by Maya Anders
She recalled the famous dictum of Sherlock Holmes: When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains—however improbable—must be the truth. Okay, she had eliminated three impossibilities: the door, the window, and the wall alongside the bed. All that remained was the wall behind the desk—the one that was shared with the adjacent room. Improbable as it seemed, that must be where the answer lay.
Emma set to work once more, making a meticulous inspection of the entire length of the wall. She had no idea what she was looking for, but she knew there had to be something. It might be a hidden door or a secret panel…or it might be something else.
It turned out to be something else. When she finally found what she was looking for, it was more outlandish than anything she could have imagined.
There was a small gap of eighteen inches or two feet between the closet and the outside wall. It was a tight space—out of sight and out of mind. It seemed the maid was in the habit of ignoring it, since the floorboards in that corner hadn’t been swept in a long time. There was a thick layer of dust…and in the dust there was a footprint!
Emma bent down eagerly to inspect it, then whistled in amazement. It was the most bizarre thing she had ever seen. The footprint was facing into the room, just a few inches from the wall. She rapped the wall with her knuckles—it was solid masonry. Yet it looked for all the world like the person who had made the footprint had stepped right through the wall from the adjoining room.
Sherlock Holmes was right, though. If all the other options were downright impossible, it didn’t matter how improbable this one was. The interloper had walked through the solid wall from the adjoining room.
Having found what she was looking for, Emma slipped out of the room and headed back to the elevator. As she rode down to the lobby level, she hastily smeared her make-up and disarrayed her clothing, ripping the front of her dress open and pulling down her bra. Out flopped her big soft breasts with their saucer-sized areolas.
The transformation was completed just in time. The elevator came to rest and the doors slid open. Emma flounced out, an indignant expression on her features. She headed straight for the reception desk.
The clerk gawped at her exposed tits, as he was supposed to. She slapped her hand on the counter and deployed her best imitation of a Brooklyn accent.
“The jerk stiffed me, then he tries to rough me up. Big mistake on his part. He’s gonna have a sore head the next coupla days.” She leaned forward, so her breasts were swinging mere inches from the clerk’s bugged-out eyes. “Here, lemme see that register. I need to know the guy’s name—for future reference, if youse know what I mean.”
The clerk helpfully pushed the register in her direction, then turned it round so she could read it. She ran her finger along the list of names until she found the one she wanted. It appeared that a Professor Seligman, of the Institute of Oriental Philosophy right here in New York City, had checked into the room next to hers the previous evening—and checked out again that morning.
A professor of oriental philosophy? That wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all. Obviously she needed to pay this Seligman character a visit as soon as possible.
Chapter 6: The Temple of Purity
It was almost midnight by the time Kimmy slipped the freshly-constructed neutralizer ray into the hollowed-out body of Tiffany’s vibrator. She beamed in satisfaction; the electronic gadget fitted the eight-inch phallus perfectly. She soldered a couple of trailing wires onto the vibrator’s control knob and pushed it back into place.
“Finished!” she announced. “One neutralizer ray, ready for use.”
Tiffany, who had been engaged in a sweaty nude workout in her private gym, looked up. “Will it work?” she asked.
Kimmy stared at her. “Of course it will. I built it, didn’t I? I’m a match for Tesla any day. This will stop his death ray in its tracks.”
“Good—that’s what I wanted to hear.” Tiffany was squeezing herself back into her jumpsuit. “Now all we need to do is find that death ray—and whoever it is that stole it from Tesla—before they get a chance to use it again.”
They hurried down to street level and jumped into Tiffany’s roadster. At this time of night there wasn’t too much traffic about, and Tiffany floored the accelerator. The car shot along the New York streets at twice the speed limit.
A few minutes later they screeched to a halt at the end of Vestry Street, close to the place Tiffany had triangulated as the probable location of the death ray. They jumped out of the car and looked around them.
“I think that must be the place.” Tiffany pointed at a dark, dilapidated-looking riverside warehouse. “See how there’s a platform at the far end, projecting out over the water? It must have a clear line of sight to a large part of the West Side. That would make a perfect location for a death ray, if the aim is to do maximum damage.”
Kimmy nodded. “Oh, I think it’s safe to assume that’s the aim. It usually is with death rays. Let’s take a closer look.”
They quickly made their way to the front entrance of the warehouse. As they got closer, they realized the place wasn’t as deserted as it had seemed at first sight. There was a dim glow of light coming through the grimy glass of the door, and the faint sound of music from inside.
There was a big sign over the entrance that read Temple of Purity. Kimmy pointed up at it. “What do you suppose it is? A nightclub?”
Tiffany listened for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think they play Wagner in nightclubs. That’s the Siegfried Idyll, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Look, there’s another sign, by the side of the door.” Kimmy pointed out. “Let’s see what it says.”
They went closer to the warehouse entrance and peered at the sign. It said:
The Temple of Purity is a nature-culture club for pure-bred Aryan heterosexuals only. No Jews, Blacks, Asians, Gays, or Lesbians. Unauthorized visitors enter on pain of death.
“Maybe they don’t mean it,” Kimmy said hopefully. “Should we knock?”
Tiffany mimed a knocking motion. “Hi there, we’re a couple of lesbians and we’ve come to put your fiendish death ray out of action.” She shook her head. “Nah, wouldn’t work. Trust me, I’ve been in the crime-fighting business longer than you have. Let’s see if we can find another way in.”
There was a narrow, unilluminated walkway leading along the side of the warehouse toward the river. Halfway along there was a faint pool of light. Kimmy pointed toward it. “Looks like there might be a window there. Let’s go check it out.”
They made their way along the walkway till they came to the pool of light. Looking up at the looming side of the warehouse, they saw that the light was indeed coming from a small window. It was about eight feet above the ground, and protected by thick steel bars.
Kimmy’s face fell. “So much for that plan. We’ll never get in that way.”
“Sure we will—it’ll be a piece of cake. First, though, we need to know what we’re getting into. Why don’t you take a peek through the window and see what’s going on inside.”
Kimmy turned to Tiffany with a surprised look—which became even more surprised as the Bronze Goddess grabbed her by the hips and lifted her bodily into the air. Before she knew what was happening, Kimmy found her face pressed up against the grimy glass of the window. She peered inside.
“Oh, my goodness me!” Kimmy exclaimed in her cut-glass British accent.
“What is it? What can you see?” Tiffany looked up at her impatiently.
“Do you really want me to tell you? Ouch, that hurt!” The latter remark came in response to a gratuitous pinch on the bottom that Tiffany gave her.
“Get on with it. Sapphic Super-Scientists aren’t the lightest of creatures, you know. Just tell me what’s going on in there.”
“Fucking,” Kimmy said.
“Fucking what?” Tiffany inquired. “And there’s no need to swear, anyway.”
“I’m not swearing, I’m being descriptive,” Kimmy explained. “You ask
ed me what’s going on in there and that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Fucking. Lots of naked people in all different positions. Like a big orgy.”
Tiffany let her down to the ground with a grunt. “You’re really going to have to lose weight, girl. I’ll let you use my gym.”
“Thanks. At least now we know what a nature-culture club is.” She scratched her head. “But how on earth does that tie in with the death ray business?”
“Probably just a convenient cover,” Tiffany said. “Did you see anything else?”
“Not much—the lighting’s very dim. They’re all straight male-female couples, and they’re doing it…I don’t know, like they’re in a trance-state or something. They certainly don’t look like they’re doing it for fun. It’s more like some kind of weird religious ritual—and there’s lots of statues around the place, like ancient Viking gods.”
“Sounds like they’re far too engrossed to pay much attention to us,” Tiffany observed. “Let’s get in there and have a look around.”
Kimmy glanced up at the window. “Haven’t you forgotten the small matter of those steel bars?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten it,” Tiffany assured her. “Like you say, it’s a small matter. Now bend down so I can climb up on your back.”
“Hold on—we can’t go in there dressed like this! We’d stand out a mile. They’re all stark naked.” Kimmy pulled off her T-shirt and started to wriggle out of her shorts.
“Good thinking.” Tiffany quickly stripped off her jumpsuit.
“Hold on, what am I going to do with this?” Bereft of pockets, Kimmy was left holding the phallic-shaped neutralizer ray.
“Shove it in your cute little pussy,” Tiffany suggested. “That’s where it was designed to go, after all.”
Kimmy looked dubious, but complied anyway. Spreading her legs, she eased the ex-vibrator into her vagina.
“Okay, now bend down so I…”
There was a sudden clunk as the neutralizer gun fell out of Kimmy’s pussy onto the ground. She gave a sheepish look. “Oops, sorry. I can’t hold it in.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Oh, give it to me. I’ve got strong muscles—I work out a lot.”
Kimmy handed the device to the taller woman, who deftly slipped it into her bronze-furred vagina. It stayed where it was put. “Okay girl, bend over.”
“Are you sure we’ve got time for that? I thought…oh, okay. I see what you mean.” Kimmy bent forward and Tiffany jumped up on her back so she could reach the barred window. She grabbed one of the steel bars in each hand and pulled. They gave way easily under her powerful grip. Another second and the window itself had been forced open.
Tiffany pulled herself up and scrambled onto the window ledge. Then she put her hands down to haul Kimmy up. Turning to look inside, they saw that one of the statues Kimmy had mentioned was almost immediately below them. Tiffany gestured toward it.
“There,” she whispered. “With any luck they won’t see us.”
One by one they dropped as softly as they could to the floor behind the statue. Then they paused to take in their surroundings.
It was hot and humid inside the dimly lit warehouse—or temple, as it had obviously been fitted out. There were a few dozen male-female couples in various copulatory poses, moving slowly in time to the Wagnerian music that emanated from huge loudspeakers. Most of them were blonde and very fit-looking.
The two uninvited guests hadn’t been seen when they dropped down from the window. Now they were concealed in the deep shadows behind the row of Viking statues. Tiffany pointed toward the far end of the temple, away from the main entrance.
“That way. The death ray, if it’s here, must be at the river end of the building. Come on, let’s go.”
They made their way stealthily through the shadows to the far end. There was a huge object looming there, in front of the roller-shutter door leading out onto the river. It was a gigantic gleaming phallus, apparently cast out of aluminum or a similar metal.
“The object of their worship?” Kimmy suggested.
“Apparently,” Tiffany agreed. “But also the perfect place to conceal a death ray, don’t you think? Let’s take a closer look.”
They stepped forward cautiously, conscious that they were now in full sight of the copulating couples. After a breathless pause, it became obvious that everyone was too engrossed in what they were doing to pay the lesbian crime fighters any attention. They proceeded to examine the huge metallic phallus.
“There’s a control panel here,” Kimmy whispered. “It’s definitely…”
“Halt! Put your hands in the air, you filthy lesbian interlopers!”
They turned to see a tall blonde woman dressed in jackboots and military-style uniform. In her hand was a large, evil-looking gun that she was pointing at them. Behind her, all the couples had stopped what they were doing and were looking on menacingly.
“You defile our temple with your presence.” The woman spoke with a strong German accent. “Lesbians are impure—they must be eradicated along with the rest of humanity’s trash. Hail Purity!”
“Hail Purity!” Her words were echoed by the rest of the temple’s occupants. They all had German accents.
Chapter 7: Psychic Secrets
Emma didn’t have time for another change of clothes, so she was still dressed in her—now somewhat disheveled—prostitute garb when she arrived at the Institute of Oriental Philosophy. It was an old gothic-style building a few blocks from Washington Square.
Despite being the middle of the night, Emma could see a light coming from one of the windows on an upper story. Could that be Professor Seligman—the man who had rented the hotel room next to hers? There was only one way to find out.
She took out her small but well equipped toolkit and quickly unlocked the front door. With the aid of a pocket flashlight she scanned the list of offices posted next to the elevator. Professor Kurt Seligman—the Institute’s director, she noticed—was listed on the fourth floor.
Emma did a quick mental calculation. Yes—that was the level she had seen the light coming from. She checked the list again. It appeared the only other office on that particular floor belonged to Seligman’s research assistant—a Miss S. Suzuki.
Emma took the elevator up to the fourth floor. The door to Miss Suzuki’s office was closed, but Seligman’s was slightly ajar. There was no light inside—the light must have been coming from his assistant’s office. Pity—it was Seligman she wanted to see. Shrugging, she made for his office anyway.
It turned out Seligman was there after all. He was lying flat on his back behind his desk, his eyes staring and his mouth gaping. It was obvious at a glance that he was dead. Emma knelt down to examine the body.
As she was doing so, she heard a tiny noise behind her. She turned to see a petite naked Japanese girl flying at her. She blinked. She was used to seeing odd things in her line of work, but this was a new one on her.
“Eeee-yah!” A dainty bare foot was aimed squarely at Emma’s head. Instantly, her hand-to-hand training kicked in. She ducked to one side, rolled to her feet, and kicked viciously at the attacker’s other leg.
Despite suffering a direct hit, the girl somehow managed to keep her balance. Emma saw now that she wasn’t quite naked—she was wearing a sword belt. With a soft swishing sound, the sword came out now.
“Okay, whore—so you want to play rough.” Suki swung the sword at Emma. The latter twisted away just in time, but the sword point caught on her dress—which was already torn from her earlier act in the hotel lobby—and ripped it still further.
“Bitch!” Emma spluttered as she tore off the remaining shreds of her dress. She was left in just her undergarments—bra, garter belt, G-string, stockings…and thigh holster. She pulled the powerful Webley service pistol from it and pointed it at Suki. “Drop the sword or I put a bullet through that pretty little head of yours.”
After the briefest hesitation, Suki reluctantly complied. The sword fell to the floor with a clatt
er.
Emma slightly lowered her pistol, but kept it pointing in Suki’s general direction. “Look, I’m an undercover agent working for the British government. I’m on the trail of a group of German spies. You can’t imagine how serious this is. I’ve got a license to kill.” Her thoughts went back to the phony FBI agent, Klein. “In fact I’ve already killed one person today.”
Suki pretended to stifle a yawn. “So what? I killed three people today.”
Emma nodded at Seligman’s body. “Including that one?”
“Yes—it was either me or him.”
Emma eyed the Japanese girl, noticing that her compact, firmly toned body was completely smooth and hairless. The sight was making her horny in spite of herself. “What about Seligman’s assistant—Miss Suzuki, I think the name was. I suppose you killed her too.”
“You’re very slow, aren’t you? I am Miss Suzuki.”
Emma—who had instinctively pictured Miss Suzuki as a timid, bespectacled bookworm—was taken aback by the revelation. She dropped her guard for the minutest fraction of second.
That was all Suki needed. She kicked Emma’s pistol away and then dived on top of her, forcing her to the floor. “I’m also known as Lady Blade, you know—merciless vigilante and scourge of the criminal underworld.”
She ripped Emma’s G-string off and thrust three fingers of one hand into the British agent’s vagina. She was none too gentle about it.
“Mmm, yes!” Emma moaned pre-orgasmically. “No, I mean stop that! I keep trying to tell you, I’m not a criminal. We shouldn’t be fighting each other—we’re on the same side.”
“Oh, I know that,” Suki said between thrusts of her hand. “I’m not fighting you, I’m fucking you. If there’s one thing that really turns me on it’s a voluptuous blonde spy with a big gun. You’re my type of woman.”
She shifted position to sit on Emma’s face and began grinding her small, hairless pussy as if there was no tomorrow. At the same time, she grabbed the Englishwoman’s large, soft buttocks and pushed her face into the wispy blonde hair covering her fleshy pubic mound. She felt a thrill as Emma’s tongue penetrated her tightly muscled vagina, then clamped her own lips over her partner’s hot, meaty labia and began sucking in earnest.