May 1986

Detective Sergeant Archie Sanders and his partner Detective Constable Sandra Tingle had stopped at a layby on the A12 near Mountnessing and were drinking tea purchased from the take away food van and smoking cigarettes.

"This is the worst cup of tea I think I've ever had," Archie Sanders poured most of his drink onto the cracked asphalt.

"Shouldn't we get a wriggle on Archie?" Sandra Tingle tossed her styrofoam cup into an overflowing bin.

"SOCO will want the scene for a while and the local wooden-tops will keep the vultures away. Lucky for us the university sits on private land so entry is easily controlled," Archie replied, studying the glowing tip of his cigarette.

He dropped the half-smoked gasper into his cup and listened to it hiss as the remaining dregs of his tea snuffed it out.

"Alright Sandra; let's go," gravel crunched under their feet as they strode over to the Metropolitan Police issued Ford Granada.

Archie looked around the layup and saw three lorry drivers lined up at the food van, no one was looking their way. Sandra was walking ahead of him a pace or two and he reached out and grasped the crook of her arm and spun her around and stepped into her. He kissed her, holding her close as he softly squeezed her buttocks through her drab navy-blue skirt.

Sandra struggled and pushed him away.

"For fuck sake Archie! Anyone could see us! We're on the job for fuck sake!" she smoothed her skirt and looked angrily at him.

"Who's going to see us and who cares if they do? We're a long way from London; no one knows us," Archie grinned that infectious boyish grin.

"We're on our way to a murder scene," Sandra admonished him.

"It's just the sight of you with your hair pulled back in that awful bun, that shapeless suit, those thick blue tights and those scuffed low heels gets me going," Archie smirked, reaching for the door handle.

Sandra was used to his sarcasm. They had been partners for three years and had begun their affair in earnest just over a year ago.

"Get in the car you muppet, we've taken too long already," Sandra opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, smoothing out her skirt under her.

The skirt was knee-length and didn't show much leg but she was self-conscious about Archie's comment about her thick, dark-blue tights, flat shoes and rumpled dark woollen suit which she wore for efficiency. She was a police detective on the job and fashion had no place for the practicalities of policework.

As they re-entered the A12 Archie Sanders opened the slim file on his lap to review the case.

"This is one strange fucked up case. If there wasn't a bunch of toffs involved the locals would have it and they would be welcome to it," Robert tapped the file with his biro.

"If the tabloids get hold of it they will have a field day," Sandra Tingle said around an unlit cigarette.

She slammed the cigarette lighter into the socket and waved the packet at Archie who took one.

"You're a bad influence Sandra, I told Pauline that I was giving up," Archie reached for the lighter and held it so Sandra would light up and then put the hot coils to his own cigarette and puffed.

"I don't want to know what you and Pauline discuss at home," Sandra stared frostily out the window.

When they'd started their affair they had agreed to limit conversation about their respective partners. Both felt guilty about cheating but neither was prepared to cease their relationship which had started as a fling whilst conducting a police training course in Liverpool and developed into something that neither of the two was prepared to put a name on, nor resist the temptation of continuing at every opportunity.

"So... Chelmsford College... university boarding school for the entitled and a couple of scholarship students. The place looks like a throwback to something out of an Evelyn Waugh novel," Archie continued.

"Just look at the place," Archie pointed out the windscreen.

They were approaching the two granite pillars from which hung foreboding wrought iron gates. There was a panda car parked at the entrance and a WPC checked their warrant cards before opening the gates to let them through. She spoke into a police radio announcing their arrival to police at the scene.

Archie shivered as they drove up the gravel driveway to the large brooding grey granite building. Across the manicured lawns, and playing fields he could see a few outbuildings on the edge of the dense woods. There was a small assemblage of police vehicles including the white Transit van used by SOCO outside of one of the buildings. A PC standing in the middle of the driveway waved his white gloves directing them to follow the ruts cut in the lush grass caused by the tyres of police vehicles driving to the crime scene.

"We're supposed to visit the Headmaster; one Francis Lister, before we begin our investigation," Sandra said.

"Fuck the headmaster. I know how these places operate. They have a strict pecking order and he will want to control where we go, who we interview and what we do. We'll let him know it's our investigation and we'll run it how we damn well please," Archie tossed his cigarette out the window.

"You'll get him offside, he won't cooperate as fully if we antagonise him," Sandra commented.

"He'll call the Chief Constable and complain. He'll use the public school old boy network but fuck 'em; I'm not going to be led around by the nose by a bunch of upper-class, entitled wankers," Archie unbuckled his seat belt as they pulled up next to the SOCO van.

"Say what you mean why don't you Archie," Sandra smiled to herself as she set the parking brake and turned the motor off.

"Detective Constable Raymond Smith, Chelmsford police," a tall skinny man offered his hand first to Archie and then to Sandra.

"This is a strange one. Not even sure it's a murder... I don't know what it is. SOCO would like to show you what they have in situ before they remove the body.

Detective Constable Smith led them to the SOCO van.

Unlike what is portrayed on American television, Scene Of Crime Officers and their CSI counterparts do not attend crime scenes dressed in Armani and Gucci with flamboyant coiffed hair and big pistols strapped to their sides. Nor do they solve cases. They gather and interpret forensic evidence and to them the crime scene is sacred.

Archie and Sandra were issued with disposable Tyvek full-body suits, over-boots and surgical gloves. They followed Detective Constable Smith down a pathway to a ramshackle small brick cottage. He left them at the door and they stepped on rubber pavers laid from the door to the crime scene.

The interior of the cottage was not as bad as the exterior. The power was on and as they stepped into the kitchen it was obvious to them that so was the water. The kitchen looked like it had recently been used even though the furniture and fitting were old and decrepit. There were crisp packets, bottles of pop, cans of beer and spirit bottles on the countertop and a stack of cardboard cups in one corner.

They continued through to a small reception room furnished with a musty old sofa and two armchairs and a scarred coffee table with an overflowing ashtray, open beer cans, and styrofoam cups scattered on it. A small television with a VCR connected to it sat atop a board supported by wooden beer crates. Archie walked over and looked at the small collection of video tapes beside the VCR and studied them briefly.

"Porn. Well it is a male-only college so that's not surprising," he commented.

"Looks like it's some sort of party house; there has definitely been a party here recently."

"Don't they have house common rooms for that kind of thing? You know... pissed young men full of Newcastle Brown Ale singing bawdy rugby songs, bullying the weaker and less entitled lads?" Sandra knitted her brows.

"The college has four houses: Lion, River, Crozier and Bridge; but I'm sure the house rules forbid pornography and drinking would be somewhat controlled. Look over there," Archie pointed to a makeshift bar set up in the corner.

They followed the crime scene tiles into a corridor that gave access to four small rooms: two bedrooms, a toilet and a bathroom. The carpet was faded and threadbare, the wallpaper was ripped, bleached, and mouldy and some sheets were hanging loose.

"What a shithole," Archie sighed, looking around.

They heard muttering and footsteps coming from one of the bedrooms and they made their way to the door and knocked softly.

A small women encased in Tyvek came over to greet them.

"Sarah Pheffington; senior scene of crime officer," she smiled but didn't offer her hand for obvious reasons.

"Follow me," they trod carefully over to a large bed.

The bed was old but the bedding was new. Lying in the middle of the bed was a young woman who was obviously deceased.

Despite the pallor of her skin they could see that she was very pretty with carefully applied makeup and black, shoulder-length hair styled into a bob with a fringe that rested on her brows. She was lying on her back and was wearing a cerise satin blouse and a black leather miniskirt. Her legs were sheathed in expensive fully-fashioned flesh-toned stockings and her feet shod in black stiletto high heels. Her arms were spread imperceptivity and slightly curved with the palms facing each other in a position described as Demi-seconde in ballet. Sandra Tingle noticed the blood-red fingernail polish through the plastic bags that SOCO had put over the deceased girl's hands.

Her legs were spread rather lewdly, her stockings were laddered and her skirt and blouse were stained and her skirt rested at the top of her thighs, bunched up a little.

"Was she posed?" Sandra asked.

"We don't know. This is the position she was in when we arrived and the groundsman who found her and the attending PCs claim that other than checking her for signs of life they never touched the body," Sarah Pheffington replied.

"We photographed her of course and then did some preliminary forensics so we have moved her. I had her put back into this position so you could see how she looked when she was found."

"Cause of death?" Archie asked.

"We won't know until the coroner does the autopsy but to me it looks like strangulation or suffocation. There are signs of conjunctival and facial petechial haemorrhages but they are common to both causes of death. There are no signs of any serious wounds to the body," Sarah Pheffington pointed to small bloody contusions in the woman's eyes.

"There is some bruising around the neck but that might be the result of rough sex or it could support the strangulation theory."

"Sexual assault?" Sandra Tingle asked.

"Well that's where it gets interesting. You can see how provocatively she's dressed and her skirt had been hiked up but you'll be surprised when I show you this," Sarah reached into a soft carry-case and brought out a large torch.

"Lights please Jim," she called out to the SOCO photographer who was standing by the door.

The window had been covered over by tarpaper so when Jim switched out the light and closed the door the room was pitch black.

Sarah switched on the torch which turned out to be a high intensity ultra-violet light. She trained the light on the woman's body, starting at her feet and working her way upwards. As soon as the light got to the woman's thighs, tell-tale fluorescent splotches began to appear. The tops of her thighs seemed to be soaked.

Sarah lifted the woman's skirt higher. The crotch of her knickers was one big iridescent splotch.

"Help me roll her over," Sarah asked and Archie assisted.

The back of the woman's panties glowed eerily under the UV light.

"Christ!" Archie said disgustedly.

"I'll have to test it but surely you can smell it," Sarah trained the light around the scene.

Both Archie and Sandra recognised the musty smell of semen but they had originally thought it was just the mustiness of the cottage. The bed clothes were covered with phosphorescent stains. Some glowed brightly; others were faint. There was even trace evidence on the floor rug.

"The bedding in the second bedroom yielded the same results," Sandra explained.

They rolled the woman onto her back and Jim turned the ceiling light on and Sarah switched off the UV light and put it away.

"That's a lot of semen if that's what it is," Sandra commented.

"First off I need to confirm that it is semen but I'm ninety-nine percent sure. But that's not the most interesting part. This is," Sarah entwined her fingers in the dead woman's hair and gently pulled at it.

It came away in her hand. It was a wig. The woman's actual hair colour was brunette; she had a collar length, shag-styled pixie-cut with a soft fringe.

"And that's not all," Sarah lifted the woman's skirt out of the way and pulled her knickers down at the front.

The young woman had a penis.

"Jesus Christ!" Archie stepped back from the corpse.

Sandra was speechless.

"Tingle; with me now!" Archie stormed out of the room.

He led Sandra out of the cottage to a small copse of trees and fumbled for his cigarettes inside the Tyvek bodysuit.

They both lit up and drew smoke into their lungs before Archie spoke.

"I thought this was going to be pretty simple. Some over-privileged toffs lured a brass or a girlfriend to an on-campus party and one of them either got carried away or deliberately killed her," Archie was walking in a small circle talking as much to himself as Sandra.

"But this... this is going to be a shit sandwich!"

"First we need to establish the identity of the young woman. Is she a student? Is she a local? Or is she a prostitute whose services they paid for?" Sandra speculated.

"What if they thought they were paying for the services of a woman and one or all of them find out that she's a tranny and they lose it and kill her? The same hypothesis could apply if they had invited what they though was a girl down here to party and then found out she was trans," Sandra theorised.

"We're getting ahead of ourselves. First thing we need to know is if she's a student," Archie sounded resolved.

"Detectives! Please come back inside a minute," Sarah Pheffington called from the cottage doorway.

"What now?" Archie hissed as he strode back to the cottage with Sandra following behind.

"In here," Sarah pointed to the wardrobe in the room where the body had been found.

Ian the photographer had just finished taking a series of photographs of whatever they had found in the wardrobe and Sarah reached into the wardrobe and brought out a handful of small clear plastic baggies. Ian took more photographs and then backed away.

Sandra carefully opened one of the small Ziploc bags and examined the contents with a small plastic spatula while one of the other SOCOs arrived with a small case that the detectives recognised as a field test kit.

Sarah took a sample of the white powder from the Ziploc bag; put it in a phial with the reagent and immediately the pink liquid turned blue.

"Preliminary positive result for cocaine," she noted more for her records than for the benefit of the detectives who knew exactly what they had witnessed.

"The fucking hits just keep on coming!" Archie Sanders puffed out his cheeks and exhaled.

"Jim, take a couple of Polaroids of the woman's face... are we still calling her a woman? Take a couple of Polaroids of the deceased for me and a couple of the bags of white powder. Time to call on the headmaster I think," Archie went back outside and Sandra followed.

They disposed of their protective clothing and wrote up their contemporaneous notes while they waited for the photographs to be taken. Archie called over Detective Constable Raymond Smith.

"Do you know what we have in there?" Archie nodded his head towards the cottage.

"Dead girl; looks like a Tom or a party-girl. Evidence of a party... that's about all I know," Detective Constable Smith replied.

"And that's all you and these wooden-tops need to know. Anything else leaks out before a formal police statement is made I'll hold you personally responsible... get it," Archie growled.

"I was warned that you Met types can be a bit pugnacious; don't worry Sergeant, I don't know anything else and I don't want to know anything else. The Chief Constable called you in for a reason and I'm glad he did," Raymond shrugged his shoulders and gave Archie a pragmatic grin.

"Pugnacious... living near a university has obviously improved your vocabulary," Archie turned away and walked over to the SOCO photographer who was waiting for him.

"Here you go," Jim handed over a small stack of polaroids.

"I'd like some of the trans woman without makeup because I bet you a pound to a pinch of shit that she is a student here," Archie flicked through the photographs and handed them to Sandra.

"I know you would but we can't remove anything from the victim's body until the coroner does the autopsy but I took one of her with the wig removed if that helps," Jim told Archie what he already knew.

Archie and Sandra got back in their Granada and drove back across the field and turned onto the gravel road leading to the university.

"I'm fucking confused here Sandra. Do I call her-her or her-him or what?" Archie shook his head.

"Convention says that a trans woman identifies as female and should be addressed accordingly but in this case we are talking about someone who is deceased. Once we identify the body we'll have a better idea," Sandra was looking at the pictures.

"But fucking Christ Archie, I never would have guessed. She's prettier and more feminine than most women her age, even dead," it was Sandra's turn to shake her head.

Detective Sergeant Sanders and Detective Constable Tingle were not amused when they were made to wait outside Francis Lister's office. When they were finally escorted into the Headmaster's grand office they were fuming.

Archie Sanders stormed over to a huge mahogany desk and dropped the photographs of the dead girl in front of Francis Lister.

"While you're fucking us around playing silly games, that person is lying dead in one of your old groundsman's cottages," Archie stabbed a finger at the polaroids.

Francis arose out of a throne like chair, straightened his jacket and tie and offered his hand.

"Professor Francis Lister, Headmaster of Chelmsford University College," Francis kept his hand extended although Archie made no effort to shake it.

After an awkward silence Francis withdrew his hand and gestured at two seats at the front of his desk.

"Let me get things going on the right foot here headmaster. This is a murder investigation and I won't be treated like a schoolboy. My partner and I intend to fully investigate what has happened here and I expect your full cooperation," Archie ignored the seat the headmaster was pointing at.

"I'm sorry I was on the phone to the board of trustees. I thought it imperative that they knew what has happened Detective," The headmaster dropped back into his seat.

"Detective Sergeant Sanders and this is Detective Constable Tingle and how can you tell the trustees what has happened when I don't bloody well know myself?" Archie spat.

"I merely informed them that there had been a death at the college, that it was suspicious and that the local constabulary has requested support from the Metropolitan Police as they are ill-equipped to deal with the case," Francis replied calmly.

Sandra Tingle could see that this adversarial sniping back and forth was not helping.

"Professor, can you please look closely at the pictures on your desk and tell us if you recognise who it is in the photographs?" Sandra got the interview back on track.

Sandra witnessed a spark of recognition on Francis Lister's face as soon as he picked up one of the prints but the Professor took his time studying each one.

"I'm almost certain that it's Charles Ward," the headmaster sighed.

"Almost certain? He's wearing full makeup and a wig," Sandra needled him a little.

"I've seen Charles in makeup before; one Halloween he dressed up as the character Elvira, Mistress of the Dark from that silly American TV show; she has a cult following amongst the lads. His friend William Larkin dressed as Blondie, you know Deborah Harry, and they ran around the campus creating mayhem. I had to discipline Charles that evening, he'd taken the whole thing quite too far," can I see the picture with the wig removed?" he pointed to a photograph.

"That hairstyle is quite unique and the facial features match. Do you have any pictures of the deceased without makeup?" Francis continued to study the pictures.

"The SOCO won't let us remove the makeup until a thorough forensic examination is complete and the coroner has completed the autopsy. We might remove trace evidence by removing the makeup," Sandra explained.

"It's him. It's Charles," the headmaster's voice cracked and for an instant his pomposity disappeared and he looked vulnerable.

"Any idea why he might be dressed like a woman and down at the old cottage last night?" Archie interposed.

The headmaster ruminated on the question for a while before he answered.

"The university has a strict code and each of the houses also has their own rules. Chelmsford College is one of the last British universities to be run along the lines of a public school. The strict discipline and code of conduct produces outstanding academic results and outstanding young men," Francis began.

"But we are dealing with young men here; not boys and they have men's appetites," he nodded sagely to himself.

"I'm sure there are shenanigans going on, on the campus. Sneaking in girls, drinking parties and so on; I'm sure that some of the students have experimented with drugs, it is the nineteen eighties after all," the headmaster harrumphed.

"Yes it is," Archie had withheld the pictures of the bags of cocaine and decided that he wouldn't show the headmaster just yet.

"Look. Our preliminary inspection of the crime scene suggests that the old groundsman's cottage was being used as a regular venue for what you call shenanigans. We will need to interview Charles Ward's friends and acquaintances," Archie explained.

"We haven't had a positive identification yet and someone is going to have to inform the deceased next of kin," Archie put out a hand as the headmaster reached for the phone.

"Someone from the police service will undertake that task Professor and request a family member make a formal identification so let's not get ahead of ourselves. That said; your identification from the photograph is enough for us to continue our investigations here on campus."

"Very well. Charles was very good rugby player and up until recently he was in the first fifteen and was pivotal in the College team making it to the semi-finals but for some reason he was dropped from the team. I'd start there. To my recollection he never really fitted in and didn't have a great many close friends. He fagged for Robert Fellows when he was a lower houseman," the headmaster consulted a file he'd taken from a compactus.

"Fagged?" Archie looked bemused.

"I'll explain it to you; it's not what you think," Sandra interjected.

"Where do we find this Robert Fellows?" Archie asked.

"Look Detective Sergeant, this school is attended by the sons of some of the most prodigious people in Great Britain. We could do without the scandal. I would ask that you be a little discreet," Francis puffed out his chest.

"If I can rely on your full cooperation, we will be as discreet as we can," Archie gave the headmaster a mirthless smile.

"Very well then. Mr Fellows obtained honours in his Bachelor of Business Management and stayed on to get his Master's despite his father being well to do in international banking circles. His father could have started him off in a very substantial and well paid position. I presume that Robert decided the prestige of a Master's would obtain him a better position in his father's corporation," Francis explained.

"I'll have you escorted to Robert Fellows' dormitory room and have him brought to you there. I dare say you will want to examine Charles Ward's dormitory and as it turns out, it adjoins Robert Fellows. Perhaps you might want to do that while you wait for Robert?" the headmaster said.

Archie and Sandra looked at each other quizzically when the headmaster told them that Charles and Robert's rooms were adjacent.

"Sections 8-18 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984, gives police statutory protection to enter and search premises for evidence. These powers can be put into practice with or without a search warrant but I would prefer that you consent to us searching Charles Ward's dorm," Archie said.

"And in return for my cooperation?" the headmaster asked expectantly.

"We will be as discreet as possible," Archie relented.

Francis Lister pressed a button on his intercom.

"Mrs Frobisher, please escort these police officers to Charles Ward's dormitory and give them the key," Francis spoke into intercom.

*****

April 1985

Charlotte returned to Chelmsford College on the Saturday before lectures began. Most students would arrive on the Sunday to prepare themselves for the grind of the summer term. Charlotte returned early so she could prepare herself for Robert. She waited by the interconnecting door to their dorms and when she heard the rattle of the key in the front door of Robert's dorm she threw open the interconnecting door and entered Robert's dorm.

Robert dropped his suitcases and opened his arms and Charlotte ran into them. She clung to Robert as he kissed her passionately, guiding over to the bed. She was wearing the French maid's costume for him as a treat and his hands pawed at her buttocks and thighs. When the back of her legs came up against the edge of the bed, he pushed her and she fell onto the bed, her arms open, smiling up at him.

Robert gazed down at Charlotte, his initial impatience restrained. She looked exotic and erotic in the black satin dress with the white lace trim, the skirt was high on her legs and the welts of her provocative black fully-fashioned stockings emphasised her creamy alabaster thighs. Her makeup was heavy and seductive, she lay how she had fell, her legs lewdly open showing off her pretty red satin knickers. She was not tucked and he could see the distinctive bulge of her penis.

"Are you just going to keep looking or are you going to fuck me?" Charlotte said, her tone mocking and indecent.

Robert could tell that she wanted it quick and hard.

"You can suck this first," he wrapped his fingers in her hair.

He realised that the brunette pixie-cut was actually her own hair and not a wig as he pulled her face into his crotch.

"Come on honey, suck my cock," he unzipped himself with his free hand.

Charlotte needed no further encouragement and she swallowed all she could of his hard flesh. Robert kept his hand entwined in her tresses and held her face on his cock while he fed her his engorged phallus and Charlotte used her lips and tongue to good effect. She could feel his already erect penis become fully engorged and begin to pulse as she slavered at the hard flesh, swallowing Robert's pre-ejaculate as it oozed from his glans.

Her own cock was rock-hard and tenting her knickers, the red satin was dark and wet where she had leaked into the silky garment. She stroked it softly, too sacred she would climax if she squeezed it too hard.

"Ok sweetheart, let's get you sorted," Robert pulled her face from his groin and pushed her back on the bed.

She opened her legs invitingly and smiled up at him seductively.

"No not like that. You want to be fucked, well I'm going to fuck you," Robert grinned as he shucked out of his jeans and underpants.

He rolled Charlotte over and climbed on the bed and lifted her onto her hands and knees. He pulled her knickers down her thighs and saw that she was already lubricated so he wasted no time and pushed his glans into her puckered bud and then thrust. Charlotte howled with both pain and delight as Robert's cock drilled into her all the way.

"Now we're going to do some fucking," Robert grunted as gripped her hips and began to vigorously fuck her.

"Oh god yes, fuck me darling," Charlotte gasped coarsely, wriggling her buttocks and clenching her sphincter to encourage him.

She liked him taking her this way. Most of their lovemaking recently had been soft and tender but there was something to be said for a good plain old fashioned shag.

Robert's cock was deep in Charlotte's anus, pressing on her prostate while his thick shaft stimulated her sphincter, her velvety tight soft channel had not been used for a quite a while and it was tight and clung to Robert's cock, enveloping it, her anal muscles undulating, almost milking him.

"Come on Robert fuck me! Fuck me hard!" she moaned pushing her buttocks into his groin.

Robert obliged and pounded his cock in and out of Charlotte's tight hole hard and fast.

"Here it comes baby," Robert pulled on her tresses as if they were reins as Charlotte swung her head from side to side in a delirium of lust.

She felt him explode as his penis swelled and quivered, filling her with hot cum.

"Yes give it to me! Give me your spunk!" she squealed.

Charlotte was stroking herself vigorously and she came, splashing her seed on the bedcovers.

Robert viciously fucked her as he emptied himself inside her tight anus and when she collapsed under his onslaught he continued to fuck her, grinding her into the bed until he was fulfilled. When he had finished he lay on top of her exhausted, his cock still buried in her anus.

After a while she struggled free and Robert rolled over and pulled her close and kissed her.

"I missed you," he smiled at her.

"I missed you too," she smiled back at him.

"I'm ready to go again," he grinned at her.

Charlotte reached down and found him tumescent.

"So am I," she grinned back.

And so the new term began and time flew until once again it was time for the term break.

*****

Charlotte noticed subtle changes in Robert when he returned in September from the summer break. They had been unable to meet during the holiday. That is to say Charlotte was keen to rendezvous somewhere discreet but Robert claimed he just couldn't get away from his family. This seemed a strange excuse for a twenty-one year old man.

At the college his appetite for sex had not diminished however and he encouraged Charlotte to come to him every spare moment she had. But he was no longer as caring as he was before; his little absentminded affectionate touches had been replaced by insistent encouragement. The sex was still good but had become perfunctory, a means of satisfaction with little sentiment.

When Charlotte raised her concerns Robert told her she was imagining things. Things came to a head halfway through the term when Charlotte came into Robert's dorm one evening carrying a folder. Robert was lying on the bed naked, ready for sex.

"Did you bring your homework?" Robert joked.

"No silly. I've been working on something else," to Robert's chagrin Charlotte sat on the couch.

Robert reluctantly got out of bed, put on a robe and joined Charlotte on the couch after pouring them both a drink. He began to paw at her and she shooed him off.

"Be serious for a minute Robert and look at this," Charlotte opened the folder.

There was a thick sheaf of paperwork related to gender transitioning. There were press articles, serious position papers, case studies, legal documents and photographs. There were even excerpts from the book April Ashley's Odyssey.

"What's all this?" Robert took a gulp of his drink.

"I'm thinking of the future, Robert. I can't keep popping up like a daisy in your dorm or in a hotel room, transitioning from Charles to Charlotte on a whim," Charlotte said.

"You know I hate it when you talk about Charles," Robert said sulkily.

"Exactly! Let's get rid of Charles all together. I want to be Charlotte not Charles. I want to undergo gender reassignment surgery," Charlotte tapped the file in her lap.

"What?" Robert was incredulous.

"I want to travel somewhere overseas and have breast implants and have some other changes made so I can live full-time as a woman. Then after I've lived full-time as a woman for a while I'll see if I have the appetite to fully transition and undertake gender reassignment surgery," Charlotte said.

Robert downed his drink and poured himself another. A big one.

"What are you talking about?" Robert asked.

"I'm talking about becoming a real woman so that I can live as Charlotte. No more sneaking around. We can be together openly," Charlotte said earnestly.

"Are you crazy?" Robert's temper flared.

"You stayed on at Chelmsford to get your Master's so you can be with me, so why can't we be together after college?" Charlotte asked.

"I stayed on to get my Master's because I want my Master's. It'll set me up in my father's business. Spending time with you is an obvious fringe benefit," Robert replied.

Charlotte suddenly became cold despite the heat from the open fire.

"What did you think was going to happen? You transition and then we live together playing happy families? Get a two-up, two-down in the city? You kiss me goodbye in the morning before we both go to work?" Robert said sarcastically.

"Who the fuck is going to hire a transgender businesswoman and who the fuck is going to hire a business manager who is living with a transgender woman? I'd be the laughing stock of London finance! My father would disown me; yours will certainly disown you."

"Look Charlotte; I've been meaning to tell you. I'm getting engaged to Rebecca Delaney at Christmas. I need to settle down when I start work and she comes from a good family," Robert sat beside Charlotte and stroked her arm affectionately.

"You know that what we have here is temporary but there's no need for it to end. You'll get a good job in the corporate sector too. We can get away together for business conferences and the odd weekend. Just like now, you can get dressed all pretty and sexy for me and we can have some fun. Then you change back and go about your life; maybe find a wife of your own."

"So let me get this straight. You want to marry Becky Delaney but sneak away every now and then and poke me in the bum and then go home to your wife?" Charlotte said bitterly.

"It won't be like that Charlotte. It will be like it is now. We will have the best of both worlds. Outwardly we will be smart, innovative young businessmen... rich businessmen... but every now and again we will secretly be Robert and Charlotte; lovers," Robert put his arm around Charlotte.

"So I'll be your transvestite concubine. You call me up and give me the secret password and I pop down to the nearest hotel and get all gussied up for you and then you pop in and bugger me and then go home to Becky," she said scornfully.

"I keep telling you it won't be like that," Robert tried to hug her.

"No it won't be like that Robert. It's probably good that you told me about your plans now to avoid disappointment later," Charlotte extracted herself from Robert's embrace.

"Where are you going?" Robert was incredulous that she was leaving.

"I'm going back to my room Robert. This is over; I won't be back," Charlotte put on a brave face but inside she was breaking.

Robert was overcome with anger.

"Well fuck off you tranny whore! I'll always remember you on your knees sucking the cocks of the Bridge House council. That's the Charlotte I'll wank over when I'm bored," Robert said viciously.

Charlotte slammed the door behind her and she just made it to her bed before she began to sob. She heard Robert throw the bolt on the interconnecting door and she got off the bed and angrily threw the bolt on her side of the door too. Her sorrow and disappointment was quickly becoming anger and rage.

Things got worse when Charles turned up for the first rugby training session of the season. He found that he had been dropped from the First side and relegated to the second fifteen, the Reserve grade. He confronted Robert Fellows in the dressing room. He waited until it was just the House council and himself present.

"You vindictive cunt!" Charles spat at Robert.

"I'm arguably the best back on the field and you relegated me. You coward!" Charles seethed.

"It's bad enough that you still live next door to me. I don't want to see your face; you remind me too much of her," Robert didn't look up from tying his bootlace.

"Say her name!" Charles screeched.

"You know who I mean; the tranny whore. So if I don't have to look at your smug dial I won't be reminded of her will I? Why don't you just fuck off," Robert looked at Charles hatefully.

"Ok. Have it your way but I'm not switching dorms; that room is one of the best in the college and I'm not giving it up just because I remind you of your deceit. I'm quitting the team so except for the lectures we have in common we won't see each other," Charles was seething.

"Suits me perfectly," Robert tied the knot in his shoelace.

Wayne Jenkins and Steven Belfour-Brown were sitting beside him and they gave each other a knowing look.

"Come on you two; time to work off that summer fat," Robert rose and started running for the tunnel leading to the ground.

Charles sought solace with his only real friend, William Larkin. She transformed into Charlotte and invited William to her dorm to have girl's night in together. Charlotte told Wendy everything that had happened.

"Look Charlotte; I guessed this was going to happen. Steven and Wayne had already told me about your breakup with Robert but you don't have to be the victim here. There's a way to get back at him," Wendy said.

"They say revenge is a dish best served cold well I say bollocks to that! Serve it hot!"

"You're not going to pack Charlotte away in a suitcase forever; she's more you than you are Charles. But don't spend lonely nights alone pleasuring yourself with a plastic cock when you can have the real thing," Wendy grinned.

"Are you proposing I come back to the inner sanctum?" Charlotte asked.

Wendy had become quite adept at makeup and had expanded her wardrobe. She was wearing a black leather miniskirt and tight leopardskin top under which she had breastforms stuffed into her black satin lace bra. Sheer, fleshtoned tights embellished her legs and she was shod in black high heels. Her face was feminine and pretty and she had a very expensive blonde wig atop her head.

"For someone who said that dressing up was just a means to an end, you have certainly become good at it," Charlotte commented.

"Yes I kind of like it. It's a means of escape and the things that Wendy does don't transpose into William's life. She is a separate entity," Wendy gave Charlotte a conspiratorial grin.

"And Wendy does some pretty wild things," Wendy's grin widened.

"Things have changed since you set me up with Steven and Wayne. They got tired of paying for my services so we came to a better arrangement."

"This campus is full of horny young men living in some Dickensian throwback where the only opportunity they have to tend to their sexual urges occurs during the term holidays. As I told you there are plenty of them willing to have their itch scratched by the local rent boy provided discretion is assured."

"We figured that there would probably be a lot more of them willing to pay for sex if it was with a pretty little thing in a skirt, and we were right. But we couldn't have a line of horny young men traipsing in and out of the Bridge House inner sanctum; the council would never allow that."

"I've been servicing men in my dorm but that's dangerous... suicidal really... I'm going to get caught eventually. But if you were to come on board as another player we could share the load, pardon the double entendre."

"You want me to be a prostitute?" Charlotte looked shocked.

"I'm sorry; it was a silly proposal," Wendy put out her cigarette and drained the can of lager she was drinking and made to leave.

A malicious grin spread across Charlotte's face.

"It's not silly; it's perfect. Robert is bound to find out about it and it will drive him wild," Charlotte grinned.

"Are you sure? In the past you reluctantly serviced the council until you found loorve with Robert," Wendy regretted the barb as soon as she had said it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No you're right. I was a fool and I deserve the ridicule for thinking I could live in that dreamworld permanently," Charlotte offered Wendy another drink and patted the couch beside her indicating for Wendy to sit back down.

"But as much as I'd like Robert to see a stream of young men coming and going from my dorm and hear them moaning and groaning through the walls, that won't work. It won't work for the same reason you explained. We need to find somewhere else on the grounds where we can ply our trade," Charlotte was more than warming to the idea, she was fixated by it.

"I like the way you're thinking," Wendy grinned.

"Another thing I was thinking. I've sometimes wondered what it would be like to be with a woman; a special woman just like me," Charlotte leaned in and kissed Wendy on the lips.

Wendy put down her drink and put her arms around Charlotte and pulled her close.

"Why don't we find out?" she whispered seductively in Charlotte's ear.

The two women took their time exploring each other's bodies. They both delighted in the feel of nylon, satin, rayon and silk on their bodies but the sensations created by touching another transvestite clad in the same fabric were delightful. They started with each other's legs, softly stroking each other's nylon-sheathed thighs, their fingers lingering and seductively caressing the soft skin through the gossamer fabric.

They gasped into each other's mouths as their fingers began the slow journey under their skirts to their throbbing cocks imprisoned inside layers of satin and nylon. They had moved onto the bed and lay side by side, their lips locked together, their skirts hiked up, seeking pleasure in the feel of their soft bodies rubbing up against each other.

Charlotte found Wendy's engorged penis trapped inside her panties and pantyhose, she softly stroked it through the layers of translucent material, gently squeezing it, feeling the heat and the girth of it and listening to Wendy's breath become ragged as she gasped with pleasure. Wendy returned the favour and found Charlotte erect and ready inside her knickers and hose and she slowly stroked the engorged member and felt Charlotte quiver in her arms.

Charlotte climbed on top of Wendy and lowered her face to meet Wendy's lips. They were soft and yielding and tasted of lipstick, her scent was intoxicating, Wendy's soft body so different from Robert's. She rubbed her silken-clad thighs on Wendy's who hooked her ankles around Charlotte's so that they could press against each other and enjoy the sensation of their womanly bodies writhing against each other.

They pressed their panty-clad cocks together and ground them, delighting in the feel of their appendages being massaged by hard flesh clad in satin and nylon. Wendy relented first and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her tights and knickers and pulled them down a little and then sought to free Charlotte's cock and guide it to her sphincter.

The two gorgeous creatures studied each other's faces marvelling at each other's beauty and femininity. Wendy nodded imperceptibly at Charlotte who acknowledged the request by slowly sliding her cock inside Wendy's anus. Charlotte had never fucked anyone before, she had always been the recipient and the feel of Wendy's tight anus gripping her penis as she pushed inside her was amazing.

"Oh God," she gasped.

"Quite nice isn't it?" Wendy smiled up at Charlotte.

All Charlotte could do was nod, she was trying not to come.

"Now fuck me honey," Wendy raised her legs and wrapped them around Charlotte's back.

Charlotte needed no further encouragement and ploughed her cock into her sexy feminine girlfriend. It was such a delightful experience, all the makeup, perfume, soft caresses through silk and satin, so different to the hard masculine fucking that Robert liked to use her for.

Charlotte locked her lips to Wendy's and slipped her tongue inside and tasted her sweet mouth, Wendy wrapped her arms around Charlotte and tightened her legs around her body.

"Come in me Charlotte. Come in me. I know you want to," she hissed.

And Charlotte did, so much. Her cock felt like a soft velvety glove was caressing it as it as she erupted deep inside Wendy. The sensations she experienced were unique and incredible, she sobbed as she orgasmed and Wendy held her close and quietly filled her own knickers as she climaxed with her best friend deep inside her.

They caressed, kissed and fondled each other and eventually they disentangled long enough to strip down to their intimates and bring drinks and cigarettes over to Charlotte's big bed where they spent the remainder of the evening drinking, smoking and making love.

They discussed options as to where and how they might set up their business, Charlotte becoming more excited at the prospect as the evening progressed. She never once thought of Robert.

To be continued