPECIAL THANKS TO Basil Samuel Lade, KLM and APEX | Unsplash and HiClipArt

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THE XTREM COLLECTION POSTERS 24 & 25 - Munich Murderer’s Profile Map 1 & 2 SPECIAL THANKS TO Ali Pazani, Behrouz Sasani, Anne Peres, Velizar Ivanov, Kareya Saleh, and TEN POINT | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 26 - Princess Velnuvia Of The Planet Hecuba SPECIAL THANKS TO | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 27 - L’hôtel Napoléon SPECIAL THANKS TO L’hôtel Napoléon, AIR FRANCE and Baptiste Pilot | Unsplash POSTER 28 - The Vapors Of Death SPECIAL THANKS TO L’Hôtel Napoléon | HiClipArt POSTER 29 - Li Zhang’s Exploits SPECIAL THANKS TO Alex Shaw, Julien Bessede and the MSS | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 30 - Erotic Shower SPECIAL THANKS TO We Vibe Wow Tech | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 31 - In The Blink Of An Eye SPECIAL THANKS TO Gadost0 | Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 32 - Flight 3620 SPECIAL THANKS TO AIR FRANCE and Daniel Eledut | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 33 - Lady Crossbow SPECIAL THANKS TO Inna Mikitas and WICKED RIDGE CROSSBOWS ARCHERY | Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 34 - Terri Deluxe Panty Hose SPECIAL THANKS TO Terri Welles & PLAYBOY | HiClipArt POSTER 35 - Max Brundt, The Top CIA Man In Munich SPECIAL THANKS TO Dainis Graveris | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 36 - Valentines Boxer Shorts SPECIAL THANKS TO Deon Black | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 37 - Fondue Treat SPECIAL THANKS TO We Vibe Wow Tech | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 38 - Handsome Pilots SPECIAL THANKS TO AIR FRANCE and Lukas Souza | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 39 - In The Sky SPECIAL THANKS TO Ferdinand Studio | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 40 - The Yakuza File SPECIAL THANKS TO Doil Oh and Some Tale | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 41 - Kyoko Honda SPECIAL THANKS TO Mingyuk Cheng and Merve Sensoy | Unsplash, Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 42 - Showtime 2! (Banner) SPECIAL THANKS TO Rosa Matilde Peppi | Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 43 - Showtime! SPECIAL THANKS TO Kim Gorga and Anne Hathaway | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 44 - Europe’ Sexiest Public Health Vixen (MAXIM Cover April 2021) SPECIAL THANKS TO MAXIM and Janita | Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 45 - Attack Of The Psychos SPECIAL THANKS TO Sammy Williams | Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTERS 46A, 46B & 47- Europe’ Sexiest Public Health Vixen (Centerfold 1 & 2 & Banner) SPECIAL THANKS TO Janita | Pixabay and HiClipArt

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THE XTREM COLLECTION POSTER 48A & 48B - Super Vixen & Showtime 2 (Banners) SPECIAL THANKS TO Janita, Khusen Rustamov & Rosa Matilde Peppi | Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 49 - The Lunatic Nurse SPECIAL THANKS TO Mingyuk Cheng and Enric Moreu | Unsplash, Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 50 - Omar, The Son of The Sultan SPECIAL THANKS TO Ferdinand Studio | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 51 - Love Is In The Air SPECIAL THANKS TO Thanks For Your Like | Pixabay and HiClipArt POSTER 52 - Patricia M (Banner) SPECIAL THANKS TO Nojan Namdar, Daniel Eledut and Damir Spanic | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER 53 - Trivia SPECIAL THANKS TO AStyanaX and Christopher Zisi POSTER 54 - Patricia’s Wall SPECIAL THANKS TO Artur Opala | Unsplash and HiClipArt POSTER Fabric Presents Kölsch SPECIAL THANKS TO FABRIC POSTER Flight Simulator SPECIAL THANKS TO Blake Guidry and Jerry Zhang | Unsplash and MICROSOFT - FLIGHT SIMULATOR

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THE XTREM COLLECTION END COVER

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