

   Dr Levin gazed reflectively out the window of her plane at the Virginia
countryside below as it took off from Dulles Airport, reflecting on the
most intriguing patient she had ever known in her brilliant career.  She
had developed many new techniques in the psycological field, and had just
published a second best-selling book prior to being appointed by the
President to psychoanalyze a very unique patient for an undisclosed Task
Force for The National Security Agency department of the White House.  But
Alex had been more unique than in her unusual manner of being
transgendered, there was a powerful magnetism to her that Dr Levin had
found on a few occasions to be impossible to resist.  This was her first
patient that she could not detach herself from emotionally and
professionally, and she wanted so much to see her again after she was
released from the base in Nevada.  Julie remembered the first time she
introduced herself to Alex, and feeling again that electric feeling she got
when she first saw those flashing brilliant green eyes, the beautiful long
brown hair which looked like it was cared for professionally, the perfectly
proportioned face and body, and most of all the seductive smile she had
shown her.  She had spent extra time with Alex, talking to her like a big
sister late into the night, holding her when she was afraid or needed a
shoulder to cry on, and watching her grow daily into psychological
womanhood.  She had given Alex some fashion and etiquette advice, and
remembered the feeling she got when she showed her how to french braid her
hair when it got hot out, the feel of that beautiful soft hair which most
women spent a fortune to try to get but never did.  It was one of these
times when Julie was brushing Alex's hair when it happened, when Julie's
hands had lingered for just a second too long on Alex's shoulders, when
Alex reached up with both hands to hold Julie's, pulled her hands closer
and turned her head back and looked at Julie with those green eyes looking
at her seductively through half closed lids, and saw the passion in Julie's
eyes which she couldnt hide from Alex.  She couldnt resist when Alex
reached over to gently run her hand along her face, and then drew up to her
in the most passionate kiss she had ever felt.  She felt chills all down
her back and moaned involuntarily and made a soft protest, but Alex knew
she had her.  "You're beautiful too, Julie you don't look anywhere near 38"
she whispered into her ear.  Alex arched her back and tilted her head as
she opened her nightgown, exposing the perfect breasts which stood from her
chest with just the right firmness without looking fake.  Julie ran her
hands over Alex's breasts almost without thinking, as she felt her blouse
being unbuttoned, and felt Alex's delicate fingers undoing her bra and
running gently across her nipples.  Julie was losing all control by then,
as Alex removed both their tops, and leaned Julie back and kissed her lips,
neck, and nipples, with Julie coming to her first orgasm as she felt Alex's
soft hair running along her body.  Alex kissed her along her stomach,
working her way down and running her nails lightly up her thighs, as she
effortlessly removed Julie's skirt and panties, and kissed around her
thighs and pelvis, finally running her tongue along her pussy lips and
tickling her clitoris until Julie almost passed out with her second, more
powerful orgasm.  She came down from that with a totally relaxed and
peaceful feeling she had never been able to get through any relaxation
techniques, and her and Alex gently kissed and touched each other as they
fell asleep together in a soft embrace.

   Julie came back to reality on the plane as she found herself
involuntarily running her hands along her arms and legs.  She thought of
other things to go over with Alex before letting her go, all the details of
the paperwork on her new identity, and when she picked up her luggage and
rental car at the airport in Las Vegas, she headed not to Nellis Air Force
Base, but to the Luxor Casino to make reservations for 2 rooms, and then to
one of the best stores in town to buy going away presents for that patient
that she found it impossible to see in an entirely professional manner.

  
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   At that same time, 200 miles away driving home from Los Angeles on the
10 freeway was Mike Mendoza, excited about the results his chemist friend
at UCLA had found on the shoes that he had worn that morning when he found
Alex's car in the desert.  The sand and soil still in tiny portions in his
shoes had shown evidence of being heated to a degree to change the sand
into glass, and radioactive particles were still in there also, being
inconsistent with the surrounding soil in the region, and no nuclear waste
dumps were in the area.  He finally knew for himself at least that he was
not hallucinating about the lights he had occasionally seen in the desert
at night, or the fading of the paint on the Porsche he had found, and knew
that the story concocted by the FBI was a cover-up, and that maybe that
wild story that had caused a brief sensation about

   that topless dancer who claimed to be the new and altered version of
missing writer Alex Dell might not be so wild after all.  He was going to
take this lab report with the shoes and call the reporter who had caused
him so many problems on the job and in his daily life when he had claimed
that very unusual and unnatural signs were found at the spot Dell had
disappeared.  The reporter had used his name in the story, and Mike knew
that from that point on, any hope of promotion within the ranks of the
Highway Patrol had evaporated.  Mike had seen on a news magazine show that
the reporter was going to write a book about this case, and he figured that
if he provided that reporter with the evidence, then maybe something big
would break, and the bad mark on his personnel file would go away.

  
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