BABY GIGOLO.

Courage Rewarded.

Success. Fame. Instant Notoriety!
The delicious sounds of that new melody kept playing in my head. My new life, the one that I have been longing for, was here and was about to start - pardon the pun - with a bang. Since last night, my exploits on the battlefield have spread like wildfire, and, by the time I showed my face, I was a local celebrity; at least in the brutal and unstable underworld.

I had the world at my feet and an entire community talking, and all about me. I had, during my involvement in an affair totally out of my league, not only fatally wounded two people but, without knowing it, also killed the leader of the gang of amateur upstarts whose sole purpose was to threaten our livelihood and destabilize our economy. Three fatalities in a single night, and that from a novice? and a tranny? Something totally unheard of, which fueled speculation, fascination, and mystery surrounding the event.

The Drug Lord aka Bossy, with whom I managed to secure employment as a common drug mule, called me into his office and without ceremony placed a handgun including a box of bullets into my hands with these words, "It is not every day that I hand out guns to every Dick, Tom, and Harry that crosses my path. They must earn the privilege. You have earned yours. I will show you how to clean it, load it, take better aim, and fire more effectively. The rest will be up to you. And don't disappoint me."

To my stunned surprise I wanted to thank him, but, could hardly utter a word. Bossy read my emotional state correctly and with a wave of the hand, he dismissed me.

He was a fat, middle-aged man in his fifties, with a square hard face, an even harder personality, and a wicked sense of humor. When he handed me the gun, there was a sinister sparkle in his eyes and a slightly mocking smile playing in the corners of his mouth. He found the thought of a gun-slinging transvestite highly amusing.

When I took the gun from him, my hands trembled slightly. I have never received a present from anyone before and certainly not one as valuable as this. I took it to my room, sat down on my bed, and looked at it for at least an hour. Growing up there were no such things as buying presents. Whatever I received was needed, not wanted. I never knew it before but I always wanted something that I could call my own. I have finally found it and I'm never letting go. Until death do us part… I thought with a wry smile. It fitted snugly into my palm with a feeling that we were made for each other. She could not go without a name so I promptly baptized her Daisy. I pointed it at my mirrored image and pulled the trigger.

The clicking sound reminded me of the amount of dead and wounded people I saw last night or early this morning to be exact. I shrugged my shoulders with a feeling of indifference. It could so easily have been me, but it was not.

Bossy certainly kept his word. Over the next few days, he trained me in the art of effectively caring for my firearm.

"If you look after it carefully. It will look after you. Now get to work," were his last words on the subject.

Like a part of my body Daisy never left my side. Over the next few months, I gradually became involved in the settling of disputes, and guerilla warfare and, in some cases, I was engaged as a hitman. In my case, it was like a hitwoman. My nerves grew steady, my aim grew more accurate and my death rate increased.

I became a feared and respected member of the “Sunrise” gang. I was fearless and my growing confidence made me reckless but not irresponsible. With every shot, I fired, my reputation as an excellent markswoman increased and so did the target on my back.

Strike two!

I killed an important member of our most bitter and longstanding rival, and with that one act, cemented my standing in the gang and increased my worth as an invaluable commodity in Bossy's eyes.

I was called into Bossy's office for a second time. When I left him, I felt as if I had grown several inches taller. I was no longer your average run-of-the-mill drug mule. I was no longer your get-out-of-the-way freaky bish. I was no longer Miss Nobody… I was promoted. Now, I was somebody. I was Lady-Rosè-in-charge. I became the right-hand woman of the biggest narcotics lord in our tiny community. I was admitted into the inner circle. I was a part of the decision-making process at the highest level.

I had enormous responsibilities. I was the go-to girl. I had the world at my feet in my borrowed stilettos. I, Lady Rosè, had arrived. I had what I never in my wildest dreams thought possible. Power and influence at the end of my gun and I fully intended to justify Bossy's confidence in me.

My responsibilities consisted mainly of keeping a close eye on my fellow gang members to ensure that they don't steal the merchandise and sell it on the sly. The working out of supplying our satellite houses on a daily or weekly basis, depending on how fast they moved the goods. My main and biggest responsibility however was to collect the money personally from the sales generated. In short, I was in charge of the supply chain pipeline and had to make sure that it did not run dry in either direction.

To everyone involved, my appointment had a sense of comic absurdity. Bossy certainly appointed tongue-in-cheek. My staff of misfits greeted it with open revolt. These men were streetwise hardened criminals who had done time on more than one occasion. They did not take kindly to discipline and, to receive it at the hands of a tranny, a drag queen, or a crossdresser, was a bitter pill to swallow. Their undermining tactics were frustrating.

One day while they were in the act of taunting me, I, without warning, took out my empty gun and, pushing it flush against the temple of the leader of the dissenting faction, pulled the trigger. A violent spasm shook his body, almost as if a real bullet had entered his skull. The speed of my action, together with the click of the gun, shocked him into silence.

"Next time, expect a bullet," I said and walked away. After that, they fell in line, and he became the butt of his mates jokes. Their hatred grew, and so did the size of the target on my back.

But then again… They could admire my perfectly shaped buttocks as I walked away… Or not.

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