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CHAPTER ONE

"Mirror, mirror on the wall—who's the fairest of them all?"

I decided it was me, Eve Drum, girl spy for L.U.S.T. L.U.S.T. is the League for Underground Spies and Terrorists. It is an organization that does things that reputable organizations like the C.I.A. and the N.S.A. are not permitted to do. We fight fire with fire, steal when we have to, and kill when it becomes necessary. I have killed, stolen, and lied my way in and out of dozens of tight spots and a variety of beds for good old Uncle Sam. Apparently, the wear and tear hasn't affected me. I look pretty darn good if I say so myself but I would have to wait a while for my date to tell me.

I picked up my Charles of the Ritz blue eye shadow and lightly brushed my eyelids, emphasizing my baby blue eyes. Then I selected a reddish-pink lipstick and delicately colored my full, sensuous lips. I use no foundation. My skin is flawless and I still had the bronze tan I acquired on the Italian Riviera. I had treated myself to a little vacation, paid for by L.U.S.T., after winding up my last case. But, after a while, sunning on the beach becomes boring so I hopped a jet and came back home to my posh apartment in the East Sixties right here in little old New York. It was October and autumn is my favorite time in the City.

I screwed a pair of silver hoop earrings into my pierced earlobes. Then I dabbed some perfume Bellodgia by Caron—into my nooks and crannies and went to my chest of drawers to select a pair of panties. I glanced at my Lucite clock. I had ten minutes before David Anderjanian would arrive and I meant to knock his eyes out.

David was my case officer for L.U.S.T. and my sometime lover. He had returned from Europe earlier in the day and had asked me out for dinner and a show. I hadn't seen David for nearly a month and well—I missed my big blond Viking of a lover boy all six feet four inches of him. Not that I had been lacking for dates since I had been back to the city, but David and I had something special going between us—to say the least.

I went to my closet, took my Norell gown from the hanger, and stepped into it. The full-length gown had long sleeves and a plunging neckline and was completely covered in silver sequins. I looked at myself in my mirrored wall. I had made the right choice. I looked smashing. It clung to my body like aluminum foil around a baked potato.

I sat down on the edge of my queen-sized bed and slipped into silver evening slippers, then got up and straightened the white fur throw. I had just redecorated my bedroom that summer. The walls, except for the mirrored one, were white and the floor was inlaid with white Spanish tile. The queen sized bed dominated the room and as I mentioned, was covered with a white fur throw. The night tables on either side of the bed were Lucite cubes and the lights were in the shape of large silver balls.

The only thing in the room that wasn't modern was my headboard which was a recent acquisition. It was an exact copy of Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" which I had been given by a grateful museum owner after breaking my last case. Somehow it fit into the modern surroundings of the room perfectly, and as David had pointed out, it was a very appropriate headboard for me.

I brushed my shoulder length hair which had recently been given a silvery ash rinse at Vidal Sassoon's and appraised myself once more in the mirror. I decided that it hadn't lied. Tonight I was the fairest in the land.

I went into the living room to double check my preparations. My living room, like my bedroom, had been decorated in a completely modern style. Everything was white, silver, or Lucite I dimmed the lights and put a stack of romantic records on the stereo. Then I filled the Tiffany ice bucket with ice and put two martini glasses in the freezer to chill. I set a dish of Beluga caviar and some buttered toast on the coffee table. Then I opened the doors to my terrace, breathed in the polluted air, and waited.

My apartment was on the twenty-first floor and I had a magnificent view looking down Park Avenue. I glanced at my Piaget wristwatch. It was exactly eight o'clock. Then the buzzer rang. It was my doorman Charlie informing me that Mr. Anderjanian was calling. I poured Tanqueray gin into a martini pitcher, dropped in a few ice cubes, added a touch of Noilly Prat vermouth, and stirred lightly. I took the chilled glasses out of the freezer, put a small green olive in each one, and filled them to the brim. The doorbell rang and I rushed to answer it.

Standing in the doorway was David, more handsome than I remembered him.

"Eve, you look terrific!"

He caught me in his arms and kissed me warmly on the mouth.

"Come in and sit down, David. I just mixed some martinis."

"Great! I could use one." We toasted each other and sipped our drinks.

"Mmmm. Eve, they're perfect as usual—but then everything you do is perfect.

"Where are we going for dinner, David?"

"I made reservations at the Sign of the Dove."

"Ooh! That's so expensive."

"It's on L.U.S.T. tonight, Eve. This isn't entirely a social call."

My heart sank. I didn't want business to interfere with our evening.

"Another case?" I sighed.

"I'll tell you about it over dinner, Eve. In the meantime, I'm going to have some of that caviar."

I spooned a generous helping on the buttered toast and handed it to him.

"What have you been doing with yourself, Eve?"

"Just relaxing, David. Catching up on my reading and putting together my fall wardrobe. And you?"

"I'll tell you all about it over dinner."

David can be maddeningly enigmatic when he wants to be. My curiosity was aroused but I was just going to have to wait.

We finished our drinks and left my apartment. It was nearly nine o'clock when we finally arrived at the restaurant where we were seated in a charming back room by a cool maitre d'.

"Would you like another drink, Eve?"

"No, I don't think so. I'll have wine with dinner. You order for me."

As an appetizer, David ordered coquille Saint Jacques and white Alsatian wine. For the entree—a tossed salad and tournedos, a thick filet mignon, with a portion of foie gras on top.

During dinner, David explained the problem.

"There's been a lot of Peruvian cocaine finding its way to New York City and our job is to track down the source, discover the setup, and find out who is behind the marketing."

"How do you know it's Peruvian coke?" I asked.

"We've had it analyzed. The market is flooded with the stuff. We have another L.U.S.T. agent working on the case but he—or should I say she needs some help."

"Can't you make up your mind—he or she?" I asked.

"She was a he. She's a transsexual."

"A transsexual!" I exclaimed. Spying certainly makes for strange companions.

"You're going to meet him tonight, Eve. He's appearing in the show we're going to see."

"What are we seeing?" I asked acidly. "A sideshow?"

David smiled and said, "No, not exactly. You've heard of the new show at the Plaza Hotel, 'Tsk—tsk!'?"

"Yes, it's a big hit."

"Well, the cast is made up of female impersonators with the exception of Gary Glendenning who's the real thing...so to speak."

"How long has he been on the case?"

"About two months now. I spoke to him today and he said he was onto something hot. We're going to have a drink with him after the show tonight."

The second show of the evening was to begin at eleven-thirty in the Plaza's famous Persian Room. We were seated ringside, ordered drinks, and waited for the show to start. The five-piece band tuned up and I sat wondering what David was getting me into. Not that I minded. I had been on vacation for a month and, frankly, I was getting itchy. I'm not a girl who can just sit in bed with a good book—or a friend that's read one. I have to be where the action is.

The overture started and the lights dimmed. The opening number was a parade of all six performers singing a song about the virtues of femininity. They were all dressed extravagantly in furs, feathers, and rhinestones and I had to admit, they looked good. David pointed out Gary Glendenning. I could see why he had decided to become a transsexual. He was a beautiful woman—tall, blond, and voluptuous. We watched the show. Some numbers were better than others depending upon the talents of the performers. Then Gary came out swathed in a cape of orange ostrich feathers and smoking a cigarette exaggeratedly. He rolled his eyes and sang a song entitled "All That Glitters..."

The lyrics weren't very witty so my mind wandered elsewhere. Suspended above Gary's head I noticed a shallow metal tray which had a thin wire attached to it which ran off-stage. I could see a bit of glitter stuck to the side of the box and I assumed that at some point during the number the box would tip over showering Gary with glittering specks. Gary puffed on his cigarette and reached a rather impressive high note, considering that he had once been a man. I saw the wire go taut and the tray begin to tip. Gary threw up his arms and finished on a high note. The tray tipped over, but it wasn't glitter that fell out. Liquid poured over the side.

Suddenly Gary screamed—we all did—as he was completely consumed in flames.

People jumped to their feet knocking over tables and drinks. Gary shrieked as the fire licked his body. David jumped onstage and pulled down a section of the black drape. He threw it over Gary and tried to smother the flames. I pulled the cloth from the table and beat at the burning liquid which was running toward the edge of the stage. A waiter came running with a fire extinguisher and put out the fire. David was kneeling over the still smoking body of Gary Glendenning as an ambulance arrived. We rode behind it to the emergency room of Lenox Hill Hospital. Despite the doctors' efforts, Gary died.

David came out of the emergency room looking very tired.

"Come on, Eve. I'll drive you home."

We didn't speak all the way back to my apartment. I wondered whether I should ask David up or not, but he suggested it. He seemed to want to talk about the case.

I put some coffee on to perk while I changed into a robe. Then I poured our coffee and sat down opposite David.

"Dammit, Eve. Gary was just cracking this case!"

"Where do we go from here?"

"Presently, the drug market is flooded with Peruvian cocaine. It's very high quality and brings the top price on the street. We haven't been able to figure out how it's getting into the country, but we do know that it's being used more extensively every day by what are referred to as the "glitter people"—actors, models, artists, underground filmmakers, designers, musicians, admen, and the like. Gary was ready to crack that case wide open and now—"

I had an idea. It was far out—way far out—but it just might work.

"David, do you think you could pull some strings to get me into the show?"

"What show?"

"'Tsk—Tsk!' I can take Gary's place."

"You, Eve?" But you're a real live girl."

"I can say I'm a transsexual. Who'd know the difference?"

"Do you think you could pull it off?"

"Why not? I've pulled off a lot of other capers."

"But can you sing and dance?"

"David, you've seen my exotic dancing and my singing isn't bad if the song is in the right key. Sure, I'll have to brush up some things, but I think I can handle it."

"I imagine they will have to close the showdown for a while anyway until they find a replacement and maybe while the police are investigating."

David sat silently for a few minutes, his thick eyebrows knitted in thought.

Finally he looked at me and said, "All right, Eve. You're on. You know what you're getting into. Obviously, from what happened tonight, it's going to be a dangerous case.

"Don't worry about me, David. I can take care of myself on or off the stage. Would you like some more coffee?"

"Yes, please."

I poured us another cup of the special blend of coffee I bought at Gristede's. I noticed David eyeing my great gams and I knew what he had on his mind. I knew because it was on my mind too. After all, it had been nearly a month.

Without speaking he swept me up into his arms and carried me into the bedroom where he laid me gently on the bed. He took off his clothes and I rolled out of my robe tossing it on the floor. He lay down beside me on the white fur throw saying, "Eve, I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, David."

His lips kissed my face, my neck, and finally my breasts. He caught a nipple and drew it deep into his mouth. My body rocked and shook.

I've read and memorized all the great love classics of the world. It's a hobby of mine. Works of love such as the Bah Nameh of the Sheikh Sadiq bin Tebib el-Isfahani, the Book of the Secret Laws of Love by Ko Khojeh Abu Othman, and the Hermaphroditus of Panormitanus, as well as dozens of others. I've always been able to take advantage of the accumulated wisdom of the ages and I have always believed that sex is like anything else it takes research and knowledge before you can truly become a master in the art of lovemaking. I, for one, think that courses ought to be taught, and grades and degrees given out, but then I have always been known as slightly progressive.

David Anderjanian is also a gourmet of sex and he was turning me into a veritable feast. My nipples were wet with David's kisses and he was moving his hands down to the insides of my thighs, leaving my rock-hard breasts, sliding himself down over my belly. He kissed my soft flesh in the traditional Ligurian caress. He put his hands beneath my buttocks and hoisted me upward as he lunged forward. David's expertise in lovemaking always drove me out of my skull. But tonight was extra special. Our need for each other was great and we worked together as perfectly as the parts of a precision Swiss watch and when the time came we both came at the same time. David lay back on the bed, his breathing returning to normal.

"Double Oh Sex, you're really something else!"

Double Oh Sex is the nickname given to me by the other members of L.U.S.T. and I try to live up to it. Ask anyone!

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