Sandy from communications placed the folder on Waverly's desk and walked from the room, Napoleon watched her swaying hips with appreciation until the door slid closed.
"Are we boring you Mr. Solo?" The Old Man enquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Um, no sir, sorry, I was just thinking."
"Mmm, and I do not think it is about the meeting either," Illya said only loud enough for Napoleon to hear and earning a glare in return.
"The finance department is not happy with these latest expense reports, gentlemen..."
Solo half listened to Waverly while he thought about maybe asking Sandy on a date.
"Mr. Solo I suggest you either need to wear cheaper suits while on assignment or take better care of them, we can't afford to keep replacing them so frequently. Mr. Kuryakin, I am sending you on a driving refresher course, having to replace three vehicles in the last eight weeks is not acceptable."
The Old Man drew the meeting to a close and dismissed his two agents.
The pair walked down the steel corridors towards their own office; glancing to his friend, Illya saw his mind was elsewhere.
"Do you never stop thinking about it Napoleon?"
"Huh, what?"
"Do you ever stop thinking about women?"
Just then a shapely blonde sashayed by, Solo stopped and turned to appreciate her assets as she passed by.
"No, beauty should be admired and I know just how to do it."
Kuryakin sighed and rolled his eyes, "one of these days you're going to make a mistake."
"A mistake? What do you mean?"
They turned the final corner and reached their office, the door sliding aside to permit entry. The American removed his jacket and hung it neatly on the back of his chair while the Russian threw his on the sofa, closely followed by his tie.
"Well, with all the kinds of places we have to go to during missions, I am sure there must be some who are not really women."
"That's true, but I can always tell the difference, it isn't something that will catch me out."
Illya looked thoughtful for a minute, "How can you be so sure? It is obvious with some, but there must be others where it is hard to know for sure."
Napoleon leaned back in his chair and considered for a while, "there are always certain mannerisms that give them away, sometimes they are blindingly obvious, other times not so, but they are always there and if you observe for long enough you'll know if it's a woman or not."
"I see, so you do not think you will ever be caught out?"
Solo smiled, "No, I am after all a connoisseur of women."
Illya grinned, an idea creeping into his mind, but first he would need to find April and Mark.
"Do you really think this will work?" Mark queried.
"Da, with April's help and guidance."
The three were in April and Marks office discussing Illya's plan.
"I wish I had your confidence mate." Slate looked unconvinced.
"Mark, darling, it'll work, I'll make sure it does."
"We have only three days to do this in. We need to start as soon as possible if we are going to do this," Illya added.
"Mmm, I suggest we reconvene this evening at my place and get started." April replied.
"Da, I will be there and bring what we need," Illya turned to leave then stopped suddenly, looking back over his shoulder, "by the way, what size shoe are you Mark?"
April, with Illya's help, had moved her sofa back against the wall and the coffee table had been squeezed into a corner, making room for an unsteady figure to walk around.
Illya tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a chuckle as he watched Dancer give instructions to Mark on how to walk in high heels.
"I don't know how you walk in these luv, they're worse than some THRUSH torture devices." Slate groaned as he wobbled across the living room. "As for you, Illya, you needn't look like you're enjoying this so much."
"MARK, concentrate. Don't put your weight on the heels, balance on the balls of your feet more."
"That's easy for you to say, luv. This isn't going to work."
"It will, I've got faith in you darling. Come on, try again, and balance," looking towards the Russian, and seeing a smirk hastily removed, she tried her best to impersonate one of his glares, " Illya, you're not helping either, go and make a coffee."
Ten minutes later he returned with steaming mugs of coffee, and smiled as he watched April walking behind her partner, guiding him with her hands on his hips, Mark was a quick learner and was already finding it easier walking in stilettos.
"That's better. Now, move your hips like this as you walk," April instructed.
By the end of the evening, Mark looked like he'd been walking in three inch heels all his life.
"Well, look at it this way, it is a new skill to add to your list." The Russian grinned as they left April's apartment.
Over the next two nights April instructed Mark on the finer points of being a lady, from how to sit to how to eat and converse. The last night Illya brought a dress, underwear and stockings.
"I usually remove these from ladies," Slate smiled as he tried on the bra.
"I have talked to section eight and they will be waiting for you tomorrow morning." Kuryakin informed the Brit.
"Blimey mate, I don't know how you talked me into this, but they better know how to keep a secret, or else I'm not going to be able to show my face around HQ ever again."
"Do not worry my friend, being number two does have its advantages," the Russian grinned.
"Mark, stop wriggling or else this zip is going to get stuck."
Ten minutes later, after making sure the curtains were firmly closed, Slate stood in the middle of the living room and twirled around.
"So, how do I look?"
"Just delightful darling," April laughed.
"I hope you have not made any plans for this evening my dear lady?" Illya asked with a sly smile as he held out his arm mockingly, he was answered with one of April's cushions as the three laughed together.
The next morning Mark arrived early and headed for Section Eight. After spending two hours under their ministrations, having latex affixed to various parts of his body a wig attached, makeup applied and, the final indignity, his legs shaved, a beautiful blond emerged.
A quick practice in the office and he slipped completely into his new persona. Even Patrick and Dorothea, the two miracle workers inhabiting the wardrobe and disguises department of Section Eight, were impressed with Mark's complete transformation.
Napoleon stopped and stared at the blond bombshell who approached him, he hadn't seen her before and assumed she was new. In her arms was a stack of files, the top ones sliding to the floor. Quickly Solo came to the damsels rescue, picking up the errant documents and removing a few more from the top of the pile.
"Oh, thank you, I was finding it hard juggling these." she looked away shyly, a slight pout to her bright red lips, "erm, I'm new here, you couldn't direct me to the records office, these corridors all look the same to me."
"Of course, but I'll do better than that, I'll take you there myself. I know how long it took me to find my way around when I first started here." Solo smiled.
"Thank you, I'm sorry, how rude of me. My Name's Jessica, Jessica Martin."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Martin, I'm Napoleon Solo."
She giggled slightly, "Hello Mr. Solo."
April and Illya listened in on the conversation via a small microphone secreted on Mark's person, so far their CEA had no idea who he was helping. They heard his usual pick up lines and listened to the compliments he showered this new employee. The two co-conspirators had never laughed so much and didn't have a clue how Mark managed to keep the pretenses up without blowing his cover.
Kuryakin quickly made his way back to his and Napoleon's office when he knew Solo was on his way back, schooling his features before the door slid open again, admitting a CEA with a spring in his step.
"What are you so happy about, have you seen this pile of reports?" Illya grumbled.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'll get started on them."
"Napoleon, will you please come down to earth?" The Russian sighed, "who is she this time?"
"A new employee in Records, I think she's quite taken with me too, you just have to know how to treat a lady."
Kuryakin just grinned as he hid behind a file.
Several times during the day, Napoleon found excuses to visit the records office and each time he did, Illya joined April again. The 'experiment' was proving a success, Solo still had no idea, April's training was really paying off.
Towards late afternoon, Mark slipped back to Patrick and Dorothea and had everything removed, breathing a sigh of relief as he could finally be himself, and returned back to the office he shared with April.
"Well done darling, you even had me and Illya fooled at times."
"Well, trust me,luv, I won't be making a habit of it. I think I need a strong cup of tea," he held out his arm, "care to accompany me?"
"Of course darling, lead the way."
Illya and Napoleon were already seated in the commissary when they arrived, Napoleon looking a little deflated, he couldn't find his new lady friend on his last trip to records.
"Hi, had a good day you two?" April asked, in what she hoped was an innocent voice.
"Da, have you?"
"Not bad, though if I never see another expense report it will be too soon. I hate filling those out."
"You should have seen ours, The Old Man really chewed us out over our last one." Napoleon replied, then smirked "he's even sending Illya on a driving refresher course."
The Russian threw him one of his cold stares, "well Napoleon has met a new member of the Records department and I think he is smitten," he said smiled smugly.
"I'm not, she just needed a bit of help on her first day. Anyway, I don't know where she's gone, she just seems to have disappeared."
Thinking it was about time to put his CEA out of his misery, Mark rose from his seat gracefully and checking no one was in the area, sashayed across to the counter and poured himself another cup of tea, and walked back to the table, before sitting demurely next to his partner and speaking to him in Jessica's voice.
"Well, I can tell you she hasn't left, not really, just sort of... well... changed."
Solo's jaw dropped open and his cheeks flushed, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Why, I …. you... you... I don't believe it," he turned to his partner and saw him trying to hide a smug look behind his mug. "I suppose this has something to do with you, tovarisch."
"You suppose correctly Napoleon."
"As for you two, I'm surprised you let him involve you in this, I do believe there is a post in Greenland I haven't assigned to anyone yet, though I think I have now."
Illya looked apologetically across to his two friends.
"And as for you, partner, I have several courier drops that will keep you busy for the next few days until we have a new mission... and I know one of those requires a female agent, I think you'd make a lovely wife Illya."
Now it was Solo's turn to enjoy the discomfort of his friends, though he felt very mortified he hadn't any idea Jessica was really Mark, but he wasn't going to admit that to them... ever.