THE HIT

                        by l.satori aka Laurie S.

 
CHAPTER ONE

     Dressed in a long and flowing black velvet dress, the attractive,
red-haired, thirty-something lady sat at the bar, waiting for her "date" to
show up. She glanced impatiently at her slim, silvery Cartier watch, and
then sipped from her wineglass.  A moment later, she looked about at the
other patrons of Kelsey's Restaurant, hopeful that one of these gentlemen
was the one for whom she was waiting.
 
     I got up from my chair and walked toward the redhead, certain that she
was here to meet me.  We made eye contact and she looked me over as I
approached.

     "I am the Walrus," I whispered.

     "Oh! I am the Egg Man."  She burst into laughter.  "You are not what I
was expecting.  My name is Elaine," she said as we shook hands.  When I did
not offer my name in response, she asked, "Do you really think this
codename stuff is necessary?"
 
     "The less you know about the real me, the better off we both are."
 
     "Okay. We'll do it your way."

     "Perhaps we could discuss matters further in a little more private
location?" I suggested.

     Within a few minutes, a hostess had seated us in a comfortable booth
at the back of the half-lit restaurant.

     While we looked over the menus, Elaine reached into her slim leather
purse and pulled out a small photo and a computer disk.
 
     I studied the photograph for a moment and then picked up the disk.
 
     "It's an Iomega Zip Disk. Do you have access to the equipment that
will allow you to read that type of disk?" asked Elaine.

     "Yes. That won't be a problem," I replied.

     As I saw the waiter approach, I quickly hid the photo and disk under
the large, plastic-coated dinner menu.

     "Good evening. Welcome to Kelsey's. I am Gregory and I will be serving
you tonight. Are you ready to order?"

     "No, not yet," I said. "Could you give us about another 5 minutes,
please?"

     "Yes, please take your time. Would you like to order a drink?" asked
the uniformed waiter.

     "Not right now," said Elaine.

     "Very well," said the waiter, as he turned his attention to another
table.

     I slipped the photo below the level of the table so I could look at it
with a degree of privacy.

     "The man in the photo is Hugh Frazier, the publisher of Big Ones
Magazine," said Elaine. "He is your target."

     "You want me to put 'the hit' on Hugh Frazier?"

     "Yes."

     She reached into her purse again, extracted an envelope and placed it
in front of me.

     "This is your cash payment as you requested at the agreed upon price,"
said Elaine in a business like tone.
 
     "Good . . . Is there a particular time and place that you would like
me to perform 'the hit'?"

    "Yes. Hugh Frazier will be in New York on the 17th of this month. He
will be speaking to the Women's Business Alliance at the Waldorf
Astoria. We would like you to perform 'the hit' during his address. On the
computer disk, you will find all the details you need to know. There is a
detailed floor plan of the hotel and a complete description of the known
security arrangements . . . Also, I took the liberty of getting a press
pass for you. All you need to do is add your name and photo," she said as
she placed another envelope in front of me. "Of course, you do not have to
use the press pass. You may devise a better way to gain access to this
event.  By the way, this function is for our women members only."

     "Well, thank you very much," I said. "You seem to have thought of
everything."

     "You have come highly recommended.  If you succeed, this payment will
be well worth it. That man has been a pain in the ass for women.  He has
exploited and degraded women with his disgusting magazine!  His centerfolds
are an embarrassing American institution that should be obliterated from
existence!  And, in light of his recent negative comments regarding wage
equity between men and women, he should not be allowed to get away with
damaging negative crap like that."

     Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn for porn.

     When the waiter returned to the table five minutes later, the two
restaurant patrons had disappeared.
 
CHAPTER TWO

     On the evening of the 16th, I checked into the Waldorf Astoria Hotel
for a two-night stay.

     The grand dame of New York Hotels overwhelmed me with its opulence!  A
large crystal chandelier and a fabulous Art Deco Mosaic dominated the
lobby.  The hotel reeked of old money.

     As was the custom in this grand hotel, a bellhop was summoned to help
me with my two large suitcases and a garment bag, and also to show me to my
room on the seventh floor.  However, I insisted that I carry a special
cardboard package, about the size of a notebook computer, perhaps a little
thicker, that was labeled "FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE."

     While offering a tip to the bellhop, I found out that gratuities were
already included in my hotel bill. After closing the door, I took a good
look around the bright, airy room.  Sunlight streamed through the gossamer
curtains.  There was a circular table near the large window.  I placed my
"Fragile" package down carefully.  From room 737, the view to the west was
simply of other large buildings and a busy Park Avenue below.  Then, I
checked out the bathroom.  The marble floor, the gleaming clean
bathtub/shower, the large counter and brightly-lit mirror passed
inspection.  Next, I looked at the spacious closet near the entranceway,
just outside of the bathroom, and the large floor-length mirror.  Satisfied
that the room would meet my needs, my eyes settled upon the comfortable
looking bed.  I took a running leap onto the king-sized bed and was pleased
to find, upon landing, it was soft and comfortable.  From the end table
beside the bed, I picked up the remote control and turned on the
television.  I glanced back at the small digital clock radio.  It was 6:15.
I had plenty of time to kill.
 
     Leaving the TV on, I walked back to the closet area and began
unpacking my suitcases and hung up my garment bag.

     Later, around 8:00 o'clock, I made my way down to the main convention
room of the hotel, called the Grand Ballroom, located on the third floor.
Carrying my FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE package in a white plastic bag, I
attempted to crash a Wall Street stockbroker's function that was just
getting started.  I managed to slip in without much notice.  After all, how
can you differentiate between a potential criminal and a stockbroker?  My
top priority tonight was simple.  I needed to plant the package in a
location close to the stage.  Also, I wanted to see how the hotel staff
went about their business.  Noting that the serving staff had coffee, tea
and other refreshments set at the sides of this huge room, I wandered
toward the far right side of the stage into a corridor.  According to the
floor plans Elaine had provided me, this now empty passageway led to three
possible locations.  The first was the wing area and the main stage.  The
second was the seldom-used dressing room facility for performers.  And the
third zone was my destination, the kitchen facilities.

     I tried opening the door to the kitchen as quietly as possible.
Luckily the serving staff didn't pick up on my intrusion immediately.  I
was able to confirm quickly that the floor plan Elaine had provided me was
accurate.  Near the doorway, there was a garbage chute leading directly to
the main floor, although I had no intention of emulating a scene from the
film La Femme Nikita.  Also, there was an exit to another area of the third
floor where the elevators were located.  Egress would be easy.

    Next, I took out the cardboard package from the plastic bag.  Also,
there was a roll of duct tape in the bag.  Looking around, I spotted a
large metal cart, probably used to serve coffee and other refreshments.  I
placed the package under the metal tabletop and used the duct tape to
secure it tightly.
  
    Just then, one of the serving staff burst through a doorway leading to
the Grand Ballroom.

     "Hey!  What are you doing here?"

     Too late . . . busted!

     "Ah, don't mind me.  I'm just looking for a bathroom."

     "Well this is the kitchen if you haven't noticed!" he yelled.  "You're
not supposed to be back here!"

     "Okay, okay.  I'm sorry," I said apologetically as I hurried back out
the door.

     Undeterred, I strolled over toward the stage area.  From this wing, I
could easily see and hear the guest speaker addressing the gathering of
Wall Street brokers.  It was exactly how I anticipated it would be.

     Next, I wandered over to the dressing room area.  Trying the door, I
found that it was locked.  Undaunted, I reached into my pants pocket and
pulled out a lock-picking tool, a residual benefit of a long-ago summer job
working for a locksmith.  Within seconds, I had it open.  A quick
inspection showed that the detailed floor plans provided by Elaine were
dead accurate.
      
     When I returned to my room, I went straight to the bathroom.  Looking
at my reflection in the mirror, I removed my fake mustache, my hairpiece
and glasses.  I quickly shed my pinstripe suit, tie and Hathaway cotton
shirt.  Tomorrow, when I performed 'the Hit', I would look completely
different.

CHAPTER THREE

     The next morning, I slept in until 9:30.  I was in no hurry to get an
early start, as Hugh Frazier wouldn't be speaking until about 1:15
p.m. according to the agenda Elaine had provided me.
  
     The Women's Business Alliance had stirred up controversy by choosing a
men's magazine publisher to be its keynote speaker.  However, on the plus
side, the women knew that Hugh Frazier's daughter was going to be the
second guest speaker, and it was widely recognized that she was an up and
coming executive within the Frazier Publishing Empire.
 
     I adroitly applied my mustache, hairpiece and glasses disguise and
went downstairs.  I stopped by the Grand Ballroom again.  At this time of
day, the cleaning staff was busy preparing for the afternoon's proceedings.

     Again, I made my way to the kitchen area.  When I opened the door, I
quickly checked to see that the serving cart was where it had been the
night before.  I checked under the metal tabletop and I was relieved to see
my package was still there.
  
     All was going according to plan.

     As it was too early to return to my room, I stopped by a newspaper
stand and picked up The New York Times and the New York Post. At a coffee
shop in the hotel, I scanned through the newspapers looking for stories
about the Women's Business Alliance.  Eventually I found one story in the
Business Section of the Post by Diane Harris.  In typical news media style,
it quoted Hugh Frazier's male chauvinistic views from years past and
contrasted that with his plans to have his daughter takeover the Big Ones
Magazine Empire when he retired.  The article pointed out that since
daughter Anne Frazier was his only legitimate child, Hugh Frazier's
decision to put his daughter in charge might not have happened if he had
had a son as heir to the family fortune.
 
     However, I suspected that Anne Frazier might inherit the reins sooner
than she expected.

     As to the fate of Hugh Frazier, my conscience was clear.  If I made a
contract with a client and he or she agreed to pay me an ungodly sum of
money for services rendered, I intended to fulfill my end of the bargain,
in spite of the risk to my personal safety.  But if you were to cross me,
betrayer beware.  "Ask not what your contractor can do for you; ask how a
contractor can do you."

CHAPTER FOUR

    After a leisurely, pleasurable bubble bath, I patted myself dry with a
thick, fluffy white towel.  The light perfume of the bath water and the
smooth feel of my delicate skin set me in the proper mood for my, some
would say, amazing male to female transformation.  I stood before the
mirror and admired my toned, thin and trim body.
  
     With the benefit of several years of experience in show business, I
set about transforming my rather ambiguous facial features into that of a
high fashion supermodel or Miss America.

    Using a Gillette Sensor Razor and Edge Shaving Gel, any trace of my
naturally light beard was removed.
 
    I started with blue contact lenses, then applied add-on fingernails.
The natural eyebrows were hidden under spirit gum and a light layer of
theatrical putty.  Next, I sponged on a light foundation and then patted on
powder with a powder puff.  After waiting a few minutes for the powder to
set, then using a large, soft brush, I whisked away the excess.  I paused
to look at my face critically.  It was comparable to an artist starting
with a blank canvas.  I added dark contouring to diminish my oval jaw line
and the outer edges of my nose.  Then a lighter makeup was added to bring
out my high cheekbones and to conceal any circles under my eyes.  Blush,
eyelashes, eyeliner, and eye shadow transformed the ordinary into the
glamorous. Then a deft application of lip liner, lipstick, and lip-gloss
gave my pouty lips some sex appeal.  Finally, a liquid makeup sealer was
brushed onto the refashioned, thin arched eyebrows to give the spirit gum,
putty and powder some staying power. The whole makeup process from start to
finish took about 50 minutes.

     The next step was to work on my body contours.  Laid out on the
bathroom countertop was a flesh colored tape called moleskin.  I bent over
and pushed any loose chest flesh up.  Then strips of moleskin tape were
applied to hold my breasts together in the "up" position.  But, the taping
was not complete yet.  My family jewels needed to be hidden.  I made sure
that I did my business before taping up my testicles and hiding my penis.
A flesh colored 'Ultimate Gaff' ensured that no tell tale bulge would give
away my secret.  At the same time the special gaff flattened my lower
tummy, reduced my budding love handles, and helped raise the cheeks.
 
     I utilized some contour makeup to add contrast to the breasts' lighter
peaks and darker valleys.  Next came a special "invisible" waist cinching
corset made of nylon and spandex; additional padding for the hips and rear
end were encased in a strong nylon panty.  Now I had a perfect 36-24-36
figure.  The sheer nylons felt great on my long, shapely, sexy legs.  Then,
I stepped into gorgeous patent leather high heels.  Wow!  Even better!

     From the closet, I took out the royal blue Playboy Bunny outfit from
the garment bag.  Then I wiggled into this figure-hugging, provocative
suit.  I inserted silicone pads to give my bosoms additional lift.  In
fact, the Bunny costume was constructed in such a way that it pushed the
breasts upward.  As I turned my back to the full-length mirror, I peered
over my shoulder to see how the fluffy cottontail would complement my
beautiful buns.  I was delighted to see that my sexy long legs and cute
behind would do credit to any Bunny of the Year!

     Finally, I was ready for my crowning glory.  Using a large special
brush, I combed out my long, gently curled, blonde wig, to give it more
bounce and body.  Bending down, I placed it carefully just below the
natural hairline, allowing the genuine human hair strands to fall forward
in front of me.  Then, as I straightened up, I flipped the hair back.
 
    Voila!  I stood before the mirror, admiring a drop-dead gorgeous,
charismatic "babe" who radiated sex appeal.  A stunning knockout!
             
     I defined the term narcissistic self-love!  I imagined myself as the
Playboy Bunny of the Decade!  Miss America! Miss Universe!  Supermodel!

     I would love to have had a girlfriend who looked even half as
beautiful!
  
     Wait!  Something was missing!  I forgot the bunny collar, the cuffs
and the bunny ears!  They were still in the garment bag.  Quickly, I
retrieved the white collar with a black bow tie and fastened it around my
slim, aristocratic neck.  Then I attached the large white wristband/cuffs,
using the Playboy Bunny cuff links.  Carefully, I placed the transparent
plastic hair band with the large white and pink bunny ears on top of my
flowing blonde mane.  A delicate brushing of the hair covered up the
plastic band.  Now, I was complete!  Absolutely Flawless!  Truly Ravishing!

     Alert the press photographers!  The Ultimate Superbunny of the Year is
here!  Appearing at the Waldorf Astoria's Grand Ballroom, right here in New
York City!

CHAPTER FIVE

     Waiting offstage near the kitchen passageway, I tried to look as
inconspicuous as I could.  Actually, it wasn't that hard because I wore a
dark blue trench coat that covered my outrageous Bunny outfit.  Well
. . . maybe I still was conspicuous.  Anyway, just think of "Where in the
World is Carmen Sandiego?" without the Indiana Jones hat.  My long delicate
Bunny ears were hidden under the coat.
 
     When a burly hotel rent-a-cop security man approached me, I flashed
him my friendliest, seductive smile, showing off my perfect pearly whites.

     In a breathy, sexy voice, I said, "Hello there.  My name is Carrie
Creamcheese.  I am here to cover Hugh Frazier's speech for Big Ones
Magazine."

     "Could I see your pass please?"

     "Why certainly."

     When I handed him my pass, the rent-a-cop guard tried to look down the
front of my tightly belted trench coat.  Judging by the leer he gave me, I
wondered if a more appropriate label for this horny guy might turn out to
be the cop-a-feel guard.

     He was not alarmed by my presence.  As a matter of fact, I think he
was just happy to see me, judging by his
I'm-tongue-tied-when-I'm-dumbfounded-by-beauty response.  Also, I noticed a
tent pole spring up in the crotch area of his pants.

     "Looks okay."

     "Just okay," I teased with a hint of disappointment.  "I go to a lot
of trouble to look my very best."

     "Ah . . . um . . . gorgeous."

     I noticed that he had a little trouble walking gracefully until his
excited member quieted down a little.
 
     A glance at my white, plastic Swatch Watch told me it was 12:40.  So
far, I had seen two newspaper reporters in this passageway near the stage.
In the Grand Ballroom I spotted three local television crews plus CNBC down
here to get the story.  But, Hugh Frazier had not yet arrived.

     While the security guards were distracted by the arrival of another
reporter, I peeked into the kitchen, saw that nobody was in the immediate
vicinity and checked under the tabletop to see if my package was still
there.  It was.  Then, I got a little bolder and went deeper into the
spacious kitchen.  There were a myriad of pots, pans, serving carts, trays,
dishes, food preparation islands, sinks, and utensils.  One of the workers
spotted me.  It was the same guy who discovered me last night!
 
     "Hi there," I said in a friendly tone, wondering if he could possibly
see through my disguise.

     "Hello," replied the middle-aged Hispanic man.  Perhaps he was a
little suspicious of me being in this restricted area.  It looked like he
was taking a break, munching on some of the hors d'oeuvres that were
supposed to be provided for the Women's Business Alliance.

     "I was wondering if I could get a pitcher of ice water and some
glasses.  We have some reporters out in the passageway that would greatly
appreciate it if you could help us out."

     "Oh sure.  I'd be happy to do that for you . . . I guess we did not
think anybody would be out there.  Ah, how many pitchers would you like."

     "Oh, two would be fine thanks," I said.  Judging by the smile on his
face, I think he appreciated my beauty.  Then I got a little bolder, but
not unreasonable.  "Those hors d'oeuvres look tempting."

     "Would you like some of these as well?"

     "That would be great.  Thanks for the offer."

     The mesmerized man couldn't take his eyes off me.  As he walked over
to a counter to fetch the pitchers, he inadvertently bumped into the
countertop and dropped one of the crystal pitchers.
 
     "Watch out!" I yelled out just out of the nick of time as one of the
pitchers shattered into a million pieces.

     "Damn it!"  He looked at the broken shards of glass spread all over
the floor.  He paused to consider what to do next.  "Here, I'll get you the
pitchers and ice water first.  Then, I'll clean up later."
  
     On a nearby counter, I spotted a serving dish that looked suitable for
my purposes.  The large plate was silver with a dome-shaped covering,
designed to keep hot food warm.

     "Do you think we could put the hors d'oeuvres in this?" I asked,
without trying to sound too pushy.  I loosened the belt and the top buttons
of my trench coat.  "I'm feeling a little hot in here.  Is it just me, or
is it a little warmer here in the kitchen?" I asked as I revealed a little
of my sexy Bunny costume.  The ingratiating fellow handed me the water
pitchers.  The unbuttoned coat gave him a closer look at my inviting bosoms
and sexy, long legs.

     "Uh, I do feel a little warm, too . . . Here, I will put these hors
d'oeuvres in the serving dish as you wish."
      
     I carried the pitchers and he carried the food container.  I looked
down at the nametag of this cute looking guy.  I felt so sorry for being
such a distraction that I had caused the accident.

     "Juan, that's your name isn't it?  Could I ask another favor of you?
You see that metal serving cart down there by the door.  Do you think I
could borrow that and wheel it into the passageway?"
 
     "Yes.  That's what I was going to do."

     "Great minds think alike," I said with an engaging smile.

     After we placed the pitchers, tumblers, napkins and food container on
the cart, I leaned over and gave him a thank you kiss on the cheek.  He
responded with a hug.  I could feel his hard on through the trench
coat. Big Juan - they might've named the Big Ones Magazine after him!

     As I tried to open the door to the corridor, somebody pushed it shut.
On the other side of the metal door, I heard the muffled voice of one of
the guards say, "Wait one minute please."

     Juan stopped the cart just in the nick of time, although he still had
his eyeballs glued to my shapely form.

     "Oh, I better cover up," I said as I did up the belt and buttons of my
trench coat. "I want my Bunny costume to be a big surprise for our guest of
honor, Hugh Frazier.  Please don't breathe a word about it."

     A minute later, the guard opened the door.

     "Sorry about that.  Our special guest was just arriving and I didn't
want somebody surprising us . . . What's this?" he asked.

     "Just some refreshments," I replied as I pushed a lever/button,
lifting the dome covering, revealing the tasty shrimp hors d'oeuvres.
"Would you like some ice water or a bite to eat?"

     The guard helped himself to a tasty shrimp morsel.

     "Mmmm . . . good!"

     "I felt thirsty and Juan was nice enough to put this together for us."

     The guard nodded an acknowledgement to Juan.

     Then as the security man held open the door, Juan wheeled the cart
into the corridor toward the wing of the stage.

     So far, my plan was working.

     Juan stopped short of stage proper.  There were huge, white,
floor-to-ceiling sound baffles on both sides of the stage.  You could walk
between these baffles to access the stage.  A handful of people gathered
there to watch proceedings, out of view of most of the audience.  There
were three reporters, a new person who might have been one of Hugh
Frazier's bodyguards, another uniformed guard, and I think a stagehand who
likely was in charge of the sound system.

     "Thank you, Juan."  I gave his hand a squeeze.

     "My pleasure."

     The reporters, never ones to pass up freebies, helped themselves to
the refreshments.  Within a few minutes, all the tasty hors d'oeuvres were
gone.  It would have been so easy to put a drug in the water or food.  That
would have eliminated any witnesses.

     From this location, I could see Hugh Frazier and his daughter Anne
take their positions onstage.  There were three chairs behind the podium.

     At precisely one o'clock, a lady stepped up to the microphone and
called the gathering to order.  I recognized the voice, the lovely lady's
red hair and attractive features.  It was Elaine - the woman I had met at
Kelsey's.

     She welcomed the members of the Women's Business Alliance, noting that
the Grand Ballroom was jammed to its full capacity of 1,150.  She thanked
everyone for their support.  As she continued speaking, I casually leaned
back against the refreshment cart. I rolled it a few feet, up against the
second sound baffle so that the cart was partially hidden from view.  I
stepped behind the baffle and reached under the cart.  In a few seconds, I
had the contents of the hidden package in my hands.  Then, while the others
were watching proceedings onstage, I slipped the package's contents under
the silver dome-shaped covering of the serving dish.

     Now, I was prepared for 'the hit'.

CHAPTER SIX

     Hugh Frazier was introduced and he received a mixed welcome.  Most of
the thousand or more women in the Grand Ballroom applauded warmly, but
there were a few hisses and catcalls, showing that he wasn't universally
admired.

     The publisher of Big Ones thanked the MC, Elaine Grant, for a
flattering introduction.  He began with a comical anecdote about a past
occasion when he had addressed a women's organization.  With a few
embarrassing stories about how his admiration for the ladies sometimes got
him into trouble, his self-deprecating humor soon won over the audience.
Hugh Frazier then discussed the American dream, his poor working class
background, how he searched to find a career for himself in the publishing
world before he took the big gamble and launched his own men's magazine.

     While Mr. Frazier discussed the critical turning points of his early
days, his setbacks and triumphs, I listened intently.  I moved away from
the handful of spectators here in the wings, and stepped behind the sound
baffle again.  I loosened my trench coat, removed some of the costume
accoutrements from the inner pockets, and attached the Bunny collar with
its decorative bow tie.  Using the reflection from the shiny dome-shaped
serving dish as my mirror, I meticulously placed the Bunny ears into
position and with a deft touch of a comb teased some strands of hair to
cover the transparent plastic hair band.  I wrapped the trench coat loosely
around my shoulders.  Then I wheeled the serving cart to the opening
between the second and third sound baffles, giving me an unobstructed path
to my target.  Now, I was poised to spring!

     Hugh Frazier discussed his keys to success: hard work, creativity and
having the confidence to take a risk.  The rapt audience ate up his
inspirational message.  I hung on every word, waiting for the opportune
moment.

     Then, as he turned away from the microphone to cough and clear his
throat, I wheeled the serving cart onto the stage.

     "Oh my poor dear Mr. Frazier!  Oh my poor dear baby Hughie!"  I
wiggled my way toward our befuddled guest speaker, pushing the refreshment
cart ahead of me, dramatically dropping the trench coat to reveal my
exquisite form.

     Immediately the audience broke out in laughter at the sight of a
beautiful, buxom, long-legged, shapely, Playboy Bunny coming to his aid.  I
'worked' the cute cottontail, swaying hips, bouncing bosoms, silly rabbit
ears, and radiant smile.  The bright stage lights reflected off my
shimmering, golden-blonde, crowning glory.

     I did not hear any hint of the pitter-patter of feet from the security
guards behind me.  Would a brawny male guard dare to manhandle a petite
Playboy Bunny in front of an all-female audience?

     "We wouldn't want you to catch a cold," I bellowed, trying to project
my voice to reach the entire audience.

     By now, I was almost up to the podium.

     There was a broad smile on Hugh Frazier's face as he gave me the once
over from head to toe.

     I stepped up to the microphone.  "I know what it's like to catch a
deep . . . deep . . . deep chest cold," I said in my best, breathy, 'boo
boop dee do, I want to be loved by you' Marilyn Monroe voice.
  
     I turned back to the cart to pour a glass of water and I bent over to
give Mr. Frazier a better look at my fluffy cottontail.  Looking back over
my shoulder, I gave him an admonishing gesture as he stared at my beautiful
buns.

     "Naughty naughty!"

     I offered the glass of water to a sheepish Mr. Frazier.

     As he looked down at the drink, his eyes rested for a moment on my
heaving breasts.

     "The poor dear's eyes seem to be caught in the glow of my headlights."

     The audience roared with laughter.

     "Thank you very much," said Hugh.  Then he sipped from the glass.

     "To help prevent deep throat hoarseness, I have brought some liquid
. . . lubrication so that whatever you swallow goes down smoothly."

     Water spewed out of Hugh Frazier's nose.  The crowd went into
convulsions.  Some were doubled over with tears streaming down their
cheeks.

     "Oh my, did the water go down the wrong pipe?  You poor thing.  It is
so embarrassing when things go in and out of the wrong orifice."

     Picking up a napkin from the serving cart, I delicately caressed his
face, absorbing the phlegm and water.  My soft, seductive bosoms brushed up
against his chest.  I put my right arm around his waist.  He responded as I
had hoped.  Placing his arms around me in a warm embrace, he closed his
eyes, puckered up and gave me a long, wet, deep, probing kiss.

     With my free left hand, I reached back to the serving plate, depressed
the button/lever, and picked up the item beneath the dome-shaped silver
covering.

     The audience gasped as I held it up!
 
     When our lips parted, he opened his eyes, and smiled blissfully!

     Whump!  A Boston Cream Pie straight to the kisser!

     His knees buckled.

     The crowd roared!  Absolute bedlam!

     As my hand purposely brushed up against his crotch, I whispered into
his ear, "By the way, I'm really a guy."

     I quickly stepped away as a shocked Hugh Frazier tried to wipe away
the cream from his eyes.

     Reaching over to the serving dish again, I picked up some silvery
pellets in both hands.  I stepped in front of the podium, my arms held up
high in triumph.  Amidst the screams of laughter and tumultuous applause
from the crowd, I could sense the rapid approach of the guards' footsteps.

     I threw down the pellets!  A blinding flash!  Clouds of smoke!

     When the mists cleared, Miss Bunny had disappeared!

     The crowd cheered!

     The amazed audience erupted in an uproarious standing ovation!

CHAPTER SEVEN

     After taking a minute or two to wipe away the cream and regain his
composure, Hugh Frazier tried valiantly to carry on.  But, the hyper
audience was still buzzing with excitement.  Soon thereafter, Hugh Frazier
gracefully wrapped up his speech.  An experienced public speaker, Hugh
quipped, "I guess I flunked the rabbit test."

     There was a short, unplanned intermission.

     Then, Elaine Grant introduced Anne Frazier to rousing applause.  Her
earnest message was well received.  She was a shining example of female
success in a male-dominated environment.  It was exactly the encouraging
type of story the Women's Business Alliance wanted to hear.  She even
adlibbed a line, concluding, "the American Dream is no longer a pie in the
sky hope for women."

     Afterwards, when the press asked Hugh Frazier if he would file assault
charges if the Bunny were ever caught, he graciously declined to press
charges.

     The incident received wide newspaper and television exposure.  "A
knockout by a knockout" read the USA Today photo caption.  The video of
'the hit' was replayed on ESPN with sportscaster Howard Cosell's famous
blow-by-blow call, "Down goes Frazier!  Down goes Frazier!"

     An investigation by Hugh Frazier's security team revealed that the
Playboy Bunny likely used the blinding flash and smoke to disappear through
the stage's hidden trap door.

     How did they figure that out?

     When I escaped through the trap door, I emerged backstage in the
locked dressing room facilities.  There, I was greeted by Juan.  It turned
out he was the head of Hugh Frazier's security team.  They had been on to
me from the night before.

     It was Carrie Frazier's suggestion that I be allowed to go through
with the harmless hit.  After all, it could generate incredible free
publicity.  In fact, sales of Big Ones Magazine went through the roof for
the next few months.

     The Boston Cream Pie "hit" by Carrie Creamcheese became part of the
Frazier Publishing Empire folklore.

     And . . . it turned out Juan did have a Big One.