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Previously...

‘Okay, after thinking things over it’s been decided that you can stay and play for Melchester in the men’s team on a trial basis until the end of the season. If it doesn’t work out, you can, if you wish, join the women’s team. The matter will be reviewed at the end of the season. What do you think?’

‘So I can still play?’

‘That’s what I was saying.’

I stood up and rushed around the room as if I had scored a goal. Monica, almost leapt out of her chair and nearly expired on the spot. Mrs Moon came running in at the sound of my noise and Mummy tried to prise me off of the ceiling. I ran out of the sitting room, through the kitchen and out into the grounds. I shouted ‘YES!’ at the top of my voice and punched the air.

Time would tell if I would be a success or not. Players and supporters alike might accept or reject me. I would be the focus of much attention from media and public alike and I was sure that things would not run smoothly but there was one fact that made me smile and laugh with delight…

…Susan Hurst was going to be a premier league footballer–officially!

And now the story continues…

As I went for my morning run down by the river, I thought a bit about what had been going on in my hectic life lately.

I had found from experience that my head was always clearer when I was running by myself. The fact that I was no longer on my own, cramped my style a bit. But Danielle–call me Danni–my newly employed bodyguard-cum-security consultant kept a discrete distance from me, about twenty yards behind, so I was effectively alone with my thoughts. I was a bit jealous of her and also slightly miffed. I was jealous, because she was drop dead gorgeous, had a black belt in everything including origami, could outrun me easily, hell I was breathing like a heavy breather getting his kicks on the phone and she didn’t seem to be breathing at all. I was miffed because I had had fantasies about a Kevin Costner look-alike (before he got really old) being my bodyguard and holding me in his strong, manly arms while I swooned prettily and batted my long eyelashes at him–sigh. I hadn’t told Andrew about this as I didn’t think that he would appreciate it and anyway, a girl must have her fantasies.

Anyway back to my running thoughts. I was getting quite fit now. My girlie bits were working okay even if my burgeoning breasts wobbled a bit too much–note to self, get better sports bras that actually works properly. Luckily, my scars down below had healed quite nicely. I grimaced at remembering my first rather intrusive gynaecological examination a few days before–talk about yuk!

My thoughts turned to happier things. The club was going full steam ahead with the ‘outing’ of me, but in the mean time, everyone in the know was sworn to secrecy on the pain of death, dismemberment or even worse, the wrath of Mr McPherson. Talking of which, I thought that he was a bit of a sweetie but I wouldn’t dare tell him so that his face!

I crossed the little bridge that led to the other side of the river. It was about two miles from home now and I put a bit of a spurt on to see if I could put more distance between Danni–as she liked to be called–and myself. Some hope, because after a bit of heavy running, I looked behind me and there was my shadow, smiling gently and not even breathing heavily. I had a passing thought that she might be related to Paula Radcliffe.

Anyway, back to what was happening to me. Andrew says that my mind drifts off at tangents, just like a girl. I don’t know what he’s talking about but I saw this fab skirt in Next the other day, it was black and short–anyway, as I say, things were moving along quite nicely at the club. My heart sort of missed a beat at the thought of what was going to happen tomorrow. Interviews had been set up with The Daily Telegraph, BBC, ITV, Sky and local Melchester Radio stations right after a press conference at the club. Tentative interviews had also been made with Vogue Magazine and another one, a young girls’ mag called Bubblegum–weird name but there you go.

It must have been hard to get all these things arranged without telling them all about little me–but it appears that Mark Hurst was still the flavour of the month and the fact that it was going to be Susan and not Mark doing the interviews hadn’t been mentioned. So, today being the final day that Susan had anonymity, I wanted to make the most of it.

Speculation had been rife in the media that I wasn’t going to be able to play again because of my injuries. The fan club website and Facebook pages were all full of it. It was nice that people cared enough, but it was all a bit strange and a bit disquieting. I had rung my auntie up in Scotland last night and explained all what was going to happen. She had kept in touch with me and we had often talked about things and in particular my change of status from Mark to Susan.

‘Don’t worry about things,’ she said in a voice that sounded so like my mum, ‘you are great person and a wonderful footballer. You have the support of lots of people including me and I want you to know that I am absolutely certain that your mum is looking down on you, proud to see how well you have done.’

‘Awww, Auntie!’ I said, filling up.

Before long I was in view of the grounds of our house–or should I say Mummy and Daddy’s house. They had finally agreed with me that they should take it on and the legal stuff was being finalised soon.

Danni caught up with me as we got nearer the gates. ‘You’re getting quite fit now,’ she said without showing even the slightest signs of Knackerisation; could it be that she was some sort of clone or automaton?

I on the other hand was feeling more than a little cream crackered and could just nod. I was pleased though. I was getting much fitter now. Altogether I was happier, more contented and satisfied with my body.

It was still strange not feeling certain things between my legs as I ran. It would, I think, take a bit of getting used to. I had carried on my experiments in bed–purely scientific, of course–with my new or rather newly uncovered equipment and every time I played with myself, I hit new heights of ecstasy.

I suppose that it was my rampant hormones playing mind games, but I had this continued thing about Andrew being inside of me. I knew that we were sensible and everything and that we wanted to save ourselves–very grown up that, but very frustrating all the same. As Mummy had said to me in one of those girlie talks about the birds and the bees, I had the equipment to have babies and did I really want to be a teenage mum? The answer was ‘no way,’ of course and anyway, I wanted to enjoy being a girl before I had to become a fully paid up member of the woman club.

Using the keypad, Danni opened the gates and we jogged in and up the drive to the house. After a few minutes warming down we let ourselves into the house via the kitchen. Mrs Moon was there doing her bread making thing and my mouth watered at the smell.

‘Hi, Mrs M.’

‘Hello, dear,’ she said looking up from kneading some dough. ‘Now go and have a shower. I don’t want you dripping all over my clean kitchen. You too, Danni, although you’re not sweating much, I see.’

‘I could get to hate Danni.’ I thought as I waved goodbye and went upstairs to my room.

In the distance I could hear the cries of the babies as they woke up and expected changing and feeding now! No–I didn’t want any babies yet, though they are cute and everything.

I stripped my running things off and headed for the shower. As the warm water coursed down my body, I was very aware of the fact that I was all girl now. My skin was softer and more sensitive and my nipples had become more responsive and somewhat distracting. The shower jets had caused them to stand to attention and it was all I could do to keep my hands off them–I imagined Andrew playing with them... sighing, I turned the heat down, needing to cool my ardour somewhat. The doctor said that now my boy bits had been removed, I would start feeling a bit strange at times. My sex drive was driving me crazy and I was experiencing mood swings too. Sometimes I was deliriously happy, at other times very emotional. As Mummy said, I must get used to my body and accept that girls were wired differently to boys. The fact that I had in the past, bits of both was a bit of a complication and might take a while to get over. ‘Complications’, that was a joke.

After my shower, I put on some jeans–I could wear them now that my aches and pains had disappeared–and a cream cami top. They didn’t go very well with my fluffy pink slippers, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I brushed my hair out and put it into a ponytail. My hair was getting nice and long now and I promised myself a trip to the salon soon.

Clair and Andrew were at school today, but had arranged time off to be with me tomorrow at the club–I think that I would need all the support that I could get! The twins would be looked after by Mrs Moon, so Mummy could come with us as well. So all of my family and friends would be there for me which gave me a warm feeling in my tummy.

By the time I went down to have some breakfast, everyone else had disappeared so I had the kitchen to myself. After some cornflakes, toast and a cup of tea, I went into the sitting room. The twins were in their lobsterpot and Mummy was sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper. Monica must have been in her room, resting–she still did a lot of that–but was evidently feeling a lot better and looked ten years younger since she came here.

‘Hi, sweetie, feel better now.’

‘Mmm, nice and clean. Where’s Daddy?’

‘In his office finalising tomorrow’s programme over the phone with John Prentiss.’

‘Oh,’ I said sitting down on an armchair and tucking my legs under me.

‘Are you okay, Susan?’

‘Mmm.’

‘What’s wrong love, worried about tomorrow?’

‘Sort of; nothing is going to be the same for me after tomorrow.’

‘I know honey, but you knew that when you decided to out yourself.’

I got up and sat down by Mummy. She gave me a big hug and for some reason I began to cry–damned hormones!

She stroked my hair and made soothing noises and after a little while the waterworks dried up. ‘Feeling better?’ she asked.

‘Yes, thanks.’ I sniffed.

‘What are you going to wear tomorrow?’

I sat up suddenly.

‘Oh God I’ve got nothing to wear!’

‘Now, don’t go off on one. The last time I had a look in your wardrobes, you had more clothes in there than a medium sized shop. I’m sure that we can find something for you to wear that won’t disgrace all the family––’

‘–And then there’s my hair and makeup. I don’t want to look a dork or a sub-normal Neanderthal or anything–’

‘Susan–’

‘–My nails look ropey too. I must stop biting my nails––’

‘SUSAN!’

‘Eh, what? Oh sorry, Mummy, did you say something?’

She sighed, and then shook her head. ‘Look, Sue, I know that you are a blonde and blondes are supposed to be air heads––’

‘–You’re blonde too–’

‘Well, nobody’s perfect. Anyway I like my blond hair and it came out of a bottle. Look, you’re getting away from the point. Please pay attention while I’m nagging you.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Right, listen very carefully; I shall say this only once. You have plenty of clothes so you don’t have to go on a feeding frenzy of clothes buying. Later on tonight, we’ll go up to your room and chose something suitable to wear. No doubt you will drag Claire in with you for a second opinion as according to her and you, I am old and have no fashion sense––’

‘–Mummy, I never said that–’

‘–Don’t interrupt when I'm in full flow, dear. I have a couple of ladies coming early tomorrow so that your, hair, nails and makeup can be sorted out. You will look pretty and no one will mistake you for anything resembling a boy.’

‘Oooh, you are nice!’ I exclaimed giving her a mega-hug.

‘Mmm, I am, aren’t I?’

Before bedtime, I went to look for Danni. I found her in the indoor swimming pool doing her usual thousand or whatever lengths. I fancied a swim, but between you, me and the bed post, I can’t swim–unless you count going straight down to the bottom-type swimming, that is. She must have seen me or something, because she finished the length that she was on and then swum effortlessly towards me. Once again, she didn’t seem very tired and wondered if she was related to Super Girl or at least Wonder Woman.

‘Hi, Sue,’ she said, far too brightly for my liking. ‘Why don’t you come in for a dip?’

‘Erm, not now: lots to do tomorrow; need to catch up on my beauty sleep. Erm, I was going for a run tomorrow like uber-early–about six.’

‘That’s all right. I’m an early bird anyway. I’ll tell Charlotte.’

‘Charlotte? Oh yes, sorry, I forgot about her.’

Charlotte was Danni’s colleague; I hadn’t met her yet, she was starting tomorrow just before the excrement hit the ventilator and would be sharing looking after me with Danni. They would both be living in so the place was starting to resemble a small village with the number people living here!

I said goodnight and left her to swim the second thousand lengths, no doubt under water, and made my way upstairs. I met Andrew at the top and he motioned me to the end of the corridor, up the stairs and into the room we called our ‘smooching room’. In no time we were sitting on the old sofa there and getting up close and personal with one another. Why we still felt guilty about doing this clandestinely, I don’t know, but what with my parents, Andrew’s mum, Claire and all the others, we decided that the fewer people who saw us the better.

After about half an hour, we surfaced for air and decided that we really had to go to bed. I had to get up early in the morning for my run and to be frank, all this heavy stuff was sapping my strength. So after a last tongue numbing extra sensory, toe curling kiss, we parted and went our separate ways. It was getting very hard not to give in to our feelings and consummate things, but we managed–just, to hold ourselves together.

As I lay in bed in my satin PJs that night, I found it difficult to sleep, everything was whirring round in my head. Would I be accepted by everyone? Could I make it as a girl pro footballer? What will the fans think? They can be a fickle lot–fans. You could be the flavour of the month and then do something stupid and never recover from it. Then there was the media; what would they say about all of this? Would I be considered as a freak or just a girl who wanted to play in a man’s game? Well, I wasn’t having any of that nonsense. Girls are as good as men in many ways and superior too in many things. Why can’t a girl be a success at football? All right, I wasn’t as strong as some players, but not all male players are built like a brick outside loo.

Cuddling my white rabbit, I turned over and wished once again that it was Andrew there instead, to hold me and to tell me that I shouldn’t be a silly girl, worrying about things that I had no control over.

I wakened about an hour before I had to get up. It had been one of those nights where you toss and turn and no matter what you try, you can’t sleep properly. It was with relief that the clock finally crept around to five thirty and I was able to get up. I just used the toilet and put on my trackies. I had a bit of a tummy ache so I took a couple of Paracetamol.

On opening the curtains, I saw it was still dark outside, so I padded downstairs, carrying my trainers in my hand, trying not to make too much noise as the twins had extra sensory perception and could hear a nappy pin drop at a range of a quarter of a mile. Why was I surprised to find Danni waiting in the kitchen, cup of tea in hand looking a fresh as a daisy?

‘Morning, Susan–did you sleep well?’

‘Not very,’ I replied feeling a bit annoyed at how anyone who wasn’t born in Stepford could possibly be that cheerful at this time of the morning. I don’t know what pills she was on, but I wanted some.

I made myself a cup of tea and sat down next to her.

‘Big day today.’

‘Mmm,’ I replied conversationally blowing on the hot drink to cool it. I wasn’t a morning person. Given the chance, I wouldn’t get up until the morning officially changed into the afternoon. My normal mode of conversation in the morning consisted of grunts–that is if I bothered to answer at all.

In next to no time, and I must admit with some hesitation, we made it out of the kitchen door and were off on our run. Today I really only had time for only three miles as I had things to do and places to go. It had started to get light as we set off and the day promised to be bright but cold. I soon warmed up as we ran down to the gates, let ourselves out and started pounding the roads. It was quiet with not many people about except for the occasional milkman and postman. I soon woke myself up and started getting my second breath. I tried not to think much about the coming day and how things would go for me, but I suppose that it was inevitable that I would. Mind you, at least by this time tomorrow the worst would be over–I hoped.

As I finished running with the ever present Danni just yards behind me, I felt distinctly better for the exercise. I had more bounce in my running and didn’t sound like an asthmatic sheep by the end of it.

We reached the gates to the drive and as usual, Danni keyed in the number to let us in. On a whim, I sprinted up the drive with Danni running closely behind me. I made a bit of a resolution, that one day, I would outstrip Danni and finish miles ahead of her–it was a dream, but girls need to dream, don’t they?

After walking about a bit to warm down, we let ourselves into the kitchen. I was surprised to find Daddy and Mummy there. Daddy was on the phone and looked worried. Then John Prentiss walked in. I hadn’t seen his car so he must have parked around the back.

‘Hello, Susan,’ he said as Daddy put the phone down.

‘Hi John, what’s up?’

‘What’s up, what’s up?’ said Daddy looking at me and shoving a newspaper in front of me, ‘look at that.’

Frowning, I picked up the paper and gasped when I read the lead story on the back page.
 
 

MARK HURST IS A TRANSVESTITE!
From our new special reporter Bob Ferris	The Globe been given exclusive information from a reliable source that Mark Hurst is in fact a transvestite!
According to the source, Mark spends much of his time dressed as a girl and has in fact been seen in public posing as a girl–writes Bob Ferris.      Hurst, who is recovering from an horrific injury and is the pride and joy of Melchester United since he burst on the scene just a few short months ago, was unavailable for comment today and Melchester United’s press team also refused to comment. How much Mark’s habit will infringe on his team is not, as yet, known but we asked Manethorpe’s Swedish international goalkeeper, Tom Johansson, his opinion of Hurst’s strange obsession with women’s clothes.      ‘Well, of course I knew that there was something strange about him when we played against his team the other week. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was on drugs or something. I would be very unhappy to play against someone who did that. I am broad minded, but there is a limit.’      If Johansson’s view of Mark Hurst–or does he call himself Mandy when dressed in frills and lace–is reflected in other players, this newspaper wonders if he–or is it she–? has a place in football at all.      Turn to page 17 where an eminent psychiatrist tries to unravel the mind of a young man who goes against all that is natural and wears women’s clothes.

 
I put the paper down and buried my head in my hands. Mummy came over and gave me a cuddle.

Daddy was talking loudly and pacing the room, talking about libel and slander and how couldn’t let a sleazy paper like the Globe, get away with such rubbish.

‘That bloody Bob Ferris, he’s always had it in for Mark and now he wants to ruin Susan. If I get hold of him, there won’t be much left to bury.’

I looked up at John, who wasn’t saying much bit I was puzzled by the slight smile playing around his lips.

‘What’s funny?’ I asked rather rudely. Then I felt some wetness in my panties. ‘Oh bugger.’ I said angrily and without thinking, picked up a mug and threw it against the wall and rushed off upstairs in tears.

I rushed into my bathroom, noticed a spot of red on my blue trackie bottoms and pulled them down with dread. Had a stitch come undone? Then I saw my cotton undies had blood on them too and I began to cry, not wanting to look; there was a knock on the door.

‘Y—y—yes?’ I called out in a quavering voice.

‘It’s Mummy, may I come in?’

‘O—okay––’

She came in and took one look at me. ‘Having problems, kiddo?’

‘Oh, Mummy, I’m bleeding–look.’ I pointed at the gusset of my knickers.

She took over.

‘Right, let’s get these dirty things off and clean you up.’

‘Have the stitches burst open, Mummy?’

She looked at me quizzically.

‘It’s more likely to be your monthly visitor, sweetie. Don’t you remember those cosy little chats we had?’

‘Oh,’ I said pulling down my panties and cleaning myself up with several tissues. ‘But Mummy, I can’t be due yet?’

I tried to see where the bleeding was coming from and it didn’t appear to be the scars.

‘Yes you can,’ Mummy continued, ‘at first they can be unpredictable. Now, you’ve got some tampons in the bathroom cabinet. Put one in and we’ll see if you can manage with these. If you are heavy though you may need to a sanitary pad.’

‘Yuk,’ I said.

‘Yes, yuk. Welcome to the sisterhood, love.’

Well to cut a long story short, it was Auntie Flo paying me a visit and after careful consideration, Mummy changed her mind about the tampons and advised the use of maxi pads instead as my flow was rather heavy. A bit unfair that really, as I had read that girls normally started light and then sometimes went heavy. Me being me, went off at the deep end and started losing pints immediately. Well that might be a slight exaggeration, as it was probably not much more than an egg cup full, but that’s how I felt initially.

After a shower and cleaning myself up, I put on a t-shirt and denim skirt over some sensible cotton panties with the bulky pad stuck on the inside. Then I made my way downstairs with Mummy. I didn’t like the pad much, as it made me feel a bit like I was wearing a nappy or something. I wondered if I could get a sex change and get turned into a boy. I smiled at that, knowing that despite this–this inconvenience, I wouldn’t be a boy for all the tea in China.

The others were still sitting around the kitchen table and looked up when we came in.

‘Sorry,’ I said in a small voice, sitting down next to Daddy and giving him a bit of a hug.

‘That’s okay, love, I know the signs.’

‘You do?’ I replied, looking up at him, somewhat surprised.

‘Yes, your mother gets like that sometimes; it passes.’

He glanced at the paper again and went back into angry mode. Standing up, he began to pace the room and mumble something like ‘I’ll kill the little sod,’ repeatedly.

I started getting upset again and it was ridiculous that I could change from calm to livid in a nano-second!

‘Look, everyone can we please calm down,’ said John with exasperation in his voice. ‘ Jeff can you stop pacing about like that. We need to talk about this and getting steamed up and going in with both feet will play into the hands of that slime-ball Ferris and his poor excuse for a newspaper.’

We all shut up then as John had the floor.

‘Right,’ it’s a setback, I can’t deny it. We wanted to get the information about Susan out into the public domain on our terms, and The Globe think that they have a scoop. But that isn’t the case. Susan is a girl not a boy. Although they say disgusting things about transvestites, they have got it all wrong. If we play this right, there will be a backlash against the Globe and we will also get the sympathy of the public and, just as important, the other media.’

‘How?’ asked Daddy, still seething and barely keeping himself in check.

‘Susan will be going in front of the cameras today as a pretty and talented girl who has permission to play the game she loves without any bar due to her gender. She is brave, talented, beautiful and has a head on her shoulders far beyond her years–’

‘I am here you know. I rather you didn’t speak about me like that.’

‘The trouble with you, my dear,’ John said, sipping at a cup of coffee, ‘is that you have always thought that you were not good enough and you never like being praised. I put that down to that damned father of yours and the way he always put you down. Well you have got talent and you are successful and we will beat The Globe and Ferris at their own sordid game. Are you willing to go out there fighting or do you want to hide away and not let the world see the fruits of your talents?’

‘Why do they print such lies about me?’ I asked, not far from tears.

‘Because lies like that sell newspapers. How many times you do read in the press about celebs reportedly doing stupid things only later to be found out as false. The celebs win the cases that go to court but the apology from the press is normally printed deep inside the newspaper, where not many people read about it. It happens all the time and until the press are stopped from perpetrating such falsehoods, it will continue ad nauseam.’

‘John’s right,’ said Mummy, ‘they bleat on about freedom of the press and the public’s right to know, but all they are really interested in is selling more papers.’

I looked at them all. They were trying to help me, but I didn’t know if I could be strong enough for all this. I then glanced at Daddy; he was staring at his mug of undrunk coffee, deep in thought.

‘Daddy, what do you think?’

He looked up and smiled slightly.

‘Whatever you decide, your mother and I will back you up to the hilt. But in the end it’s your decision. You have said that you wanted to get out there and do what you are good at, but now you’ve seen what the media can do to you, I wouldn’t blame you if you changed your mind.’

‘Mummy?’

‘I agree with Jeff. It’s up to you love. But we will be right behind you whatever you decide.’

‘As for me,’ said John, ‘I think of you more than as just a client. You are a friend and I want the best for you. We can make this work in your favour, but you need to ask yourself how much you want to succeed and is the price worth it?’

I stood up.

‘I’m going to pop upstairs for a bit. Can your answer wait until I’m back down?’

‘Yes,’ said Daddy, ‘but as we’ve arranged a lot of things today, we need your answer quickly. If you can’t make your mind up, we’ll have to say that you aren’t well enough to speak for the moment and put them off.’

‘No more lies, Daddy.’

‘Okay honey. I agree, no more lies.’

Looking over at Mummy, I said, ‘can you come up in a few minutes?’

‘Yes love, ten minutes okay?’

‘Mmm.’

I left them sitting around the table as I trudged upstairs feeling more tired than I ought to be. I was undecided what to do but my mind kept going back to one of the forum entries that I had seen on my fan site. I went there occasionally and I must admit, it was weird to see all the comments about little old me.

I rubbed my cramped tummy and fired up my laptop; clicking on my favourites, and then on the fan site. Scanning the forum, I reread the entry from Louise 21 who said:

‘I think Markie is the best. He’s got so much talent and proves that you don’t have to be old to play brilliantly. I’ve just joined my local under 12’s girl’s football team because of Markie and I hope that one day I can play like him.’

I might have said before that I belong to a transgendered forum and my heart nearly broke at some of the stories that I read there about the lack of acceptance and the narrow-mindedness of some people. I could relate to that through the actions of my slime-ball father, may he rot in hell…

Just then there was a knock on the door. ‘Are you decent?’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

She entered and came straight to me.

‘How are you, honey?’

‘I’m okay. I don’t like this period thing and it just had to happen now! Also it was a bit of a shock reading that rubbish in the paper; but it’s meaningless really because I’m not a transvestite, but crap like that doesn’t help the transgendered community. I hate the prejudice that they peddle in the name of news.’

‘Yes, they’re one of the worst.’

I looked at Mummy. ‘I can’t let it go. I won’t hide my head in the sand. I want to carry on and show The Globe and bloody Bob Ferris that they can’t get away with it.’

Mummy smiled and gave me a hug. ‘That’s my girl.’

~*~

A couple of hours later, we drove through the gates at the Melchester United ground. The press were out in force, but they didn’t see me as we were in a people carrier that had blacked-out windows.

We carried on past the main entrance and entered by way of a side one. The security guard looked a bit puzzled at the sight of me when the window was lowered, as if he thought he recognised me, but wasn’t quite sure. He did recognise Daddy and John Prentiss though and we were all ushered through the gates without any more ado. I looked at Andrew and he squeezed my hand.

Claire looked a bit intimidated but smiled bravely at my glance. Mummy–well she was my rock. Every time I looked at her she had that strong determined expression that no one was going to mess with her daughter. I wondered if she was missing the twins–now in the capable hands of Mrs Moon. Daddy and John Prentiss were in the front and when we stopped, Daddy turned to me and smiled.

‘Are you ready for this, love?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

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To Be Continued...

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, making suggestions that I hadn't even thought of and pulling the story into shape.