Undercover - Chapter 04

Eager to prove himself, Kyle has always wanted to go on a risky undercover mission. Finally, the police department has found the perfect job for him. The straight jock will have to play the role of a male stripper to infiltrate a drug cartel. Little does he know that this is only the beginning of his (hot) journey.

UNDERCOVER

Chapter 4: The new wardrobe

"How did it go with the Man of Steel? Are you feeling more comfortable about that stripping gig?"

Peter Thorne asked me.

We were on a four-hour car drive from Dallas to San Antonio.

We would go there together but we would stay in separate apartments, only having contact when absolutely necessary.

"Good. I feel ready for the mission." I replied.

"I bet... And I heard you had a little fun while you were there."

Peter smirked.

Fuck.

Why did he ask the question if he already knew?

I should have expected that the team would have information on my night spent at the gay club...

Who had talked? Allan? The drag-queen? Or were there cameras hidden backstage? I would not have been surprised if they had a spy in the club.

"I just tried to portrait my character as best as I could." I answered, pretending to be casual.

"Of course... And you did good. You were an excellent aspiring stripper, willing to do anything to get the job. You were right to show that Ryan is very-much open-minded."

He really knew everything, I thought.

"You were spying on me? I thought we didn't need any recording of what would happen at the club yesterday. I thought it was just a practice round for me?"

Peter put his hand on my thigh.

"We have eyes everywhere, do not ever forget that, Kyle. And in this particular case, you're aware that we were the ones setting the meeting with Allan. Right? We had to make sure you'd behave accordingly before sending you to San Antonio."

"Another test..." I muttered, between my teeth. "Did I pass it?"

"We're driving to San Antonio, aren't we? Besides, it was not so much of a test, you know the target, you've been given highly sensitive information, the assignment has already started. We trust you."

He pulled back his hand from my thigh to get it back on the wheel.

"About the target, I don't know that much about him. Artem Kravchenko. When will I meet him?"

"He loves spending time in his establishments whenever his father doesn't force him to attend other events. If you get the job at the Rainbow Club, you'll meet him for sure."

"And what should I do then?"

"Ideally, befriend him, gain his trust, but we'll adjust depending on the situation when you get there."

"And his father?"

"Andriy is in Europe at the moment, we're not very sure when he'll be back. That's the thing with the old Kravchenko, he's very unpredictable and I doubt that he would get fooled by any undercover. The closest person to his circle and the one who is the most likely to have legit information and to spill the beans is Artem."

"Understood."

"Don't worry, Kyle. You'll do great and we'll be there every step of the way to make sure that the mission goes smoothly."

Peter repeated me his bit about his fifteen succeeded missions, "no failure", and he spent the rest of the ride telling me all about his first undercover mission, more than twenty years prior.

He did not share every little detail of the assignment but the story was about a female cop who had to seduce a Saudi prince to expose a human trafficking network.

I must say, the tale was pretty entertaining to listen to, and I found myself thinking about the time when, twenty years from this point, people would re-tell the crazy story of Kyle Boone, going undercover to stop the Kravchenko family.

We arrived at my new apartment early in the afternoon.

It was a pretty standard one-bedroom place, well situated in downtown San Antonio, right near where the city life was the most vibrant, and the various bars and clubs.

Peter showed me around.

There were three cameras hidden in the apartment, living-room, bedroom and bathroom, and five mics.

One camera was right above my bed, hidden in the ceiling-fan, the other was behind a mirror in the living-room, - this is where I was supposed to make the three-fingers sign if I felt like I was in danger or in need to contact them -, and the last one was next to the air-conditioning system in the bathroom, recording an unobstructed view to the shower.

This set-up served many purposes.

It was made for my own safety, but mainly, it was about the success of the mission.

The police force was making sure that I would not deviate from the assignment and they were monitoring me accordingly.

There had been too much stories of undercover agents gone wrong.

There was also the hope that, at one point or another, I would be able to bring a member of the Kravchenko's organization to my place, and that they would be recorded sharing useful information.

It was always more difficult, - and much riskier-, to try setting up mics inside the target's apartment or directly on the agent's body.

One thing I had not really thought of was the wardrobe.

"Here. We've picked everything for Ryan Smith." Peter announced, opening a large cabinet in the bedroom.

I had been asked not to bring any of my personal stuff to San Antonio.

Once again, this was decided for safety reasons and aside from that, studies had shown that an undercover agent was more efficient if he were to change his entire environment, including his clothes.

It was easier to get into character this way; Something I had already noticed when I had gotten into Ryan's tight boxer briefs for the first time the night prior.

Talking about tight underwear, the cabinet was full of them!

They looked even more revealing than the yellow boxer briefs.

"Jesus, Ryan is a bit slutty." I commented, going through the clothes picked up for me.

Mesh tee-shirts, sleeveless tops, tiny shorts, and of course, very tight briefs.

"It's Summer in San Antonio... You have to dress accordingly. And Ryan is not one to bother himself with covering his skin."

"I guess so."

I was running my fingers through a pair of white jockstraps.

I had never owned one.

"You're gonna be okay with those?" Peter enquired.

"Yes... I'm just worried about the fits. They're all one size too small but I suppose this is on purpose."

"It is. And Kyle, just between you and I, I've noticed that you're wearing clothes that aren't fitting you anyway. I think the problem is more about the way you're currently dressing as Kyle, than the way you'll be dressing as Ryan."

He smiled at me.

I was not sure if he was serious or not.

"Shut up, man. I wear normal clothes!"

As if he could talk with his beer belly and poorly ironed shirts.

"Check the drawer on the left." He spoke.

I opened it, anxious, expecting the worst.

I audibly gasped.

This was much worse than the briefs, indeed. Fluorescent thongs, latex shorts, super-hero costumes similar to the one worn by Allan, and policemen outfits.

"Come on, are you for real?!" I snapped.

"That's what we call the stripper's closet!"

Peter seemed very much amused.

"A cop's costume? Really?"

I got it out from the closet.

"It might be a little on the nose but we figured that it would actually be the best way to erase any suspicion. Which type of cop would dress himself as a slutty policeman?"

"My type, it seems like!"

"I'm sure that you'll look amazing in those. It will do wonders enhancing your backside."

I grabbed the pants and I noticed a zipper on the back, going right around the ass.

"That's for sure not proper cop outfit..." I commented with a slight grin.

Peter laughed.

"Yeap. Not sure this would be approved by the Police Department."

Thankfully, I liked the guy and I was happy to have him in San Antonio.

For the first night, we would exceptionally dine together before cutting ties.

I had, of course, a new smartphone and Peter would only contact me when needed with a number that I had to memorize by heart.

He could not appear in my contacts' list.

I had a few days before the job interview at the Rainbow Club and that time had to be used to get myself comfortable in the city, living in my new apartment, wearing my new clothes, and meeting people to build Ryan a real life in San Antonio.

When Peter left me to it with a warm hug and a "good luck, agent", I was feeling both anxious and terribly excited.

Having the adjustment period was a great idea because I was all over the place during the first hours in my new identity.

It was simply too thrilling, knowing that I was impersonating somebody else's life, creating this character designed to hit his target, being aware that I was filmed 24/7 in my own apartment...

The first time I changed, I could not help to look at the cameras.

Yet, I had to live my life as normally as possible.

I got naked and I took a warm relaxing shower.

I could not help but wondering if Peter or anyone else watching would be commenting on the way I was washing myself, for example, would they judge me for not properly washing my feet or for trimming my pubic hair?

They would probably get a good look at my fat cock before, eventually, getting bored with it.

Thankfully, I was comfortable with what I was packing.

I thought this would be strange or uncomfortable but as soon as the next morning, I woke up with my typical hard-on and I got up out my bed naked, without even thinking about the cameras.

Only when I started to make coffee and tried to figure out how the machine worked, I remembered that I was not in my usual place and that special agents were watching me.

Well, too late, I was already naked and hard!

One thing which made me feel better was that I knew that most people in the Police Force were straight men so, it felt a bit like being naked inside the locker-rooms at the gym.

Something I had never given a single fuck about. I was not the type to shower in freaking speedos to hide my junks.

I was fine with wandering around my gym mates naked and if I am being honest, I did not mind to let everyone else take a good look.

I drank my coffee and put some clothes on.

My mission of the day: discovering the city, starting by one of my favorite spots: the local gym.

I let my hard-on subdued and I got into a pair of black briefs and some shorts for my morning activity.

The briefs were a terrible choice and I regretted it during my entire training-session.

They were much tinier than the yellow ones I had worn once, and they were even more outrageously sliding inside my ass crack.

I felt one of my balls escaping the fabric as I ran on the treadmill.

Annoying as shit.

Overall, though, working-out was great for me.

Not only it was necessary for the character I would play for a few months, - in that sense, I had been lucky, I was very mindful of my shape and the assignment was quite the perfect opportunity to be paid by the U. S. Government to exercise -, but it was also a great way to release some growing tension.

Talking of which, the gym was practically empty when I went there, and I used this chance to wank myself off in the communal showers afterwards.

As I said, I was not a prude but at this point, I did not feel fully comfortable stroking my cock in front of the hidden cameras in my place.

Strangely, the public locker-room and the communal showers had become a much more private place than my own home.

I would get past this feeling rather quickly though.

I think that by day two, I was shamelessly beating my meat in the shower, above the toilets to jizz in the bowl, or in my bed.

You do tend to forget the cameras very easily, especially when they are totally hidden and when the staff operating them never gets in contact with you.

Peter had told me that I would not be actually watched 24/7 and I started to seriously wonder if anyone was looking at the footage.

The mission had not properly begun per se.

Frankly, I was just living my life and I could see how some people would be getting lost in their characters.

I introduced myself as Ryan to a few people at the gym, I was using his social media every day, I was wearing his clothes, and somehow, I was him.

In just a few days, it became more natural to use his name instead of mine.

Never for too long, but sometimes, I would completely forget that I was on a mission as I was simply enjoying the city.

I met Amber three days after I had moved to San-Antonio.

I was taking out the trash and she was struggling to carry her bike in the appropriate storage room behind our building.

"Need any help there?" I asked, as the gentleman as I was.

Okay, maybe the tiny blue skirt she was wearing and her cleavage did play a part in offering my help.

She was a babe. A cheeky blondie. Exactly what I liked.

"Thanks... It's always a pain getting that thing back in here."

"I got you."

I grabbed the bike from her, - admittedly it was quite heavy -, and I lifted it to slide it in the cabin.

"Thank you. I usually get it inside by myself but any help is appreciated."

"You ride your bike often?"

In reality, I had already spotted her from my window, riding in her little skirt down our street.

"Every day. Better for the environment, you know."

A leftist in Texas, everything can happen! I thought.

"Of course, and it's great for working out too." I replied.

Obviously, I had to bring the conversation back to her stunning physique.

I was a player after all. It was in my nature to openly flirt with hot chicks whenever I was meeting them in the wild.

I wondered if it was in Ryan's nature too, but I assumed that it was.

"Yeah, it's a great way to keep in shape... You must know a thing or two about working out yourself." She replied.

Good. She seemed quite receptive to the flirting.

She was staring at my uncovered biceps.

One thing I have to say about Ryan's wardrobe was that it was certainly flattering... I did get faces turning towards me anywhere I went.

Everything was sleeveless, too tight and very much on display.

That being said, maybe it was dangerous to start a seducing game.

I had to stay focused on my assignment.

"Just trying to stay somewhat fit." I eluded.

"I can tell."

She smiled.

God, she was very hot, especially when she was showing her teeth. She did not wear much make up but she was looking great anyway, meaning that she was beautiful for real and did not have to paint her face to hide the mess.

"I'm Ryan." I extended my arm.

"Amber. You're new here?"

"Yes, I've just moved here. Fifth floor."

"I'm on the fourth, right below you. I didn't move so long ago either."

Was there a sexual reference when she mentioned "right below you" or was it just my perverted mind talking? I glanced at her cleavage.

Very nice breast. If only I could slurp on those.

Normally, I would have been forthcoming right away.

I knew how to hit on girls, they could act all innocent, but they liked confidence and forwardness the best.

I kept my cool though.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you. I hope we'll get the chance to run into each other again." I spoke.

"We certainly will. I work from home so I'm often around, I'm a social media manager for accessory brands."

Hot, and pretty smart, I thought.

That was tricky though, was I supposed to talk about my job now?

Or maybe I did not have to.

"That's interesting, what kind of brands?" I faked my interest.

"Luxury bags, mostly. Watches too. Sex-toys sometimes."

She bit her lips.

I was not expecting the sex-toys part.

Now it was clear, she was hitting on me, provoking me even.

I had to run away from the situation.

"I guess those are all useful accessories... I... I have dinner in my oven, I should go before the entire building burns down."

"Oh... Of course, please go. It was very nice to meet you, Ryan. And thanks again for the bike."

"No problem, Amber."

I rushed back to the fifth floor and I jerked off thinking of Amber's cleavage and endless legs.

I bet she was trying all the sex-toys she was selling. It was the fantasy I had made up in my mind anyway. And I was convinced that she had mentioned the sex-toys to create that exact fantasy in my head.

I nutted on my abs.

I wondered if the cameras caught that.

I was proud of me for staying focused on the mission though.

Despite not banging a pussy in nearly six full weeks, I was staying strong.

I could not get distracted by women. The assignment was too important to be tempered with.

I returned to the gym the next day and I saw a couple of guys I had befriended there. Cousins, Manuel and Javier, were seemingly lifting weights at the gym ten hours a day.

They were literally always there.

They were nice though, and they reminded me a bit of Allan with their bodybuilder's physiques and overly macho mannerisms.

Somehow inspired by them, I had started wearing jockstraps to the gym.

Let me explain.

The briefs in my cabinet were uncomfortable as fuck and I did not have any of my old boxer briefs or more ample underwear to use.

Aside from going commando, the jockstraps became the most viable solution, especially as those were much more common in the gym I was now going to.

Back in Dallas, I did not know anyone who would wear them seriously, especially not at the precinct, but there, Manuel, Javier, and many others were often wandering around in their jocks.

No big deal.

So much so that I was wondering if I had not ended-up in a gay gym.

There were only rarely a couple of women there, and the guys were seemingly very into wearing the most revealing gym clothes.

In all fairness, I was one to talk with the tiny short shorts Peter and his team had picked for me...

It was likely that the other members were thinking that I was gay myself.

I did get a surge of new followers, - all males -, on my Instagram, or rather, on Ryan's Instagram.

See, this was getting confusing for real!

Anyway, Manuel and Javier suggested that we go take some lunch together after practice and I agreed.

It was important to build some sort of a social life through Ryan's identity.

We grabbed some chicken sandwiches at a food truck and we mostly talked about gym routines and diets.

Those guys were virtually obsessed with growing their muscles.

I did not speak much and mostly listened to them, - this was a great strategy to avoid being caught in a lie -, until something happened.

We were sitting on a bench, eating and joking around, when a fancy black car stopped on the other side of the road.

It parked right in front of an historic building which Manuel described to me as an art center.

I almost spat out my drink when the tall and elegant man got out from the backseat.

In a full white/beige suit, matching his blond (almost white) hair which was pulled back in a fashionable way, Artem Kravchenko crossed the street to reach the sidewalk.

Javier was retelling the most boring story about his last bulking season, but I was no longer listening.

I was like transfixed to see my target right in front of me.

He was real.

I mean, the man was living in San Antonio, and we were staying in the area where he was conducting most of his businesses so it was not so far-fetched that I would eventually run into Artem Kravchenko, but still, he was like a divine apparition!

The man would have been noticeable from miles away.

He was so damn different from every guy surrounding him.

In San Antonio, a lot of the population was Latino, most of the white guys were heavily tanned, and above all, especially in the middle of June, everyone was wearing the smallest shorts, many guys even being shirtless in the middle of the streets.

Not Artem though.

He had the palest skin I had ever seen, and even with 90 degrees Fahrenheit (30 degrees Celsius), he was impassive in his (certainly worth thousands of dollars) suit.

A storm was coming and the atmosphere was humid and cloudy that day. He must have been suffocating.

His jacket was opened and the top of his Givenchy shirt was unbuttoned but despite the heat, he was not showing the slightest bit of discomfort or sweat.

I guess that he was moving around from one air-conditioned place to another without barely ever seeing the Sun.

More so than on the photographs I had seen of him, he made me think of a vampire.

But in real life, Artem was even more charismatic.

The aura I had perceived on pictures was now truly exuding out of him, out of the way he was carrying himself, nonchalant and confident.

His traits were thin but well-drawn, like he was a painting come to life.

The time he walked from the car to the art center had lasted less than fifteen seconds and Artem had not given the slightest look towards me, - only quickly turning his head vaguely in my direction -, but it had been enough to overwhelm me.

"Dude, are you okay?" Manuel asked.

My mouth was semi-opened.

I was staring at Artem's back, disappearing in the historic building.

"Yeah... I... Sorry, I got lost in my own thoughts."

My mates had not even noticed him.

This was surprising since he was standing out so much in this environment. But maybe it was just me.

I, for one, would never forget this striking image.

It was about 24 hours before I would apply for a job in one of his clubs.