Beauty Besmirched: The Humiliation of Alice Ribbons

Foreword

This story contains some explicit material of a sexual and/or suggestive nature. Just as its source material, it does not claim to be politically correct. After all, the work in question deals with the humiliation of an adult woman at the hands of a little boy. If this is your cup of tea, then proceed. Otherwise, you may need to think twice before reading. Since it is a re-telling, I have chosen to stick to the chief events of the story while deviating where possible, inserting new concepts here and there. Overall, I've tried to remain faithful to the spirit of the source. The story itself was written for pure enjoyment. So please, enjoy! Comments are very welcome. If you have any new traps or hijinks to suggest, do not hesitate to comment upon these; they may see inclusion in some later part of the story. Many thanks!

Chapter 1

The docks, long beyond midnight: the San Francisco Bay area was ominously quiet, except for the low rumble of engines and the sound of rippling water. Into this still scene entered a Ford Explorer, followed by a pitch black Bentley Continental, pulling over by the ocean-side roadway. For a moment, no motion registered from the lone vehicles. Then, nervously, a small man in wire-frame glasses stepped out of the Ford, carrying a metallic case in hand.

Seated in the back of the Bentley, watching through the tinted glass, a lean woman with short dark hair turned her piercing cold stare on the approaching form. Her name was Alice Ribbons, and she immediately recognized the man as their contact over at Axus Defense Technologies. She nibbled her lovely lower lip in anticipation, crossed and uncrossed her shapely legs impatiently.

If this transaction went off without a hitch, they'd have the stolen microchip in no time – ten million dollars made easy, perhaps too easy for an internationally-wanted thief of her standing. After that, it was off to Hong Kong to meet their client, receive payment, and finally early retirement at twenty-seven years-old: a chic Paris villa all to herself, plus the collective payoffs from all her past heists – a fortune that would make even the most spoilt of heiresses jealous. She could already imagine herself draped in Coco Chanel, sipping champagne, looking over the Seine. The very thought of it pleased her. Indeed, she long resolved to spoil herself nonstop, to live like a real duchess. After all, Alice had always had a liking for luxury, and as a beautiful woman – at once intelligent, athletic, and acutely confident of her own sex appeal – she knew she deserved it more than anyone else. Definitely more than all the disposable pawns she'd stepped on and was likely to step on in the future.

"Alice, let's go. We have work to do." The firm voice with its heavy Eastern European accent snapped her out of her reverie. She turned to the tall, gaunt man seated next to her and nodded. Petr Beaupre was the leader of the outfit – a man in his early 50s, dressed very professionally in a dark linen suit and overcoat, a wanted man with a much longer record of espionage and double-dealing than any one of them. He'd evaded the FBI for years now. With him in charge, Alice felt more relieved. Surely that meant one less idiot on the team, one less liability to worry about.

They stepped out of the car into the cold night, Beaupre walking ahead to inspect the chip, Alice staying close behind to keep watch. Their Axus contact seemed more visibly shaken now to her amusement, and Alice could tell that Unger and Jernigan had roughed him up quite a bit. A preliminary warning in case he planned to double-cross them. The two men in black leather coats – the remaining members of the team and its much needed muscle – parted aside as Beaupre came forward, extending a hand to receive the chip. Now came the moment of truth. From where she stood, Alice held her breath. The older man took out a jeweler's glass and put it to his eye before scanning the goods. His usually impassive expression gave way to a satisfied grin. A slight nod in her direction told Alice that here was the real deal.

"I have a plane to catch. Where's my money?" The Axus Contact's whiny voice grated on her nerves.

She wished they could have done away with this pawn on the spot. A pistol and silencer would do. But they too had a plane to catch, and they couldn't be bothered with disposing a body at this late hour. She simply frowned as Jernigan tossed the valise of money to the Axus Contact. What an annoyance these pawns were becoming, and how expensive! They disgusted her. To Alice, these expendables were beneath her, unworthy even of cleaning her boots.

With the transaction complete though, there was no time to lose. Alice sat herself back down in the Bentley and picked up a bright red toy car they'd purchased earlier that day. It was one of those remote control Mutator trucks, a common enough sight in toy stores, innocent and inconspicuous. Sitting beside her, Beaupre handed her the chip. Now began the next phase of the plan.

Opening the plastic shell of the toy car, Alice inserted the chip amongst the internal circuitry and re-sealed the outer covering. It was a perfect fit: their means of getting the chip through airport security undetected. Returned to its box moreover, the toy car made the ideal Trojan horse.

As the Bentley drove off, there was no doubt in Alice's mind that this mission was going to be child's play.

[…]

Flanked by her three male associates, Alice made her way through the San Francisco International Airport with smart, confident steps, her head held high, her shoulders pulled back firmly, her eyes locked intently on the way ahead. She had a look of pure seriousness on her face – the kind of forbidding expression, mixed with an air of haughtiness, which told any onlooker to back-off. Her dark-colored clothing only accentuated the effect – black turtle-neck sweater under an expensive woolen coat in dusky shades of green; navy blue slacks which clung tightly to her beautiful rear and thighs; black leather ankle boots shined to perfection. She certainly dressed in style. No extraneous gestures either; no sign of weakness that might give her away. To lose nerve at the crucial moment just wouldn't do for someone of her standing. She had a reputation to uphold even if this may well be her last job.

It came as no surprise then that Beaupre should have charged her with carrying the white Parisian bag containing the toy car and the chip. Jernigan would've cracked like a nervous wreck from the pressure, and Unger would've botched the whole operation with his innate sloppiness. It wasn't very hard for Alice to imagine Jernigan twitching and flailing about or Unger leaving the package in some public restroom. The buffoons couldn't be trusted with such a delicate task.

Finally, they arrived at the airport security checkpoint. Alice placed the Parisian bag on the conveyor belt to be screened by x-ray. With Beaupre just behind her, she stood in-line before the walk-thru metal detector. No backing out now.

Suddenly, the telltale sound of beeping filled the air. Alice froze.

Could they have set-off the alarm? Impossible! The plan was flawless. Nonetheless, needing confirmation, she turned back to Beaupre who simply wrinkled his brow. It was an order to keep her cool.

And just as expected, the alarm had nothing to do with her but rather with the rotund woman up ahead.

Alice gritted her teeth and felt her annoyance rising. Surprises, even harmless ones, generally left her in a foul mood. Worst of all, Alice couldn't stand what she deemed the stupidity of other people. As it turned out, the woman in front of her had forgotten to remove her earrings. A petty issue, but for Alice, inexcusable, a mistake deserving of her quiet though nonetheless seething ire. She scrutinized the woman's jewelry, and dismissed them as utter kitsch. Why did she even bother waiting for this nobody to finish? It was a pointless insult to herself. She tried then and there to overtake this nuisance only for the security official at the gate to chastise her. The indignity of it all! From where she was, she needed merely to stand on tip-toe to see the package at the end of the conveyor belt. It was so close it was unbearable, a real test of what little patience she had. Still, she waited.

Soon enough, it was her turn. Alice heaved a sigh of relief as the security official signaled her through. Alice had no intention of letting these pests off easy, however. Passing through the metal detector door and making her way to the end of the conveyor, she purposely pushed aside the woman in front of her with her shoulder, nearly knocking her over. She then stepped on the security official's shoe, tilting her head back and snobbishly raising her nose at the confused employee. A rush of satisfaction sent shivers up her spine. Sweet victory! It wouldn't be long now, she thought. They'd gotten through the worst of it, and security at Hong Kong was bound to be even lighter. She'd be living the high life in no time and these wage-slaves would still be stuck in their dead-end lives. She grabbed the white Parisian bag and re-grouped with Beaupre and the rest. She could almost laugh.

But, just a few steps into the airport terminal, her pace slowed to a stop. Her smile dissolved into a look of confusion. Something didn't feel right. The bag somehow felt lighter. Alice clutched at the Parisian bag with both hands. Not only was it lighter, but it also felt… softer?

Beaupre and the others were looking at her now.

Her lower lip shook. No, it couldn't be! She tore at the bag and looked inside to find a cheap romance novel, a beaten old newspaper, and a single loaf of sourdough bread. The toy car and the chip were gone! The ten million dollars had slipped out of her hands! "Oh, my God…," Alice cried in horror.

The realization that the real package had been lost quickly hit Beaupre, Unger, and Jernigan who immediately split into different directions to locate it.

Alice herself couldn't believe the situation. For a while she stood on the same spot dazed. How could this have happened? How could she have lost it? No, she reasoned with herself, she didn't lose it; she'd been compromised – sabotaged! She had never lost a package before. She was a professional after all, a cut above the rest, and therefore above committing such juvenile mistakes. Everything was clear now. The package had been stolen from her. But who could have done so? Who was the saboteur? Alice felt the world spinning about her. Eyes searching desperately, she checked the lounges for Dallas, Miami, New York, and Denver. Yet, there was no sign of the package in any of them. She had to report back.

The team regrouped at the flight concourse. Beaupre watched the monitor broadcasting all the scheduled flights for that morning, all the flashing names of cities, countries, minutes, and hours. His expression remained unyielding even as Alice communicated her findings – or lack thereof – to him.

Jernigan spoke next. "Bars, restaurants, shops, clubs. Clean."

Unger followed suit in his usual sarcastic tone. "When I went to the john, I didn't see anything in there."

Upon hearing this, Alice rolled her eyes in disgust, took a deep breath as if to steady herself, and let out a frustrated sigh. Was this man dense? Couldn't he sense the gravity of the situation? Of course not, she reminded herself. Alice hated Earl Unger with a passion, and his irritating but predictable response to the current disaster only gave her more reason to do so. The large, burly man with long dark hair done up in a pony-tail was a constant pain, always ready to spout some untimely wisecrack or complaint, always coming up with excuses to avoid difficult assignments. If in the rare instance he kept his mouth shut, he was good for grunt work. For the most part though, he was little else but dead-weight, hopelessly incompetent and lacking in imagination or ambition, an idiotic piece of macho-obsessed scum with nothing to back his boasts. More than once, she'd even caught him staring at her ass, no doubt undressing her in his head. Just thinking what he might be imagining in that dimwitted mind of his made her cringe.

Then Beaupre spoke up. "It has to be on a plane," he snapped. "We're going to Chicago."

[…]

It wasn't difficult to acquire four last minute tickets to Chicago this early in January. The Christmas holidays were over, schools and businesses resumed, and a sense of normalcy descended upon all things. Or at least that should have been the case. For Alice, there was nothing normal about her present situation. What was supposed to be an effortless job had effortlessly turned sour. And although several hours had passed since the mix-up at the airport, her annoyance had not abated one bit.

She should've been on a plane to Hong Kong, not Chicago. With the FBI on her trail, there was no worse place to be. She'd never been in such dire straits before. It made her nervous, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. She shifted her curvy posterior against the first-class leather seating over and over, the friction from her movements threatening to wear right through the fabric of her pants. Still, she couldn't find a comfortable position to help put her thoughts at ease.

Beaupre sat on the seat to Alice's left but hadn't spoken to her throughout the entire flight. She threw him a surreptitious, side-long glance. Was the older man as tense as she was? If so, his expression betrayed nil. And what of Unger and Jernigan? The two dunces were out of sight on another part of the plane. Last she saw them though, they seemed less concerned over the missing chip and more irked at having to fly coach – something she'd have relished were circumstances more agreeable. As it was, however, the duo's apparent indifference simply vexed her further. She couldn't stand it.

In a flash, her thoughts turned to the saboteur. Whoever it was, Alice couldn't wait to get her hands on them. She was sure to make them pay, make them suffer dearly for all the trouble they'd caused her. She had no intentions of showing even an ounce of mercy. Let them cry. Let them beg. She'd crush them all the same. She licked her lips as she envisioned all manner of cruel scenarios. Her inner thighs grew hot. More and more, she became conscious of how tightly her slacks were chaffing into her clenched ass crack and into her sensitive bits up front. Oh, she'd tie up the saboteur, and then…, and then….

A successful landing. The plane arrived in Chicago at dusk in the dead of winter.

Alice stood up, straightened out her coat, and made her way to the very front of the exit, positioning herself at the threshold. This way she could see all the disembarking passengers, their luggage included.

Waves of people walked past her. She scrutinized each individual and the things they carried but none seemed to be bringing white Parisian plastic bags. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Increasingly fewer passengers were left aboard the plane. What if none of these idiots had the chip? What if it was nowhere in Chicago and they'd miscalculated again? What should she do then? The French villa she'd longed for, the fashion, the jewelry, all the joys of high society seemed more distant than ever.

At that point, the crowd suddenly ceased to move. Alice was perplexed. What could possibly be holding them? She narrowed her eyes and focused them at the head of the queue. There stood an old woman wearing a gray knit cap. Apparently, she'd dropped her canvas tote bag, the contents spilling onto the ground. Initially, Alice was wont to dismiss this scene as a distraction, but in the small space of a second, something had caught her eye. It was only there for an instant, so fast that Alice hadn't time even to blink. But there it was, dangling in the old woman's grasping hands, still wrapped in its white Parisian bag – the toy car! This crone was shoving their package into her tote bag, and she was about to get away!

Alice called out to Beaupre who in turn called out to Unger and Jernigan. Their package was in sight!

She darted forward, starting with a slow jog which soon escalated to a full sprint. The heavy crowding slowed her advance, but Alice was determined to push ahead, to catch up to this saboteur. Beaupre was somewhere behind her while Unger and Jernigan were even further back. It was so utterly typical of men, she thought. They couldn't keep up with her. Besides, while these boneheads basked lazily in their alpha male status, feeding their egos until they got fat, she'd spent years training her lithe body to peak physical condition. She'd made of herself a formidable runner, gymnast, and combatant. There was no way she could be outrun by a man, yet alone a wrinkly old lady more than twice her age.

Already, she'd covered the jetway, the arrival lounge, and the baggage claim area. She could see her target just a few meters away from her, shuffling past the exit. "A piece of cake," Alice whispered under her breath, a note of triumph in her voice.

She ran towards the old woman, pushed open the exit doors and rushed out into the taxi stand. If she just stretched out her hand a little she could close the gap between herself and her prey.

Yet, this was not to be.

Without warning, a powerful force tugged at her body from behind, pulling her backward. Alice's heart nearly skipped a beat. She quickly lost her footing and fell flat on her large ass. The hard concrete smacked her firm bottom with enough strength to leave her gasping. How could this be happening to her? In desperation, she tried to scramble to her feet, but couldn't get up. Each attempt simply ended with her landing back on her shapely ass, an unrelenting swat being delivered to her reddening bum as if ordering her to stay down. It didn't occur to her until it was too late to check the source of her discomfort, for as it so happened, the skirt end of her expensive coat had gotten wedged between the exit door and its frame. She struggled to free herself, but her coat was stuck fast and wouldn't budge. In this pose, Alice watched on helplessly as her prey hailed a cab, stuffed her suitcase in the trunk, and prepared to leave with the ten million dollar chip.

Frustration welled inside of her. She couldn't control herself any longer. Sitting there stuck to a door, legs splayed wide apart, Alice began pounding her fists into the ground, looking like a lost little girl in the midst of a hissy fit. "She's leaving! There she is! Get her! Get her!" Alice snarled to an approaching Unger and Jernigan. By the time they'd gotten through the door, however, releasing Alice in the process, the cab had just taken off into the street.

Alice was furious. She got up, rubbing her sore tooshie, and spoke through her teeth. "You morons let her get away! I can't believe this. How could you let yourselves be outrun by a senior citizen?!"

Unger rolled his eyes. "Might I remind you, we weren't the only ones to get outpaced, you bimbo."

This was the last straw. Like some sleek agitated feline, Alice readied to attack. And she would have jumped Unger too, shrieking and clawing, had Jernigan not spoken up, holding up a photograph of the cab on his pocket computer. "I've got a lead on the cab," he said matter-of-factly. "Company name – Ready-cab Co. License number three-four-four-seven."