EXTRACT FOR
Undercover Slave
(Author Unknown)

Chapter One

Mousey LaBlaunche



Mousey LaBlaunche attracted a lot of attention as she drove on Interstate 10 west of Las Cruces, New Mexico. The big, bus-like, thirty-four foot, Winnebago RV with a bright yellow Jeep towed behind it caught people's attention, but it was the fact that Mousey looked like a child driving it that kept them staring. Her full name was Marthe Lavolier LaBlaunche but ever since she was a small child everyone called her "Mousey."

    At age 27, she was definitely no longer a child, but she was still small. At her last physical, The Mansion Club doctors recorded her height at four foot, ten and a half inches, despite the fact that she always claims to be "five foot nothin'." In the past, her petite size enabled her to infiltrate child pornography rings for Free Choice or Freedom, a division of The Mansion Club that works with various law enforcement agencies to battle sex trafficking worldwide. Closing in on thirty years of age, she no longer looks enough like a child to fool someone close up, but from another vehicle on the Interstate, it still looks like a twelve-year-old girl is driving that big bus RV.

    She grimaced as she saw the police flashers in her rear-view mirror. "Here we go again," she muttered softly to herself as she carefully pulled the RV and the Jeep it was towing over to the side of the road. She knew she wasn't speeding. She never sped in her RV, or in her Jeep, or in any car she was driving, unless it was an emergency, because she knew that her petite size was like a giant sign saying, "Pull me over!" to every state, county, and city cop she passed. As the state trooper walked alongside the rig, he shouted loudly, "I need to talk with the ADULT owner of this vehicle!"

    "That would be me," Mousey said as she stepped around the front of the rig. She smiled and laughed softly to herself as she watched the trooper's jaw drop and his mouth hang open. She had been wearing a very small string bikini under her sun dress as she drove. The dress was now lying across the front passenger seat where she had dropped it on her way to the door.

    She held up an ID case and said "My driver's licence and insurance are up-to-date. I don't have any outstanding tickets or warrants. The plates on my Winnie and my Jeep are current. And..." She paused to smile at the officer. "... I'm twenty-seven years old. I even have a copy of my birth certificate with me if you need that."

    She let the officer gasp once or twice and then asked very sweetly, "Is there something else wrong with my rig? Is that why you pulled me over?"

    She could see that the trooper was thinking fast. He seemed a little sharper than most officers who pulled her over. Usually once they saw her close up, they just sputtered and gasped for air and then finally said something about watching her speed and got back in their car.

    A sudden look of relief came over the officer's face and he said, "Just a spot check on the braking system for your toad. With a vehicle as heavy as that Jeep, you have to have a break-away braking system and not all out-of-staters know that."

    Mousey walked back to the tow bar and bent over at the waist, giving the trooper a closeup view of her small, but well-rounded ass. She grabbed a thin cable that was attached to the back of the RV and used it to pull the break-away pin out of the switch on the Jeep's front bumper. The sound of a small compressor could be heard over the roar of traffic as the Jeep's braking system activated.

    "Satisfied?" she asked as she bent even farther forward and pushed the pin back into the switch.

    "Satisfied," he replied. Now that he felt more in control, he was unabashedly staring at her ass. "Twenty-seven?" he said slowly.

    "Or a twelve-year-old with nice tits and a really great ass," she replied as she stood up, turned around and grinned at the officer. She suppressed a giggle as he turned beet red with embarrassment.

    "OK... Yes," he said, after a moment. "I thought you were a kid driving her grandparents' RV. Running his eyes up and down her body once more he said, "Obviously, you're not a kid, but we do get that a lot out here in the middle of nowhere."

    "Speaking of the middle of nowhere," Mousey said, stepping close to the trooper for the first time, "you don't happen to know the best way to Hidden Rock Campground, do you? The directions I have say I turn south off the interstate, but all I have for the exit are GPS coordinates."

    "God only knows why you would want to go there," the trooper said, shaking his head, "but it's the next exit up, the one that says, 'No Services.' ... And you'd better be sure you have enough fuel for at least 250 miles because it's 75 out and 75 back and then you still need to get damn near to Tucson before you find diesel and that's another 100 miles up the road."

    "I'm good for about 600 miles on a tank," she replied, "and I got fuel back at the truck stop."

    As the trooper turned and started back to his car, he shouted back, "You be careful out there at Hidden Rock. Strange things happen at that campground."

    As Mousey climbed the steps back into her rig, she said softly to herself, "That's why I'm going."

    

    END OF EXCERPT