Just a short story based upon some real life stuff I was involved with.

Firstly ALL the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Secondly the guy described as 'The Mouth' turned out not to be a bad kid. Indeed, he and the girl 'Leda' have since become good friends but not partners.

Leda’s lucky night.
or
A close run thing.

The bedroom door was thrust open and Leonard’s father stomped into the bedroom. He stared disbelievingly at his son and swore loudly.

“What the fuckin’ hell d’you think you are?

Leonard turned fearfully and backed against his chest of drawers.

“What d’you think I am? What do I look like?

“A bloody little pervert, a mincing queer. Just get out! Don’t come back dressed like that! In fact, I’m sick of all this bloody palaver! Don’t bother coming back at all!”

As he tried to duck past his outraged father he reached out and grabbed his handbag but his heels betrayed him and he stumbled awkwardly. His father took the opportunity to launch a brutal kick that slammed into Leonard’s back whilst simultaneously helping to lift him to his feet. As the agonising pain stabbed through his ribs, Leonard stumbled and scrambled to his feet before staggering down the landing. Fortunately he was able to clutch the banister as he kicked his heels off and dashed down the stairs. As he pattered down the stairs in his stocking feet, his father reached over the balustrade and caught him a second blow on his head. It dislodged his wig and he had no time to reset it. Instead he whipped it off and leapt for the front door grabbing his heels as he passed.

The short dash down the garden path was fortunately masked by the darkness of the autumnal night and he had time to wait in the bus-stop where he rearranged his wig and slipped on his shoes. Fortunately he had not dropped his bag so he had his mobile phone and some money in addition to his makeup. He had just finished his make-up and been about to sneak out when his father had burst in and caught him.

In the weak glow of the street light Leonard/Leda had some time to take stock and consider his/her options.
There was no going back; his father had made that abundantly clear so he could only go forward. Paradoxically, forward could any one of several directions away from his front gate. He was wondering which way to go when the decision was made for him; the bus into town had appeared at the end of the road. Taking a deep breath he told himself.

‘Well, you’re on your own now Leda, best if you head for town.’

The bus slowed to Leda’s signal and she waited until it came to a complete stop. Jumping onto moving buses was strictly a ‘no-no’ in six inch platform heels. Instead she stepped as gracefully as she could and smiled at the driver as she gave her fare.

“Churchill Street please.”

The driver’s gaze dropped to her long seductive legs and he smiled.

“On the razzle tonight then love?”

Leda smiled and nodded. She had expected to pass but wasn’t sure about her wig. The driver waited until she had tucked herself down in the single seat next to the disabled space then he started off. He had long ago learned to go easy when girls were still walking along the aisles in their clubbing heels. He had checked in his passenger mirror and satisfied himself that the pretty young thing was firstly, seated and secondly, clearly visible in his mirror.

‘Streetwise kid,’ he thought, ‘visible to me and close to the door if trouble breaks out.’

He watched her busying herself with her hand-bag then returned his attention to driving and pulled out into the traffic. Apart from her and a pair of older women at the back, his bus was empty. It would fill up as it approached the city centre.
In Churchill Street she disembarked and made for the usual coffee bar where she had learned that gays hung out before commencing the clubbing circuit. In the ladies loo she checked her appearance and smiled with satisfaction.

'First time baby, sweet sixteen, happy birthday and looking hot!'

As if to confirm her status, two other girls entered, looked at Leda’s legs then smiled as they claimed a cubicle. Reassured by their responses she gathered up her things and bought her first coffee. Now for the first time she felt nervous. The coffee bar was well lit and there was a mix of clients spread around the tables; the last of the shoppers were leaving town and the first of the early night clubbers were trickling in. She had been out dressed a couple of times before but this was her first time alone. All other times she had been with a couple of sympathetic girls from her class in school and it was in daylight. She had changed in the girl’s homes before returning home in male mode.

This time it was different, she had just had her sixteenth birthday and she had decided to treat herself to a night out. The disastrous incident with her father had ruined it. She was truly up shit creek without a paddle.

‘Could she dare risk going home?’ She wondered.

She sat sipping her coffee as slowly as she dared as she wondered what to do. To stretch the time she rummaged again through her handbag and took out her fake I.D. It looked good and the laminator had done a good job but ‘Would it work?’ She wondered.

Eventually she felt forced to make a move. The counter staff had eyed her up a couple of times and she was beginning to feel too conspicuous.

She certainly didn’t feel as confident as she looked as her heels clicked purposefully along the pavement but at least male eyes were turning to look at her and as always, their gaze lingered on her legs. They were without doubt her best asset. She quickly arrived at the gay ‘village’ and because it was early, the clubs were still fairly quiet. Plenty of small groups were chatting outside on the pavement and she decided to try her luck. One thing she had learned was that confidence played its part and she mustered up all her courage as she clicked provocatively up to the bouncers.

“I.D. love?”

She made as little fuss as possible as she produced the fake student’s card with a photograph then a fake national insurance card without one.

“This your first time?”

“Yes,” she smiled glancing pointedly at the fake ID. “Birthday present to myself.”

“You a tranny?”

“Damn, you noticed. Boo-hoo.”

“You’ll pass love. Nice legs, next time get a better bra I can see the filling. That’s what gave you away. Go on.”

Leda re-tucked the filling in her bra cup then almost whooped with relief as she teetered up to the pay booth and offered her money. She was in!!!

~o00o~

Mitzy and Mandy had arrived early that night. There was an international on in town and they wouldn’t get a parking slot when the town was packed with supporters. The rest of the girls had arranged to arrive in dribs and drabs and make their way to the club so that everybody was assembled by eleven.

Being well known to the bouncers, they didn’t even have to produce their I.D's, as they chatted briefly. There was no hurry, the club was still virtually empty so they did not have to worry as they teetered provocatively inside and grabbed their regular seats upstairs overlooking the stage. There was also a small dancing floor next to their seats as several girls preferred to strut their stuff while others watched the stage show. It was the best group of seats in the club so getting there early was imperative. Mitzy grabbed the seats while Mandy bought the drinks and they settled to wait for their friends.

The first hour of waiting was not tedious for the pair had lots in common. They chatted about many things for the music had not started and talking was easy. Eventually the others trickled in and gradually their little booth was full; the night had started.

“It’s going to be an interesting night girls,” Mitzy observed to no-one in particular, “international night; all the usual knuckle rash and usual fun.”

“Metal Mickey will handle them; brick shithouse and all that.” Mandy replied

Whilst some of the girls danced, Mitzy, Mandy and Brenda watched the impromptu floorshow on the main door.

“What d’ you reckon he’s trying to say.” Mandy chuckled as a particularly drunk supporter's scarf was trying to intellectualise himself past Mickey’s impassive bulk.

“He looks like a pompous intellectual twat trying to work the oracle.”

“I’ve never seen him before. D’you think he’s genuinely gay or just a tourist?” Brenda wondered.

“It’s international night, who knows, they come out of the woodwork ... all sorts.”

Eventually the scarf swayed away and Mickey turned to chat to the girl in the pay-booth. All the girls knew Mickey was sweet on her but she was gay though it was rumoured she’d had his child. Then Mickey had to return to the door as a large noisy deposit of Knuckle-rash appeared hoping to get in. The self appointed spokesman opened up as he tried to impress his mates with his street cred.

”Eehh; is this the gay club?” His voice even audible from up on the balcony during a lull as the DJ changed a disc.

“Yes, are you gay then?” Mickey asked.

“Do I ‘ave to be?”

“It helps.”

“Are they all gay in ‘ere then?”

“No.” Mickey replied honestly.

“So can we come in?”

“If you’re sober and you’ve got the fee, yes.”

Metal Mickey stood aside and the group entered as they presented their fees to the booth. Brenda watched the ‘spokesperson’ thread his way to the bar where he ended up behind one of the girls, Pauline who was buying her round. As she turned with her tray of drinks he leered hopefully until he realised Pauline was not what she had first appeared to be. Brenda tittered and nudged Mandy as the cameo played out.

“The mouth has just lost its voice.”

“As ever,” Mandy replied. “Did she spill any drinks.”

“Not her,” Mitzy grinned. “Rock-solid Pauline; anyway they’re all bottles.”

They settled back expectantly and Pauline eventually appeared with her tray of bottle drinks intact.

“Busy tonight girls.”

“Bloody rugby!” Brenda added.

“Who d’you support?” Pauline asked her.

Brenda let rip with her thick, native Northumbrian accent

“Geordie ar’ne I. Gorr’a be Scotland. They’re sorta’ kin why aye.”

“Don’t shout that too loud in here, Wales are on for the Grand Slam; all they have to do now is beat bloody England in two weeks. I suppose that’s why you’ve got that tartan mini-kilt on tonight, is it?”

“If you’ve got the legs for, flaunt it I say. Where’s Jenny gone?”

“Powdering her willy probably.”

After the brief collective giggle died, they all turned to see the commotion at the door. At least a dozen kilts had arrived in inexplicable good humour. Scotland had lost to Wales, again.

“Oh here we go girls. Go on Brenda, some more kilts for you.”

“Shall I?”

“It’ll cause a stir. I hope you’ve got knickers on under that tartan fanny-pelmet.”

“Of course, Royal Stuart to boot, the question is, have they?” Brenda smirked as she started down the stairs.

Three heads craned expectantly forward over the balcony to see Brenda strut provocatively towards the Scots. Heads turned wide-eyed as she deliberately detoured close by them on her way to Find Jenny.

“Hi boys. Hope you’re decent under those kilts.”

“Hope you are as well lassie. Are you real.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Brenda gave as a parting shot before she descended into the basement to find Jenny.

She found her leaning against a pillar watching a very attractive girl dancing alone in the ultraviolet shadows.

“Pretty is she?” Brenda interrupted Jenny’s thoughts.

Jenny turned to Brenda and smiled.

“Very. She’s new but nervous. Several lippies have come on to her and been refused.”

“She shouldn’t have worn a white bra under that blouse; the UV lights are having a field day.”

“Nice tits though. Hey-up, here comes ‘the mouth’”

The loud-mouthed spokesman for the knuckle rash had spotted the girl dancing alone and decided to try his luck. Like most of his kind, he believed he had the absolute right invade every girl’s privacy so he simply presented himself in front of her and commenced moving to the music without even introducing himself or asking for a dance. Indeed the new girl hadn’t even realised he was there as she danced with eyes closed and swaying provocatively to the music. Jenny and Brenda watched with amusement as the age-old ritual played out before them.

Another female dancer accidentally bumped into the new girl and she opened her eyes as she apologised. Whether she had been in the wrong or not, she was keen to avoid causing offence.

“Sorry!”

The Mouth immediately grabbed his chance.

“No need to be sorry girl, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Oh. Sorry, I meant that girl.”

“That’s twice you’ve said sorry without needing to babes. Jer wanna’ drink?”

The girl’s eyes widened with uncertainty. It was the very first time she’d ever been offered a drink in a club and she was suspicious but excited. She’d heard about Rohypnol.

“Okay! I’ll come with you to the bar.”

The Mouth shrugged. He was not about to spike her drink but she was a tasty piece and worth trying out. She followed him to the bar and watched intently as he bought her a bottle of j2o. After paying with a lavish flourish of a fifty pound note, he handed her the bottle then smiled.

“Shall we see if the chairs are empty.”

“Chairs?”

“Round the back behind the corner pillar. It’s quieter.”

She followed him and he motioned towards the double settee, she settled by the arm away from the corner and he joined her.

“Are you gay then?”

She frowned, for although she certainly passed as a girl, she liked girls for company and as a sexual attraction. She tried to give him an honest answer but her clothes belied her sexuality. She preferred girls but she was technically a boy though she liked being a girl or more correctly, she liked living as a girl. Eventually she decided that she wasn’t gay in the truest sense and told him so.

“No, I’m not gay, I – I'm not sure what I am, I might be bi-.“

He interrupted before she could finish.

“Oh, that’s good; what’s your name?”

“Leda. I-”

He interrupted again before she could finish; he was keen to show his knowledge.

“What? As in Leda and the swan?”

She brightened to his acknowledgement.

“Yes, I love swans, they’re so sensuous and graceful.”

“Like you.”

Leda giggled self-consciously and the act was so effeminate it enthralled The Mouth; so much that he revealed his own name.

“My name’s Monty.”

Leda grinned.

“As in Monty Python I suppose.”

The allusion to pythons was misinterpreted as suggestion of a ‘Trouser Snake’ in Monty’s mind and he started believing he was ‘on to a winner’ Leda was in fact alluding to farce but different things mean different things to different people. When he moved closer she sensed danger but in the club she was clearly visible and still felt safe with people all around her. She did not retreat or lean back and he took it to mean acceptance.

His arm snaked along the back of the settee then it danced lightly on her bare shoulder and she shivered slightly at the sensation.

“Cold are you?” He asked though the club was becoming hot and sticky.

She giggled nervously.

“No. Your fingers tickled.”

He took them away. He knew enough to know girls didn’t like to be ‘groped’ by fumbling drunks and he had all night. Instead he slid back up the settee and started the alternative technique as his eyes appraised her.

“You’re pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“When we’ve finished this drink shall we have another dance, you’re a good mover I was watching you just now.”

Leda smiled again as she tried to make sense of his approach. She certainly wasn’t attracted to him but she was desperate to see exactly how boys approached girls and she wanted to see what it was like being on the receiving end of their attentions. She could always cut it short when she’d had enough. Monty added another question.

“Have you had professional training?”

“Crikey no!” Leda replied but she couldn’t resist smiling at the compliment.

She had often studied herself in her bedroom mirror as she practiced her moves.

They chatted some more and Leda began to feel more at ease. She sipped her drink and smiled a lot not realised that he was subconsciously taking every smile to be a further ‘come-on’ – an invitation to take things further. Still however, he played it cool, like a fish on a line.

Long past midnight he had concluded he had caught one of the biggest and best fish in the pond. Several of his mates had come on to him and congratulated him quite openly in the front of Leda who had naively savoured the ‘back-handed’ compliments when they referred to her as ‘a great catch’ or ‘little cracker’ when speaking to Monty. It boosted her confidence and reinforced her belief that she was going to pass successfully for the rest of her life. Once that side of her preferred life-style was secure, she would be able to think about dating girls and other more complex issues surrounding her hoped-for future.

She was musing dreamily about the success of her night when she was suddenly reminded of her immediate situation. The arm had returned and this time she felt it snaking along the back of the settee but it had simply remained stretched along the back. There was no threat or invasive fingering so she smiled into his eyes and leaned forward to rest her head on the crook of his elbow. Her hair draped across his forearm and he smiled possessively as he curled his fingers through her hair and stroked it. Leda pursed her lips expectantly and felt a thrill of excitement as he accepted her invitation. His arm curled around her shoulder and drew her in as she savoured the development. She never kissed a boy before.

~o00o~

For a long moment she savoured his lips against hers before he drew away and whispered.

“Jeeze! You’re sweet babe.”

Mixed feeling twisted through her tummy as she savoured the kiss but tensed fearfully as she remembered her big, big secret. She clenched her knees nervously together as he leaned forward again. Their lips touched for a second time and this time he pressed harder as she debated opening her mouth and allowing his inquisitive tongue to slip between her lips. Fear stopped her, fear of aids or any other STD’s, fear of him taking it further. Her heart started to thump as events began to overwhelm her.

She didn’t want the hugs and kisses to stop but she didn’t want it to go further ... so far that it might invite discovery. Her knees tightened noticeable, so much that he noticed the tension and he responded with well practised deceit.

“You’re nervous aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she almost croaked.

“Is this your first time in a club?”

She hesitated and that gave the game away as he answered his own question.

“It is isn’t it? Go on; it is isn’t it?”

She nodded and turned her head away as fear clawed at her belly. He had the skill and experience to pull back further and speak very softly, so softly she could hardly hear.

“I’m not about to attack you, I don’t rape girls, d’ you want to go to the loo and sort yourself out? I can tell you’re nervous.”

These words reassured her. He was giving her a legitimate ‘out’, a chance to run if she wanted. The loo was across the dance-floor and had a separate second exit to the ground floor. It doubled as a third fire exit from the basement and if she wanted to, she could leave without him even seeing her go. It was the first thing she had noticed when she had gone earlier to fix her makeup. It was one of the features that made the club popular with girls both gay and straight. There was an escape route that enabled any girl to beat a tactical retreat. The alternative exit also brought the escaping girl directly to the main door and the bouncers ... and safety.

His offer was a clear demonstration that he was not forcing her into anything and it generated a trust that calmed her down. She decided to take up his offer .

She returned a good ten minutes later and was surprised but pleased to see him still sitting in the same seat. He looked up and smiled as she sidled up and settled slinkily beside him as she smoothed her daring mini-dress.

“You’ve got stunning legs girl. D’ you want another drink?”

“No thanks, shall we have another dance?”

“We’ll lose our seats if we do, at this time of night, girls are beginning to get sore feet and they’re desperate to grab a seat.”

She nodded and giggled as she extended one of her own slender ‘stunning’ legs and wiggled the six-inch platforms provocative before responding.

“Yeah but with heels and legs like these, a girl’s got to strut her stuff.”

He nodded and grinned.

“Lead on my swan.”

She smiled at the allusion to her chosen name Leda ... Leda and the swan. As she stood up, she spread her arms then lowered sensuously them to her waist and flapped them slowly with provocative effeminate waves of her wrists to emulate a swan. He stood to join her and mimicked her action like two grebes doing a mating dance. They both grinned and hugged each other as he added.

“Come on then, let’s do the swan dance on the main dance floor.”

Thrilled that she had found somebody with the same love of dancing as herself, she swayed provocatively on her heels with seemingly practised ease towards the dance floor and he stared mesmerized at her apparently endless legs.

‘It would be unbelievable if she did prove to be accommodating,’ he surmised.

The thought was still stirring through his loins as she turned and grinned then placed her arms on his shoulders and swayed her hips as she writhed and twisted to the music. He tried to emulate her but she seemed blessed with a snake hipped fluidity that defied normal anatomical pathology. After a few tries he simply gave up and let her slide and sway around him like a dancer on a pole. Always with her eyes looking into his - almost inviting him, daring him to try and entrap her like some bird in a poachers snare. Eventually as people stopped to watch the girl with the snaky hips, the floor cleared around them and Monty was left almost pinching himself with disbelief.

‘This is one special, precious girl I’ve caught here,’ he kept telling himself until the last bars of the music died it’s death and the D.J announce.

“Last dance of the evening everybody. It’s nearly three o’clock hope everybody makes it home safely.”

Leda stopped abruptly and cursed.

“Damn, damn, damn, damn!”

“What’s wrong?” Monty asked.

“I forgot to ask you. Can I sleep at yours tonight?”

Monty’s eyes widened with disbelief. ‘This just could not be happening!’

Leda suddenly realised what she’d said and quickly back-tracked.

“No, no. I don’t mean like that! I don’t want to sleep with you, I mean you know, sofa surf or something.”

“What, have you missed the last bus home or something?”

“No I ...” She realised she might be giving too much away if she told him she was homeless, he might offer her a bed and then expect her to pay in kind. 'She couldn’t do that, no she just COULDN’T do that!'

Her mind raced as she searched for a way around the problem.

“If I have to, I can stay with some friends tonight. I told them I was going clubbing and they said there was always a sofa at theirs.”

“D’you want me to walk you home?”

“Oh no. That’s kind but I can easily get a taxi. They don’t live far from the town centre.”

“Can I see you again then, it’s been a lovely evening? Have you got your mobile number?”

Leda swallowed nervously.

‘That was one of the problems of the mobile phone age. How did you let somebody down gently if you did not want to see them again if they asked to swap mobile numbers?’

“I’ll probably be here next week, same time roughly.”

She saw the disappointment register in his face and she had to steel herself to stick to her safety policy. Never hand out her phone number unless she knew she was totally safe. Guilt compelled her to make an offer.

“I will be here next week. Same time, same place. If your here we can pick up where we left off.”

“Have you got a regular boyfriend?” He asked.

She wagged her head, “No. I’m going to the ladies then I’m phoning for a taxi. See you next week.”

“I’d still like your phone number then we can reach each other if I miss you here in the club.”
She realised he wouldn’t let go unless she capitulated so she gave him her number. He loaded it into his phone, tested the number and smiled when her phone answered.

“There, now I’ve got to go, I want to wee as well.”

“See you next week; take care girl; somebody as pretty as you could get into trouble.”

With that he watched her go into the ladies and then left the club but he didn’t go far. Accross the street there were some phone boxes and a statue. He settled behind them to watch the main exit from the club. Eventually she appeared looking nervously around but she did not head for the taxi rank which is where she would have naturally gone had she genuinely been seeking a taxi. Instead, she kept looking around for she was obviously looking to see if he wouldn’t follow her. Then she walked a few yards along the street and ducked into a side alley that Monty knew to be a blind alley.

'What are you up to my little pretty?' He asked himself as he decided to follow her.

He found her bent over in a dark corner seemingly adjusting her knickers and he sneaked up behind her and whispered ‘Boo’.

She squeaked and her knees sagged as she lost her balance on her heels.

“Fuck!” She cursed him. “Don’t do that!” She added as she desperately tried to re-tuck.”

His gaze naturally dropped to her raised min-dress as she desperately tried to hide the evidence but it was too late. ‘She’ had an erection and it was refusing to be tucked. He lost his rag as he realised the bastard had been duping him all night.

“Why you fucking bastard! You’re a bloody tranny!”

He grabbed her arm and yanked it away from her cock as he cursed louder.

“You fucking bitch! You conned me for a pile of drinks in there and all the while you’re a fucking bloke. I ought to break your fucking arm and that stiffy. You fucking bitch”

He was shouting by now and she squealed as he twisted her arm and she lost her balance. The whole weight of her body came off her heels and she screamed in agony as he nearly ripped her shoulder out of its socket. He didn’t let go and her scream became louder.

“Let me go! I’m a girl! Let me go! Oowwoww!” Heeeelp!!

~o00o~

“What choo wanna’ do now? “ Mitzy asked no one in particular as they were leaving the club.

Mandy was chatting to one of the bouncers while Brenda and Pauline were stood on the sidewalk chatting to the other girls about future arrangements.
Mitzy tapped her foot impatiently then declared.

“I dunno why you lot are gassing about next week, you can’t even sort yourselves for tonight. Getting you lot organised is like herding cats! I’m going to the hole!”

She was talking about the Cash Dispenser, the ‘Hole in the wall’, not a hundred yards away from the club and well lit. There was little danger in going to the teller machine even at three in the morning for it was next door to another club. The streets were crowded with LGBT groups, all of whom were protective of each other in their own part of the clubbing area – the ‘gay village’ even though it was just a couple of blocks on Churchill Street. Mitzy stalked off on her heels to admiring smiles from other regular clubbers.

For a moment she stepped into an empty patch of pavement and stopped to step aside while she checked her handbag for her wallet and her debit card. She had stopped so her own heels were silent and the bustle of the crowd had receded so it was fairly quiet ... quiet enough to here a girl whimpering and a guy shouting at her. Mitzy peered down the blind alley into the shadows and saw two figures struggling. It was too dark to make out exactly but the voice sounds warned her that it was a guy and a girl. Without hesitation she stepped back onto the main street and called to Metal Mickey as he was still chatting to Mandy.

“Hey! Mickey! Over ‘ere! There’s a girl in trouble.”

Mitzy and her transgendered friends were well known to the doormen for they had been using the club for over five years.
Within seconds Mickey and his team were lumbering along the pavement while Mitzy was already trotting noisily down the Alley with her heels loudly declared her urgent approach. As she approached, she squealed.

“What the fuck’ you doin’? Put her down!”

“Piss off! She’s a fuckin’ cheat, she a bloke she’s been lyin’ t’me all night!”

“Wharr’ever she is, yer do’n’ hit ‘er. Leave ‘er alone!”

Monty was about to throw a punch at Mitzy but suddenly thought better of it as three doormen loomed up behind her.

“Whass-goin’on?” Growled Mickey.

“Birr’er boy, girl trouble. They jus’ need separatin’!” Mitzy replied.

The bouncers didn’t even have to approach Monty as he quickly released Leda’s arm. She whimpered as she struggled to her feet and

Mitzy reached down with both hands to lift her bodily to her feet. It was an act of balance and strength that even impressed metal Mickey as he spoke softly into his security mike.

“All sorted at the Pulse, no help needed.” He motioned to his colleagues to return to the door while he and Mitzy got to the bottom of the trouble.

Mickey’s huge bulk ensured there was no more violence but it was obvious that both parties were clearly distressed.

“I’ll speak to him Mitzy, you chat to her.”

He called Monty away from the girl and chatted to him softly, there was obviously no need for any strong-arm stuff; the boy was more upset and disappointed than angry.

“But she’s a bloody bloke. I couldn’t tell; nobody could, just look at her. She’s a cheat!”

Metal Mickey had heard it hundreds of times and he trotted out the same old reply.

“What d’you expect to find in a gay club? She’s a Tranny; her whole thing is looking like a girl. It’s what she is, it’s what she does!”

“But look at her, I couldn’t tell! She screwed a load of drinks out of me.”

“She looked quite sober when she left the club, she’d have to be sober to walk on those heels. How many drinks did you actually buy her?”

Monty thought briefly then confessed.

“’Bout four I suppose.”

“Four drinks, four drinks; and I suppose they were soft drinks as well.”

Monty hesitated as he recalled.

“Well I - well yes. She didn't want any alcohol.”

“So you spent maybe eight quid on four soft drinks, hello big spender. And for that you expected to get into her knickers?”

“His knickers!” Monty objected. “He asked if he could stay at my apartment but he only wanted to sleep on the sofa. It makes sense now the lying bastard! He wanted to use me so he had a sofa for the night.”

“That’s not a bloke you dummy; open your bloody eyes, I can only see a girl there buddy, and a bloody pretty one at that. Now wait here while I check if she wants to press charges.”

Metal Mickey said these last words loud enough for Mitzy to hear and she immediately asked the fragile kid still whimpering in her arms.

“Leda, d’ you want to press charges, Mickey can contact the police right now on that thing in his lapel.”

“No! No! Please don’t call the police!”

Mickey heard her words and eased his grip on Monty’s shoulder.

“I want to see your ID’s; all of them if you’ve got them, then you can fuck off.”

Monty whipped out his driver’s licence and a bank credit card. Mickey made a note of photographing the details with his mobile phone.

“This will be checked and we’ll have you on the CCTV at the door. Now fuck off!”

Having sorted the boy, Mickey turned to the girl who had finally ceased sobbing as she remained clutching Mitzy’s waist.

“Is she okay Mitzy?”

“No, she's still frightened, there’s something she’s not telling me.”

“I’ve got a suspicion I know what it is. We’ll take her into my office and she can have a cup of tea. We’ll sort her out. Can I see your ID love?”

Leda hesitated. She had just watched Mickey record Monty’s details and she knew her fake ID would quickly fail any proper scrutiny. She wagged her head and struggled to make herself presentable the mumbled.

“I’ll be okay, just let me go. I won’t make trouble.”

“And if we let you go; where will you GO to?”

Leda paused nervously.

“What d’ you mean?”

“The boy who assaulted you; he said you wanted to sleep on his sofa. Now he’s out of it, where do you intend to sleep tonight?”

“I’ll be okay.”

Mitzy took her wrist gently.

“Leda, listen to me. You won’t be okay. Every bloody hopeful on the street out there will be lusting to lay you – until they realise you’re not what they expected. Then you’re at serious risk kid.”

“I’m okay, I’ll be all right!” Leda whined. “I’m okay now. I’ve got to go.”

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Mitzy insisted. “Tell me where you’re going and I can drive you there.”

“No. I’ll be okay!”

Metal Mickey loomed over her but spoke as softly as he knew how.

“Look kid. We’re not the ones looking to use and abuse you. If you’re stuck for somewhere to go tonight, Mitzy has helped kids like you before but she has to do it officially, she can’t just offer you a bed ... a safe bed that is. She has to do it official like; the social services have to be involved and that means I have to inform the police so they can contact the duty social worker.”

Leda’s eyes started to tear up.

“I don’t want them involved. They’ll tell my parents about this.”

Mitzy had an inkling of the background but she needed to win the girl’s confidence.

“Look Leda, it doesn’t work like that, are you over sixteen?”

“Yes, my birthday was last Tuesday.”

“Which birthday sixteenth or seventeenth?”

“Sixteenth.”

Mitzy nodded knowingly.

“I thought so; have you run away from home?”

Leda nodded dumbly so Mitzy pressed further.

“Your parents thrown you out?”

She nodded dumbly again. Mickey motioned her to his office.

“Come on kid, we’ll get you a warm cup of tea and get you sorted.”

Leda teetered cautiously back to the club and Mitzy explained to the girls who were cursing her absence.

“Where’ve you been bitch?” Brenda demanded. “What-choo been doing; printing the bloody notes?”

“I’m gonna be a while. You’ll have to organise a cab or wait for me to finish here. You can sit in Mickey’s office if your cold!”

As the others followed Mitzy into Mickey’s office they all stared at the young girl sat with her legs curled under her thighs sipping a cup of tea. They all noticed the torn strap to her top and realised something had happened. Mandy was the first to ask.

“Been having trouble love?”

“She’s one of us Mandy!” Mitzy explained as she sorted out some cups.

“Yer fucking joking!” Pauline gaped.

“She’s not.” Metal Mickey added. “Truly, this young lady is one of you lot.”

“Jeeze kid! You’re good. You on mones?”

Leda turned blankly to Mitzy who she now deemed to be some sort of ally. Mitzy grinned.

“She’s asking if you’re taking Hormones Leda,” then Mitzy turned to Pauline, “she’s only just started you silly bitch! Speak bloody English she won’t understand jargon!”

“Oooohh get her. Keep your knickers on bitch!”

The reference to the word ‘bitch’ was so obviously a term of affection that Leda let out a stifled giggle. Mitzy turned to the young girl and shrugged helplessly as she smiled.

“What can you do with bitches like her?”

Metal Mickey interrupted.

“Shurrup girls, I’ve got the hate-crime officer here.”

“Oh if that’s James, let me talk to him.”

The doorman confirmed it was the hate-crime officer and handed the phone to Mitzy.

“Hi Jimmy, nah she’s not been beaten up but she’s in a fix. She’s got nowhere to stay tonight.”
.........

“Yeah, is she there? ...... Okay.”

Mitzy handed the phone to Leda who frowned nervously as Mitzy explained.

“It’s the duty social worker; don’t be afraid, you haven’t broken any serious law.”

Leda took the phone and turned to the wall in an effort to keep stuff secret. Mickey whispered to Mitzy.

“Actually she has broken a serious law; the club could be closed for this.”

“Actually no. Technically you’ve caught her breaking the law, you’ve detained her and established the circumstances and taken all the right action. The club is safe and your job is safe.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Brenda sighed. “The best club in town. It'd be a crime if this place closed.”

Conversation stopped as Leda handed the phone back to Mitzy.

“It’s the duty social worker; they’re on the way to get me.”

As she said this, Mickey sidled discreetly to block the door while Mitzy answered the phone. Leda listened intently for judging by Mitzy’s conversation, lots of stuff seemed to be going on

“Yeah ... We’ll follow on in the car. If you sort it out with them, yes. For tonight anyway, she’ll be safer there. ... Not at the moment, I’ve got one coming on in about a fortnight. ... She’d have to sleep on the sofa bed. ... Yes. ... No. ... You’d have to sort that. ... Of course she will. Have I ever let you down before? ... That’s up to you as well. ... Absolutely, but I refuse to be involved with them. ... Two weeks! As quick as that? ... Okay, I’ll put her back on.”

Leda took the phone and croaked hoarsely as her nerves clamped her throat.

“Yes. ... Yes. ... Can I? ... Tonight! ... Really! ... Thanks Mrs Evans, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“She says I can stay with you!”

“That’s right, Mitzy agreed. You’ll be sleeping on the Sofa put-you-up. But first you’ve got to go to the police station.

It’s got to be officially registered and noted! Child at risk and all that!”

“I’m not at risk!” Leda tried to protest.

“Not now you’re not. What about down the alleyway not ten minutes ago.”

Leda rubbed her bruised and aching shoulder socket thoughtfully.

“Yeah, well okay then; maybe.”

Mitzy became slightly exasperated with Leda’s seeming intransigence.

“Listen kid. Count yourself lucky! These girls could tell you stories that would horrify you but we’ve all come through it one way or another, hopefully, now; so will you. When the police get here you’ll meet Sergeant James Williams, the hate crimes officer and you’ll also meet Susie Evans the duty social worker for the city. They’ll take you to the police station and note down all the details of tonight’s events.

Ordinarily, after that, you’d spend the night in a care home full of dysfunctional and/or displaced children or if there’s no space there, you’d spend a night in the cells for your own protection. Neither option is much fun; believe me. If Susie's happy with your condition, and that includes your demeanour; your attitude in other words; she’ll let you stay at mine with us. It’s a large flat and there’ll be a put-you-up in the living room where you’ll be safe on two counts. Firstly you’ll have your own bed in a fairly open space where everybody can keep an eye on you. Secondly, I’m registered with the police for just such events as yours. I’ve done this before several times and it’s got the SS out of a hole. Be grateful, the alternative is a long cold wet walk on the streets, and, yes; it’s raining again. Have you got a coat?”

Leda glanced out to see the rain coming down in stair-rods and dancing like a maelstrom on the pavement. Suddenly a warm dry bed seemed like a pretty good option.
~o000o~

The end.

Copyright to Beverly Taff.