May 1986

Mrs Frobisher turned out to be a rather attractive forty-something matron who exuded suppressed sexuality with her tight skirt and jacketed business suit, long legs, stiletto heels, red hair and milky-white skin. Detective Sergeant Archie Sanders fell in behind her breathing in her scent, his eyes locked on her Rubenesque hips and bottom. This was not lost on his partner Detective Constable Sandra Tingle who smiled wryly to herself as she walked beside him and explained the public school tradition of fagging. She suspected that Mrs Frobisher inhabited the fantasies of many of the all-male students when they filled 'crusty the sock' before they drifted off to sleep. She also suspected that Mrs Frobisher was well aware of the fact.

"This is Charles Ward's dormitory. It's a premium single apartment so mommy and daddy must have plenty of money. Well that's a silly statement, all of our students parents have plenty of money, except the scholarship students, but anyway it doesn't come cheap," she held out the key to Archie who took it, trying hard not stare at Mrs Frobisher's ample décolletage.

"I'll go and collect Robert Fellows for you during the break between lectures."

He watched her hips swing seductively as she walked back down the corridor.

"What do you make of her?" Archie turned to Sandra who was leaning against the wall amused by her partner's fascination with the woman's derriere.

She looked up and down the corridor and seeing it was empty she stepped into Archie, her face inches from his.

"I think that if you think about her when you're fucking me tonight I'm going to do this," she reached between his legs and squeezed his balls.

Archie squealed like a girl.

"That's not fair! It's like saying don't think of an elephant," Archie complained.

"Shall we get back to work Detective Sergeant?" she nodded at the door.

Archie unlocked the door to Charles Ward's dormitory and they stepped inside and closed it. The first thing they noticed was the scent of perfume.

"Smells like Poison," Sandra Tingle sniffed the air.

Now that Charles was a middle houseman, soon to become an upper houseman, he was no longer subject to dormitory inspections and he no longer needed to keep Charlotte's accoutrements locked away. As Archie and Sandra methodically searched the room they were surprised to find that if they didn't know better they would assume that the room was inhabited by both a man and a woman.

Charles' uniforms were neatly hung on one side of the wardrobe, his shoes and rugby boots neatly arranged beneath the hangers, the drawers full of underwear, sports attire and casual wear. The other side of the wardrobe contained a selection of ladies garments, expensive high heels placed under the hanging clothes, the drawers full of lingerie and hosiery. Three coiffed wigs were neatly arranged on styrofoam wig-stands.

"Looks like she does her own domestics," Archie joked as he held up the French maid's uniform for Sandra to see.

"That's more fetishic than practical Archie," Sandra commented flippantly.

"No shit," Archie hung the garment back where he'd found it.

"We'll get SOCO up here when they've finished at the cottage," Sandra called as she entered the small bathroom.

The selection of cosmetics far outweighed the meagre supplies of male toiletries. She noticed the rubber douche on the side of the bath-shower combination and winced. The array of makeup and perfume continued on the dresser in the bedroom. Tucked into the top left corner of the dresser's mirror was a cheap postcard embossed with cheerful scenes of the Brighton Pier and seafront. She turned it over and found an inscription that Charlotte had written and also the words 'courtesy of the Ambassador Guesthouse' with the address and phone number of the establishment beneath it. Sandra put the card on the dresser to be bagged and entered into evidence but she took down the number in her notebook.

Scattered around the room were texts, manuscripts and reference books, as one would expect for someone studying for a Bachelor of Commerce. On the nightstand she found a slim file.

The file was unmarked but inside was a thick sheaf of paperwork related to gender transitioning. There were press articles, serious position papers, case studies, legal documents and photographs.

"What do you make of this?" Sandra spread the documents out on the bed, her surgically-gloved fingers having difficulty separating individual sheets of paper.

Archie looked over her shoulder at the assortment of papers.

"What do you make of it?" he asked.

"Looks like our girl might have been considering gender reassignment; that is she wanted to become a full-time woman," Sandra pointed to a case study of a woman who had gone to Thailand for surgical treatment.

"I'll bet mommy and daddy would not be happy with that," Archie commented.

"Don't do that Archie. The poor parents haven't even been notified yet and you're taking their inventory like you know them," Sandra scolded him.

"Look around this place Sandra. They are paying a fortune to send their son to an elite boarding school that is run like something out of Tom Brown's School Days and he's playing hide the sausage while dressed as a girl. How do you think they're going to react," Archie replied.

Sandra nodded her head. There was no denying Archie's assumption was likely spot on.

"Check this out," Archie handed Sandra an eight by five index card.

The front of the card was embossed with pictures of four attractive young ladies dressed stylishly but posed provocatively. One of the young ladies was the young woman found dead in the cottage. On the back of the card was imprinted the words 'One For The Team -- Gentlemen's Club'.

"What do you make of that?" Archie asked.

Sandra turned the card over in her fingers and studied it.

"It's almost like an advertising flyer but more upmarket... more personal. Almost like a business card," she ruminated.

"You don't suppose they were advertising their services?" she studied the card closer.

"Look. This other blonde girl could be a genetic woman but the other two... they're attractive but I'd bet my left nipple that they're transvestites," she handed the card to Archie who scrutinised it and then put it into an evidence bag.

"This shit sandwich just got bigger. Let's keep this to ourselves for now until we find out if it has anything to do with the investigation," Archie put the cellophane evidence bag into his pocket.

There was a knock on the door and a young man poked his head around it.

"I'm Robert Fellows. I was told you wanted to see me?" Robert said nervously.

"In your room please Mister Fellows," Sandra smiled at him; no need to antagonise a potential witness.

"Did you notice this?" Archie tapped on the interconnecting door between to the two dorms.

Sandra nodded. She also noticed that it was securely bolted on this side.

Archie took an instant dislike to the overly-confident, arrogant young man with the French-cut hairstyle, classic good looks and deep blue eyes. Robert flopped down in an overstuffed armchair and looked at the two police officers like they were dogshit stuck to his shoe.

Archie decided to knock the wind out of his sails.

He walked over and dropped the forensic photographs in Robert's lap. Robert turned one over and his arrogance and confidence dissipated in a second.

"Oh my god Charlotte!" he cried.

He flipped through the remaining photographs and then threw them on the table like they were too hot to touch.

"Who's Charlotte?" Sandra asked sitting down beside him uninvited.

"She's Charlotte," Robert extended a shaky finger towards the pictures.

"Is Charlotte also Charles Ward, the student who rooms next door to you," Sandra nodded to the interconnecting door.

"Well yes and no. They're the same person except they're not really. Charles plays rugby and studies Commerce; he takes some of the same classes as I do and he's in my House. I'm the housemaster of Bridge House," Robert was regaining his confidence.

"And he used to be your fag?" Sandra encouraged him.

"Well yes, when he was a lower houseman. All of the students had to fag for an upper houseman during their first year, but the college has stopped the practice," Robert explained.

"And he lived next door to you? That's very convenient," Archie nodded at the interconnecting door.

"Oh no! He wasn't allowed to use that door; he had to come to the front door. Anyway he stopped fagging for me over a year ago," Robert said dismissively.

"And what about Charlotte? Did she use that door?" Archie asked.

They watched Robert squirm while he considered his answer.

"Some time during his first year Charles confessed to the House counsel that he was a crossdresser and offered his services so to speak," Robert began.

"Look... none of us are gay... as in homosexual... but you've seen her. Charlotte is very attractive if you like that sort of thing. We let her provide us with oral and hand relief. She liked it and we liked it. It was a matter of convenience for us, that's all," Robert straightened the crease of his trousers and dug into his blazer looking for cigarettes.

"But she lived next door. We have searched her room. It would appear to us that Charles spent all of his time as Charlotte when he was in there," Archie leaned forward and extended his lighter, lighting Robert's cigarette.

"She has a French maid's uniform and that door just looks too inviting not to use when you have an attractive transvestite living right next door who according to you 'offers her services'," Archie stared at Robert who looked away.

"Ok. Charlotte came into my room one day dressed in that ridiculous costume and she offered me regular oral services, which I accepted. But after a while I realised that what I was doing was quite inappropriate; I'm engaged to be married. I stopped all that nonsense a year ago," Robert could not meet Archie's eyes.

"So you had a sexual relationship with Charles Ward for a little over a year and then called it off?" Archie continued.

"Not with Charles Ward! With Charlotte! I was with Charlotte! I'm not a poofter!" Robert screeched.

"You don't understand! Other than on the rugby field I had nothing to with Charles once he stopped being my fag. Charlotte was another person, a different personality entirely," Robert began to regain control of his temper.

"She could be beguiling, manipulative, seductive. She had sex with most of the House council and god knows how many other men on the campus. She was a whore! That's another reason I stopped letting her in here."

"She was a joke on campus. Charlotte the harlot they called her. Her and that other slag Wendy," Robert stubbed out his cigarette.

"Wendy?" Sandra asked, scribbling in her notebook.

"Ask that fag William Larkin. He is a poofter. A snot-nosed, dirt-poor, scholarship student who likes to dress up as Wendy; Bendy Wendy the chaps call her. You can imagine why," Robert stood up and straightened his blazer and tie.

"So you're telling us that there were two transvestites on the campus who were very promiscuous and that members of the House council and possibly other students used them for sex?" Archie was dubious about the claim.

"Look. Unless you want to formally interview me I've said all I'm going to say and if that is the case I will be calling on my father's lawyer to sit in. Now if you'll excuse me I have a lecture to attend," Robert went to the door and held out his hand to indicate they should leave.

"I don't suppose you'd consent to a search of your dormitory?" Archie asked cheekily.

Robert closed the door with some finality and locked it. He stormed down the corridor back to the campus.

"Your shit sandwich just got bigger," Sandra said.

"Did you notice the scratches on the backs of his hands?" she asked and Archie nodded.

"You didn't ask him about them?" she looked at him speculatively.

"No. I want to see what forensics they come up with on the body. They'll do it anyway but we'll get them to expedite any trace evidence they find under Charlotte's fingernails," Archie said.

"But until we can put him at the crime scene and I can confront him with any trace evidence I don't want him concocting an alibi. The most obvious one would be to say he got the wounds playing rugby, or training. Let's let him think we didn't notice for now."

"Lock the door to Charlotte's room and let's get Sarah and her team up here. If they've finished with the crime scene we'll have another look around the cottage and then head into town and sort out some digs. Check in with the Chief Superintendent and let her know what we have but let's not get into specifics," Archie sighed.

"You called her Charlotte," Sandra commented.

Archie looked at one of the crime scene photographs.

"Well it appears that's who she is. It's almost like Charles was just a habit Charlotte wore for convenience," Archie replied.

"And that young toff was lying through his teeth," Archie tapped the photograph against his palm.

When Archie and Sandra returned to the cottage Charlotte's body had been removed and the SOCO team were packing up.

"We've made a preliminary identification of the deceased; Charles Ward otherwise known as Charlotte Ward. We've searched her dormitory but I'd like your team to give it the once over and also take some pictures," Archie held out the key to Charlotte's room.

"You keep referring to her in the feminine vernacular," Sarah Pheffington said taking the key.

"We've interviewed the headmaster and the man who lives in the adjacent dorm. It would appear that Charles attended classes and was achieving a solid academic performance but that he spent most of his free time as Charlotte. It would also appear that Charlotte was considering gender reassignment surgery," Archie explained.

"Archie, can you follow me please," Sarah led Archie to a small grove of trees out of the way of the others.

"About a year ago I attended a crime scene in a brothel in one of the seedier areas of London. It was a thriving concern but it was a real shithole. That cottage reminds me of it. Some effort has been made to clean the place up and make it comfortable for the punters while they wait but it's really just a blow-and-go establishment," Sarah explained.

"But this establishment, if that's what it is, has no business being on the grounds of a prestigious university. I found an envelope full of these," Sarah handed Archie one of the index cards with the pictures of the provocatively dressed attractive young ladies embossed on it.

"It's similar to the solicitation or 'tart cards' found in telephone boxes. They even named the dump: 'One For The Team'," Sarah pointed to the card.

"We found one in Charlotte's dorm. It would appear that good old Chelmsford College had a knocking shop operating on the grounds staffed by transvestite prossies. I've promised the stick-up-his-arse headmaster discretion and warned out the local bill. If this gets out the scandal sheets will have a field day. Make sure your team are briefed accordingly," Archie said.

"We're SOCO Archie; some of the things we've seen would curl you're your toes and we could write a best seller with all the scandal we know," she patted him assuredly on the arm.

Archie patted his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

"Light me one of those will you? I can't get to anything wearing this suit," Sarah removed her gloves and pulled down the hood of her coveralls and Archie realised that Sarah was quite attractive.

The bodysuit hid her curves but he guessed she had quite the figure under all that Tyvek.

She took the proffered cigarette and grinned at him. She held up her left hand and tapped her wedding band.

"You're a couple of years too late and I don't play around," she smiled at him.

"Am I that transparent?" Archie grinned back at her.

Sarah studied him for a minute. He was tall with sandy hair styled in an out of date mullet but it suited him. He had a thin handsome face and sensuous lips and a rangy body under the tight dark suit.

"You're the type that can get away with a casual roll in the hay and the girl won't feel too guilty about it after," Sarah met his gaze.

"What does that mean?" Archie was more than a little annoyed at the comment.

Sarah leaned into him and whispered.

"You're the guy you let fuck you a few times for fun but you never get serious with and never tall mummy about. You're not the guy you imagine walking you down the aisle," she said, her breath disarmingly sweet in his ear.

"Tell that to my wife!" Archie said indignantly.

"Yeah? How's that working out for you Archie?" Sarah studied him for a second and then looked across purposely at Sandra Tingle who was walking in circles as she spoke into the bulky brick-shaped mobile phone that the Met had just introduced into service.

"I'm SOCO Archie; I'm paid to be observant. I'll get back to you with the results from the cottage and the dormitory once we've had a chance to process the evidence. Give us a couple of days. The autopsy is tomorrow so you should have a coroner's report around the same time," Sarah pinched out the cigarette and put it in her pocket; she was used to preserving crime scenes.

Archie watched her walk away and muster her troops into the SOCO van. He smiled to himself and went over to join Sandra.

"The Chief Super is happy to leave the case in your capable hands. She wants an update this evening and of course she went on and on about keeping a lid on it. She's sending a notification team around to Charles Ward's parents' house. Once they've made a positive identification we can interview them," Sandra tossed the brick on the front seat of the car and plugged in the charger connected to the car's cigarette lighter.

The place was eerily quiet now that SOCO had left. The local constabulary had also gone, all that was left to indicate the police had been here was the crime scene tape fastened to a few gnarled trees and a 'Do Not Enter -- Crime Scene' notice pinned to the door.

He and Sandra took their time looking around the cottage. The two bedrooms appeared to be used for the sole purpose of sex. The bedside drawers contained lubricant and condoms and there was a laundry basket in the corner of each room which had once contained soiled underwear that had been bagged and taken away by SOCO. The bedsheets had also been taken away but clean sheets and pillowcases were stacked in the rickety old wardrobes.

The bathroom shelf was littered with makeup and bottles of cheap perfume, the toilet was clean and a rubber douche sat atop the cistern.

The open drink containers and disposable cups had also been taken into evidence but the lounge and kitchen still looked a mess. There were smudges of fingerprint powder everywhere and all of the cupboard doors and drawers were open.

"Sarah thinks the place was a knocking shop," Archie said when they'd finished looking around.

"It looks like a place I raided once in Clapham when I worked in the Vice Unit. A real dump but it was turning over a fortune," Sandra gave the place a final lookover.

"We also need to find out what that cocaine was doing here. Were they selling drugs as well as sex?" Sandra speculated

"They tend to go hand in hand."

"Yeah. Let's go find some digs I need a shower," Archie rubbed at the back of his neck.

"The Met has booked us into the Holiday Inn; no expense spared," Sandra started walking to the door.

Archie pulled her back inside and pressed her against the counter and kissed her.

"Not here Archie. This place is sordid. Let's go to the hotel, get washed up and have some dinner. I'll make it up to you tonight," she kissed him quickly and slipped out of his embrace.

"Sounds like a plan," Archie agreed and they left the cottage, which in the dwindling evening light looked deserted and forlorn.

They parked at the Holiday Inn and went their separate ways to use the payphones to call their respective spouses. Archie had been cheating on his wife for so long that he no longer felt guilty. He'd caught her in bed with another copper less than a year after they were married. They'd tried counselling and had even sat down with the local vicar but they both knew their marriage was a sham.

If not for their son they would have divorced long ago. They played happy families around the boy but fought like cats and dogs when he wasn't around. Strangely enough the sex remained good despite or maybe because of their frequent infidelities. His wife was currently conducting an illicit affair with a senior officer who was black and she'd teased Archie about the size of his cock. Archie's response was to bend his wife over the kitchen table, holding her down while she struggled, and fuck her while she was still wearing the business suit she intended to wear to work that day.

He hadn't even removed her tights or knickers, he'd ripped her tights open and pulled her knickers aside and fucked her hard and fast while she fought him, but the wetness of her minge gave her away. He'd turned her around when he climaxed and spunked all over her skirt and she'd put her hand between her legs to finish what he'd started as he sprayed her with his jism.

"If you'd fucked me like that a bit more often when we were first married we might still have a marriage," she spat at him before going upstairs to change her suit.

To make matters worse she worked at Scotland Yard in the records division where he had first met her and he often ran into her during the day or caught her flirting with one of the detectives. She was incorrigible.

Sandra Tingle's marriage was different. Her husband doted on her. She had deliberately set out to find a partner who had nothing to do with the Metropolitan Police. She'd dated coppers on her way up the promotion ladder and found most of them to be hopeless drunks who just wanted a shag at the end of boozy night out or were serial adulterers who just wanted to get into her knickers. She'd foregone the married men but the single coppers she'd dated were hopeless.

She'd married a schoolteacher who was kind and sensitive and adored her. He'd insisted on waiting until their wedding night before having sex and she'd feigned being virtuous but she needn't have bothered. He had turned out the light and climbed on top of her under the covers and climaxed as soon as his penis touched her sex.

He'd patted her on the shoulder and told her it was lovely and that about summed up their sex life. Sandra had tried to spice things up in the bedroom but it had the opposite effect on her husband who rebuffed her advances except for his Friday night ritual when he would be on her and off her in five minutes.

She knew that carrying on an affair with her partner was cliché and she knew that Archie would never leave his wife while their son was still growing up but Archie was a habit she just couldn't kick. They were a great team on the job and they were great in bed. Archie and Sandra just clicked. Archie had once joked that they'd missed the boat by not finding each other before they married other people. Sandra had cried herself to sleep that night because she knew it was true.

They'd agreed to meet in the restaurant; Chelmsford was far enough away from London for them to not have to be worried about being seen out in public together romantically. Archie was sitting at the table studying the wine list when Sandra walked in.

Gone was the shapeless navy blue suit, thick blue tights and scuffed low heels and her hair was no longer pulled back in a tight bun. She was wearing a black high-waist pleated bandage-skirt with a white long sleeved chiffon blouse, black patent-leather high heels and sheer taupe hosiery. Her hair had been shampooed and teased out and her makeup was perfect.

"You look beautiful," Archie got out of his seat and pulled back her chair for her.

The male customers in the restaurant, mostly travelling salesmen and men away from home on business, stared at them with envy.

Archie bent down and kissed her cheek as he tucked her chair under her. Her hair smelled of shampoo and her perfume was beguiling.

"So I don't look like a dowdy WPC then?" she smiled up at him, knowing full well that she looked stunning.

"You're beautiful even when you're dressed like a dowdy Detective Constable, knee deep in shit. But when you dress up you look like a princess," Archie kissed her softly on the cheek again and then took his seat across from her.

"I bet you say that to all the policewomen whose knickers you want to get into," Sandra teased him.

Archie's smile dropped from his face and she realised she'd hit a soft spot. Since they had become partners Archie had stopped catting around and it was Sandra's first marital affair. Archie still flirted around, more as a ruse to throw people off the scent than anything serious.

"I shouldn't have said that Archie," Sandra smiled wanly.

"If the shoe fits I suppose," Archie was pragmatic.

"Archie..." Sandra gave him a sultry glance.

"I'm not hungry. Not now anyway. Let's go up to my room and we can have dinner after," she started to rise and Archie bolted out of his seat and helped her with her chair.

"After what?" he was a little bemused.

"Now you're just being silly," she smiled at him and Archie's heart skipped beat.

They took as many assignments as possible away from London; their Division was often seconded to police services in other Counties. Most of their squad were more than happy to let Archie and his partner take the out of town assignments, the Division worked long hours and they were happy to spend as much time as possible at home.

Archie missed seeing his son but was happy to away from his witch of a wife and Sandra found the constant doting of her husband oppressive. What she wanted her husband to do was shag her senseless not shower her with flowers and chocolates at every opportunity.

They barely made it inside Sandra's room before they started pawing at each other.

"Let me take this off before you ruin it!" Sandra pushed Archie away and stepped out of her skirt and took off her blouse.

She looked sexy and inviting dressed in her knickers and bra with her sheer holdup stockings and high heels. Archie got naked and was folding his suit pants when Sandra attacked him and dragged him onto the bed. He lay supine on the covers as Sandra straddled him.

"I've been waiting so long to do this," she moaned as she reached out and snapped off light leaving a single bed lamp burning.

Archie kissed her and she returned the kiss. They were both impatient as they hadn't been in bed together for awhile but Archie resisted the temptation to jump on Sandra as much as she wanted him to. Instead he took his time caressing her, freeing her breasts from her brassiere, stroking them, feeling her nipple harden when he tweaked them.

She was working her tongue in his mouth, clinging to him and she mewled her disappointment when Archie broke the kiss but disappointment turned to bliss when Archie used his lips and his tongue on her breasts. He lapped at her hard nipples and then took them one at a time in his mouth and suckled them, gently nipping them with his teeth.

Sandra moaned and writhed on the bed, guiding Archie's face to her breasts and trying to hold him there when he continued his journey down her body. Her cunt was encased in transparent nylon panties and the exotic scent of vaginal juices betrayed her arousal. He licked her slit through the diaphanous knickers and Sandra growled and entwined her fingers in his hair and pushed his face into her crotch.

Archie slipped the gusset of her knickers aside and opened the folds of her labia like the petals of a flower. He sucked her juices and lapped at her coral pink inner lips then found her clitoris with his tongue.

Sandra bit the pillow to stifle a scream as she orgasmed; she pushed Archie's face into her pubis and ground her sex against his mouth. As her climax subsided Archie's ministrations became unbearable and she pushed his face out from between her legs. She encouraged him to work his way back up her body until they were once again kissing passionately. Sandra had recovered and craved him inside her and she guided his hard cock to her sex. He didn't need any encouragement and he slid his cock into Sandra's hot buttery cunt and sighed. She locked her stocking-sheathed legs around his flanks and crossed her ankles behind his back. She knew he loved the sensation of her nylons on his sensitive flesh.

She put her arms around him and crushed her mouth against his and rose to meet his thrusts. They rutted and climaxed together and she felt his seed fill her and dribble between her legs as her vagina quivered and extracted all of his spend. Archie ensured his pubis pressed on her clitoris and was rewarded when Sandra began to shake as another orgasm shook her body.

They lay locked together reluctant to break their embrace but eventually Sandra unlocked her ankles and lowered her legs.

"Cigarettes are on the table and drinks are in the mini-bar. Bring them and yourself back to my bed before your side of the bed gets cold," Sandra kissed him and then pushed him off her.

Archie did as he was told and poured drinks and lit cigarettes for them both. They finished their drinks and cigarettes and lay side by side contented.

"So did you think of Mrs Frobisher," Sandra smiled wryly.

"She was the furthest thing from my mind," Archie rolled Sandra onto her back and lay on top of her.

She smiled up at him and he smiled back and stroked the fringe out of her eyes.

"Oh god Sandra. You're just so perfect; I think I lov..." Archie said with all sincerity before Sandra silenced him by putting a finger to his lips.

"Don't say it. Please don't say it Archie. I can just about stand living with myself doing what we're doing, but if you say that I'll end up saying it back to you and then what do we do?" a single tear ran down Sandra's cheek.

"Now get off me and let's go down the pub and have a pork pie, chips and gravy and a pint of the local ale; I'm famished," she pushed Archie off her and reached for her knickers.

"You'll get fat eating like that," Archie teased, admiring her as she stepped into fresh panties.

"Fat chance. I've got a partner who works me out at every opportunity while we're away from home," she smiled cheekily at him.

"Come to think of it a pork pie sounds good. We can work it off later," Archie leapt from the bed and slapped Sandra playfully on the bottom.

*****

May 1985

Charlotte ruminated on what she and Wendy had discussed as she flicked through the folder containing the information she had researched about gender reassignment.

Robert was correct in that as soon as she announced to her parents that she would be living her life permanently as a women she would be disowned. Her family and the few friends she had would want nothing to do with her and no reputable company would employ her, people talked of tolerance all the time but seldom practiced it.

She had formulated a plan and was about to execute it. First off Charles had been siphoning off his allowances and any money that he received as gifts. Charlotte needed money... lots of money.

Wendy's offer of prostitution had at first repulsed her but having endured servicing the Bridge House council for weeks before Robert had rescued her and taken her for his own had hardened her. She could put with another year and half of servicing randy young men provided she was being paid well. When she left college she would put it all behind her.

She would travel somewhere overseas and have surgery; initially probably just breast implants and possibly a tracheal shave and then she would come back to England and change her identity. She would not be able to legally change the gender on her birth certificate but she could change her name by deed poll and identify as being female. Life was going to be difficult but bearable.

But first things first. One: graduate with honours. This would not be difficult; Charles was performing in the top ten percentile. Two: amass a 'war chest'. She needed enough money to travel, undertake some gender reassignment surgery and to live on until she could obtain gainful employment.

Charlotte had Wendy arrange a meeting with Wayne Jenkins and Steven Belfour-Brown at the inner sanctum. The offer of whatever sexual favours the men desired ensured their attendance.

She and Wendy transformed in the privy and for Charlotte it bought back old memories. Wendy proposed they just dress in lingerie but Charlotte insisted that they dress properly; it was to be a business meeting as much as it was a sexual assignation.

"Hello gentlemen, it's been a while," Charlotte strutted out from behind the curtain that hung outside the privy.

She was dressed in a black leather miniskirt, tight satin blouse and heels. Her makeup was dramatic and a miasma of perfume preceded her. Wendy came out behind her dressed equally provocatively. Wayne and Steven were naked under the silk robes they wore.

"Let's sit and have drink and a chat before we get down to having some fun," Charlotte gave them an alluring smile.

She deliberately opened her legs when she sat down, showing off her pink satin knickers, getting the men to notice her. Steven arranged drinks for everyone and Charlotte took a cigarette when one was offered.

"Wendy tells me that the three of you have been making a steady income by offering her services for money and has asked me to join your enterprise," Charlotte began.

"You would be surprised how many of the students are willing to pay for sexual services with a pretty transvestite. You know how they think; if she's wearing a skirt and looks like a girl then she is a girl for all intents and purposes. They aren't doing anything gay," Steven sniggered.

"Just like you used to say that if you don't kiss me or fuck me it's not gay," Charlotte smirked.

"Hey... you know how it is. Moral compasses swing," Steven's grin widened.

"Ok look I'm in but you're thinking small beer when we could be making some real money. To start with Wendy and I can't work out of our dorms. It's too restrictive and we're going to get caught eventually and besides I bet we can drum up more customers if us girls offer our wares away from the dormitories," Charlotte took a drag of her cigarette while she let what she had said sink in.

"We don't need more money," Wayne Jenkins took a long pull on his beer.

"Everyone needs more money honey. And you guys don't need to do much; us girls will be doing all the work. All you need to do is provide us with protection and give us access to the Bridge House canteen stores," Charlotte continued.

She held up a finger when the men began to protest.

"I'm thinking we are going to run a proper brothel... a knocking shop. We sell booze and keep the punters comfortable while they are waiting their turn with the girls. Almost like a gentleman's club."

"You're fucking joking!" they exclaimed in unison.

"Look. I'm a cross country runner and during my rambles around the forest surrounding the college I've noticed a couple of abandoned buildings. I scoped out the old groundsman's cottage and it's the best of a bad lot and perfect for our needs," Charlotte explained.

"That mouldy old decrepit dump! There's no way I'm hawking my arse in there!" Wendy turned down her mouth.

"That's why it's perfect! We want it to look like a mouldy, old, decrepit dump from the outside. We renovate the inside. Nothing too flash, just make it like a party house with a couple of serviceable bedrooms. Once we get it set up we advertise our wares and start making money," Charlotte grinned enthusiastically.

"Even if we were to agree to this you forgot about old Quinn. He prowls those woods like they're his own personal game preserve. Didn't he used to live in that cottage?" Wayne observed.

"He certainly did until a few years ago when the cost of maintaining the outbuildings became more expensive than paying him a rental allowance on top of his wage. He now rents digs in town. We actually reviewed the cost benefit analysis of outsourcing the college's ground maintenance as part of our course study. The college sacked all of the live-in maintenance staff and took on contractors. Quinn was the only one who stayed on as the contact manager and quality control officer."

"But you're right. He spends most of his time in the woods poaching and drinking. I've seen him plenty of times during my runs. I've asked him to meet Wendy and I at the cottage tomorrow afternoon. I'll be enfemme Wendy will not," Charlotte stated.

"You've got a cheek," Wayne Jenkins looked annoyed.

"It's a simple business proposition. You expand and innovate or your business withers on the vine," Charlotte arose and started to unbutton her blouse.

"Now you boys wanna talk all night or are we going to get down to some sucking and fucking," Charlotte kicked her skirt aside.

*****

Charles and William arrived at the groundsman's cottage and gave it a final inspection. The utilities were still connected which was a bonus but the place would need some urgent minor repairs. The beds in the two bedrooms were still serviceable but the bedding was mouldy and would need to be replaced. The bathroom needed a good clean and sanitisation, the kitchen the same.

The lounge still contained some old furniture that would be useable once it was cleaned.

"Look, the place is a dump but we only need to put effort into the furniture and fittings and do a general cleanup. We advertise it as a gentleman's club but let's face it the lads are coming here to get pissed and shag. It will do," Charlotte said.

"Here comes Quinn. I had no choice but to tell him what we are up to but he's onboard and is coming to negotiate a price. I'm going to transform, you stay on as William and keep me safe," Charles picked up his backpack and headed into one of the bedrooms and emerged fifteen minutes later as Charlotte.

And not a minute too late as Quinn had arrived and the negotiations began in earnest. After haggling for thirty minutes a consensus was agreed.

"So it's agreed then; twenty quid a week," Charlotte said opening her purse.

"Twenty quid and a taste," the groundsman smiled, showing his broken teeth.

William shuddered.

"No! You don't get a taste. We'll give you twenty five quid and you can spend it at the railway underpass in Chelmsford," William replied, referring to the place where the local streetwalkers plied their trade.

"Let's not quibble. Twenty quid and a taste once a week but not from the others, only from me," Charlotte replied holding out the note.

Quinn looked Charlotte up and down, his eyes crawling over her, like he was inspecting a broodmare.

"You'll do," Quinn grunted snatching the note from her hand.

He began to struggle with his belt.

"What on earth are you doing?" William was aghast.

"I'm having my taste aren't I?" Quinn grunted as he was finally able to unbuckle his pants.

They pooled around his calves. His trousers were so embedded with grime that they were as stiff as cardboard.

"Let me take care of this William. You stand guard outside and make sure we're not disturbed," Charlotte said calmly.

When Quinn's reeking underpants joined his trousers around his ankles William was glad to leave. The smell was awful and he couldn't bear to watch what Charlotte was about to do.

Charlotte dropped to her knees and put her hands on Quinn's pale, muscled thighs to steady herself. She took a deep breath and leaned forward.

Quinn's manhood was rock-hard and gnarly, with prepucial lumps and protuberances on the shaft and bulging purple veins pulsing under the translucent flesh. It was huge and a string of pre-ejaculate hung from the eye.

Holding her breath Charlotte buried her head in Quinn's fetid crotch and engulfed his manhood. She pushed back his foreskin with her lips and cleaned away the smegma with her tongue and spat it on the floor. Having cleaned his malodorous appendage as best she could she got to work fellating him.

Quinn put his hands either side of Charlotte's head and drove his cock in and out of her mouth, fucking her face. Charlotte remained passive and sucked and slavered at his cock and cupped and gently squeezed his scrotum attempting to bring him to climax as soon as possible. He drove her face into his reeking crotch, his pubic hair rasping her delicate skin like a wire brush, driving his cock all the way inside her mouth and making her gag.

Despite her discomfort Charlotte smiled; he was going to come and this would soon be over.

Quinn violently pushed Charlotte away from him and she fell to the floor.

"Oh no you don't gilly; I want it the proper way," Quinn reached down and dragged Charlotte to her feet.

He nodded towards the bedrooms but Charlotte recalled the putrid bedding on the mouldy mattresses. She looked around the kitchen but there was nowhere suitable here either. She made her way over to one of the hard backed kitchen chairs and leaned over it. She hiked up her skirt and pulled down the back of her tights and knickers exposing just enough of herself to allow Quinn to do what he wanted to do to her.

She saw her purse on the table and rummaged through it as Quinn came in behind her, kicking her ankles wider apart. Charlotte put her hand behind her offering Quinn the KY Jelly.

"Oh no gilly; that cream is for poofs," he hawked up a gob of spittle and spat in his hand.

He rubbed the spit on his penis and without any preamble he gripped Charlotte's hips and drove himself all the way inside her. The pain was searing but once he was deep in her anus he remained still. Charlotte guessed he didn't want to come too soon so he was resting, but in any event it worked in her favour. She was able to relax her sphincter and anus to accommodate him. When the pain was sufficiently dissipated she pushed back against Quinn and gyrated her buttocks.

"You're a fucking whore you are gilly. You remind me of those ladyboys who strutted their stuff on Bugis Street in Singapore when I was in the navy. You could press them against the wall of the shitter for a tenner and bum them all night and they'd wriggle their little brown arses just like you're doing now," Quinn said.

Charlotte said nothing; she just pressed back against Quinn and wriggled her buttocks, keen to get this over with. To her surprise she became erect as Quinn began to fuck her. She deduced a fat cock working her sphincter and pressing on her prostate had the same effect regardless of who owned it. She flooded her panties when Quinn gripped her tight and slammed himself inside her and orgasmed.

She bit her lip so he wouldn't have the satisfaction of hearing her gasp as she climaxed.

When Quinn had finished with her he withdrew his penis and wiped it on his dirty old handkerchief and put it away and pulled up his trousers. Charlotte found a tissue in her bag and she squeezed her anus to expel as much of Quinn's seed as she could and then wiped it away. She adjusted her clothing and turned to face him.

"Once a week. Twenty quid and a fuck," Quinn grunted.

"Agreed but only with me; you don't get to fuck the other girls," Charlotte took out her compact and reapplied her lipstick.

"You're a cold calculating bitch aren't you?" Quinn smiled, exposing his snooker-set of teeth.

"I do what needs to be done Mister Quinn, now if you will excuse us, my colleague and I have work to do," she dropped her lipstick and compact in her purse and snapped it shut.

Quinn left the cottage and William came back inside. He offered Charlotte a cigarette but she declined. She rinsed her mouth out under the tap to rid herself of the taste of Quinn's penis.

"Did I hear you right when you told Quinn that he would be getting his taste once a week from you but not from the others?" William lit up.

Charlotte nodded.

"Who are the others?" William asked.

"Oh I forgot to tell you. That's another job for you. You need to recruit two more girls. The two of us can't work this place every night and weekends, our grades will suffer and our arses will fall out," Charlotte was walking around the cottage making a mental list of tasks that needed to be completed before they could open for business.

"So I'm just going to walk up to two young gay men and tell them to put on a dress and makeup and bend over to make a couple of quid a week," William said sarcastically.

"Don't be silly William. You know all the gays on campus and I bet there are couple of effeminate types who would be willing to play a little dressup while they are being bummed," Charlotte closed a kitchen closet and then opened another to inspect it.

"You put it so eloquently," William sat down on one of the couches and immediately regretted it as a cloud of dust rose around him.

But Charlotte was right. William's gaydar had allowed him to identify all the homosexuals at the college and in fact there was a set of twins who might be willing to play dressup. William had a formed a casual sexual relationship with both of the twins and like him, they were always short of cash.

"I think I might know a couple of potential transvestites," William said.

"Good. You groom them initially and I'll get this placed cleaned up and organise the booze. I want to open in a week. I'll have a look at the two girls you've recruited once you've taught them to dress and how to present enfemme," Charlotte joined William in the lounge.

"How am I going to groom them Charlotte?" William asked.

"The same way I groomed you ducky," Charlotte smiled and leaned in and kissed William softly on the cheek.

To be continued