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Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!
Originally written in 2004, revised in 2009.
Unfortunately, no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.
The Legal Stuff:Twisted Dreams ©2004, 2009 Tanya Allan
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
Chapter 5
The school theatre was packed. Parents, staff and lots of guests were crammed in. A catwalk had been constructed to run from the stage and straight down the centre of the main theatre.
I was backstage shaking with nerves. Jenny and Caroline had agreed to help me, and everything was in chaos. There were six categories; formal eveningwear, evening wear, daywear, casual, sports, and swimwear. I had one in each of the first two, two in the daywear, and a swimsuit.
The Head had invited some judges to come from the big London fashion houses, and the fashion editor from Harpers.
The Sports section was first, and I just watched as the girls went and showed them off. We had been practising our walks for ages, a lady from a local modelling agency came and gave us some basic instructions, and had helped iron out a few bad habits.
My first one was the swimsuit. I had to be very careful as I had super-glued what was left of my empty scrotum over the top of my little worm, which I had tucked back out the way. It looked pretty convincing, and I was not anticipating close scrutiny.
I had had my hair done, and it was sort of up, with golden ringlets hanging down at the back. I was pleased with it, and as I had gone all out with the make up, I knew I looked hot. My finger and toenails were varnished in aquamarine blue, with a small pseudo-diamond stuck on each of my fingernails.
My legs looked fabulous as I had bought some black stiletto shoes, and I wore a set of genuine diamond drop earrings in my ears. I had some stunning stockings, and was about as ready as I ever would be. I couldn’t wear the stockings with the swimsuit, but my legs were pretty good without.
I smiled as I wondered what the reaction would be if they discovered I was a boy. Best not to think about it, really.
I had the number ‘15’ on my wrist, and at last, it was my turn. There were eight swimsuits in this show, and I was the third to go.
I took my time, and walked out, placing each foot in front of the other, with the toe pointing out. Shoulders back, and with a slight swing of the hips, I focussed on the distance, with a sultry smile fixed on my face, and went for it.
I almost lost it.
As I stepped through the curtain, the first person I saw was my father. He was standing at the back, smiling at me. My smile changed from sultry to real joy, and a gasp could be heard from the crowd.
I suddenly worried that I was exposing myself. But then realised that this was their reaction to my appearance.
Mrs Hibbert, my teacher, was commentating.
“Sandi is modelling a one piece swimsuit of her own design. Note the intricate and attractive criss-cross design down the front and centre, this is to allow freedom of movement, and for ladies of a fuller figure, a device for appearing slightly slimmer.”
I reached the end, stopped, turned, and then walked back. I then saw Dave, who took a photograph of me, and grinned. Flash bulbs were popping, so I returned behind the curtain to safety once more to the sound of enthusiastic applause.
I changed into my mini skirt. I had the trousers as well, and was on twice in this section. I wore my tights, and knee length black boots with high heels. I was about six foot with the heels on.
Once again, I walked out, to be met by almost instant applause this time. I walked up, stopped, turned and walked back; my smile was pure pleasure this time. This was fun. The commentary went on, but I didn’t pay any attention to it.
I quickly slipped the trousers on, and was back out, and the applause seemed ever louder, or perhaps that was my imagination.
I watched as the other girls did their bit, and for the first time I actually wondered if there was any chance that I would get anything from this. I had not really thought about it, but it dawned on me that if I won, then there was a possibility I could look to this as a real career. I felt quite excited about it, and began to take more of an interest in my competition.
I changed into my evening dress, and glided out along the catwalk. This time the applause really was the loudest I had heard so far. My grin said it all. My Dad was almost in tears, so I blew him a kiss.
On the way back, I did the same to Dave, and there was a cheer from his mates. Most of the blokes from the leaving upper sixths had come in for an ogle.
I quickly changed, slipping on my sexy little black number. I wore stockings and a suspender belt, and my stiletto shoes again. I began to notice that the other girls were looking at me differently, and it hit me. I did look the most like a real model.
I went out for my last walk, swinging as much sex into my walk as I could. Flash bulbs and applause threatened to raise the roof, and I was grinning from ear to ear. Dad waved at me, and I saw him slide out. I was just ever so pleased he had come. I hoped he would hang about, but I knew that he was probably wanted for the killings on the road.
I did a twirl, aware that my stocking tops were visible, and walked back. When I retreated behind the curtain for the last time, even the other girls were clapping me.
The last few girls showed their dresses, and it was over. We relaxed backstage, and there was still a little tension in the air.
“Well done Sandi,” said Rachel.
“Well done yourself, my stuff was no better that yours,” I said.
“Maybe, but you have the figure of a model, so yours was shown off best,” she said.
I was pleased, but also I didn’t want to upset anyone.
The Head came backstage.
“Well done, everyone, that was truly excellent. I was very impressed, and I know the judges were surprised at the very high standard. They will announce the winner of each category, and then the best garment in the show. There will also be an award for the most striking model.”
My swimsuit came second, and my miniskirt came third. I was thrilled when Rachel and I shared the long evening dress category, and I won with my little back slinky number.
It was that one which won me the best in the show, and then we waited with baited breath for the best model. Mrs Hibbert dangled us like fish on hooks.
“I think you will all agree that this show has been of a very high quality, and that each of the contestants have really worked very hard to produce and show their work to the best of their ability.
“The judges are unanimous that the winner of the best model is a girl whose grace and charm was evident from the first moment she appeared. Her superb designs were of a high quality, yet it was her mere presence that has captivated many people’s hearts and mind tonight.
“It gives me great pleasure to announce: the most striking model of the show is:
“SANDI LAKE.”
I was almost thrown through the curtains by the other girls, and the judges had moved up onto the catwalk. I shook all their hands, and was given a small crystal bowl and an envelope. I posed for the cameras, whist shaking one of the judges’ hands.
She was a middle-aged lady who was very elegantly dressed, and awfully well spoken.
She came up to me after the awards were over.
“You did very well, my dear. Have you aspirations to become a model?” she asked.
“I’d love to, but I need to finish my A levels first.”
She passed me a card.
“I run an agency in London and New York. Give me a call when term finishes. I am sure I can help you.”
I glanced at the card.
JEMIMA OVERSON
It was for one of the most famous agencies in the business.
“Me?” I asked.
Jemima smiled.
“You have everything we look for. A gorgeous boyish figure, charm, a twinkle and a lovely smile. Apart from that you are blessed with stunning beauty.”
I was struck dumb. I almost got the giggles, if only she knew how ‘boyish’ I really was.
“I’d love to, but would I be good enough?”
“If today is anything to go by, you will be very much in demand.”
“Oh.”
She smiled again.
“But, modelling is not as glamorous as it appears. It’s bloody hard work and, believe me, it’s completely exhausting at times. I was a model in the seventies, so had to exist on Rye-vita and lettuce for ages. At least the fuller figure is more acceptable these days.”
I smiled.
“So, do I call, or what?” I asked.
“Just call me, that’s my direct line. Let me assure you, Sandi, I could get you work tomorrow after what I have just seen. You’re a very gifted designer too, so there may be openings in that field if you want.”
“I have a lot happening at the end of term, is it okay if I wait for a few weeks?”
“Whenever you’re ready. You are over seventeen aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then if you want, I could put you on the books, and give you a little casual work, just to see how you get on.”
“I’d like that. What with school and working in the hotel.”
“You work in a hotel as well?”
“I live with my friend in her dad’s place. I help out.”
“Please call me, my dear, as you’re just what I’m after.”
“I will,” I said, and meant it.
She moved off and spoke to the other girls. I went looking for my father, but I had almost forgotten I was in my slinky black dress.
I checked the car park, but the Jaguar was nowhere in sight.
A pair of arms encircled me from behind, but I knew I was in no danger.
“Hi Dave.”
“You were fucking gorgeous,” he said.
I turned round, and he looked me up and down.
“No, you are fucking gorgeous. I was so proud of you,” he said.
“Thanks. I was so pleased you came.”
He looked at me.
“I haven’t. Yet,” he said, and I hit him.
“Don’t be smutty,” I said, but pleased.
“Who are you looking for?”
“My Dad, he popped in, and then left before the end.”
“Oh. Is he still in the shit?”
“Probably, oh hell, Dave, I don’t bloody know. Why couldn’t he be an accountant, or something boring and safe like that?”
He was still holding me, and I liked being in his arms.
“I’d better change for this evening,” I said.
“Stay as you are, that dress sends me wild.”
I smiled. “Oh, and how the hell do I cope with a wild man?”
“Gently,” he said, kissing my fingers.
I felt that deep ache again.
“Don’t do this to me, Dave,” I said.
“Hark at you. What do you think you do to me, just by looking like you do?”
“I can’t help how I look.”
He smiled. “You know that you can help it.”
“You said you fell for me when I tried to hide.”
“I lied.”
“Sod.”
“Seriously, I love the way you look, and what you do to me. I feel as frustrated about things as you.”
“You don’t have to wait,” I said.
“Yes I do.”
“There are plenty of…”
He kissed me to shut me up.
The kiss went on and on. I melted into his arms, and felt his hand slip round to my bum and he pulled me towards him. We were pressed tightly together, and I felt him through my very thin dress, he was aroused, again.
But then, so was I.
One of his hands was gently caressing my breast, and when his fingers started stroking my nipple, I thought I was going to faint.
I broke away.
“Dave. Don’t,” I said, very half heartedly.
He smiled, and pulled me close again.
“Why not, you like it?”
“I know, but we can’t do anything about it.”
He smiled. “At least I know that I can’t get my girlfriend pregnant.”
I frowned and he sensed that he had said the wrong thing. Which was just as well, as I was almost too far gone to care. And I might have done something that I would regret.
“Hey, Sandi, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”
I sighed. “I know, babe, but we’ll never escape what I am, will we?”
The moment was past, and I turned and walked back to the theatre. He ran after me, grabbing my hand.
“I’m really sorry Sandi, I didn’t think.”
“Yes, you did, that’s the trouble. Thinking gets us into places we should never go.”
He walked with me for a while, holding my hand. I stopped and turned to him.
“Look, it’s no good never talking about it. I need to talk about it with someone, and you are the only person who knows, apart from Jenny. But, I need to know, where the hell are we going with this?”
He looked at me.
“I dunno. Where do you want it to go?”
“Shit, Dave, how the hell do I know? A few months ago, I was someone else, now I’m two people, and neither of them is really me. How the hell should I know anything?”
He started to laugh.
“What’s so bloody funny?” I asked, getting angry, as I pulled my hand out of his grip.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Dave, stop being so fucking nice to me. Tell me the sodding truth, please.”
He looked at me, taking my hand again.
“The truth? Okay, here’s the truth. I meet a girl who makes me go all fucking soft and stupid inside. She is pretty and funny and fun to be with, and I fall in sodding love with the silly cow. Then she tells me she is really a bloke, but hopes to be a girl soon. If that is not enough, she tells me her father is a gangster and she is in constant danger from another gangster and his men. Then, she turns into a bloody super model, with legs and looks to die for, and everyone thinks I’m fucking her rotten. I fucking wish.
“Sandi, the truth is so bloody twisted, I wouldn’t know the truth if it bit me in the bum.”
I had to laugh.
“What is so funny?” he asked.
“You, you’re lovely when you’re angry.”
He smiled and started to laugh with me. We ended up having a hug.
“Was that it?” I asked.
“Was that what?”
“Was that our first domestic?”
We both laughed and almost couldn’t stop.
“You haven’t answered my question,” I said.
“Which one, I got confused.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“Sandi, I’m happy with the way things are. I’m leaving this place, and I’m going to take a few months touring the States with Mike. If you want to suspend things until I get back, then say the word?”
“Dave, I want you to feel free to make decisions, and free to choose. I don’t want to tie you down. I’ll not seek any commitment from you.”
He looked at me.
“Is that the truth?”
I couldn’t look at him.
“You don’t lie very well, did you know that?”
“I want you to be free,” I said, trying not to cry.
“I am free, and I’ve chosen. Who knows what’s in the future, but for now, I choose you,” he said, and I looked up at him.
“Thanks,” I said, and kissed him.
I turned and went back into the theatre to sort out my clothes.
I was in my underwear, just packing the last of the stuff away when Jenny came to me. She had brought her evening dress so we could get ready together.
“You were getting a bit heated with Dave, is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, we had a heavy session, and we both got a bit aroused, and then he said something which hurt. So we had a few words, I just wanted to know where the hell we were going.”
“Which is?”
“I’m still not sure, but I’ll take each day as it comes. I don’t want to tie him down to something that’s not real.”
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re very real.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, but how real was this afternoon?”
“Huh?”
“You were chosen as the best model because you look beautiful, and you are so gorgeous, everyone is jealous of you.”
“No they aren’t.” I said.
“Sandi, open your eyes, look at yourself. You have a fabulous figure, a superb pair of legs, and a face and smile that make men wet themselves. Forget what you were, you’re a beautiful girl, with a world out there waiting to be conquered.”
I looked at her, almost waiting for her to smile, and say, ‘fooled you.’ But she didn’t.
“Really?”
“Really. Look, I’m your friend, and I wouldn’t lie to you.”
I gave her a hug.
“Shit, Jenny. What do I do?”
“Just be you. Don’t try to be anyone you aren’t.”
“Who am I Jenny? I’m not sure I know any more.”
“You’re my friend, my very pretty friend, whom I love dearly.”
She made me cry, the cow. So we hugged for a bit. We then had to change. I wore my long dress, as I didn’t want Dave overheating too early. Jenny wore a red dress that was really pretty and made her look stunning. We left the theatre together, and met the boys near the Hall.
Mike held out his hands to Jenny and gave her a big kiss, and Dave looked at me.
“Still speaking?”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, so he kissed me.
We followed Jenny and Mike into the transformed Hall. But paper streamers and pretty table cloths didn’t alter the fact that it was still school.
Actually, it was fun. I looked and felt glamorous, and Dave treated me as if I was. I behaved as if I was, and it felt really great. I made a point to talking to all the girls from the fashion show, and being as nice to them, without being smarmy or false. I was terrified of being thought of as a snooty bitch, so I tried a little humility.
The food was okay, and the fruit punch was dull, until someone emptied a bottle of vodka into it. But the disco was brilliant, and I danced for ages. I had never enjoyed dancing as Alex, but as Sandi, I just adored it. Dave gave up and sat several out, so I danced by myself, or with anyone who wanted to dance with me. I was on a high, and didn’t care.
The music changed, and became slow and smoochy. Dave appeared again, and we melted together. I hung round his neck and let him hold me tight against his body. He was aroused again, and I still didn’t care. I rubbed myself against him, as we kissed. He stroked my bum, and caressed my tits, and I wanted him again.
I had to break off.
“I need some air,” I said, and we went outside.
We walked over to the cricket pavilion, and sat on the wooden decking.
He caressed my shoulder and nuzzled my neck.
I placed my hand on his trousers, and felt him straining to escape.
“Sandi..”
“Shh,” I said.
I unzipped his trousers, and his cock sprung out. It was huge. It was circumcised, and the large purple head looked ready to explode.
I stroked it gently, watching his face in the gloom, as he closed his eyes and moaned, I smiled. This was real control.
I ran my thumb gently over the head, and he writhed beneath my touch.
I felt some moisture escape from the little hole, and I immediately felt curious to know what it tasted like, so I licked the end.
It was okay, if a little salty, I tried again, and he thrust towards me.
I held it tightly in my right hand, and took the end into my mouth. I ran my tongue all over the knob, and he started jerking and thrusting into my mouth. I closed my lips tightly around it, allowing him to thrust as far as I could take it without gagging.
I stroked his hairy balls with my other hand, and ran my finger round to his bum. He wasn’t long.
He started thrusting quicker and quicker, grunting and moaning, and suddenly I felt this hot sticky liquid fill my mouth and throat. He had come in my mouth. I swallowed and kept licking his knob, and he started to moan and squirm. I licked him clean, put him away and zipped him up again. I smiled and sat up.
“Okay, gentle enough for you, Wild Man?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Shit Sandi, you needn’t have.”
“I wanted to. It’s the least I could do, really. Besides, I enjoyed it.”
“But I can’t do anything for you.”
“You still don’t get it do you?”
“What?”
“You’ve let me be the person I want to be. You allow me to do this, and it’s enough. For now anyway.” I said, with a smile.
We sat together in silence for a while. His arm was around me, and I held him.
“Sandi?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s it like for you?”
“What’s what like?”
“Life. I mean, you were something different, what is it like wanting something you are not?”
“Bloody hard. It’s still hard, because I’m always aware of what I am, and I just wait for someone to point at me and scream the truth to everyone.”
“But you never really were a boy were you?”
“Physically, yes. But in every other way, not really. Society dictated that I had to do certain things, and behave in a certain way, but I never felt I fitted in with what was expected of me.”
He was quiet for a while.
“Worried you might be gay?” I teased.
“No, you’ve always been a girl in my mind. No, I was trying to understand why society is so cruel.”
I shrugged.
“Survival, I suppose. I’m hardly the type that will assist with producing stronger members of the species.”
“There has to be more to it than that?”
“I think people are terrified of anything which threatens their own security. I wonder how many are wavering between the genders, and people like me make them feel even more insecure. At least I have the bottle to go for what I believe I should be. One reads of all kinds of important people leading double lives. There is the real danger to society, the real hypocrisy.”
He laughed.
“This is getting rather deep.”
“Sorry, but you did ask,” I replied.
“Sandi, would you marry me?”
“Dave, you aren’t proposing to me, are you?”
“No, I want to know if you would, not if you will.”
“I would, if I thought you loved me, and that I couldn’t live without you, and that we could make a life together. But I don’t feel ready for any of that right now.”
“Neither do I, but I helps that I know.”
I looked at him.
“You’re daft,” I said.
“Would you mind if I did ask you?”
“No, but that doesn’t automatically that I’d say yes. Besides, it’s not legal in this country, yet.”
“What isn’t?”
“Marrying a transsexual.”
“Oh. I don’t see you as one of them.”
I smiled and hugged him.
“But there are other places that do allow it,” I said.
“Then we could get married there,” he said.
“Dave, I haven’t said yes, and you haven’t asked me.”
“You will, when I do,” he said, and we both laughed.
The end of term arrived, as did my name and pictures in the local papers. Jenny and I sat at the breakfast table looking at the paper.
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Stunning leggy blonde bombshell, Sandi Lake, seen here winning the prize for most glamorous model at the Brighton High School’s Annual Charity Fashion Show, amazed staff, parents and guests by sweeping the board with her original designs and wonderful presence on the catwalk last Friday. The pretty seventeen year old showed that she had what it takes, as she was judged by fashion’s biggest names as a rising star in the industry. Jemima Overson, the head of one of the most prestigious modelling agencies said, “Sandi has everything that I look for in a really good model; looks, figure, charm, grace and a real twinkle. She came out smiling, and the whole place lit up, she captivated us with that smile, and whatever she wore was immediately better than the rest.”
However, the local lass was not to be swayed into believing that she was any better than the others. “I think everyone worked really hard, and my designs were not as good as lots of the others. I only won two of the categories, and I don’t want people to forget that. I am pleased to have won the modelling award, but it was only one small part of the whole show. The fact that together we raised £2,500 for local charities is the whole point, and I would much rather we were all remembered for that.” Head teacher, Brian Goodson, said, “Sandi and the other girls all worked equally hard, and it is to their credit that so much money was raised for charity. Their work is all part of the A level syllabus, and shows exactly what a high standard they are already achieving. We are all very proud of all of them.” More pictures on Page 8 |
“Bugger!” I said.
“Why? It’s brilliant. You look really glamorous in this one,” said Jenny.
“Yeah, what happens when Frankie Holland sees this?” I said.
“Oh. He’s hardly likely to, is he?”
“I don’t know. But if he is looking for a Lake in the Brighton area, he doesn’t have to look far.”
“He’s looking for an Alexander Lake, a boy. Remember?”
“Hmm,” I said, not convinced.
But life went on, and still nothing happened.
Chapter 6
I came round from the anaesthetic feeling very odd. My brain was not attached to my body, and I got the giggles. But then I moved, the room started to spin, and the nausea hit me.
I tried to focus on a face that swum in front of my eyes, and as I succeeded, the pain began to creep up on me from my groin.
“Fuck. Ooh, that hurts,” I remembered to speak.
“Sandi, can you hear me?” this voice kept saying.
“Yes, but that fucking hurts,” I said, with some feeling.
“Sandi, look at me,” the voice said.
I looked at the face, and Dr Rogerson swam into focus.
“It hurts, doctor,” I whimpered.
“It’s going to, we’ll get some painkillers going, but you have had major surgery.”
I looked down, but I saw I was covered up. I felt disappointed.
“Did it work?” I asked.
He laughed.
“Yes, it went very well. And when you are a little better, I will come and tell you what else I found.”
“Else?” I asked, confused.
“Shh. Rest now, and I will see you tomorrow. The anaesthetic will make you a little drowsy and nauseous, so try no keep resting today. But you have a lot of work to do over the next week or so.”
“Oh, the dilators,” I said.
He smiled, “That’s right, but they’ll take you back to your room, and you can sleep for a bit.”
I remembered watching the light fittings flick past as I was wheeled back to my room, but I went to sleep before I got there.
I woke up in bed, and Jenny was sitting by the bed.
“Hi Jen’” I croaked.
“How are you, girl?”
I smiled. “A girl.”
“You okay?” she asked.
“Hurts like fuck, but it means it worked,” I said. I looked round the room, there were flowers everywhere.
“The flowers?” I said.
She went round reading from all the cards. Everyone I knew had sent some, so I cried and passed out again.
She was still there when I came round again an hour later.
“Sorry Jenny, it’s the anaesthetic.”
“It’s okay. Still sore?”
I nodded. A nurse came in.
“Hi Sandi, I’m Maureen, how are you feeling?”
“Sore and sick,” I said.
She looked at one of the two IV drips going into my arm.
“This one is pain relief, this tap here turns it up or down. You can do that yourself. If the pain gets too much, then turn it like this, and the other way if you start floating.”
“Floating?”
“It’s morphine based, so you do not want too much.”
“Oh. Leave it where it is for the moment then,” I said.
There was another tube coming from my groin, which was heavily bandaged. I assumed it was a urinary catheter.
“How long do I stay plumbed in?” I asked.
“We’ll take the dressings off tomorrow, and see how you’re doing.”
I felt pretty grotty, so Jenny gave me a hug and left me alone. I dozed off. My dreams were amazing.
The next morning the pain was still there, but the nausea was gone. I kept the pain control quite low, while I was awake it was fine, as long as I could concentrate on something.
The doctor came in and spent time taking the dressing off, and examining the area. I was allowed to see and it looked like a war wound - very swollen and sutures everywhere. They had shaved me, but it looked brilliant, I was a girl.
“Right, Sandi. You’re a complicated girl, aren’t you?”
“Why?”
“Well, you had a surprise for me. It’s no wonder you had some gender confusion. You had some female reproductive organs already inside you, but not completely developed. I’ve not been able to conduct tests yet, but I think you are either the product of two fertilised eggs coming together as one foetus. Or, whilst developing, you never lost those female vestiges that all foetuses have at some point. You were not a true hermaphrodite, as you never had a full set of organs from each gender. However, I can tell you that your pelvis is female, and your chromosomes are XX. So legally, physically and in every other way, you are now wholly female.”
I stared at him.
“But I had normal male stuff.”
“Yes, but I suspect that you were sterile as a male. And, as you have a very nice set of ovaries, fallopian tubes, a womb and a cervix, I see no reason why you shouldn’t live a perfectly normal life as a woman. Particularly as I have constructed everything else you will need.”
“Did you use the extra skin from my penis and scrotum?”
“You didn’t have very much. I used what I could, and you have a clitoris, and labia. Your vagina is partly the outer skin from your penis, and partly tissue from your colon. There is a slight risk of scar tissue forming at the join, so it is important that you persist with the dilation programme we discussed.”
“What happens if scar tissue does form?”
“If you have difficulty with the larger dilators, then I may have to go in again to just make things a little neater. Otherwise you won’t be able to have sex properly.”
“You said that I had ovaries, are they working?”
“They are not fully developed or functioning yet. The hormone implant has had an effect, and they are at a stage of a prepubescent girl, of say eleven or so. But they are on the way, and are beginning to produce hormones of their own. I had to take the implant out, as your level of oestrogen was way too high to be healthy. I should say that you should first experience menstruation in five or six weeks.”
“You mean I will bleed?”
“Yes.”
“But that means that I am..”
“It means that you are not a transsexual, you are a young woman, physiologically, psychologically, emotionally and legally. It doesn’t often happen, and you are my first.”
“Shit!” I said, and he laughed.
“So, let’s have the packing out in a day or so, and then you can start with the dreaded dilators. If I say so myself, I don’t even think your gynaecologist will be able to tell you haven’t been a girl all your life.”
“What would I need one of them for?”
“Well, I see no reason why you shouldn’t eventually conceive and bear a child, or several, if that is your wish.”
There was a rushing in my ears, and I was afraid I had misheard him.
“What?”
He smiled and sat on the edge of my bed. He took my right hand, as my left had tubes in it.
“Sandi, you are a perfectly normal girl now. You had a gender disorder, but I have removed the problem, and corrected any deficiencies. I believe that you will be fertile, and therefore, I see no reason why you shouldn’t have children.”
The rushing got worse, and I felt light headed. I was glad that I was in bed.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and laughter welled up in my chest. Both broke out together, and he smiled at me.
Never in my wildest dreams had I even considered the remotest possibility that I would ever be a mother. It was almost too much, and I wept and laughed at the same time.
Maureen came in and she and the doctor replaced my dressings, and he left me still giggling.
“So, it seems you are as surprised as the rest of us?” Maureen said.
“Just a bit,” I said.
“Did you have any idea?”
“I just knew I should have been a girl. I felt right as a girl, and wrong as a boy, it’s as simple as that.”
“Well, I do like to see a happy ending,” she said.
“This is just the beginning.” I said, and she laughed.
The door opened and a bunch of flowers walked in. Dave’s head peered round the side of them.
“Hi gorgeous, how are you?” he said, and I burst into tears, and Maureen left us, chuckling to herself.
Dave looked worried, as I don’t think he expected that reaction.
“I’m a girl, Dave.”
“I know that. I’ve always known that.”
“No Dave, you don’t understand. I am a real girl. The doctor found that I had ovaries and a womb and everything. Even my pelvis and chromosomes are female. The male bits were useless, I have always had girl bits, and now they are beginning to work.”
He stared at me, his mouth open.
“Dave?”
“Fuck me,” he said.
“Yes. I probably will,” I said, simply.
“Bloody hell, Sandi, are you sure?”
I nodded.
He took my hand.
“Look, just know that it makes no difference to me. I love you for who you are, and that’s all there is to it. But I’m pleased, more for you as I know it means so much to you.”
I started to cry again, he was just too nice to me.
He stayed for hours, and even sat next to me on my bed. Although the pain, or dull ache, was quite bad, I kept the pain relief to a minimum as I wanted to keep morphine out of my system as much as possible.
Dave distracted me, as we watched TV and played cards together. He was so tender and loving, I kept crying and laughing. He must have thought I was really dippy.
Jenny, Mike, Caroline and Rachel arrived, and a party atmosphere blossomed. Jenny had told them that I had ‘a problem down below’ and I decided it was truth time. My news didn’t really surprise anyone, particularly as they all thought I was a girl anyway. In fact, they were more surprised that I thought that I had been a boy in the first place.
A wave of euphoria hit me, and I didn’t need morphine, I was on a high.
I was tired, so Maureen shooed them away so I could have a sleep. Dave promised to come back every day, and he kissed me. I ached for him again and smiled, now I was almost ready for him.
I slept most of the afternoon, and at about four o’clock a nurse came and checked my dressings.
“That looks very clean, so I think we will let you have a bit of air now. I’ll take out the catheter, so you can go to the loo.”
It was better without the tight bandages on, and I was allowed to walk about a bit. I felt rather wobbly, so was not awfully adventurous. They gave me a light tea, of which I managed to eat everything.
I had a little sleep after tea, but woke up when I felt a draught.
My Dad stood there.
“Hi,” he said.
“Dad.”
He smiled.
“I can’t stay long. I see you have coppers watching you.”
“You saw them?”
“Yeah, it’s easy when you know.”
“Jim Randall arranged it.”
“I was hoping he would. How are you?”
“Great. I was a girl after all.”
He frowned, so I had to explain it to him.
“Are you pleased?” he asked.
I simply smiled and nodded.
“Good, then I’m pleased for you too. You looked great in the fashion show.”
“I looked for you, but you buggered off,” I said.
“Yeah, things are tricky right now. Frankie wants my balls.”
“He can have mine, I don’t have them any more,” I said, and he smiled, but he looked drawn and tired.
“I’m off to the States tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ll be back for a while. Did you clear out the safe in my room?”
I told him everything that I had done, and he nodded.
“Good girl. Frankie wants £8,000,000, or I’m dead.”
“I thought the deal was for £5,000,000?”
“Interest, he says, I have until the end of July.”
“Can you raise it?”
“Maybe, but it’ll be tight, and even then I reckon he wants me dead regardless, so I’m looking at alternatives.”
“Like what?”
“Frankie is into a deal in New York. Drugs, so maybe I can help the FBI and get into a witness protection programme.”
“Don’t we do that over here?”
“I’m too well known. Besides, I’m wanted for murder now.”
I was silent, as I had forgotten that.
“Look Sandi, I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant for you to get dragged into this. When I saw those bastards with you, I just decided to do the only thing I could.”
“You didn’t have to, I was fooling them. They thought I was just the bloody maid.”
“They wouldn’t have stayed fooled for long.”
I remembered the photograph. It wouldn’t have taken an Oxford Don to realise that Sandi and Alexander were one and the same.
“Why don’t you sell all the properties abroad?” I asked.
“What for? I’d still need a good few million on top. No, Frankie wants me dead, but he’s hoping to have the cash as well.”
I looked pained.
“Are you okay love?”
“No, I’m fucking not. I’m in pain, I feel like shit, my world has been turned upside down, and my Dad is a bloody crook. I’m going to lose him, and I have only just got to know him,” I said, and the tears started again.
He came and sat down on the bed next to me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. Actually looking and sounding as if he meant it.
“Being sorry doesn’t make it better,” I said, and he looked miserable.
“Look Dad, Mum had a go at you, but you didn’t bloody listen, and you lost her. But I lost her too, and that bloody hurts. Now you say you’re sorry again, well so what? Unless you change, you’ll lose me too.”
“I will, as soon as I square off Frankie.”
“Dad, there will always be a Frankie. Who are you trying to kid?”
“Honest, this is the last one.”
“How often did you say that to Mum?”
He went quiet and looked down.
“Too bloody often.”
I stared at him.
He smiled. “You’re so like your Mum, it hurts me to look at you.”
“I don’t want you to die Dad, as you’re all I have left.”
Tears came to his eyes.
“I love you so much,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, the sarcasm creeping into my voice.
“Sandi, I do. Really.”
“I love you too Dad, but you have to stop.”
“I will, I promise.”
“Now Dad.”
“I can’t. I have to sort things out.”
“What about the police, can’t they sort him out?”
“He’s in America, so I have to find him first.”
“They have police in the States, Dad, and the FBI and stuff.”
“I hear you.”
Tears fell from my eyes, and he reached out and stroked my cheeks.
“Hey. I’ll call you on your mobile. You still have it don’t you?”
I nodded.
“I’d better go. I’m glad you’re on the mend, and I hope this blows over. I want to see you grow up.”
“Duh. Dad, I am grown up.”
“Then I’d like to see my grandchildren.”
I cried some more.
He kissed me and left as silently as he had come. I turned my face to the pillow and wept.
I was determined to get out of hospital as soon as possible, so on the 20th July, after five days, they discharged me. I continued my dilation exercises religiously, and after a couple of weeks I was delighted when number five (the big one.) slipped up without any pain or blockage.
Dave had gone to the States with Mike for a grand tour, and so Jenny and I were working in the busy hotel, and flirting with any juicy blokes we could find.
Mr Rogerson had completed a certified note so I was legally female, and therefore entitled to have my birth certificate changed to read ‘female’. I made sure everything else was changed as well. I applied for my passport as Alexandra Lake, so was pleased as punch when it arrived.
I went back for a check up on the 1st August, and Mr Rogerson declared himself delighted with my progress. I was very happy to hand back the dilators that I had ‘borrowed’.
“Have you bled yet?”
I shook my head.
“Any sore tummies?”
I frowned. “What kind?” I asked.
He gently placed his hands on my abdomen, either side of my navel, and slightly above.
“Yeah, slightly, a couple of days ago. I thought it was my tummy muscles after playing tennis.”
“That, my girl, was you ovulating. Expect a visitor in a little while.”
“Oh.”
“And, what contraception method are you planning?”
I stared at him blankly, so he smiled.
“I thought so. The tests on your ovaries show you’re fertile, so unless you’re careful, you will be a mummy.”
“Oh.”
“You’re almost completely healed now, but to be safe I’d leave it for another month at least. If you see your GP, then it takes a month for the pill to kick in. I’ve written a letter to her, so she knows which one would be best for you.”
“Oh,” I repeated.
“I met your boyfriend, is he still around?”
“He’s in the States, it’s his gap-year.”
“Oh,” he said, and I laughed.
“How are things between you?”
“I’ll have to wait for him to come back.”
“How long is he away?”
“Too long; three months.”
“Oh, do you miss him?”
“Silly question,” I said, smiling.
“Well, be careful. You’re still fragile, so you don’t want to rupture anything at this stage.”
“I will be. I’m not desperate to lose my virginity. It’s something that I can lose only once, so I want it to be special and with someone I really love.”
“Sensible girl. Well, I’m done with you for the time being. If you have any problems down there, then call my secretary. Otherwise, I’m sure that Dr Shepherd will be able to cope.”
“Thanks so much,” I said.
He stood up, so I shook his hand. He kissed me on both cheeks.
“I’m sure I’ll see you in the papers and on TV soon. Beauty like yours can never be hidden for long.”
I blushed and said goodbye.
Chapter 7
Jenny and I planned to take a two-week break in August, and wanted to go camping in the south of France. Scott Collins was not keen on the idea, so we elected to go to Newquay instead. I popped home to get some clothes and check the mail. I was just locking up, when I was grabbed from behind by some powerful, and very unfriendly arms.
I had a sack pulled over my head, and then the unseen person carried and dumped me into the boot of a waiting car. The car took off at speed, while I struggled to get the hood off. Once I succeeded, I was in darkness. I could hear muffled voices in the car, and felt around for anything to use to get the boot open. I had on a mini skirt and a tee shirt, and my high heels were useless for running.
I found that I was lying on the spare wheel cover board, so the jack and wheel brace must be underneath, but I couldn’t get my hand under the cover to reach anything.
I managed to lie on my back, and put my knees against the boot lid, but with all my strength, I couldn’t budge it. I hoped and prayed that the police had followed, and had seen my abduction.
The car was moving steadily, not too fast, so I guessed that they didn’t want to attract the attention of traffic patrols. I tried to work out in which direction we were headed, but I had lost my sense of direction completely. I remembered thinking that I was strangely calm and not that frightened. I reasoned that if they wanted me dead, they’d have already done that, and I was being watched by the police, so what could go wrong?
Eventually, and thankfully, the car came to a halt, as I was feeling sick.
The boot lid popped open and light streamed in.
“Come on, out,” said a male voice.
A very large black man lifted me out of the boot. My shoes were still in the boot.
“Not one fucking squeak, alright darling?” he said, in a very deep London accent. There were two other men there. Before I could get a good look round, the hood was back on.
With bare feet, I was half-dragged and half-carried across a tarmac surface, and then up a metal staircase, similar to our fire escape at school. He pushed me through an open door and dragged me across a carpeted floor and through another door. Then I was literally thrown onto the floor, and I heard something hit the floor beside me, I assumed they were my shoes
The hood was removed, and I saw the back view of the black man as he walked out and shut the door.
I looked around me. It was little more than a cupboard. 6’ x 8’ at the most, and apart from a rather tired carpet, it was empty - no windows and only one door.
I grabbed my shoes and stood up. There wasn’t even a light switch, and the single un-shaded bulb hung from its cord from the ceiling. It wasn’t on, and what little light there was came from under the door.
I walked over to the door, and pressed my ear to it. I could hear muffled voices on the other side.
I sat down and rested my head on my knees.
“Shit!” I said.
I looked at my watch, and it was 2 pm. I just sat there, hoping and praying that someone would rescue me.
At 3 pm, the door opened, and I had given up hope of rescue.
“Out,” said the voice.
I put my shoes on and walked out, squinting in the bright lights.
There was just the black man and another older man. He was in a suit and looked quite smart.
“All right darling, it’s time you and me ‘ad a little chat,” he sounded as if he was straight off Eastenders on the TV.
I stared at him.
“Well?”
“Well what?” I said.
“Where’s Johnny, your Dad?”
I realised he was in no doubt as to who I was.
I shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him for weeks.”
“My employer is very anxious to speak to him. You see, he has over-run on an appointment.”
“You mean he hasn’t paid Frankie Holland eight million by the end of the month?” I said.
He stared at me. “So, you have seen the old man?”
“Yeah, as I said, several weeks ago. He said he was trying to raise some cash.”
“How do you contact him?”
“I don’t. I’ve seen him twice in six months, and one of those times I never got to speak to him.”
“No love lost there then?”
“He’s a useless bastard. He drove my Mum away and then did her in,” I said, seeing a strategy open up.
The man nodded.
“You look like your Mum.”
“So you knew her too?”
“No, I went to the house, I’ve seen the photos. Your Dad was smart trying to make us believe that you were a boy.”
I just looked at him.
“What do you want from me?”
“Not a fucking thing. You’re the bait. All we do is wait for your dad to come and rescue you and we’ll have him.”
“Can I watch?”
He frowned. “You hate him that much?”
“What do you think? He made me dress as a boy for ages, and killed my Mum. He fucked me up completely.”
The man laughed, but without any humour.
“Well, well, well. Johnny Lake’s little girl hates his sodding guts. What a turn up.”
“Can I speak to Frankie Holland?” I asked.
“Frankie? What for?”
“Maybe I can help you catch the bastard.”
He looked at me, his eyes narrowing.
“Frankie isn’t available. What can you give me?”
“Nothing. Frankie wants him, and I want to live my life, so why should I give you anything? It’s Frankie or nothing.”
He nodded.
“Watch her,” he said to the black man. Then he walked out and I got a glimpse of a modern industrial estate in red brick.
I sat on the edge of a table, and looked around. There was nothing. No pictures no papers, just a table and three chairs. There were three windows, and each had blinds pulled down, and two bulbs hung from the ceiling. They were both on, despite the sunny day outside.
The man returned.
“Okay, we’ll go see Frankie, but fuck about and you’ll be sorry,” he said.
“Yeah, like I can take you and King Kong here by myself,” I said, and he grinned.
They pulled the hood over my head again, as I was taken out and down the stairs. I was half way over to the car when I heard a shout.
“ARMED POLICE. YOU WITH THE GIRL. DO NOT MOVE.”
I simply dropped like a stone, and started rolling towards the voice. I heard the smart man swear, and then there were about four shots. They seemed very loud
“STAND STILL. DROP YOUR WEAPON.”
“STEP BACK.”
“TURN AWAY AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD.”
“ON YOUR KNEES.”
I heard running feet, and daylight stung my eyes as the hood was removed. I looked up to see Scott Collins looking down at me.
“What the fuck took you so long?” I said, and he grinned.
I turned round to see the black man lying in a pool of dark liquid. He was very still, and there was a small black pistol on the ground beside him. An officer was checking for signs of life. The other man was on his knees with his back to me, being searched by an officer with another pointing an MP5 H & K carbine at him. Another gun lay a few yards away from him and was being photographed by another of the officers.
“Shit,” I said.
Scott helped me to my feet.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he said, taking me to a waiting Range Rover with blacked out windows. I jumped into the back, and we left there very fast.
They took me to a police station. I still had no idea where I was. Scott gave me a sweet cup of tea, and I found my hands were shaking.
Scott asked me if I wanted anyone present when I made a statement. I shook my head. A female Detective Constable came and I made my statement to her. I was quite specific about Frankie Holland’s name, and very precise about the threats that were made to me. I was clear about what I said and the reasons behind them.
I called Jenny to tell her that I was all right, and found that she was almost hysterical. I couldn’t cope with that right now, so I rang off.
Scott came in to the room.
“How are you doing?”
“Better now. Why did you wait for so long?”
“We’re in Sussex. I had to get my boss to call the local boss, and he had to call the Chief, who had to authorise his own firearms support unit, so we just sat tight watching the place. In the end, they made the decision to take them when we saw you were okay.”
“If you’d waited, they were taking me to Frankie.”
“We couldn’t take that risk. My job is to protect you, not nick Frankie.”
“I’m pleased you did, though,” I said.
“They didn’t hurt you?”
“No, they scared the shit out of me, but I wasn’t hurt.”
“Well, you’re okay now.”
“Frankie will be well pissed off,” I said.
“Not my problem.”
“So how’s King Kong?”
“Who?”
“The big black bloke.”
“Oh, he’s not good. They hit him with four bullets. He’s intensive care.”
“Shit. Was that you?”
“No, we were withdrawn in favour of the local boys. It gets embarrassing when the Met kill people on other Force areas.”
“Have you ever shot anyone?”
“Not yet, but I’ve only been on the section a few months.”
“I could.”
He looked at me.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“But you won’t have to.”
“I hope not, but I could.”
“Come on, let’s take you home,” he said, leading me out of the police station.
“So what happened when I was grabbed?” I asked, as he started his car.
“Pete was watching, and there were three of them. They had you and were away before he could react. He called it in and kept the vehicle under observation, keeping a commentary up. The local chopper took over, so Pete dropped back. Once the helicopter saw where you stopped, the local police came and put in a containment. Then it was a waiting game, as no one knew whether you were alive or dead.
“Then out you came, hooded up, with those two blokes, so then it was all over.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“Any jobs with risks to life are never simple.”
“Thanks anyway.”
“No problem. It’s why we were there. At least we know the risk is genuine.”
I smiled.
“Yeah, just as well we didn’t go to France.”
I was quiet for most of the journey. I still didn’t know where they had taken me, some industrial estate nearer London, I think.
He pulled in at the hotel, and we went inside. Jenny was very anxious, and Scott calmed her down. He explained what had happened, and I could tell that John and Liz were having serious second thoughts about having me around.
“Look, I think I ought to go home. They know who I am, and that I’m protected, so there is no point hiding any more. I don’t want to bring any trouble to your place, so I’ll go home, and the police can live in at my place.”
They tried to pretend that they were happy having me, but I could tell that it was only half hearted. I packed my stuff and Scott took it in his car while I said goodbye, and then I rode my moped back.
I felt uneasy in the house, even with four armed policemen with me. But once they settled down, I began to relax. Jenny rang me and told me that her dad didn’t think it was a good idea that we went to Newquay, not for a bit anyway.
I hung up, and sat at the kitchen table, feeling really pissed off.
“Hey, are you okay?”
It was the younger copper, Pete.
“No, I’m pissed off,” I admitted. He sat down.
“Why?”
“Because I’m stuck here, and my friend can’t come with me to Newquay.”
“Oh, what a bummer,” he said, and I smiled.
“I never thanked you for saving my life,” I said.
“It wasn’t just me, the whole team and the local boys had an equal hand.”
“Yeah, but if you hadn’t been there, I would probably be dead.”
He blushed.
“Are you married?” I asked.
“No, do me a favour. Can you see a wife letting her husband pull this sort of job?”
“What sort is that?”
He went red again. “Close protection on a single attractive girl.”
“Oh.” It was my turn to blush.
“Still, this is nice,” he said.
“What is?”
“This house.”
“Is it bollocks? It’s ghastly. My Dad decorated it and he has no taste at all.”
“It’s a nice house.”
“Maybe, but the fixtures and fittings are really bad.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said with a smile.
“Believe me, my dad thinks that the inside of casinos are goof taste, so don’t give me that shit!”
I looked at my tee shirt. It was still dirty from rolling about on the ground.
“I’m going to have a shower. Are you my guardian angel tonight?”
“Looks that way.”
“Then phone for a pizza, as I’m no cook.”
I left him and went for a shower.
As the water coursed over my body, I felt at peace. The day had been terrifying, yet I had been slightly afraid, but mostly angry. That anger had given me an inner calm, and I found myself dealing with these people without showing any fear. I smiled, as I touched myself, I felt so good. I wished Dave was here.
I still had a month to go, and I had to go see Dr Shepherd, just to get the all clear and talk about…, well talk about girl stuff. I grinned, it was all so exciting, in a way. I washed my long hair, and stepped out and dried myself. I glanced in the mirror and saw myself. I stopped to admire what I saw. I had to smile, as this was the real dream come true.
While I was doing my make up, I saw Jemima Overson’s card. I picked it up and looked at it for a moment, working out that with over a month to go before going back to school, I could get some work as a model to pass the time. I picked up the phone by my bed, and dialled the number.
I then had a touch of the seconds as it was nearly six o’clock in the evening, but she answered.
“Hello, this is Sandi Lake. You probably don’t remember me, but..”
“Sandi, my dear girl, of course I remember you. In fact I was only talking about you today.”
“Really? Gosh. Anyway, I’m free for a month or so, and was wondering whether you could use me for anything?”
“When can you get to London?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Fine, come to the agency off the Tottenham Court Road at ten. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
“Should I wear anything in particular?”
“No, just whatever you get up into. I was hoping you would call me.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, but I showed someone your pictures and she is desperate to meet you.”
I rang off, my spirits lifted somewhat. I was certainly intrigued.
I went downstairs to find that Pete had ordered two enormous pizzas, so we stuffed ourselves silly. I found out that he was twenty-five, unmarried and between girlfriends. He had five years on the force, and had been on the firearms team for just six months.
He liked football, fishing and golf, and he loved science fiction. So we dug out the Alien movies on DVD and watched them together. The other officers were either asleep, or off out somewhere. Scott muttered about the local police putting one marked vehicle outside the house. I imagined that there were some discussions taking place at a high level somewhere.
“Why were you in hospital?” Pete asked.
“Women problems.”
“Oh.”
He was embarrassed.
“I had something wrong down below, but it’s fixed now,” I elaborated slightly.
“Oh, good,” he said, wishing he had not brought it up.
“Would you like to see the photos?” I teased, and he looked terrified for a second, and then he realised I was teasing.
It was nearly midnight, and the events of the day hit me.
“Hey, I’m going to bed. Who’s my minder tomorrow?”
“I’m on from 10 am onwards.”
“Then you will be coming to London with me. I have an appointment with a modelling agency at ten.”
“Okay, cool,” he said, imagining a room full of half naked girls.
“Do we go by train, or what?” I asked.
“I’ll speak to the skipper in the morning. I should think we will go by car.”
“Okay, good night.”
“Night.”
I went up to my room and went to bed. I lay awake for quite some time, as I went through the events of the day. I was more surprised at how calm I had been throughout my ordeal, but I was a little worried. I enjoyed it in a perverse sort of way. I got a thrill from negotiating with the highest stakes, my life.
I awoke feeling really shitty, and when I pulled back the duvet I discovered why. Cursing being female, I went and cleaned myself up. I had sensibly stocked up with ‘feminine hygiene products’ after the doctor’s little warning, so I was prepared. I had a shower, dressed, taking my sheets and nightie to the washing machine.
Pete was already up and reading the paper.
“Hi. I see you are famous again,” he said, showing me the front page of the paper.
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Attractive seventeen year-old Sandi Lake,was recovering at an unknown address last night after being rescued by armed police from the clutches of an armed gang in north Sussex yesterday morning. The pretty schoolgirl, who won a modelling award a month ago at Brighton High School, was grabbed from her home address by the men, had a hood placed over her head and driven in the boot of a car to an industrial estate near Horsham. However, for reasons that we can’t report, she was being protected by armed officers, and the kidnappers were tracked and a containment of local armed officers was put in place. After a couple of hours, as the kidnappers were attempting to move her, the police struck. Two of the gang drew firearms, and despite being instructed to disarm, one man, unemployed Wayne Burnett from Clapton, E. London, failed to comply with the directions, and was shot by police marksmen several times.
The other man, Charles Cooper from Ealing, was arrested and was later charged with kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, assault and firearms offences. Burnett was still in intensive care and his situation was described as critical. Other offenders are being sought, and arrests will be made shortly. Detective Superintendent William Bryce of the Sussex Police said, “Miss Lake was under close observation and her movements were monitored for the entire duration of the incident. Action was only taken by police when we believed that it was safe to act, and no other members of the public were put in danger. She was released unharmed, and there was only one casualty, an armed criminal. Due to the sensitive nature of the case, no comment can be made on the reasons that police were watching Miss Lake, but let me stress, that she is not involved in any criminal allegations, and is assisting police in a very public spirited way. She is a very courageous young lady, and I cannot commend her bravery enough.” When asked whether the case involved her father, businessman Jonathon Lake, who is currently suspected of being in some way connected to the death of three men on the main Brighton to Newhaven road a few weeks ago. The Superintendent made no comment. But it is believed that Mr Lake is somehow connected with London Crime boss Francis Holland, and that a feud between the men has caused his innocent daughter to be used as a pawn. Holland (57) has left his Chigwell home, and is believed to have fled abroad in the last twenty-four hours. It is believed that Holland is being sought by police for a number of offences relating to armed robberies and extortion in and around the Home Counties. It is also rumoured that Customs are seeking him for drug trafficking offences. The current whereabouts of both Lake and Holland are unknown at this time. It is believed that Holland is being sought by police for a number of offences relating to armed robberies and extortion in and around the Home Counties. It is also rumoured that Customs are seeking him for drug trafficking offences. The current whereabouts of both Lake and Holland are unknown at this time. Sandi Lake was unavailable for comment, but her Head-teacher, Brian Goodson, said of her, “Sandi is a delightful girl, it is sad that she has been exposed to such a horrible act, but she has shown that she is brave and resourceful, and I hope she has not been scarred by this incident. We are all grateful that she was rescued unharmed.” For pictures of the site of the gun battle, see page five. |
“Oh my God,” I said, and sat down to read it. Page five had a photograph of me wearing my little black number at the fashion show. I looked very elegant and was smiling, as I had just won the award. It also had the pictures of the industrial estate, and the pool of blood on the car park. The rooms I had been in were ringed and it all looked so weird.
“It’s in the nationals as well. Same pictures too, some local photographer has struck lucky,” Pete said.
Scott and another officer, Steve, came in, and saw I was reading the paper. He showed me the Daily Mail, and I was in that too.
“How are you?” he asked, pouring himself a coffee.
“If you must know, bloody awful,” I admitted.
He frowned.
“Oh?”
“Nothing to do with yesterday, okay. Girl things,” I said, and he stopped frowning.
“Oh.”
“I’ll give you - Bloody Oh,” I said, and went to hit him, so he chuckled.
“So how are we going to play today, skipper?” Pete asked.
“Two cars. You drive Sandi, and Steve and I will follow. It’s Ed’s day off,” Scott explained.
“And when we get there?” I asked.
“Pete will stay close, and we will be right outside. But to be honest, I don’t think they will try anything so soon after the last attempt.”
“How do I explain Pete lurking and dribbling in the corner?” I asked.
They all laughed.
“Play it how you see it. If you can just say he is a friend who drove you up.”
“And the reason he is within five yards of me all day?”
“Shit, I don’t know.”
“How about I tell the truth? After all, it’s in all the bloody papers.”
“Ah, yes, well I suppose that would do,” Scott said, looking sheepish.
I was wearing a short tan skirt and a neat little light brown top, with lacing across the bust. It was a lovely sunny day and although I had felt better in my life, so I was actually very happy. My hair was the longest that it had ever been, and was looking gorgeous. I loved the feel of it against my shoulders. Despite my ‘visitor’, I felt about as complete as I could remember, and I kept smiling every time I saw my reflection. There was nothing false about me any more. I was at last the person I had always wanted to be.
The events of the previous day were so unreal, that it was as if they had happened to someone else. And besides, I was being escorted by three really dishy blokes all carrying guns.
We arrived at the agency a little before ten. The guys parked their cars outside, so when a traffic warden appeared, they flashed their warrant cards and stayed put.
I went in followed by Pete, his Glock was partially covered by a light bomber jacket. His radio was in a pouch under one armpit, and his gun under the other. A little wire disappeared into his ear, and he was constantly looking around. It was all rather melodramatic, so I felt rather important.
The agency was on the third and fourth floors of a relatively modern building. It was light and airy, and all decorated in a very modern and tasteful style. It was very open plan, and the furnishings and décor were all very expensive.
“Sandi, darling girl, do come in, super to see you. Oh, your hair looks lovely, down like that. And those colours are so you,” Jemima said as I walked in. I had worn my hair up for the fashion show.
Pete lurched in behind me. She looked at him as if I had brought in some dog turd.
“Sorry Jemima, but after yesterday, I’m sort of stuck with him,” I said, and she looked at me and frowned.
“Yesterday?” she asked, raising one elegantly plucked eyebrow
“I was sort of involved in some nastiness. It’s in the papers,” I said. She looked sufficiently vague, so I guessed she hadn’t read them yet. Pete helpfully showed her the Daily Mail.
“I’m a police officer, madam. I am here to ensure that Alexandra is kept safe,” he said, showing her his warrant card, and as he did so, his firearm was briefly on view in its holster.
Jemima looked shocked as she put on a very dainty pair of half moon glasses. Her expression deepened as she read the newspaper, and even more when she saw the Glock.
“Oh, my God, you poor girl. So what is it all about?” she said returning the paper to Pete, and putting away her glasses.
“My Dad, it turns out, is a bit of a scallywag, and it seems he may have upset some of the wrong people. So, as he has conveniently buggered off, they tried to get to him through me. But it seems that the police have everything under control, and Pete here is my guardian angel for the day,” I said.
She shook her head, and surprised me by smiling.
“What a wonderful change,” she said, and I must have looked rather bemused at her, so she laughed.
“When I saw you in Brighton, I thought, there is a refreshing look, so different - almost unique. You were just so different to most of the girls who come to me. And this, it’s all so exciting, so romantic almost.”
“Romantic?” I said, staring at her. What planet was she on?
“Maybe the wrong word, but oh, I don’t know, out of the ordinary, certainly unusual,” she said.
“I spent an hour in the boot of a car with a sack over my head. I didn’t actually feel it was the slightest bit romantic,” I said, and she smiled.
“I know, but we lead such safe and secluded lives, this is all dramatic and different.”
I smiled, and she looked at Pete.
“I can wait in the car, as long I know where she is, that’s no problem. If you leave the building, let me know, okay Sandi?”
“Sure, Pete, thanks.”
He smiled and shuffled out.
“He’s rather hunky, in a rough sort of way,” Jemima said, eyeing his bum.
“They all are,” I said.
“All?”
“I have four. There is Pete, Ed, Steve and their Sergeant Scott.”
“Good gracious, how divine. Do they spend the night with you as well?”
“Oh yes, but I sleep alone,” I said, with a knowing look.
She laughed.
“Oh, you are delightful - a real breath of fresh air. Now, I have a really old friend of mine over from the States. She is called Natasha Kysinski, her grandfather was Polish, or something like that. Anyway, she is a fashion designer, and has the most gorgeous Autumn range due to come out. She came over to see if I had anyone who would show them better than anyone else, and I immediately thought of you.”
“Me?”
“Darling, your lovely colouring, the fresh complexion and the glorious golden hair. Look at yourself. You are the colour of Autumn — golden!” she said.
I looked at my clothes and smiled. I loved the russets and browns as they seemed to go with my hair, my long tanned legs were indeed a golden colour, and my blue eyes were in marked contrast.
“Anyway, she'll be here at eleven, so I thought we would see if we could do something about your make up.”
“What is wrong with it?” I asked, rather hurt, as I had spent quite a lot of time on it.
“Dear girl, it’s fine for a pretty seventeen-year old girl, who’s fresh up from the coast. But I want you to express the excitement that is within you, that seems to be reflected in your life. You have a freshness about you that goes beyond your age and natural beauty. You have the most wonderful eyes, and if we can get them to give some hint of this excitement, and your smile is so hypnotising, then you will take the world by storm.”
I flushed slightly, and just smiled.
She took me into her office, which had a superb view over London. The huge window ran the entire width of the room, and she had white leather furniture everywhere. Her black mahogany desk was clear of clutter, except a very new PC and flat screen monitor.
“Now, coffee?”
“Thanks, white, no sugar,” I said.
She poured from the cafetiere, and added a dash of milk. Then she handed me the white mug. I sat on the white leather armchair, terrified that I would spill coffee all over it. We sat and chatted for a while, so Jemima asked me all about my father. I was as honest as I could, clearly distancing myself from his life and activities as much as I could. I did stress that although a rough diamond, he did actually assist the police and was intent on doing just that in America.
She pressed a button on her phone, and spoke a few words into the intercom.
A few moments later, a petite woman, about thirty or so, came in. She was wearing a black dress, and had quite short dark brown hair. Her glasses reminded me of Brains from the Thunderbirds puppets. She was actually quite attractive and had a friendly smile.
“Ah, Hazel, this is Alexandra, she is new to the agency, and I thought we’d see if we could make the most of her superb cheekbones and those wonderful eyes,” said Jemima, holding my cheeks and showed Hazel what she wanted. “Sandi, this is Hazel, she is my make up guru, and a super girl.”
“Okay, Sandi, is it?
“Yup, Alexandra is such a mouthful,” I said
“Shall we go and see what we can do?” Hazel asked, with a smile.
I followed her to her studio, and was amazed at all the wonderful photographs of really well known models and media stars.
She sat me down and using a cleanser, removed all my carefully applied make up. She chatted away as she worked, explaining what she was doing and why. There was a large mirror in front of me, so I watched carefully as she applied a little foundation, and then built up my new face. She used tones and colours that I had never considered, particularly reds and browns. But then I was hardly an expert, just an enthusiastic amateur.
She managed to highlight my cheekbones, emphasising my eyes so much that it looked as if my eyes were three times the size. I smiled, as she showed me how to really make my lips look much fuller and even how to accentuate the pout.
“You have to remember that girls’ lips and cheeks redden when sexually aroused, and when achieving orgasm. So, the effect it has on men is pretty bloody basic.” she said, and I laughed.
In a relatively short time, she had completely transformed me, and I looked a good five years older. I loved the look, and thought that I could duplicate it with the right make up and practice.
“Shall we do something with your hair?”
“I guess so. I have to confess, it has yet to be professionally done. I just love it long and sort of wild,” I admitted.
“It's really beautiful, but I can tell you've never had a decent cut. You've natural highlights that are almost coppery gold amongst the white blonde mass. Do you bleach in the sun?”
“Yeah, a little. My hair is always paler at the end of the summer.”
“Well, I know Jemima likes the wild look too, and it's your freshness that she loves. She showed me the photos of your little show that she judged, and she was raving about you for days.”
“Really? Why?”
“I’m not sure. She was a model in the seventies, and is trying constantly to find looks that stand out and buck the trend. Fashion is a fickle business, so the success or failure of a range can rest on the right model with the right look at the right time. There are lots of very pretty models, but there are very few that immediately strike you as being different and special. You are that much different.”
“How, I seem pretty ordinary to me?”
“It's a combination of your eyes and your smile. Your eyes are much older and wiser than one expects for a girl of your age. They seem to be all knowing and rather piercing. Your face is just another pretty face, until you smile, and then you just transform yourself into being a striking beauty.”
I was very quiet, practising smiling into the mirror, but got the giggles instead. It was contagious, and Hazel giggled too.
“That’s silly. I’m just me.”
“Maybe, but Jemima is rarely mistaken, and I have to agree with her. You do have a certain something.”
She combed my hair and cut a quarter inch off the ends.
“Split ends,” she explained.
She then damped it off, as it had been washed in the shower in the morning, and spent a little while styling it slightly. She kept the length, but by a little carefully thinning and cutting, she altered the shape so it framed my face and head more effectively. With a little mousse, she gave it a shape and feel to it that was totally different to anything I had managed to achieve. It was fantastic.
I stared at myself in the mirror. The young woman who stared back at me was someone totally different. She was older, sexier and devastatingly beautiful. I felt my heart beat faster as I so wanted Dave to see me like this.
“Wow. You’re brilliant Hazel.”
She smiled.
“Ah, high praise indeed.”
“Seriously, you are really brilliant. That doesn’t look like me at all.”
“Oh, yes it does, it's just you’ve never seen her before. Do you like the look?”
“I do, very much. I hope I can remember what you did.”
“Don’t try, otherwise I’ll be out of a job.”
I laughed, but had to admit she was probably right, it would take me a long time to get halfway as good as she was.
“Okay, let's take you to see Cruella Deville,” she said.
“I love the nickname. Does she know?” I asked.
“She probably started it. Actually, she is lovely, but she’s a very tough business lady. I’d never want to cross her.”
We returned to Jemima’s office, I was amazed that it was almost noon. I had really enjoyed the time with Hazel, and felt I had found a friend already. I had to stop off at the loo on the way. I had to change my thingies. It was rather unpleasant and mucky, but it was a wonderful reminder of the miracle that had happened to me. I still couldn’t really believe it, and almost expected to wake up as Alex.
But I didn’t and went with Hazel to Jemima’s office
Jemima was on her sofa talking to a very large blonde lady who was next to her. The latter was in a lovely looking gold and black dress, with fur trimmings. It looked rather garish, but still very elegant. Her accent was New York to a Tee. She could have been any age from forty to sixty, and I would have hated to have to guess more exactly than that. I would say she would have been stunning in her youth, even still, she was an attractive woman, and quite a lot of one at that.
Her mass of rings and bangles created a cacophony every time she moved, and the many strings of pearls almost rumbled amongst her ample cleavage as she turned to watch as we entered.
“Ah, wonderful. Here she is. Hazel, you are a wonder, thank you, darling,” Jemima said, and Hazel winked at me as she had been clearly dismissed. I smiled at her, and as I caught my reflection in a mirror, the smile just got bigger.
“Natasha, this is the girl I have found to model your new range. This is Alexandra Lake, and as you see she has it all.”
Natasha stood up. I was not far off six foot with my heels on, and she looked down at me.
“”My God, Jem, how do you do it? She is perfect, - her figure, those long legs, her colouring and that smile. Alexandra, honey, please tell me you're free for four weeks?”
“I’m free until the fifteenth of September,” I said, a little baffled.
“Wonderful. Okay, some of the range is due for a preview here in London on the seventeenth of August. Then to Paris for the twentieth. Then to Rome for the twenty-third. We will make New York for the US fashion show on the thirtieth and then around the States for a couple of weeks. So can you help?”
I looked at Jemima, and her eyes were shining. She nodded imperceptibly at me.
“Yes, I've no other commitments during that period. I’ll leave you to make the arrangements with Jemima, if that is okay?” I said, and Jemima just smiled at me.
“Oh Honey, you're great. I'm so thrilled. But before I say yes, can I see you in one of my creations?”
I looked at Jemima, and she smiled again.
“Natasha, of course, I would expect it,” she said, picking up her phone again. Using the intercom facility, a garment rail was brought in by some of the staff, and there were six different outfits or dresses on it.
Natasha immediately examined them all, selecting a stunning silk dress in gold and russet. It reminded me of autumn leaves, but then, as an autumn dress, that was the point. Jemima took me to a small room just off her office, and held the dress for me. She said nothing, she just watched to see how I would perform.
Totally un-self-consciously I stripped off everything except my panties, and slipped the dress on. The cut told me it was designed to be worn bra-less, and I knew that my firm breasts were not really big enough to sag in any case.
I adjusted it a little, so it felt comfortable, and slipped my shoes back on.
“Okay?” I asked her, and she smiled and looked critically at me.
“Excellent, under a minute. Very impressive.”
I just smiled.
Jemima opened the door and I walked out. But I walked as if I was back on the catwalk at school, making sure the walk and the smile were in place. It wasn’t hard, as the dress was so gorgeous, I felt so wonderful, that I couldn’t help smiling. And the face and hair that Hazel had created for me did the rest.
Natasha clapped her hands.
“Just perfect. No, better than perfect. Jem, you have surpassed yourself this time. Alex honey, you're simply gorgeous.”
I smiled, and then realised what she had called me.
“Actually, my friends call me Sandi,” I said.
“Sandi, Alex, I don’t care, you're just what I need. I'm so delighted, I have to confess that I was really worried that I'd never find the right girl with the right look.”
“Would you like me to show you anything else?” I asked.
“Sure, there is a pair of pants with a loose top. The pants are flared, and I'd like to see that on you.”
Twenty minutes later I had worn everything on the rail, and Natasha gushed incessantly about how wonderful I was. It was actually very nice, but I began to question her reasoning ability.
Finally, once I had my own clothes back on, Natasha busied herself supervising the clothes being placed into her special van, and Jemima took me into her office.
“Sandi, to business. We need to agree a contract, and as your agent, I can assure you that the work you will be offered will be the best, and you will be paid accordingly. I can also offer you guarantees in relation to the work and situations, so there will be no dodgy deals or dubious jobs. How will your current, ah, legal difficulties cope with a trip to Europe and the States?”
“I'm not a prisoner, if I choose to go, then I suppose on my own head be it. But I can’t stay in, eating pizzas with horny policemen for the rest of my life, can I?”
“Oh, I don’t know, it sounds rather cosy to me,” she said, and we both laughed.
Chapter 8
The stewardess woke me.
“Miss Lake, we are on approach for New York, could you return your seat to upright and fasten your seat belt, please?”
I shook my head, and woke up fully. I was more tired than I had thought.
“Have I time to pop to the loo?” I asked.
“Of course.”
I took my bag and went to the small lavatory. Oh, I really don’t like aeroplane loos. They are really yucky places.
I was in there for the minimum time possible and returned to my seat. I spent the next few minutes making sure my make up was absolutely spot on. After the successes in London, Paris and Rome, I was very aware that I was now fair game for the press.
No wonder I was tired. The last couple of weeks had been an absolute whirlwind.
After I had signed up with Jemima, my feet hardly touched the ground. I was coached for a couple of days, with how to walk, stand, pose, smile and the agency photographer, Roddy Johns, took thousands of photographs of me, in a variety of poses and a multitude of outfits. Several of the ‘almost naked’ variety.
I now had a portfolio that Jemima kept at the agency, and was able to show prospective clients.
The private show of the Kysinski Collection was held at the Grosvenor House Hotel opposite Hyde Park in London, and was very well attended. I was rushed off my feet, and Hazel had an army of helpers doing hair and makeup. I had about two minutes to change outfits, and felt like a formula one car in the pits each time I went back to change.
Although a private show, there were press and photographers from the major fashion rags, and there was even a special day where I posed in some of the collection with Natasha in Trafalgar Square. I never realised how big the lions were.
I found myself splashed in all the papers and magazines. I was now called Sandi ‘Superbabe’ by the tabloids, obviously with reference to my youth. I started a scrapbook, and was really pleased with the way things were going. So much so, that I seriously considered leaving school to pursue my career. I missed my Dad at that moment, as I would have liked to talk to him about it.
But Natasha was apparently delighted, and confirmed with Jemima that I was able to fulfil all the shows she wanted me for. Jemima did tell me the fees, but the money didn’t really interest me that much.
I had a long chat with Scott Collins, who had to call in his boss. I was ‘strongly advised’ to reconsider my decision to undertake the modelling job, and told that the Metropolitan Police would not be able to effect any protection should I leave the country.
I was in a dilemma, as this was a chance for me to follow a dream, and on the other hand, if I was bumped off, there was little point in even starting.
In the end, I decided that I was not going to let my father and his dealings interfere with my life any more, and I told Scott that I was going.
Apparently my case was discussed, and it was decided that there was not sufficient funds available to extend protection to me abroad. Fine for the Royals, but for Sandi Lake, sorry.
I had my passport and tickets for Paris, and Jemima even made hotel reservations for me. So, I was busy packing, and Scott was walking about, talking on his mobile. Why do men feel they have to walk about and talk at the same time?
Jenny came over, her father was giving her driving lessons, and they stopped off to see me. John was rather guilty, as he felt they had pushed me out, and was obviously concerned that I was upset. Jenny had changed in her attitude towards me, as she seemed slightly wary of me now. We went for a walk along the coastal path, and I told her my observations.
“I don’t mean to, but you are very different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Sort of cool and hard, somehow. It is hard to explain, but most people who are kidnapped and stuck in the boot of a car, and then watch a man gunned down, show some emotion. You just seem to shrug it off. I don’t understand, I’d be still having the wobblies,” she said, and I laughed.
“I’m not most people, Jenny. My emotions have been so battered over the years, so maybe I don’t know how to react anymore. If Dave says something sweet to me, I blub like a baby, but for some reason I can’t seem to connect me with what happened to me the other day. It was as if I was only watching, and it wasn’t real somehow. Maybe it will hit me and I will have a huge break down.”
“I feel really bad over what happened at home,” Jenny admitted.
“Don’t, it wouldn’t be fair to you if I brought trouble to the hotel. Besides, it made me contact Jemima, and now I’ve got a cracking modelling contract.”
“Tell me about it. Caroline was over yesterday, and she showed me the papers and some magazines. I couldn’t believe it, you looked so amazing. You looked about twenty five.”
I smiled, I tried to imagine what sort of life I would be having if I had been still Alex. I gave up, as it didn’t matter now.
“So what does it feel like being called “Superbabe”?”
“I quite like it, but it is something else which isn’t real. When I take the make up off, and wear my own clothes, it is like I leave it all behind. Mind you, I was shopping in Brighton yesterday, and two girls wanted my autograph. It’s still so new that I find it all fun, but I think I’ll get fed up soon.”
“Are you coming back to school?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet. I will see how the various shows go in Europe and the States.”
“If it was me, I’d never bother going back.”
“I won’t always have the looks they want, and I want to get into design, so I need the qualifications. So, I may have to crack on with the A levels and then go to university or something.” I said.
“You have enough cash, so why bother?”
“It’s not the cash, it’s the ‘doing’ that’s important to me. I love the shows, and I really enjoyed making designs, so that’s where the joy of it all is. The money is incidental.”
“I wouldn’t mind it.”
We chatted on for a bit, and ended up back at the house. Scott was telling John about how the kidnapping happened and all about the rescue and such. I don’t know if that was helpful or not, but he gave me a big kiss as they left. They both wished me good luck.
I took the opportunity to go into the Nat West Bank and spoke to the manager at some length. I explained the difficulties I had, and why I had assumed a different name. As I had a policeman with me, the manager assured me that everything would be put under the name of Lake, and Hemmings was forgotten. Then I added another few thousand pounds to my account.
Paris and Rome had been repeats of the show in London, and I went from plane to hotel to show to hotel to plane. I got a little time in each city, but in front of camera, having shoots of the collection in exotic locations. Natasha was always nearby, and she was over the top with her enthusiasm, that I found it a bit wearing after a while.
She would always call me “Alexandra Darling”, and one Italian reporter asked me if that was my name. Jemima bought me a Supergirl outfit, and had a photographer take me up the Eiffel Tower in such a pose that it looked like I was flying. It was a windy day, and my hair and cape were flying out behind me, and it looked very convincing.
The next day I was in most of the UK tabloids, Superbabe takes Paris by storm.
I thoroughly enjoyed both cities, but was completely knackered by the time we set off for New York.
The British Airways Boeing 747/400 landed on time at New York. Natasha had preceded me by a couple of days, and so I was travelling alone. Scott had told me that he had contacted Jim Randall, and they were trying to get in touch with the FBI to alert them to my risks.
I was a little reluctant to leave my first class seat, as I had just had the best rest in ages. The flight and service had been superb, and I really enjoyed being pampered for eight hours.
I was wearing a summer sleeveless dress, with a short, bolero-style jacket. With stockings and high heel shoes, and my hair flowing majestically, I felt really confident. I was now able to afford top name clothes, and Natasha gave me several of hers to increase the publicity. I knew that I looked immaculate.
I was in no great hurry, as I knew that a car was supposed to be waiting for me. I walked to the Immigration desk, and waited in line. All the necessary paperwork had been completed whilst I was in London, and I even had a coveted green card. The rather officious Immigration Officer was still quite unpleasant and so I was very English and superior to her. I was tall, fair and glamorous and she was short and dark and overweight, so we didn’t exactly hit it off.
However, I was scrupulously polite and pleasant, whilst being as snottily superior as I could be. She held up my passport.
“It says here you are a student, yet you state your visit is to work as a model.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be both.”
“I am studying design and I am a model. I won’t always be a model and I want to design my own range of clothes, so it stands to reason that I must have some qualifications in the field, and need to work so I can study.”
“Oh, but you are only seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
Reluctantly she stamped my passport and I was allowed in. I smiled sweetly at her, and walked through.
I collected my case, and walked through the customs area to the main arrivals sign. As I walked towards the exit onto the concourse, two men dressed in grey suits approached me.
“Sandi Lake?” one asked.
“Who are you?” I said, guardedly.
They both produced wallets and shields.
“I am Special Agent Ryan Connors and this is my colleague Special Agent Jason Bridger. Chief Inspector Jim Randall from New Scotland Yard has been in touch, and explained your circumstances. In fact, your father is assisting us with some intelligence at this time, and we respect the danger you may be facing. So we are here to tell you that we will be watching your back while you are over in New York.”
“My Dad is here?” I was gob-smacked, as my dad had actually taken my advice and given himself up to help the authorities.
“I don’t know exactly where he is, Ma’am, we are only assigned to protect you for the duration of your visit.”
“Oh, is there any way I can contact him? I haven’t seen him for ages, and I’d like to see him.”
“I can make enquiries for you, but that’s all.”
“I’d appreciate it, thanks,” I said, giving him a big smile.
I walked through the automatic doors, to be met by a sea of faces. The FBI agents followed slightly behind me. There was a large black man in a chauffeur’s uniform, including hat, holding a card with, Miss A. Lake thereon.
“Hi, I’m Sandi Lake,” I said, and he frowned.
“The Sandi is short for Alexandra,” I explained and he grinned.
“Okay, Missy. I’m George, Miz Kysinski says hi, and welcome to New York.”
“Thanks.” I said, and he took my case. The FBI men flanked me as we left the building. George took me to a big black limousine, and put the case in the trunk. He held the door open, so I got in, well aware that lots of people were craning their necks to see who I was. I grinned and enjoyed being a VIP.
The FBI car followed us all the way into town, and we pulled up at the Waldorf Astoria. The doorman came and opened the door for me, and I got out. A bellhop took my case from George, and he grinned at me.
“Miz Natasha will be here for dinner at eight o’clock. She says wear something real nice.”
“Thanks George, I will,” I said, and he got in and drove off.
Agent Connors came into the hotel with me, and I approached the girl on the reception desk.
“Hi I’m Alexandra Lake, I believe that there’s a reservation for me,” I said.
“Miss Lake, yes. Welcome to the Waldorf. Is this your first time with us?”
“Yes, it is.”
She gave me a registration card to complete, and a computer card-key was given to the bellhop. I quickly filled in the card and handed it back.
“Well, you are in room 1009, the elevator is to your left, and I hope you have a pleasant stay.”
“Thanks.”
I followed the bellhop, while Agent Connors had a word with the clerk.
He rejoined me as the elevator doors opened, so together we rode up to the tenth floor.
The bellhop opened the room door, and put the card key on the table. It was a huge room and had a super view of Central Park. I gave him $20, and he left. There were two king-size double beds in the room. I chose the one by the window.
“So what are your plans?” Ryan asked.
“First, I’m going to take a shower, then I may just have a rest, as I’m really knackered. I haven’t stopped for ten days. I have dinner tonight, and then there is the fashion show over the next week or so. It’s being held here, in the hotel, so I won’t be going far.”
He handed me a small black box, smaller than a mobile phone.
“This is a panic button. If you get into trouble, press the button, and keep the device on you. We can track your location and get to you very quickly, as there’s a GPS locator built in. Jim explained that Holland’s men have already tried to abduct you, so we are taking this seriously.”
“Is Holland well known to you?”
“Let’s just say, it’s time to close the man down.”
“Oh. Then I am glad you are here.”
“I’ll be honest, Miss Lake, my chief is hoping your presence may bring him out of the woodwork, that’s why we are not giving you overt protection.”
“So, I’m to be the sacrificial goat?”
He grinned. “Something like that. We hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“So do I.”
“Okay, we have a room close by, and one of us will always be there. If you leave, then dial 1005 and tell us when and where you are going. Do not acknowledge us in the street, and never look at us or for us. We will be there, or our colleagues will be. There are quite a few of us on this. The British press ran a story yesterday about how you aren’t getting protection over here, so this is a joint FBI and Scotland Yard operation to try to force Frankie’s hand.”
“Oh.”
He smiled. “Try not to worry, we are experienced at this, and we’re good at what we do. So, I’ll leave you now, and I hope you enjoy your stay in New York.”
He left me, and I was a little bemused. It is all very well being the centre of attention, but this was getting silly.
I had a shower, and lay naked on the enormous bed pleased to be cool in the air-conditioned splendour. I rang the operator and asked for a wake up call at six.
I dozed off, and woke to the phone ringing. It was my wake-up call.
I had another shower and washed my hair. I then dried it and spent ages on my make up. Hazel would have been proud, as I managed to make a fair attempt at recreating her look for me.
I wore my own designed little black dress, which won me my prize. Against some of the big names it may not be much, but I was always hoping there was a future for Sandi Lake as a clothes designer.
At 7.50, I informed my invisible guardian angels that I was going down for dinner, and took the elevator to the appropriate floor. I checked the dining room and saw that Natasha was not here yet. So I waited, and browsed among the boutique as I did so.
At 8.15, Natasha arrived in a long gold evening dress, and gold jewellery just dripping off her. She looked very glamorous, but rather ostentatious. I, on the other hand, was in simple black, with only a watch and Dave’s little ring on my right hand. I had a simple black ribbon around my neck with a single diamond in the centre. I had diamond drop earrings. My father’s taste in jewellery was far nicer than his interior design.
She breezed in like a galleon under full sail, with two tall men in tuxedos escorting her. One was about forty, looking like a film star complete with fake tan, while the other appeared to be in his twenties, but looked like an American football star; he was really big!
“Alexandra Darling. I am so sorry I’m late. Oh, you look simply divine. There Simon, I told you so,” she said, the last to the big young man on her left.
She introduced me to her men. There was Wayne L. Calder Junior, her current plaything. If he was junior, then I’d hate to meet the senior. He was a millionaire in his own right, and surprised me when he told me he was fifty-three.
The football player was a football player. But he was also Simon Haddow, her youngest son. He still retained his father’s surname, as she had kept her maiden name because of her fashion line, even before the divorce. He was twenty-three, and just finished College having studied art. Natasha said that he actually wanted to be a professional football player, and, if his size was anything to go by, he was likely to get his wish.
He was quite dishy — big, blond and broad, but rather too big for my taste, but hell, who the heck was I to complain. He took one look at me and almost started dribbling on the carpet.
I discovered quite early on in our relationship that Natasha was a control freak. She liked to dominate everyone around her, and I felt overpowered by her voice, clothes, mannerisms and general presence. Poor Simon hardly got a word in edgeways, and Wayne struck me as a silent type in any case.
The food was wonderful, and the wine flowed quite freely. I sipped one glass and managed to make it last for most of the meal. Luckily, there was a pitcher of water on the table, and I preferred that in any case. Natasha was the heaviest drinker, and managed to consume at least one bottle of wine by herself, while Simon nursed one beer and blushed every time I looked his way.
We sat at a round table, but during the entrées, I became aware of Wayne’s leg pressing firmly against mine. I moved away and he followed. I stared at him, slowly shaking my head. He smiled, shrugged, and the leg disappeared.
Simon was exceptionally shy, and I could see why. Gradually I was able to chip away and he began to be able to string a few words together. I discovered that he was not the jock his frame and general demeanour purported him to be. He had a taste for music and contemporary art. He was actually very gentle, but his sheer size had determined his move into sport.
I had to do most of the work in the conversation stakes, and by the dessert, I was out of things to ask him. I concentrated on my Crá¨me Brule and he stopped me dead by asking me a question.
“Alexandra, what kind of guy do you like?” he asked, and I nearly choked.
“Well,” I said, “he has to be gentle and kind and loving, good looking but not necessarily strikingly handsome. I would like him to be clean living and fun to be with. I don’t like guys who smoke or drink, and I don’t like anything to do with drugs.”
“Oh,” he said, and stared at his glass.
“Simon, actually I have a guy at the moment, and he is all those things,” I admitted.
“Oh,” he repeated, looking more miserable.
“But Alexandra darling, he is in England, and you are now in the States,” Natasha was quick to butt in.
“Actually he is here in America at the moment. He and a friend are touring the States before going to university in the Autumn.”
“Well, whatever. The point is he ain’t here now,” she said.
I stared at her, and the penny dropped. She was in the market for a girlfriend for her son. She wanted someone glamorous enough for him to look good with, particularly when next to her.
“Simon, do you feel like a bit of fresh air?” I asked, going on the offensive.
He went bright red and started to stammer something. I grabbed his hand and literally pulled him to his feet and hauled him away from that dreadful woman. She was ginning proudly, having completely misinterpreted my intentions.
“If you will excuse us, I’m here for such a short time, I just want to make the most of it,” I said, and she grinned even more.
We went straight out of the main front doors of the hotel, and stood on the steps. It was a warm summer evening, and very humid. The doorman eyed us impassively, as I tried to decide what the hell to do next. A noise distracted me, and I saw a horse and carriage standing over the road.
Of course. What could be more romantic, a ride around Central Park on a lovely evening?
“Wait here,” I said to Simon, and went into the lobby. I found one of the FBI agents, and I told him what I was planning.
Then I returned to find Simon sitting on the step. I sat beside him.
“Okay Simon, tell aunty Sandi all about it.”
He looked at me.
“Sandi?”
“Yeah, my friends call me Sandi, it’s only your mother who calls me Alexandra.”
“I’d like to be a friend. I haven’t got many.”
“I’d never have guessed. What do you say to taking a ride in a carriage around Central Park?”
He looked at the horse and carriage, and smiled.
“Yeah, why not?”
We went over the road, where the elderly man with the horse helped me into the back of the carriage, with Simon clambering in after me. Then we took off down the road. I glanced back and saw two FBI men running out of the hotel after us.
“So Simon, is life really as miserable as you make out?”
“It’s just my mom. She is way too heavy.”
“That’s a good word. But why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Every time I get an idea of something to do with my life, she has different ones. My Dad saw the light and hightailed it years ago.”
“Oh, is he still around?”
“I see him occasionally. He lives in New Mexico, in the desert with a Spanish girl who is about twenty-five.”
“So what does he do?”
“He is a sculptor. He’s doing well too. A bank in Phoenix has just commissioned a huge metal work for their new lobby.”
We clip-clopped for a while without speaking. I was actually enjoying the views.
“I had a girlfriend once,” he admitted, out of the blue.
“Oh, and did mother frighten her away?” I teased, gently.
He nodded. “Yeah, she wasn’t like you. She couldn’t face up to Mom in full flight.”
“Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you are so sophisticated and educated. You just look like a million dollars and your English accent is just so upper class. Mom says that you are the epitome of aristocratic breeding and culture.”
I think I surprised him when I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard I almost wet myself.
“Oh Simon. That’s priceless. She knows absolutely nothing about me. If she did, she wouldn’t be seen dead with me.”
“Really?” he asked, surprised.
“Simon. How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know, twenty-three, four, something like that.”
I smiled. “I’m seventeen.”
He stared at me.
“No?”
I nodded. “I’m still at school studying design, French and Art. I won a competition and got the chance to do a short modelling contract before going back. My father is a shady businessman and a crook, and my mother was blown up in a yacht accident near Greece with her lover a few years ago.”
“There is no way you’re only seventeen.”
“It’s amazing what a little make up can do.”
“No, it isn’t your face. Not that your face isn’t fine. I mean, your face is beautiful, but it is everything else as well. Your figure, the way you move, the way you speak, and what you say. You’re in a different league to all the girls I have ever met in my life.”
He was barely able to look at me. The carriage had entered Central Park and was crossing one of the well-lit walkways. A NYPD mounted officer was patrolling on his horse, he nodded at the carriage driver.
“Simon you are sweet, but you haven’t met many English girls, have you?”
“I have actually. I went to London last year with Mom. I met loads of models, and none of them were a patch on you.”
This rendered me speechless.
We travelled in silence again, and even the driver found it disconcerting.
I smiled.
“So what kind of girl is your dream girl?” I asked.
He was quiet for a few moments, and then he glanced sideways at me, and flushed.
“Well?”
“That’s easy. You are,” he said.
I was rendered speechless again.
“I know you have a guy, but I would value you as a friend,” he said.
I took his hand. “Oh you sad muppet,” I said kindly, “Of course I’ll be a friend. Simon, I’m seventeen. My boyfriend is eighteen, and I haven’t seen him for two months and for all I know he could be living in sin in a hippy commune in California. But he was there for me when I needed him, so I’m going to be loyal to him. But that doesn’t stop me having as many friends, both male and female, that I want.”
“Would you consider going out on a date with me?”
“Yes, as long as you appreciate that I will not hop into bed with you at the first opportunity.”
He grinned. “I think my Mom wants us to do that.”
I smiled, a little sadly.
“Simon, I’m a virgin, and I’m guessing that you are too. But it is none of my business, so let’s give Mom the fright of her life.”
He frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s make it look like we have the hots for each other whenever we are near her, but deny anything to the press, and keep up the appearances of just being friends for the rest of the world.”
He blushed.
“Now what have I said?” I asked.
“I don’t need to pretend, I’m sorry.”
“Oh Simon. No, it’s me who should apologise. That was thoughtless and inconsiderate of me. Okay, let’s just be friends, and see where we go. Okay?”
He nodded. I thought he rather fancied the idea of having the hots for me.
At that moment a scruffy man wearing dirty old tee shirt and jeans jumped out of some undergrowth and grabbed the bridle and pointed a gun at Simon.
“Okay buddy, gimme the wallet,” he said.
I felt the anger rise inside me. I hadn’t been buggered about by gangsters in Britain to be robbed by some scruffy little git in a park in America.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I said, very loudly and in my very English accent.
“Huh?” said the robber.
“You dirty little shit. Have you no fucking sense at all?” I asked.
The frown got deeper, as this was not in his plan.
Simon was staring at the man, and I guessed he was about to do something stupid, so I stood up.
“Look, you pathetic little creep. You’re about to be shot, so have you any last requests?” I asked.
He wavered, while his gun was now pointing at the horse. I grabbed the whip from the driver and let him have it on his arm. He dropped the gun and screamed.
I hit him again, this time across the face and there was a blur of movement as two armed FBI agents took him out.
“Right. That’s better,” I said, giving the whip back to the startled driver. I sat down and turned to Simon.
“Okay, where were we?” I asked, and his jaw opened and no sound came out.
The robber was by this time in handcuffs, and two NYPD officers arrived on the scene. I rolled my eyes, more statements, how dreary.
The cops kept looking at me in a strange manner. By the time we had finished with them , and the battered robber had been carted off in handcuffs, it was late. We returned to the hotel, but Simon was very quiet.
We arrived at the desk, so I asked for my cardkey.
“Miss Lake, there’s a note from Mrs Kysinski,” the clerk said, handing me a folded piece of paper.
“Your mother has gone home, so she’s giving you the choice, stay with me or catch a cab.”
“She wants me to stay with you?”
“No whips, I promise,” I said, with a grin. The clerk’s eyebrows threatened to take off, which made me laugh even more.
“I’ll take a cab. If I stay the night, I can’t promise that I would be able to behave myself.” he said.
“Your choice. Will I see you at the show tomorrow?”
“I wasn’t going to, but I think I will now.”
I stood up on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.
“Goodnight Simon, you are very sweet, but a little sad also, I think.”
“Goodnight Sandi. You’re simply the best.”
I went up to my room, and had my third shower. It was still humid, so I turned up the air-conditioning. I lay on my bed and stared out the window at the New York skyline. In a way, I was sad he hadn’t wanted to stay the night, but it saved any complications.
The telephone woke me at a little after eight. The show was due to start at two, and I frowned. I answered the phone. It was Natasha.
“Alexandra darling. What have you been up to? Have you seen the papers this morning?”
“Actually, I was fast asleep until you woke me,” I said, somewhat crossly.
“Well, honey, you’re famous, and it has given my show the most wonderful publicity, you’re simply marvelous.”
“Famous?”
“Yeah, your little adventure with the thief in Central Park, it’s front page news.”
“Oh fuck,” I said, and she roared with laughter.
“You are divine! Even when you swear it sound so upper class and English.”
“I’ll see you later,” I said, somewhat grumpily, putting the phone down on her.
I dialled the desk.
“Hi, this is Miss Lake in room 1009. I understand I have managed to get into the papers this morning. Could you send a copy up to my room with my breakfast please?”
I then had to select my choice of breakfast, by which time I was fully awake.
I showered again, and whilst I was doing so the room service arrived with my breakfast and four newspapers.
|
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Convicted felon Georgiou Lapinos (32) found himself in jail again last night after attempting to rob the wrong girl. At about 11pm in Central Park, New York City, Lapinos jumped into the path of a horse and carriage on its circuit of the park with a young couple enjoying a romantic ride. Armed with a .38 special, he held the reins and demanded the young man’s wallet at gunpoint.
But he had not reckoned with English spitfire Sandi Lake, who, according to the driver Bill Myers (58) verbally attacked the man with some very ‘earthy’ language. Then, seizing the whip from Mr Myer’s hand, the young supermodel literally lashed out and disarmed Lapinos with one strike, and her second strike knocked him to the ground. He was detained by police and arrested for attempted armed robbery. Lapinos is wanted for seven similar offences, and on a warrant for failing to surrender to bail for an earlier charge. Miss Lake, at seventeen, is one of the youngest models to hit the big time within the fashion industry. She has recently been contracted by the famous Kysinski Fashion House, to model Natasha Kysinski’s Fall Collection. The Collection was previewed in London, Paris and Rome earlier in the month, with Miss Lake as the model for the entire show. It is held at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, where Miss Lake is staying. Her stunning looks and colorful private life have captured the imagination of the UK male. Her pictures now adorn more walls than the topless models from glamor magazines, and she keeps most of her clothes on. She was recently the victim of a kidnapping attempt in Sussex, England, and the local police had to shoot one man and detained another after the gun battle to rescue her. Her father, Jonathon Lake, is rumoured to have underworld links, and she tries to distance herself from anything her father does. Her looks have earned her the nickname of Superbabe in the UK, and she has certainly lived up to her name last night. Her companion in the carriage was Simon Haddow (23), younger son of Natasha Kysinski. He spoke to this reporter last night from his home address. “Sandi was amazing. She was so angry with the man. All I saw was the gun, and while I was still in shock, she stood up and really tore into the guy. I could see he was uncertain what to do, so she just took the whip and laid him out. The cops were there so fast, it was all unbelievable, she was just so cool.” Lapinos is to appear before the court today, and he knows he is going to jail for a long time. |
The phone rang, so I answered it.
“Miss Lake, this is the hotel operator. I have a young man on the line, he says he is a friend of yours, do you wish to take a call from a David Carter?”
“David? Yes, oh yes, sure,” I said.
“Sandi?” said a familiar voice.
“Dave? Brilliant. Where are you?”
“I’m in New York, and I see you are too.”
“Oh, you’ve seen the papers?”
“I can’t leave you alone for a second. And who is this Haddow guy?”
“Oh, he’s just the son of the lady whose collection I’m here to model. I met him at dinner last night and we went for a ride as I hadn’t seen anything of the city.”
“Well he seems pretty smitten by you.”
“You know how it is with us supermodels,” I teased.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Bollocks, you’ve had the time of your life. How’s Mike?”
“Mike is great; we’re staying in a motel just outside the city. Seriously, I have missed you.”
“Aw, you are sweet. But I bet you haven’t really.”
“Well, most of the time I have. I did meet a girl in California, and she wanted us to get serious, but something held me back.”
“What, her husband?”
“No you daft bint, you.”
I was quiet.
“Sandi?”
“What?”
“I can’t get you out of my mind.”
“Foolish boy.”
“No, it’s just that I really do love you.”
My heart went flippity flop.
“Mike called Jenny and she told him about the kidnap attempt, and I wanted to come back. But it was silly, there was nothing I could do. Then she told him about your modelling contract. You’ve done really well.”
“Thanks,” I said. I loved hearing his voice, but I was not certain whether I felt the same way as before.
“Dave. I need to see you,” I said.
“Great, where will you be?”
“I’m at the Waldorf, the show starts at 2 pm. But I need to talk.”
“Oh, that sounds ominous,” he said.
“Not really. I need to see you and talk to you before I really know what I feel.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve been through a lot, and on my own, so I’m not sure whether I want to get too stuck in a serious relationship just yet. But you’re special, and I need you in person to see whether I want you as much as I think I do.”
I realised I was making little sense.
“I’ll be over this afternoon.”
“Great, I’ll leave a ticket at reception.”
“And one for Mike.”
“Okay. See you later.”
“Bye.”
Well, I thought. That could have gone better.
Comments
Enjoyable
I have really enjoyed this story. The twists and turns have been wonderful. One never knows what will happen next.
Hilltopper
Sandi
Perhaps she is trying to distance herself from her crooked Dad but me thinks she is still his daughter. Quite the spitfire she is! Sandi has just found a better outlet for her passions. As for Dreams, well it has to be every T-girl's dream to find that she really was a girl all along. To be able to bear your own children and hold them in your arms is a true fairy tale come true. A great story Tanya!
hugs!
grover
Proof reading needed
Tanya,
this is nit-picking and naughty of me, but you should have had this proof read before sending it to TGBC. Sandy booked into the Waldorf, was given room 1009, but a few pages further down she calls from room 1008. Nothing was said about her being moved to a different room.
[Admin Note 3/30/2009 - Sephrena: Error is fixed! Ty Briar!]
Little details like that get noticed by wicked people like me, and spoil the story.
That said, I enjoyed reading this one before, and am enjoying re-reading it now. I am trying to spot the differences in the new version.
Bless,
Briar
Briar
Delightful
I'm quite enjoying Sandi's adventures.
Being new to BC, this is my first 'Tanya Allan'.
You've just been added to my list of 'must-reads'.
- vessica
Great Stuff
I feel duty-bound to leave a comment, but the only thing I can say is "great stuff". Keep it coming-and thanks.
It's still good
Even four years later.
Much Love,
Valerie R