Beyond the grave

When my son died, I was so overcome with grief that I couldn't function. There was a suicide note with some drivel about wanting to be a girl, but I couldn't understand how that could be a cause for taking your own life.
If Martin had wanted to dress up in women's clothing then I would have still loved him. I probably would have given him a hard time over it initially, those trannies have a hard time of it and I wouldn't want that kind of life for my son, but blood is thicker than water and all that..
Now… now I would no longer have the chance to get to know the 'girl inside', and prove that I was the bigger man and forgive and forget.

When I stood in the chapel at the crematorium and realised I didn't know any of Martin's weirdo friends, and they didn't know me, I realised how out-of-sync I had become from my son's life.
I was seized by a crippling wave of grief that I would never hold him again and never let him know how proud I was of him. How his smile lit up a room and how his brilliant intelligence shone a light on each thing that stirred his curiosity.
If only his gender identity hadn't been one of those things he questioned.

Over the months that followed I kind of withdrew from the world. No parent should outlive their child and, since his mother left, Martin had been the focus of my world. A world without focus is… sort of lost, I guess.
One of the widows at the support group I started going to saw how lost I was and she suggested I start texting Martin like he was still alive. She said she started doing it and it had helped her, sometimes she would even forget her daughter was… gone, just for a moment.

It sounded a bit namby-pamby to me, but what more did I have to lose? I tried it. I was self-conscious, at first. They'd send me to the loony farm if they realised who I was texting with.
But, gradually, it became just something I did, when it all got too much for me, when there was something that would have made me or Martin laugh, before he left me, when I needed to tell him I loved him.
Strangely, texting Martin allowed me to put a lot of thoughts into words and realise what a dark downward spiral I was slipping into. I got my life back together, tidied the house, got my job back in order (I hadn't cared how close to being sacked I had got). I have as still quiet, but I had goals, of a sort. I didn't want Martin to look down and see me falling apart.

So, I texted him and told him all the bad things, and that helped me deal with all the bad things so I could see the not-so-bad things.
So I would deal with those, and eventually I started seeing good things, occasionally and I would tell Martin about those, and my life would be a little less empty.

Then, one day in early October, Martin replied to my text.

"Hi Dad sorry I haven't been around lately. You know how it is?"

I was angry and shaken when I replied "Who is this?"

The answer came back very quickly, "I'm sorry Dad, I guess this must be hard for you. It really is me".

Then another text - "Remember when you used to take me to swimming lessons and I would ride on your shoulders".
"When I would watch you play StarForce on my PC".
"I don't really remember it, but you told me when I had scarlet fever as a child they put the anaesthetic patch on the back of my hand and it freaked me out because it reminded me of the alien from Star Trek ToS".

With shaking hands I typed back - "Martin? How is this possible? You are dead!"

"I know I'm dead, that's why I need your help. I don't know how this is possible. I think it's something to do with Justice".

"I don't understand".

"I didn't kill myself, I couldn't do that to you. I was murdered, and I need you to catch the scumbag".

I was floored by this, all these months I had been trying to understand how he could have killed himself and why he felt so much pain that he had to end it. Martin's reply suddenly made all the pieces fall into place. Of course someone had murdered him, that made perfect sense. But why? Why would anyone want to harm my son?

"Who was it?" I asked.

"I don't know his full name, he called himself Tom. I think I know where to find him and how to catch him."

"Ok. Is this some mystic beyond the grave psychic thing?" I asked, happy for the spell checker to help out with 'psychic'.

"No. I just know the bar I met him at. Halloween is on a Saturday this year and I have a feeling he's going to be on the prowl".

"Ok. What do you need me for?" I asked.

"Duh. I have NO BODY" came the answer.

"I get that. What exactly do you need me to do?" I asked.

"Dress up like me and go to the bar. I'm guessing he has a type".

"I guess that's ok. We're about the same size. What do you mean 'dress up' don't you wear jeans and a shirt?" I asked.

"You know what I mean. Dress as my true self, Susan".

"I don't know Susan, I only know Martin".

"Wow. Talk about dead naming someone. Nevermind, I can help, and this will be a chance for you to get to know me".

I was horrified. My dead son wanted me to dress up as a woman and go to a bar to work as bait for a serial killer that the police weren't even looking for.

"Let me think about it?" I texted back.

"Don't think too long. Halloween is in a few weeks and you have work to do. How will you feel if someone else's daughter starts sending you texts like this?"

:-:-:

I went for a long walk. I played it all over in my head. Clearly, I didn't just get a text from my dead son, Susan.
Was I going mad? Was I being played for a fool by someone with access to Martin's phone?
Susan knew things that I thought only Martin would know. It somehow made more sense that he, or she, whatever, was murdered. Martin had too much to live for and it sounded as though Susan may have been the one thing that was missing from his life.
Maybe it was just my mind's way of figuring stuff out. The male equivalent of' 'female intuition'.
It took me a long time to get to work that night, I lay awake running over our conversation in my head. From time to time I would check my phone to make sure I wasn't dreaming it.

:-:-:

The next day the messages were still on my phone.

I replied to the last text from Susan: " ok. If I'm in, what's the first thing I have to do?"

"Find my clothes and my makeup. They were in my flat."

"I have all your stuff in boxes in your old bedroom. I haven't been strong enough to go through them yet." I replied.

"Now you will have to be." she answered, "Don't worry, there's nothing too shocking there."

"Apart from women's clothing?" I answered with a rueful smile.

"What's shocking about a trans woman having women's clothes?" she answered. Then, a second or two later I got:
"The shocking thing will be how good I get to make you look, in my dress."

"Ha! That will never happen"

"You won't wear the dress?"

"You might be able to talk me into wearing a disguise, if you can convince me it's going to catch your killer. But I'll never look right in a dress" I texted with finality.

"You might want to start thinking about who, among the living, can help you then" Susan texted back, "Because this plan relies on you looking as nearly like me as possible".

I thought for a moment. "Who helped you, at first?"

"After Mum? Alex helped me, a lot".

"Alex? Next door Alex? What does she know about drag?"

"Nothing. But that's not what this is. She was a friend. She could be discreet. And she was a girl, like me".

I could tell this was a rebuke for the 'drag' comment. I'm not stupid.

"I'm sorry, I guess that was rude of me. I guess I don't get this whole 'lifestyle Choice' thing. In my day there were girls and there were boys. Who chased the girls to prove they were men."

" You think I chose to be a woman?! And, do you hear yourself? You sound like Fred Flintstone"

"That's why I don't like your plan of putting a caveman in a dress".

"Talk to Alex. Maybe she can help you, like she helped me?"

"What do I tell her? I can't tell her about you, they'll lock me up in the funny farm"

"I'm pretty sure that's not a thing. You could tell her that you're trying to connect to me by trying out some of my lifestyle choices?”

“Well, that’s a line of BS she’ll never see through in a million years”

“That’s sarcasm, right? It’s hard to tell by text?”

“You must be psychic”.

“I don’t want to think too hard about how I’m sending this or reading your texts, I guess I must be doing it with some kind of psychic power but if I stop and think about it too hard, it’s like walking, you forget how to… wait, that was sarcasm again?”

“Don’t you start too”.

“You know how literal I can be?”

“Yes”. Martin, or Susan, I guess, could be shockingly literal. She told me it was the only way she could find to deal with my kidding. I would tell her with a straight face, absolutely deadpan, that black was white until she almost believed me. I guess the only thing I couldn’t convince her was that she was a boy. I sent another text: “I’ll talk to Alex, I’ll feed her your BS. Maybe she’ll take pity on me. Or maybe she’ll play along for the laughs”.

:-:-:

The phone rang…

“Alex? It’s Geoff… Martin’s Dad”

“Geoff? Good to hear from you, how are you doing?” Alex’s clear bright voice was almost as lovely as she was.

“Hmm… some good days, some not so good…”

“Right… Well, what can I help you with?”

“This is… kind of awkward…”

“Ok. Best thing is probably just to come out and say it?”

I sighed. “You see, the thing is, at the funeral, I realised I didn’t know anything about Susan, and her lifestyle.”

“Ok…”

“Susan told me that you were the first one to help her.”
“She told you that?”

“Yes. She said that I shouldn’t judge until I’d walked a mile in her shoes… I’ve no intention of judging, but… I found some of Susan’s clothes and I thought it would kind of be a way of getting to know Susan, as I should have done, as I would have done if she hadn’t…” I broke down into a soft muffled sob.

“Yes”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yes, I’ll help you. I don’t know why you want to do this, you don’t strike me as having a feminine side. But it might help you understand Susan, at last”.

“Thank you. Will you come here?”

“No, you can come here, I have all my stuff here and you are going to fly right out the other side of your comfort zone. Come here Friday. You know how to get here, right?”

“Yes, sure”.

“Bring a few different outfits, makeup and accessories, especially shoes. Bring everything, I know Susan didn’t have a huge wardrobe”.

“It seems bigger than mine, but I guess you know what you are talking about… I’ll see you Friday. Thank you Alex, it meant a lot to Susan and it will mean a lot to me.”

:-:-:

So, on Friday I loaded my car with all of Susan's clothes and shoes I could find. I even found a tackle box full of makeup and a pretty box full of cheap jewelry and accessories.

I drove to Alex's house. When I parked outside I could see the lights were on inside. I sat in the car for a few minutes and asked myself what the hell I was doing here?

I got no reply, no prompt from Susan on the phone, just silence. If I was going to do this, there was no time like the present. I got out of the car and slowly walked to the door. I knocked lightly. It didn't take long for the door to open.

"I wondered how long it would take you to get up the courage to come in!" Alex greeted me, "Don't worry, it took Susan a while, too!"

"Well, yes. I'm not sure…" I started.

"Go and get the stuff from the car" Alex ordered "You're here now, so you're not leaving until I've done my worst!"

"Hmm, not ominous, at all" I said. I couldn't help smiling as I said it.

Alex helped me get in everything from the car and pile it on her bed. Then she took me the the bathroom, gave me two bottles of Nair and a special sponge and told me to read the instructions and get rid of my body hair.
"Don't use it on your face" she warned "you can shave that later, and leave it on for at least 5 minutes but no more than 8, give yourself time to wipe it off. Use the body wash in the white container afterwards.

She left me to my own devices. I think I would have chickened out of it if it was just for me, but I had promised Martin, and Susan, so I gritted my teeth and just did what I had to. The stuff was cold, sticky and white and smelled of chemicals and coconuts.

I scraped most of the gunk into a binbag that Alex had left for me but I still managed to block the shower plug hole. Showering with smooth skin felt so weird. Drying myself with the soft fluffy towel was odd too. I daren't rub my skin as the instructions were so clear to specify patting it dry.
The shower gel smelled of coconuts too, but not as strong, and the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner also smelled of coconuts.
I shaved really carefully, that, at least, felt normal.
I wrapped a towel round my waist and went to find Alex. She immediately grabbed the towel off me and wrapped around my chest 'girl style'.
" If I'm going to help you do this to honour Susan, then you are, so help me, going to do it right" she said with feeling. She wrapped another towel around my head turban style and took me back to her bedroom where she took off the turban and blow dried my hair.
She fluffed my hair up, it's quite long for a guy but it's not really girly. She pinned some kind of hairpiece thing in the back, she called it a 'fall' and she commented how lucky it was that Susan and I had the same colour hair.
Then Alex asked me to stand up and she took off my towel. She didn't ask, she just reached out and tweaked it off without a yank or anything. I was so shocked I didn't react, I just stood there, naked, with my mouth open. I was mortified.
Alex just giggled. "Oh, get over yourself, just us girls here… if you're thinking of getting all prissy on me then forget it. If this is going to work I'm going to have to get more intimate with you than your mother!"
"That doesn't inspire me with confidence, strangely" I said as I covered my privates with both hands.
"First things first" Alex said "No real girl ever used both hands like that! One for the pubes and one for the tits, either that or a hand on each hip and just cop an attitude!"
I moved one arm across my chest. Alex continued to look at me… I sighed and out my hands on my hips, feeling incredibly self conscious. Alex continued to watch me expectantly. I tried to fake being a sassy drag queen and stuck my chest out and threw my head back defiantly.
Alex hooted with laughter "You go, girl!"
I couldn't help grinning back.
Now the ice was broken, Alex handed me a garment she called a gaff and she helped my manhandle my bits into it. She gave me knickers and a bra in plain white cotton and breast forms to fill the bra. She looked me up and down…
"Damn," she said "are all the men in your family so girly?"
"You won't get a rise out of me! I'm doing this for Susan, this is a side of Martin I never got to know, it was a huge part of him, or her, I guess and I need to do this…" I sniffed back a tear, thinking that this was the closest I would ever get to really knowing Susan.
Alex looked at me appraisingly.
"I don't think that you're giving me the full reasons for why you're going through with this, but I have to admit you are highly motivated" she said "sit here and let's do your makeup".
Well, that's not a phrase I was expecting to hear a few days ago. But, in for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. I sat where indicated and let Alex fuss with me. Foundation, eye makeup of some kind (that was scary) and lipstick. Then she started putting a necklace and bracelet on me. She left me looking at a watch as she went off for a moment. When she came back she had a glass with ice in it. She got me to hold still while she used the ice on my ear somehow. There was a popping sensation and she said "There, now we'll do the other side!"
"You pierced my ear?"
"Duh".
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would you have tried to talk me out of it?"
"Probably".
"That's why I didn't tell you". The other ear had the same popping sensation. She went on, "these are the sleepers I gave Susan when we got her ears done".
She wiped my ears with a cloth that smelled of alcohol. It stung a bit.
She got me dressed then, tights and a mini dress and high heeled shoes. All the while she kept me from looking in the mirror. Finally she got me to close my eyes, stood me up and took me in front of the tall mirror on her wardrobe door.
"Open your eyes now, dear" she said "tada!" she said, as my eyes opened and widened.
I was a hot young woman, dressed to go clubbing and with makeup to match. It was impossible to guess my age, but because I looked nervous and insecure I looked considerably younger than my actual age. This might actually work.
My phone pinged.
"I almost feel like Susan is in the room with us…" I said to Alex.
My phone pinged again.
"You look amazing" Alex said "Better than I ever would have imagined. It's just, your mannerisms, it's a little jarring to see someone who looks like you standing like a builder".
"Aren't there lady builders these days? Isn't that incredibly sexist?" I asked, trying to camp it up and be a little bitchy.
"Pahaha!" Alex laughed at me. "That's so lame" she said "you really have no idea about women at all".
"I'm not gay!" I said.
"No, I can tell. At least most gay guys know their enemy. You literally don't know what a women means when she talks with you? You had no idea what it took to look like this? You have no idea how to walk or talk like an actual woman. And yet, somehow, you look like that. I don't get it".
" I just wanted to understand part of Susan's life that was completely closed to me… If I can go out in public, like this, on Halloween, I think it will help me".
“Ok, I can respect that, and I’m impressed that you are heading outside your comfort zone. But… how can I put this… you don’t ‘pass’ as female, people will see you as a bloke in a dress and react negatively. You will be very vulnerable and you could get into serious trouble, who will you have around to look out for you?”
“Oh” I said in a small voice as it suddenly hit me how vulnerable I would be making myself. Susan had lost her life and she knew the scene, she had friends and she knew how to behave in that circle. I would be a sitting duck, sanding out like a sore thumb.
“Why don’t you let me ring round and make this a kind of unofficial wake for Susan with some of her friends? As long as you are making an effort and don’t show us up, I think most of them would really like to meet you”.
“That sounds great, this would be on Halloween?” I asked.
“Sure, Halloween is a Saturday and that will be the only day that most people could make it. Any reason why Halloween specifically?” she asked.
I racked my brain, I knew Susan had mentioned Halloween but I couldn’t think of a valid reason or excuse. Then it hit me…
“Well, I could kind of laugh it off as being a Halloween costume, worn for a dare, if anyone I know meets me that night. I couldn’t really use that excuse any other night for the foreseeable future.” I said
“Hmm, I don’t think anyone who knows you will recognise… you” she said and then trialled off as a sudden thought hit her. “What are we going to call you? What is your girl name? We can’t call you Geoff or ‘Martin’s Dad’ when you look like that!”
“Oh, I never thought of that… Susan is taken already, that would be too weird. There isn’t a feminine version of Geoff, is there?” I asked.
“I can’t think of one. How about… Martina?” Alex said
“Sure, that makes it clear that I’m doing it for Martin and Susan without people getting confused about either name” I said.
“We had a girl called ‘Martine’ at school, we called her ‘Martini - anyone, anyplace, anytime. But that won’t apply to you, eh Martina, you’ll be a nun!, I’d guess!” said Alex.
I grinned back at her “Maybe, or maybe, with a few WKDs inside me I’ll forget which team I’m playing for?”
“Attagirl!” Alex said with enthusiasm.

:-:-:

When I checked my phone later there were two messages:
“I don’t know what you did - but I can feel a kind of pull from you”
And
“I don’t believe it - I’m in the room with you both. I can hear you! You can’t hear me, but this is amazing!”
I'd worn the dress home in the end. Alex had drilled me on sitting with my knees together, sweeping my skirt under me when I sat down, keeping towels, tampons wipes and lipstick in your handbag and a myriad of other things that I had never thought of before. Half the world lives like this and the rest of us never stop to think what that is all about. Women wear makeup because that's what women do, it's what is expected of them and what they expect of themselves and men are largely oblivious to the effort and artifice involved while unconsciously responding to the cues women have given them.
My head was whirling as I tried to shoehorn my brain into that mindset.
But, maybe, something about that girly mindset allowed Susan to contact me.
I stood in the middle of the room, bounced on my toes and swished my skirt.
"Susan? Can you hear me?" I whispered.
"Martina! Oh my god, this is amazing!" A voice said, shockingly close to my right ear, but so quiet I wasn't sure if heard it. It almost felt like it was my own inner voice, but it was so quiet.
I closed my eyes to stop the flood of tears that threatened to destroy my mascara.
"Susan. It is so good to talk with you, you have no idea!" I whispered.
"You. Can. Hear me! Woohoo!" Susan yelled in delight in my ear.
"I can hear you!" I said, with a huge grin on my face.
There was a pause then she asked "Did you feel that?"
I thought for a moment, did I feel anything? I'm pretty sure I didn't.
"I'm so sorry" I whispered "I can't feel you…"
"Can't have everything!" Susan said with forced cheerfulness.
"Does this mean we can talk, but only if I dress like you?" I asked.
"I'm pretty sure it's not the clothes maketh the man in this case, I think it's when you think like me, feel like me…"
"So, when I feel like a woman?..." I asked.
"Regardless of how you are dressed, when you let out the woman inside you, I'll be there. Now, get some sleep, we can talk in the morning" she said.
"If I am still a woman, regardless of how I dress?" I asked.
"Exactly!"
:-:-:
My dreams that night were extraordinarily vivid. Colours were brighter, smells were sweeter and everything in the world felt harder because I was softer.
And there was a man, young, tall, dark and handsome. Physically he attracted me so strongly, but there was something about his soul that repelled me.
:-:-:
When I woke in the morning I was disappointed when I realised I'd removed the forms Alex had fitted and I no longer had breasts.
I thought I would have to work on thinking like a girl, but in truth, I was a woman from the moment I woke. I was a mother who yearned to hear her daughter. Later in the day I would come to wish she would shut up. But that morning, was like a Christmas wish come true.
Susan drilled me all day on moving, thinking and behaving like her. Not any woman, but specifically like Susan. She trained me with her makeup and watched my every move.
It was supernaturally effective. She made me put together a sexy witches outfit, nothing too extreme. Basically a black clubbing dress, heavy on the lace and short enough, if it rode up on my thighs a bit, to show I was wearing stockings with a lacy belt rather than tights. The finishing touch was a black lopsided pointy hat. The makeup was pale with dark eyes and letterbox red lipstick. By the end of the week, when Halloween rolled around, I was quite looking forward to giving it an outing.
Alex had been busy and rounded up a group of friends.
She'd also verified that my outfit and makeup passed muster. She insisted that I turned up early at her place so that she could fix my attempt, but in the end she could only praise me and let's ok a little a little unsettled.
"You look so like her, it's spooky…" she told me.
When Susan's friends started arriving there were a lot of double takes. People who remembered me from the funeral couldn't believe it was me.
Several people called me 'Susan' during the night. Susan was talking in my ear a lot and she was slightly weirded out by it all, especially how many people turned out to remember her.
We made our way into town in a combination of taxis and peoples cars. Alex and I shared a lift in with a guy called Mark, he had a girlfriend called Sarah who was gorgeous and dressed in a Gothic Lolitta fashion. Mark was dressed as a, rather lame, vampire and would fake biting Sarah’s neck at every opportunity. Sarah would ham up the ‘Oh no! Not my tender, virginal, neck!’ and swoon into his arms.
They were a cute couple.
I got to talk to a lot of Susan’s friends, there were a few LGBT+ people there, but most of them were just normal kids, with a slightly more tolerant view of peoples gender and sexuality than I had had.
As the evening went on we moved from pub to pub. Each time we moved on a few people drifted away from our group. As we entered the Winchester Arms, Susan hissed in my ear "That's him, by the back!"
I looked around and spotted a guy on his own with his back to the wall, nursing a pint and watching everyone passing by. He was kind of medium, medium height, medium build, brown hair, medium length. There was very little to distinguish him. He wore a long black leather jacket and he had facial hair that was part way between a beard and stubble.
He looked like a boy next door trying to be a bad boy without pissing off his mum.
His eyes met me me and there was a kind of shock of recognition.
We got some drinks in and started talking about Game of Thrones. Susan was apparently watching him like a hawk so I tried to relax and have a good time with our friends as she told me what he was doing. After a while Mark decided that it was time to move on to the next pub. We all got ready to go. Susan told me, "He's getting ready to follow you, get ready. When we get outside tell Alex we're going home".
So, we were all milling around outside the pub, discussing which pub we were going to next. I took Alex to one side and told her "Thanks for a lovely evening, I really appreciate all the effort you put in, I feel a bit like an interesting of fogey though. I'm going to head on home and I'll give a call tomorrow and you can tell me all the stories of who got drunk and 'copped off' with who!"
"Well, if that statement doesn't qualify you as an 'old fogey' I don't know what would. I'm glad you got a chance to experience this, maybe we can do it again sometime?"
"I'd really like that, even if I have to dress like a girl… c'mere" and I gave Alex a loving hug. If things didn't go well tonight, I might not survive til tomorrow and I wanted her to be sure of how much I appreciated her help.
I pulled my coat tighter around myself and headed off towards the taxi rank.
Susan told me, a few minutes later, that the guy was following us.
"What do I do?" I whispered to Susan.
"Let him follow… walk towards home, don't go into a pub" she told me.
"That's at least 2 miles, in high heels, and he might drag me into an alley at any moment!" I whispered back, growing increasingly worried. We hadn't really thought this out "and I would have to explain why I turned 180 degrees and went back the way I've come!"
"Well, that's easy, you've run out of money and you can't afford a taxi or another drink, but you didn't want your friends to know" Susan explained “Anyway, he won’t question it, he’s on the hunt. He’ll just accept the lucky break.”
That didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. Oh well, maybe if I looked more scared it would make me seem like easier prey.
I couldn’t see him, but apparently Susan could.
“He’s following you, just keep going” she told me.
My feet were already starting to hurt, it was cold and starting to drizzle and I was really beginning to wonder what I thought I was doing.
“He’s making a move, stay calm” Susan said.
I’m glad she said something, because I nearly died of a heart attack when a deep voice said in my ear “Are you alright? You seem to be limping slightly… Can I help?”
I started slightly, then said “Oh! You startled me! I’m walking home, I don’t have enough money for the taxi… and I think I’m getting a blister”.
“Oh, well, I don’t have enough money for a taxi either. But I’m walking in this direction anyway, could you, I don’t know, lean on me or something? Would that help?” he asked. He sounded so reasonable and so helpful.
“If I could hang on to your arm, that might help me walk” I allowed.
So, we set off, with my arm through his. His strong, manly, tall, good-smelling… shit, he was so cute I almost forgot he was a killer!
We chatted while we walked, just small talk, where are you from, what do you do, that kind of thing.
He didn’t give me much information about himself, no girlfriend, boring job, etc.
I guess I didn’t give much away either.
But he was so… plausible, I iguess. The longer we talked the more I realised I was really enjoying talking with him. He was tall, dark and oh so handsome. I couldn’t believe he didn’t have a girlfriend.
If I had been a real girl I would have volunteered for the job!
We got to my front door before I realised we were nearly there. I hadn’t really thought through where we were going and I was a bit flustered when I realised I didn’t have a clue what to do next.
“Invite him in for coffee!” Susan whispered in my ear. I’d almost forgotten she was there. She sounded much nearer somehow, maybe my attraction for mister tall dark and stabby had made me even more girly?
“Err, I would invite you in for coffee. But I don’t even know your name…” I said.
“It’s Carl, and I’d love to” he said.
“Martina” I said, and shook his hand. Or I tried to, he took the proffered limb and raised it to his lips. Gosh. If I’d had the bits, my knickers would be moist by now.
I blushed and turned to open the door, my eyes downcast.
We went into the house, I turned on the hall light and I saw myself in the mirror. Not too bad, my lipstick could use a touch up, but there was no way anyone was mistaking me for a man tonight. I offered to take Carl's jacket, but I kept my coat on for now, because I was still cold.
I turned the heating on and headed into the kitchen. I didn't turn all the lights on, just the lights on the cupboards. I figured gentle lighting was my friend.
I filled the kettle, found some mugs and looked in the cupboard for a packet of biscuits.
"How do you take it?" I asked.
"Black is fine" he said.
"Make sure you make yours the same in the same looking mug" Susan urged me "you don't need to worry, I'll watch him like a hawk, but I think he put something in my drink".
Fortunately all my mugs matched. I made two black coffees and I put the mugs and biscuits on the kitchen table.
"Shall we go through to the living room?" Carl suggested.
"Sure, just have to pee" I said "you can't miss it".
I put the mugs and biscuits on a tray and handed it too him and I headed to the downstairs cloakroom. I'd kept my phone in my coat pocket, thank goodness, so when I sat down I fished out my phone and texted Alex.
"I think I've made a mistake. A guy called Carl followed me home and I invited him in for coffee" I sent. Then I put the phone on silent. I finished my pee and washed my hands.
I hung my coat on the hook as I went to the living room, I was warming up now.
Carl must have hung his coat too. He had made himself at home, loosened his collar and kicked off his shoes.
Susan whispered in my ear - "The stuff is in the mug opposite him!"
I took in the position of the coffee table, the mugs and the sofa and armchair and I formed a plan. I walked around to sit in the comfy armchair by the sofa that would form an angle with the sofa. Much better to chat than sitting next to each other and it matched the way he had put the mugs. Clever planning on his part, no pressure to sit next to him and make out on the sofa
There was a table lamp between the chair and sofa on a small table. I turned it on and gestured to Carl to turn the main light off. As he scooted down the sofa to comply, his eyes were averted for a moment and I switched the mugs.
When he turned back to me I smiled broadly in the gentler light. His eyes seemed drawn to me and he didn't seem to notice the switch.
"Nice one!" Susan said.
Carl and I carried on talking and our coffee cooled as we spoke. I kept one eye on the clock and tried to judge how long it would take Alex to read the message and come looking for me. I figured it was a kind of insurance policy, in case things went wrong, but now I was beginning to regret it. My whole plan now hinged on getting Carl to drink whatever witches brew he had planned to get me to drink. My ‘ace in the hole’ was that Susan was keeping an eye on him for me and would alert me if he pulled anything. He was bigger and stronger than me, but I was guessing my strength as a man might surprise him, even as short and petite as I was I would still be stronger than a woman the same size, or even a trans-girl on hormones. I think.
How could I get him to down his drink in one? It would be cool enough to drink now.
I said “Look at the time! I had no idea it was so late! Drink up, I have to be in work tomorrow!” and downed my coffee in a few gulps.
Carl looked at me a moment to see how quickly the drugs would affect me.
I looked back at him impatiently, willing him to drink his coffee.
“C’mon,” I said “drink up and let me have your mug and then I’ll get your coat. It’s been lovely to meet you, and I hope we can meet again, but I’m sure you’ll understand that you have to let me get my beauty sleep!”
Carl took the hint and downed his drink and handed me the mug.
I took the tray out to the kitchen, faking feeling tired. MAybe he would believe the drugs were working?
I got his jacket and handed it to him. He was starting to look a little worried now, if I got him the other side of the door before I passed out I guess he wouldn’t get whatever thrill he was looking for.
I handed him the jacket and he put it on. Then he swept me off my feet and kissed me like I had never been kissed before. At first I struggled a bit, then I let him think he had me. I gave into him and his tongue explored my mouth, his hands hugged me close to him and I could feel his erection pressing hard against me as my breast forms were squashed against his chest.
Damn, but he was a delicious hunk of manly saltiness.
I didn’t have to fake swooning, the world went a little dim. I wondered for a moment if I’d got the wrong mug after all.
Then a voice whispered in my ear, incredibly close. I could feel the breath of the speaker on my skin as Susan said “Oh wow, your soul just lit up and went pink, like it was blushing! What on Earth was that?”
“Mmmmm” I murmured around Carl’s tongue.
Then he faltered, his manly arms that had seemed as rigid as steel bars loosened their grip and he straightened to keep his balance.
“Wh-what?” he said, then he rallied as sudden realisation hit him and anger and fear kicked in “You switched the coffee?!”
“Yes” I said simply “A girl has to be careful, these days”.
I got my phone from my coat and set it to record.
“What did you put in my coffee? What was it you wanted me to drink?” I asked him.
He was wobbling now and his pupils were wide.
“Drugs” he said “My own concoction”.
“Were you trying to kill me?” I asked.
“Not exactly, they were to make you… willing, sub…” he trailed off.
“Submissive?” I asked.
“Yes. Sub...missive” he agreed.
“Have you got anymore of that stuff?” I asked.
“Lots, at home, some, in my pocket…” he said. He was running out of steam fast and slumped to the floor. I helped lay his head down so he didn’t just keel over.

Someone started ringing the doorbell.
“Martina! Martina! Let me in you STUPID BITCH!” Alex yelled.
“Carl, tell me, did you kill my daughter, Susan?” I asked.
“I think so” he mumbled “He looked like you…”
“SHE looked like me!” I said with some venom.
“Yes she did” Susan agreed. I could feel the satisfaction in her voice, “You don’t have to let him die, you know?” she went on “I think you have enough to satisfy justice".
Carl closed his eyes then, I knew he was going unconscious. Alex was getting increasingly frantic so I let her in and told her "I'm calling an ambulance, I'm ok but you'll have to wait a moment".
She pushed past me and saw Carl lying there, her mouth dropped open and she listened as I called an ambulance. I told them that an acquaintance had accidentally overdosed on something, I didn't know what and he had gone unconscious. I said I needed to hang up to call the police and they told me that the police would be called but I needed to stay on the line so that they could talk me through first aid.
The guy on the phone was brilliant, and Alex helped me move Carl into the recovery position. He was still breathing when the paramedics arrived but he died soon after he arrived in hospital.
The police were sceptical. They couldn't get my story to add up. Later they would exhume Susan's body and match the cocktail of drugs with the vial in Carl's pocket, but from the beginning they couldn't accept the coincidence that he targeted me.
I told them "I guess he had a type, I'm told I look like my daughter".
"She really does!" Alex offered.
The recording that I made might not have been admissible as evidence in a murder trial, but it was accepted as evidence to the coroner.
I wiped the text messages from Susan before I handed over the phone as evidence. No one else ever confirmed that they could see them.
I've never heard her voice since that night, or felt her presence so close. But I feel she's watching over me, somehow
My life has changed, maybe my soul is a little more pink. I only got to know Susan after Martin was gone. But she will be part of me forever.