Focal Point
CHAPTERS 9 - 11
 
By Alyssa Plant
 

Michael Cohen's dream was to protect and serve as a police officer.... That job didn't satisfy him until one day, when people without names came to visit. He wanted to make a difference, but he didn't expect it to make a difference to him, too...

---

 
Chapter 9

I arrived at Vauxhall Cross at a quarter to nine and the pod party was in full swing.
It was the first day back since this aweful business had begun; I was somewhat nervous, although that was most likely an understatement; I was terrified, but this morning was clouded by the strange feelings that I had awoken to, my mind was elsewhere.

“Hello again,” said a cheery male voice.

I turned to my left, and was greeted by a tall man that had something vaguely familiar about him.

“Mmm, hello,” I smiled weakly. “Do I know you?”

“Sure, my name is Martin, I met you last week? Your first day remember?” He prompted, swigging his coffee. “Seems we are to be pod partners again.”

I felt a lead weight drop in my stomach; he recognised me!

“I ah, I can explain this….” I stammered flicking my fingers through the blonde hair that hung loose around my shoulders.

“Don’t feel you have to on my account,” smiled Martin, “you look stunning, it’s quite a change. Though I expect you’d have to kill me if you told me,”

“Ah… I don’t…” I began but was cut off by his laughter.

“Still so fresh and innocent.” He grinned. “Its 6 humour, bad as it may be. So what happened to the nervous little tomboy that started here last week? The place seems to have done you some good… quite the reverse to normal,” he said still grinning.

He thought I had been a woman then…. As glad as I was that I wasn’t having to explain cross dressing on the steps of the Secret Intelligence Service, I was baffled by his mistake.

“I guess it’s something in the water,” I smiled.

“Keep drinking it,” he said giving me a funny look.

I slipped my card into the reader, and entered my pin before stepping into the pod and entering the building.

“Hey, are you doing anything for lunch?” he asked as we made our way towards the lifts.

“She’s not going to be around Martin,” purred Harriet appearing from nowhere. “You’re not getting your grubby claws into this one.” She grinned.

“Hey can’t blame a guy for trying eh? See you around…..” He said furrowing his brow, “Sorry, I never caught your name.”

“Sharon.” I said with a flicker of a smile. “See you around.” I called as Harriet led me away towards a lift that was going down.

“What was that about?” she asked giving me a friendly hug as the door closed. “How do you know Martin Hammersmith?”

“I met him on my first day… the pod cue.” I said softly, drinking in her scent.

“Didn’t you… the first day…” she said with a frown.

“I thought so too,” I said raising my eyebrows. “Does he wear glasses?”

Harriet shook her head and chuckled to herself.

We arrived at the controlerate, and Harriet swiped herself in, and entered, waiting for me to follow. I slipped my card into the slot, and waited, but a red light flashed and denied me entry. I tried again, but received the same signal. I looked at Harriet through the Perspex door, and shrugged. Frowning, she swiped out and came back through the door. “It’s the facial topography,” she sighed. “You need a new card, your hair is so different it doesn’t read you as the same,” she explained. Turning to the machine, she entered a code, apparently a command override, and let us in to the controlerate.

“I’ll get John to sign off on another pass for you, now you’re official… It will make this less of an ear ache,” she grinned. “Come on, let’s get the briefing done and get out of here huh?”

I followed Harriet through to John Tornworth’s office, where the rest of the team were waiting.

“She had a card issue John,” Harriet said briskly, collecting two cups of coffee from a pot at the rear of the office. “She gets an official one now she’s with us yes?” she asked, turning towards her boss when he didn’t respond. He was looking at me…. They were all looking at me.

“Fucking hell,” Toby muttered.

“My word,” Mark said quietly.

Jane had a satisfied grin on her lips, and John was speechless.

“I take it from your goldfish impressions the budget expenses were justifiable?” Harriet added, poking fun at her superior over what I was sure was the amount of money we had spent. “What do you think?”

“I think the mission is a go, pending further work on field aspects.” He muttered shaking his head, his eyes fixed on me.

I stood stock still by the door, feeling extremely warm.

“Sit down Michael,” he said, realising I was immobile. “I must say I’m impressed, there’s …. Nothing permanent is there?”

“I, ah, no sir.” I mumbled.

“God he even sounds like a woman, I’m impressed Jane,” he said looking at Miss North.

“I think you should call her Sharon,” Harriet said taking a seat next to me and handing me one of the cups of coffee. “And use female pronouns,” she added. “We agreed that this would stay in this room, and I don’t think the other members of the controlerate need to know, referring to an obvious female, with a male name and pronouns is going to raise questions you don’t want to answer,” she said, letting the comment hang.

“Rightly so,” John said with a cough. “I’m still quite surprised that it’s been so… effective…” he said with reluctance.

“Did you expect Dame Edna?” Jane chuckled. “My sister is a miracle worker, and I’m not bad myself,” she said with a self satisfied grin.

“Nice to see you justify that salary for once,” interjected Toby with a hint of amusement. “I agree with Miss Carlisle. If we let this operation out below us, it’s bound to make it above us before much long… you know this place is like a sieve John.

“Of course.” He nodded. “Mark, let’s brief, erm, her shall we?” he said, handing off to the Head Analyst.

Mark stood and flipped on the projector.

“Ok, we have an agreed date for a meet in just under two weeks; the 29th at Mr Dujani’s Damascus residence. It’s not the job; it’s a consultation, if you will.” He said waving a hand. “You will meet Dujani, and discuss terms with him, Intel suggests this will be a formality, but it’s vital we get this right with you, we have an unprecedented advantage.”

“How does she fit with the Zanov legend?” Toby asked, chewing on a pen.

“Hi…sorry, her, background gives us a little leeway…” John said thoughtfully. “You spent a few years in Georgia in your teens yes?” he asked me, knowing damn well that I had.

“Yes, I speak a little Russian, but I’m not fluent, though you knew that didn’t you?”

John nodded. “Yes, but I’ll wager your accent is Georgian, that gives you a little room for manoeuvre if your language isn’t perfect for a native.

“Why Georgia?” Toby asked curiously.

“My mother,” I replied. “She worked for an NGO that was working with the schools system over there, we spent some time in the area.”

“Aren’t you the mysterious one,” he grinned.

“Well I suspect that’s why you are employing me.” I chuckled dryly.

“Aye, true enough.”

“How current is your Russian?” Mark asked as he fidgeted with some papers.

“Not very I’m afraid; I’ve not used it since we left Georgia.”

“Get her one of those language packages to brush up,” John said pointing his pen at Jane North, who nodded and made a note on her pad.

“Here is your legend brief.” Jane said, handing me a manila folder. “You need that memorised by the time you head out.”

I flipped open the folder and scanned the document. “There’s a lot.” I grimaced. “I need to know it all don’t I?”

“Yes, it’s your cover, and vital to the operation, you can’t well go forgetting your own past… That’s a fast track to winding up dead,” Toby said. “They’re going to know most of what’s on there, so you can’t be caught out.”

I nodded and flicked my eyes over the paper. “Can you get me anything I need?”

John nodded, “within reason.”

“I need a broad selection of soviet and current Russian combat gear and firearms, pistols, assault rifles, smgs, rpgs, and explosives. If I’m meant to be ex MVD, I’ll need to be familiar with the lot, If nothing else, I must be familiar with the SVD, VSS and VSSK… they are common enough in that part of the world, and I’d be expected to be familiar with them.”

“Can we?” John asked, looking at Toby.

“Aye, I’ll wander down to the rednecks in the basement and rustle it all up.”
“Splendid…” John said clasping his hands together. “Now, operational details….”

The brief continued for another hour, as minor details were ironed out, and plans made. I tried to pay attention to as much of it as possible, but a lot seemed beyond me. I hoped that the training in this side of things would come soon, I still felt very much the outsider in their world.

At 11am, Harriet and I left Vauxhall Cross and began the slow drive out of inner London.

“What did he mean about an advantage?” I asked curiously, “They never explicitly said why it’s a good think that I’m doing this…”

“It’s… partly that you’re the only one we have for the timeframe.” She said, concentrating on the unpredictable London traffic. “And you’re a cleanskin… It’s rare and useful in an agent.”

“Cleanskin?” I asked, furrowing my brow “What does that mean?”

Harriet chuckled. “Yes, sorry, It means an agent that has no official ties to the agency… generally new agents, or… recruited operatives.” She said waving her hand. “Generally disposable and deniable, but in this case, it means that there is less chance of you being flagged as 6 by Dujani… he can dig as hard as he likes, but he wont find any intelligence service links for you. It adds credibility.”

“Oh,” I said, not really sure what I had expected her to say. “I’m expendable?” I asked feeling slightly hollow.

“No sweetie,” she said reaching across to take my hand. “Look, for outside operatives, it means that, but with inside people… it rarely arises as a situation, most agents go through basic, are on official payrolls, you aren’t…. yet… So it makes you a rare situation. You’re a cleanskin, that protects you, but you ARE one of us now, and we don’t leave people behind.” She said giving my hand a squeeze.

“Look, Lets stop off at mine and get you something to wear out at the ranges, you can’t shoot in that suit.” She said smiling.

“Shit,” I swore, “I completely forgot… I was a bit distracted this morning I guess.”

“How come?”

“Didn’t sleep too well,” I mumbled vaguely. “A lot on my mind I guess.”

Harriet looked across at me and frowned. “About last night?” she asked in a small voice. “You’re having second thoughts aren’t you?” she asked nervously, her fingers tightening on the wheel.

“No.” I said softly, shaking my head. “It’s not that at all…”

I ran my fingers through my hair while I thought of the words to describe how I had felt when I woke up… what I had dreamt.

“I dreamt…. about us.” I said slowly, trying to not sound as weird as it did in my head. “I.. I was with you, and I…” I mumbled as I clamed up, unable to talk properly.

“What sweetie?” Harriet probed softly. “I love you, you can tell me anything, nothing will change that.” She said resolutely, rubbing my leg reassuringly.

“You took my bra off…” I said taking a breath, “And I had breasts… real breasts…”

I looked over at Harriet cautiously. “And when I woke up, and I didn’t have any, I was disappointed,” I said quickly, before my nerve went. “That’s why I feel weird.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. “I’m weird aren’t I?” I said quietly.

“Not weird,” Harriet mused quietly. “Unexpected, yes, but not weird. I guess you’ve been learning to be a girl so much that you’re mind is being tricked into thinking it’s meant to have things…” she offered with a shrug.

“No,” I said shaking my head. “I think it’s worse than that… Ugh,” I groaned in frustration. “This is so god damn weird.”

“Look,” Harriet suggested, “Put the weird away, Put Mike away, just complete the mission, and deal with all this after its over, ok? Just be Sharon for now, it’s going to be easier on you, and I think you want that too…” she added, looking over at me with a lopsided smile. “I’m here for you, don’t forget that.” She said softly.

Her words were a life raft of rationality. I had an escape, a get out clause… I realised that I could let go for now, but a niggling worry at the back of my mind, asked if I could go back to my life afterwards.

Harriet pulled up outside her house and let us in. I followed her upstairs and through to her bedroom. The room was modern, yet tasteful, floorlength cream linen curtains hung from the large bay window, and the dark mahogany bed was covered in a thick white and cream duvet. I didn’t know what I had expected of her room, but it was surprisingly feminine and soft for an international spy. I suppose my preconceptions for the job still showed through.

Harriet crossed to her wardrobe, and pulled out a pair of worn jeans, a white vest, and a grey check shirt which she handed to me. “Here, these ought to fit you. Get changed, and we can get off.” She said with a grin, beginning to unbutton her own blouse.

It took all the concentration I possessed to remove my clothes and change. I had seen her in her underwear the night before, but something about the way the sun light reflected off her bare midriff was intoxicating.

“Are you going to stand there ogling me all day?” Harriet asked coyly, making me blush when I realised I had been staring.

“I ah, Sorry.” I grinned sheepishly. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you…” she whispered. “Especially when you blush like that; its so cute,” she giggled.

I stepped forwards and wrapped my arms around her waist, drawing her too me before gently bringing our lips together. I ran my hands down her back till they rested on her buttocks, cupping the warm flesh in my hands as we kissed for an eternity. It was ironic that when the kiss broke, I felt her hands in the same place.

Harriet looked at me with the same silly grin she had worn the night before. “We should stop before we waste the whole afternoon,” she said softly, nibbling my lower lip.

“Waste?” I asked, feigning shock.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” she scowled, playfully slapping my bottom. “But John and Toby would wonder why we didn’t show at the ranges…”

Unfortunately, she had a point, so I reluctantly released her from my embrace to dress herself in another pair of jeans and a pullover.

“Feels great to be out of those things.” She said with a grin. “I might be a glamour puss at work, but this is the girl you get out of it.”

“I think I prefer you out of it.” I grinned.

“Later.” She grinned grabbing a more casual bag and her keys. “You coming?” she asked, nodding towards the door.

I nodded and followed Harriet out to the Range Rover.

“Where’s the rifle?” I asked, the thought having just struck me.

“Open the boot.” She said, locking the door and following me down to the boot of the 4x4. Opening the rear of the vehicle, I was confronted by a large black metal box, bolted to the floor beneath the parcel shelf. Harriet grinned, and fished for a key in her bag, and proceeded to unlock the gun safe. Lifting the lid enough for me to see the rifle tucked away, before closing it again. “I don’t really want to have my neighbours asking questions.” She said, locking things up again. “We have these in the back of company cars.” She said, leaving the comment ominous in its ambiguity.

We arrived at the MOD facility about an hour and a half later, having stopped for lunch at a small pub just outside the main gate of the base. Harriet flashed her ID, which opened doors unquestioningly; we were expected. The gate guards were quite taken aback by the two female ‘secret agents’ they logged in.

We drove through the base, and out to the ranges, a mile into the training area. Parking the Range Rover, We got out and unlocked the rifle case. I was lifting the rifle from case, and slipping it into the drag bag when a soldier in a high visibility vest walked over and introduced himself as Sergeant Major Owens; the rangemaster.

“I got the call from the gate to expect you two.” He said in a gruff manner. “I wasn’t told it was two women.”

“Does it matter?” Harriet asked, pulling herself up to her full 5’6.

“No Ma’am,” he grinned. “It’s just I have 2 Para’s sniper platoon on the 1000yarder who wont pay a blind bit of fucking notice to their work.”

Harriet looked at me and grinned. “More training.”

The Sergeant Major gave us a funny look, before gesturing for us to follow him as we walked past several squads of young soldiers shooting on the rifle range, who all paid me more notice than I wanted.

We arrived at the 1000 yard sniper range, set off to one side from the main ranges and I could see several teams of men firing, with a few other groups waiting around and working on weapons. It all reminded me of my time at the British Army’s Sniper School: How different things were now…

“I have to get back to those muppets,” Sergeant Major Owens said, gesturing over his shoulder at the soldiers on the main ranges. “You two going to be ok?”

“Yes thanks,” I replied confidently, finally happy to be back on familiar ground. “How long we booked in?”

“Three hours Ma’am.” Owens said consulting a spiral notepad he kept in his trouser pocket. “Good shooting,” he said, turning and heading off.

The 500 yard line was occupied currently, and as I planned to shoot from further away, we had a wait till the men on the range were complete, and a lane opened up.

I sat down on the ground cross-legged, and unzipped the rifle bag. I lifted the Pgm Hecate .308 from the case, and flipped its bipod legs down, setting it on the ground.
The rifle was beautifully crafted, and I took a moment to release the bolt and apply a layer of oil around the working parts from the small bottle in the bag. I was too engrossed in my work to notice the attention myself and Harriet were attracting.

“Hey there,” said a voice. I looked up from my work to see 3 soldiers sat near us looking over.

“Hi,” I replied brightly.

“You girls civvies?” a tall ginger man asked, as he finished reassembling his own rifle.

I looked at Harriet, as I wondered how to respond, but she was talking to a man over by a Landrover.

“Um, Intelligence Services,” I said, knowing the men were all fully up to date on the official secrets act.

It was difficult to suppress a giggle as 6 eyebrows shot up in unison.

“Um, Wow,” the guy said grinning sheepishly. “What you doing out with a long then? Don’t you spies like pistols and stuff?” he asked curiously.

“Practice,” I offered vaguely, “I’m just brushing up.”

“That’s a damn nice weapon,” the shorter blonde sniper offered. “PGM right?”

I nodded and lifted the rifle to show the 3 men. “PGM Mini Hecate .308, made in France.”

“That belongs on a Paris catwalk, hell you both do,” grinned the ginger man. “Makes our old things look like peashooters.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn’t go hitting on her Dan,” laughed the 3rd man, who was of Asian origin.
“She’s a spook, she don’t have time for scum like you.”

“Hey come on, I’m not all Ice queen,” I heard myself say, cringing inwardly. “Anyway, I got my licence to kill revoked for one too many ex boyfriends.”

The guys grinned and exchanged knowing looks. The same macho bullshit that I had found so idiotic from within now seemed almost laughable. They were like school children all banding together because they felt intimidated… by me… part of me wanted to roll my eyes at the situation, another sort of liked it.

“You probably can’t tell me,” The blonde guy said as he cleaned his bolt. “You done much shooting? I mean with longs…”

I nodded. “Met firearms team for a few years, and did your sniper school too a while back. First time with this thing though,” I said gesturing at the PGM I was now loading the magazines for. “New toy.”

“You had a few firearms plod in your run didn’t you Alan?” said the ginger man, looking at the Asian.

“Yeah, no fit birds like her though,” He said with a grin. “Probably why I passed.”

“What’s your name anyway?” asked the ginger sniper. “I’m Dan, this is Chris, and our chinky friend is Alan.”

“Piss off ginge.” grinned Alan. “Ah sorry love.”

I laughed, “Its fine, I’m used to it. My name is Sharon.” I said without hesitation.

The team on the firing line rotated off, and we made our way down to the 800m line.
Harriet finished her conversation and jogged over to me with a pair of binoculars.

“Having fun?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah, they seem nice,” I offered. “You too by the looks of things,” I grinned slyly.

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Not like that, He was and old friend from when I did my escape and evasion training on Brecon. Was just catching up.”

“Sure,” I said not paying attention. “I’m starting to feel slightly jealous.”

“You want me to kiss you in front of all these hunky soldiers?” she asked raising an eyebrow. “That’s more likely to get them to jump you than not.”

I tried to look thoughtful for a moment, but burst out in giggles when she poked me in the ribs and stuck her tongue out.

We spent the next few hours with me shooting, and her observing. It was awkward at first for me to get used to spotting for myself than working in a two man team, but I got used to it, and by the end of our time at the ranges, I was feeling quite confident that with a few more practice sessions, I would be up to speed. The sensation of lying prone on my breasts was alien at first, but I grew used to it, although the squashed sensation, regardless of the false nature of my bust, was awkward. Now I knew why this was more important. It wasn’t about shooting, it was about my feminine role; a female in that position would be used to her breasts getting in the way: I had a lot to learn.

We packed up the gear, and began the long drive back to Inner London. I dozed lightly on the drive back, and awoke to find us parked outside Harriet’s house; she was just sitting behind the wheel, with the engine off, watching me as I slept. “You looked so calm,” she smiled.” I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Mmm, it’s fine,” I said sleepily. “Why are we back here?” I asked.

“Well I live here,” she said sarcastically. “And I thought you would like to come in for dinner?” she asked hopefully.

“I’d like that,” I agreed honestly, feeling my stomach rumble. Leaving the vehicle, Harriet led me into the house, and proceeded to whip up a divine Risotto and a delicious bottle of white wine. As we sat eating at her dining table. It was hard not to reflect on the events to date as I sat here, with my girlfriend… as her girlfriend, quietly just enjoying being in each other’s presence. For once feeling truly satisfied with life. That however, was a problem.

After dinner, we moved through to the living room, and spent the evening watching television together. It wasn’t especially romantic, but I enjoyed just spending time with her out of the pressure of work. I lay back, with my head against Harriet’s shoulder, and couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so relaxed in someone else’s presence.

“How do you feel about all of this now?” she asked quietly, turning off the TV and wrapping her arm around me more snugly.

“Better,” I admitted, “although this is starting to fuck with my head.”

“Are you worrying about afterwards?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“No matter what, I love you,” Harriet whispered, kissing me on the top of my head.

“Even if I stayed a girl?” I asked, feeling the return of my mental turmoil.

Harriet was quiet for a moment. “Yes, even if you were still a girl… Is that what you want?”

“To be honest; I don’t know.” I admitted truthfully. “This has thrown me for six… I don’t know how I feel, But I do sort of like it.”

“I know.”

I bit my lip. She knew, I knew… but no matter what, I still found it difficult to talk about.

“Before all of this, I didn’t feel like I wanted to dress up, or even feel like a girl. Since this has begun, I’ve started to feel really strange, in a good way…

“How do you mean?” she prompted softly, stroking my hair gently in a loving way.

“I guess, I’ve realised that something was missing in me… Being Sharon has made me see things differently. Feel differently, reacting and thinking differently… Something about it seems right, and no matter what I do or think, I can’t get rid of the feeling.” I said, looking away.

“When we were together the other night… There was no pressure on me to be macho, no urge to satisfy myself; I just loved being with you, and making you happy made me happy.” I said frankly. “It was what happened when I went home that made it so much clearer. The dream I had… I had… real breasts. But it wasn’t that. I wasn’t disappointed when I woke up because I didn’t have breasts; it was because I wasn’t real… I wasn’t a girl.”

I looked at Harriet and tried to read her expression, but I failed. She looked at me closely for a moment before smiling slightly.

“Sharon, something in me was attracted to you that first time I saw you, this you…” she said running her finger down my cheek. “I fell in love with you, not you’re body, and there was something different about you before. But since this…. I don’t know, you just seemed more real; more whole as a person… You were more expressive, more talkative, more interesting… On top of that, I realised that I was attracted to you… like this… Its not that I wasn’t attracted to Mike, but Sharon caught my heart, and if you have to be Sharon forever, I’ll be happy either way. I love you.”

I felt tears begin to run down my cheeks as I looked into her eyes. “Really?” I half choked.

“Yes.” She whispered, kissing me lightly on my lips. “I love you, Sharon.”

 

Chapter 10

“Are you listening Sharon?”

“Sorry,” I replied quickly, shaking my head. “Yes, I am.”

Jane gave me a disapproving look. “You really do need to concentrate on this you know… It’s vital to your survival.”

“I know,” I sighed. “My mind just doesn’t work well at this time on a Saturday morning… and I had a long day yesterday,” I admitted. “The whole time since I joined you guys has been one long day.”

“I know,” she replied more softly. “This is a lot to expect from a beginner.”

“It’s not that that bothers me,” I said, sipping the long cold coffee on the desk in front of me. “I have always been able to lose myself in work and get the job done. This isn’t any different to going undercover with the met, I did that once or twice in lesser capacities… it’s just… so much bigger.” I shrugged. “It’s not the why, more the how.”

Jane cocked an eyebrow at me, “How do you mean?”

“The girl thing is causing some issues.” I said, in what I hoped was an offhand manner. “I won’t be too upset when it’s resolved.”

“So not when it’s over?” Jane asked.

“No, I think it might take a little longer, this is… affecting me.” I admitted. “Sorry, you were saying about radio procedure?” Hoping she took my hint to get off the subject.

We worked on, whiling away my Saturday morning with endless operational procedure. The 6 building had been quiet, but not deserted, and when I logged myself out of the pod and into the bright spring afternoon, I felt almost glad to be back amongst the world of the living, and out of the techno tomb.

I walked down the riverside path towards the Embankment tube entrance. There was a light breeze blowing off the river that ruffled my hair. As I reached up and ran my fingers through it to calm the wind’s effect, I caught myself; it was such a feminine thing to do… And the little things like it that I kept catching myself doing were strange. I lent against the balustrade and looked out over the river. I felt so very at home as Sharon that I was doing things Jane or Harriet hadn’t taught me. The self conscious way I messed with my hair, how I looked at my nails more often, even the way I curled up on the sofa was extremely feminine. On top of that, the most overbearing part was my budding romance. While it was true that we shared a far more equal relationship to present, I found myself increasingly submissive in my relation to her. We had grown together as teacher and student I told myself. She was the experienced one, I was the beginner and that rubbed off into our private life, but it was more than that. I even tried to blame my sexual inexperience but it wasn’t that. It was most likely the same reason I had never had a girlfriend, or a desire to go and find one all my life. I chuckled to myself as I realised how stereotypical it was that I was the submissive little girl. I just didn’t want to chase, or control, or win, I wanted to be won… wooed, chased. The very thought made me quite uneasy: It wasn’t how a man was meant to think. The more I tried to put the subject off, the more I realised that that too was a problem. I hadn’t cross dressed before, or felt that I might have been a girl ‘in my head’, but since this had begun, it was as if a pair of curtains had been drawn. I felt alive… human, and not just existing. As much as I tried to loathe admitting to it; I enjoyed being a girl.

Shaking my head, I left the river behind and made my way down the steps into subterranean London. Being a commuter station, Embankment was relatively quiet and free of tourist hoards as I descended to the platform levels. After a short wait, I boarded a train with very little trouble and settled into the nearly empty coach. Reaching into my handbag, I pulled out my Ipod and slipped the buds into my ears: It was always a habit of mine on tube rides or whenever I was alone and didn’t want to think. We pulled into Pimlico station and the 3 passengers in my carriage got off, leaving me alone.

As the train rattled along, I heard the carriage door open and close, but no footsteps. Ignoring the noise, I returned to the dance song I was listening to and watched the flickering tunnel lights speed past the dark window.

“Give us the Ipod and your bag love,” growled a voice in a Croydon accent. “Don’t want me cuttin’ that pretty face now do we?” he hissed pressing his face closer to mine from the seat behind.

My heart rate jumped at the unexpected sound, and I pulled the buds out of my ears, turning to face my assailant. “What?” I asked, pretending to have not heard the man.

The mugger thrust a penknife towards me over the top of the seat and leered. “Give us your Ipod and bag darlin’, or I cut yer face up,” He hissed, frustrated at having to repeat himself.

I had never been mugged as a man, and I didn’t intend to start now. As I made to slip the bag from my shoulder, I brought my other hand down against the man’s hand that held the knife, forcing his wrist against the top bar of the seat at a painful angle that made him yelp and drop the knife. Wasting no time, I slammed my other palm into the man’s nose and jumped free of the seat into the isle while he was stunned. Regaining his senses, the man spat blood and glared at me. “Fucking cunt, I’m goin’ to rip your fuckin’ head off.”

“You really mugged the wrong woman asshole.” I growled through a sly grin.

The man came at me in a totally uneducated manner, allowing me to use his momentum to slam his head into one of the vertical poles that ran from the carriage floor to the roof. As he bounced off, I swept my leg around bringing his legs out from under him and dropping him to the carriage floor. I rolled the man onto his front, and forced his hands up his back, slipping the pair of cuffs I kept in my bag around his wrists.

“You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent and anything you do say will be given in evidence.” I hissed, standing up and brushing off my charcoal pantsuit and slipping my bag on my shoulder. I pulled the man to his feet, who was now swearing and cursing me with a great deal of colourful language.

“Hey are you ok? I heard the commotion,” the driver called, sticking his head through the cab door.

I gave the man a wry grin, “Yes, Attempted mugging.” I shrugged. “Could you call for the transport plod to meet the train at the next station?”

“Um, wow, sure,” he said scratching his head. “Looks like he picked the wrong bird to rob,” he chuckled shaking his head as he retreated to his cab.

“Oh yeah.” I replied quietly to myself.

“I’ll find you and fucking knife you slag,” growled the mugger.

“Ok,” I replied, without really listening to the man, One acquired aural filters after time on the beat driving goby suspects around in the back of a panda car.

The train pulled into the next station, the one before my own, and I alighted, pushing my prisoner before me. There was a reassuring group of florescent jackets on the platform; the British Transport Police.

“We got a call about a disturbance on the train?” one of the officers, a Sergeant in his mid 50s said to me, “Who are you?”

“Sergeant Co…” I began out of habit. “Sorry, Sharon Cohen; Intelligence service.” I said, showing the man my badge. “Sorry, I already read this scrote his rights out of habit.” I smiled sheepishly, “Just transferred out of the met.”

“Oh.” He said, a little taken aback. What happened?” he said, handing the cuffed man over to one of his colleagues.

“He tried to mug me from behind with a penknife; it’s still on the floor at the rear of the carriage. Sorry, I had my hands full,” I said with an apologetic grin. “I subdued him, and asked the driver to call you in.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed. “Met are getting more efficient. I’m not sure if your arrest can stand; you don’t have domestic Jurisdiction if I recall rightly.”

“I know,” I admitted. “As I said; force of habit. Get one of your men to formally arrest him, consider that a citizens arrest.” I replied, placing my Mi6 ID back into my bag.

The sergeant laughed. “You’re a plucky little one aren’t you? Nice to see one of these arseholes get some back for once.”

“I was just reacting,” I admitted. “When I had him down, It was almost automatic to cuff him and hand him over.”

“Good job you did,” He said as we walked towards the Transport Police office. “I swear those guys are getting more brash now… they don’t even care about the CCTV… we should have officers on the trains.”

“Maybe,” I mused. “You want a statement don’t you?” I asked as he escorted me into the office.

“Yeah, for records,” He replied looking for a pen.

“I can’t,” I replied ominously. “At least I’d appreciate it if we forgot I was even here.”

“I’d ask why, but I suspect you’d have to kill me once you told me,” he smiled setting the pen down on the desk once more.

I grinned, remembering the corniness it now held to me. “Something like that.”

“Look, I’ll run you home, is it?” he said, “You missed your stop, and you did us a favour, plus gets me out of the paperwork,” he chuckled.

I felt like protesting, but smiled instead. “Thank you.”

Sergeant Brice, as I discovered, led me up through the station to his Transport Police car on the surface. I slipped into the passenger side, and Sergeant Brice pulled out into the traffic.

“You’re so like my youngest,” he said as we drove through the streets of south London. “She just graduated onto the Thames Valley force.”

“Oh?” I replied. “And how do I remind you of her?”

“She has that same strong sense of justice I can see in you. I don’t think you decided to put that bloke down and arrest him; you just did because it was right. Doesn’t hurt that you’re small and blonde like she is,” he grinned.

“I guess,” I admitted, ignoring the last comment. “It was why I joined the force.”

“Why did you leave?” he asked curiously. “You seem like the career type to me.”

I paused for a moment to think about why I had left. “I’m not sure, I suppose I was offered a chance to protect more people, and enforce the law more effectively.” I shrugged. “It sounds cheesy, but I see myself being able to help more people.”

“Its not,” he admitted. “Was how I felt till I did me leg in chasing a car thief. Transferred to a quiet job chasing fare dodgers to see out my days.”

“I hope I see enough of my days,” I grinned darkly.

Sergeant Brice dropped me off outside my flat, and I gave him a grateful wave as he drove off until I realised it was a feminine little finger waggle, so I immediately stopped.

What I would give for a quiet weekend.

I let myself into the flat, dumping my coat on the rack and removing my suit jacket as I padded through to the living room.

“Hey Becky,” I called as I walked past my housemate’s vegetating form on the sofa, “Busy morning I see?”

“Mmmmm, horrific,” Becky smiled happily as she stretched out on the sofa with catlike grace.

I grabbed a coke from the fridge, and wandered back through to sit on the sofa opposite Becky.

“I wish I didn’t have to work Saturdays,” I complained, slipping off my shoes and kicking them unfemininely under the coffee table.

“Anything interesting in the world of spies?” she joked, marking her page and placing her book on the floor.

“Nothing much,” I shrugged, “boring lessons mostly. I had more fun on the tube ride home.”

“What like?” Becky asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I got mugged, well, he tried, I smirked It’s generally not a good idea to mug an ex police officer that was recruited by mi6.” I chuckled, “I got a ride home from a nice policeman though,” I admitted. “So it was worth it.”

“Was he cute?” Becky asked, grinning devilishly. I could swear I saw her ears visibly prick up.

“He was old enough to be my father,” I replied trying to look appalled. “What do you take me for?” I felt a sickening feeling hit my stomach. “Oh god!” I gasped. My Dad said he was going to visit this afternoon!”

“And you only remembered this now?” Becky asked incredulously.” How the hell are you going to explain that he has a daughter?” I looked at my watch. It was 2pm; my father was coming by at 4 o’clock to see how I, his son, was doing. I felt a surge of panic spread through me as I imagined scenarios that may come.

“I’m fucked,” I moaned, burying my head under a cushion.

 

Chapter 11

What are we going to do?” Becky asked.

“I’m going to get out of all this,” I replied uncertainly. “Try and make myself less girly.”

Becky snorted, “That’s going to be hard.”

“Oh you’re a great help,” I glared, standing up. “I’m going for a shower and to get these things off,” I announced, hefting my bosom and turning to walk out of the room.
Becky’s sniggers didn’t help matters.

Stripped off my clothes in my bedroom and managed to remove corset and my underwear. Standing naked in my room, I felt extremely strange. I lifted my hands to the two lumps on my chest and cupped them in my hands. They were warm from contact with my body, the strange thing was, I was reluctant to remove them; they felt like part of me now. Wrapping a towel around my body, I stepped out of my room and made for the bathroom.

I locked the door, and slid the towel to the floor before turning towards the mirror and appraising my appearance. The corset had left an impression on my body, and my waist dipped in more acutely than before, emphasised by the two firm mounds atop my torso. As a man, I ought to be disgusted by this, but yet I wasn’t. The last chip fell in place at that moment, as I stood looking at what I had become. I wanted this now; I liked this. For the first time in my short life I truly felt happy with how I looked. The hints I had dropped to Harriet, the comments and offhand suggestions that this was something more than a job… I had never gone out and said how I felt. Right now, I felt that I wanted to be Sharon for ever; I am Sharon.

With genuine regret, I reached for the bottle of solvent in the bathroom cupboard, and began to spread the liquid along the edges of my surrogate breasts. As the silicone began to peal away, I felt a pang of sadness spread through me. It was as if I had been reminded of the truth beneath my exterior. It seemed so sudden to admit my feelings to myself, but in truth, I had felt them for a long time. I had never liked myself growing up. I had just accepted my body as fact, and ignored things. I had never wanted to socialise with ‘the guys’; in fact I had gone out of my way to avoid it, men intimidated me…

I felt a pronounced shift in my weight as I removed my left breast, followed shortly by the right. I ran my fingers over my tender, red chest, feeling a definite sense of loss. Pushing it aside, I turned on the shower, and slipped under the jets of water.
I soaped my now unfamiliar body with some of my old shower gel, taking care to rub the residue from my chest. After rinsing my hair out, and shampooing it to remove any of the hairspray, I gently washed my face to remove the last feminine signs from my body.

Shutting off the water, I stepped out of the shower and began to wrap the towel around my chest, pausing, I tied it about my waist and slipped back to my room, cradling my now detached breasts. I returned my breasts to their box, and dried myself off. I had an hour and a half left before my father arrived; there was no time to relax. I found my mobile, and dialled Harriet’s home number. After a pause, she answered.

“Hello.”

“Hey Harriet, it’s me.”

“Hey baby,” she cooed, recognising my voice. “How are you?”

“Not good right now. Look, are you busy this afternoon?”

I proceeded to fill her in on the visit that I had somehow managed to forget up till now.

“Look, can you come over and play my doting heterosexual girlfriend for a while? I need smoke and mirrors to throw the old man off the scent,” I begged.

“Lots of skin, but not sluttish right?” she asked slyly. “I’ll be over in an hour. I love you,” she said softly, hanging up the phone.

I grabbed the bottle of nail polish remover I had bought during the week, along with my own feminine shampoos and potions in an expensive trip to Boots. Dabbing some onto a cotton pad, I began to clean the pale blue polish from my fingernails. Satisfied that I had removed the last possible trace of femininity, I grabbed a pair of knickers and slipped them on. I realised what I was doing as I settled the pale pink silk around my bottom, but felt no compulsion to change them; my father wasn’t likely to perform a strip search.

I pulled on a pair of faded jeans from my male wardrobe, and a plain white tee-shirt. Adding a pair of socks and my trainers, I felt hopeful that I could face my father after all. After drying my hair and locating my old Casio wrist watch, I returned to the bathroom to check my appearance in the larger mirror: The overall Image wasn’t so bad. I looked gawky, and had to correct how I stood, but I didn’t look especially feminine. I had tied my hair back into a low ponytail, the best I could do without incurring the wrath of Sally.

I shrugged. All I could do now was wait… So returning to my room, I moved a few things around, hoping to return some semblance of masculinity to my feminised bedroom. I couldn’t remove all trances of femininity, the makeup, the clothes, the hair dryer and shoes were as much a part of that room now as any, and I hadn’t the time to remove them all. Perhaps he would believe Harriet was living with me if asked?

At half past three, I heard the door buzzer ring, so wandered through to the living room and picked up the handset. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s me. Let me in.” Harriet replied cheerily. I returned the handset to the hook without replying and hit the entry buzzer. A few moments later, she knocked at my door.

I opened the door and let her in. Harriet looked amazing; she was wearing a short denim skirt, and a beautiful white knit jumper, her blonde hair flowed in silky waves around her face, she looked incredible.

“Will this satisfy your father?” she grinned, posing slightly.

“Him and me both.” I grinned, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” I added, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You look different.” She replied, raising her eyebrows. “Its hard to remember Mike now, even after such a short time, but I guess you could be a Mike if you squint a bit,” she giggled.

“Thanks, way to boost my confidence.” I growled. “Just hang off my arm a lot and he might be convinced I’m not gay.”

“But you are dear.” She replied coyly. “Just not the way he may think.”

I let Harriet through to the living room, and introduced her to Becky. My flatmate was surprised when I introduced my girlfriend, doubly so when I admitted we worked together.

“You look close enough for him.” Becky said cocking her head. “The boobs make a difference, but the hair he will notice…”

“I can’t really do anything about that unless I want to get skinned alive,” I grimaced. “I’ll pass it off as fashion.”

Subconsciously I raised my hand to my flat chest, Harriet noticed, and gave my knee a gentle squeeze.

Just before 4, my father rang.

“Hello my boy, I’ll be outside in a few, Pop down and wait for me, we’re going for a pint.” He fired off in his usual upbeat manner.

“Ah, Sure dad, I’m bringing my girlfriend, is that ok?”

“Wait, is this my son? A woman? Sure lad, bring her along.” He chuckled heartily.

“See you in a few Dad.” I replied apprehensively, putting the phone down.

I grabbed my neglected Jacket, and tried to fit the contents of my handbag into my pockets… It didn’t quite work. I was quite surprised by how many things I had come to need.

Five minutes after we stepped out onto the pavement, my father pulled up in his Jaguar. I don’t know why he wanted to own such a large car, never mind drive it through central London, but I supposed it bolstered his fragile male ego. I snickered to myself as I realised that I had begun to think of men as the opposite sex.

I was about to open my door and slip in when I realised that I was meant to be playing the gentleman son, so turned and opened Harriet’s door, allowing her to seat herself before closing it, and slipping into the car myself.

“Hi dad,” I smiled weakly. “This is Harriet.”

“Hello dear girl,” he smiled, turning to extend his hand to Harriet in the back seat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Michael, It’s been too long, but you have changed boy,” he said with a frown as he pulled out into the street. “You don’t eat well on a Policeman’s salary?”

“I’m doing fine,” I countered, “Just busy at the moment, lots of work on, you know how it is.”

“Your hair is a bit flouncy,” He noted with distain. “You should get that cut.”

“Can’t dad, it’s for work, I’m undercover,” I shrugged, displaying my lack of control with the situation.

“As what? Some Nancy boy metrosexual?” he replied with a hint of scorn.

“Hey fuck off dad,” I growled, Its just long hair, I’m meant to be fitting in with a rock group doing some drug trafficking using their tours as cover… so it fits ok? Leave it out.”

He gave me a long look, questioning my story, but shrugged and accepted it. “As long as you cut that when you’re done, I can’t have your mother see you looking like that, she will think you’ve become one of her hippies.”

Harriet giggled. “Your mum is a Hippie?”

“No,” I replied grinning. “She’s a NGO worker, charities and such, Dad is just stuck in the 60s.”

“I am not.” He cut in, trying to sound offended. “I merely hold a different view to my darling wife.”

“He thinks she’s mad.” I stage whispered to Harriet behind my hand.

We pulled into the car park of one of the last remaining quiet pubs in the area that had not been overrun by Pete’s sort, although its days were numbered, one could tell by the number of expensive cars next to ours.

I offered Harriet my arm as we walked into the pub and she took it with a sly grin; I think she loved the role-play, although reality would most likely have placed me on her arm.

Dad led us to the bar and we ordered our drinks before he made his excuses and departed to the men’s room.

“Here you go ladies,” grinned the barman, placing the two pints and a glass of wine before us.

I blushed, but ignored him as I handed over the  £10 note and beat a hasty retreat to a quiet booth.

“Did you hear that guy? Dad is gonna smell a rat soon,” I moaned with resignation. “I should have pretended to be sick.”

“He wasn’t looking closely; it’s just your height and the hair,” she offered, trying to make me feel better.

“I doubt it, and ordinarily, I wouldn’t care.” I shrugged. “But I don’t want dad asking questions,” I hissed.

“Ordinarily?” she asked curiously.

I swallowed, “I’ve decided I’m not going back. I want to stay as Sharon.” I said quietly, looking into her eyes for a sign of reaction.

Harriet smiled and ran her fingers down my cheek. “I know,” she said simply, before kissing me softly on the lips. I wrapped my arms around her, and drew her body closer to mine as we kissed, our drinks ignored. I felt stars leaping around my heart as our tongues danced.

“I was going to suggest we order a late lunch,” my father announced with raised eyebrows, returning quietly. “But it seems like you two are already on desert.”

Detangling myself from Harriet I grinned, whipping the lipstick from my mouth. “Didn’t hear you come back Dad.”

“Ah it’s fine, you’re not a child any longer Michael, I’m glad you two get on so well. Tell me about you my dear.” He said jovially, turning to Harriet, “What do you do?”

“I’m a civil servant.” She replied demurely. “Foreign Office paper pusher, I’m afraid, nothing exciting.”

“Ah, the circles of power eh?” Dad chuckled, sipping his bitter. “How did you two meet?”

Harriet looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “How would you say it was?” she asked conversationally.

“Ah, we had a… bit of a problem, and her bosses wanted some Met assistance to… Focus, on the issues at hand.” I replied cryptically, grinning broadly. Harriet barely contained a giggle at the corniness of my line.

“Sounds interesting,” my father replied, paying little attention. We were soon called for our table, and Harriet made her excuses before heading for the toilets. My father and I were seated, and he took no time in giving me a talking to now Harriet was out of the way.

“I hope all this appearance crap is for your undercover thing.” He said with distain. “I must say you don’t look like the same man that came home for Christmas.”

“It is dad,” I sighed, “Do you think I want to do this?” I asked, avoiding the question. “Look, I have a lot on at work that I can’t talk about, and I need you to just drop it. Okay?” I replied a little too tersely.

My Father sat back in his chair and looked at me for a moment before shaking his head. “You know, as much as I don’t want to say it; you do look an aweful lot like your mother when she was your age. Of course you’re not a woman,” he laughed. “But that hair, and your face are very similar to hers. Pity you didn’t get more of me eh?” he grinned.

“I suppose.” I replied blandly.

“I’m glad you finally found yourself a woman,” he said taking a sip of his pint. “Your mother and I were beginning to wonder.”

“What?” I asked defensively. “That I was gay?” I grinned inwardly.

He shrugged. “Well you should bring her over to dinner after this is all over,” he said, gesturing at my unmanliness. “She’s a nice girl, keep hold of her.”

“Oh I intend to,” I smiled.

Harriet returned, I think she had taken her time to allow the two of us to talk. I stood and pulled out her chair for her, in the gentlemanly fashion and was rewarded with another gorgeous smile. A waiter approached and we ordered; the meal went without incident, and we talked about nothing in particular, just polite conversation. I suspected that Harriet wasn’t too comfortable around my old-fashioned father. Eventually things wound up, and my father dropped us off at my flat. I promised to phone my parents soon, and he drove off.

“That was stressful,” I admitted as we climbed the stairs back up to the flat. “Thank you for being there.”

“It was nice,” Harriet smiled. He’s a bit out of date, but his sort always are. It was nice to meet my girlfriend’s daddy,” she giggled.

“You want to come in?” I asked, as we reached my door. “Maybe stay the night?”

Harriet smiled and squeezed my hand. “Sure,” she replied softly, kissing my cheek.

I let us in, and the flat was quiet. “Do you think he twigged?” I asked, as we moved through to the living room, and I fetched a bottle of wine from the kitchen.

Harriet shook her head. “Others may have seen differently, but I suspect he sees you with rose tinted glasses, I doubt he ever would guess unless you slapped him in the face with your boobs.”

I reached up to my chest subconsciously. I was beginning to feel really messed up.

We drank the wine as we chatted quietly, and the night wound on. I had purposefully remained ‘male’ to test myself. I hoped that experiencing things differently might change my mind, or give me some food for thought. I found myself longing to be Sharon again; however I forced the thought to the back of my mind and leant over and kissed Harriet softly on the lips. She responded hungrily and we embraced tightly as we kissed. I stood quietly, and took her hand, leading her to my bedroom.

We sat at the foot of the bed and resumed our embrace. I slowly reached down, and began to remove her jumper to no resistance; before long, we sat in our underwear.

“You’re wearing knickers.” She giggled softly.

I blushed slightly. “Closest thing at hand,” I shrugged.

Harriet ran her hand over my chest sensuously. “You want to do it like this?” she asked.

“I want to try,” I replied in a small voice. “I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing.”

Harriet nodded, and reached around to remove her bra. As she did so, I found my eyes fixed on her beautiful breasts; they were not overly large, but not small by any means. They were round and full, and very beautiful. I reached out one hand and gently cupped her right breast, my eyes locked on hers. She smiled as she felt my touch, and a small moan escaped her mouth as my fingers found her nipple.

“I love you.” I said softly, kissing her gently. We lay back on the bed, kissing and fondling each other with increasing passion. Removing the last of our clothing, we lay side by side, kissing softly, “I’ll get a condom.” I said, beginning to sit up.

“Don’t bother, she replied huskily. “I was on the pill before I met you, I figured I’d stay on it as this girlfriend can still get me pregnant.” I grinned and rolled over on top of her, and we melted into a joint passion.

Several hours later, we lay side by side on the bed, glowing in the aftermath of our love.

“That was amazing,” Harriet whispered softly, stroking my face. “I love you so much.”

I smiled, “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I think I know what I have to do now.”

“That was awkward for you, I’m sorry.” She said, biting her lip.

“Don’t be,” I replied. “It wasn’t you. I just know that I’m not meant to be Mike. I guess that was the final nail in his coffin, the one part of being a man that I can’t deal with.”

“Ok,” Harriet replied simply. “I guess I won’t need the pill anymore.” She giggled.

“No.” I whispered, resting my head against her breast. “I’m afraid you’re stuck a lesbian.”

“I guess I am,” she giggled.

As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered just what I was letting myself in for, and just what the future would hold.

 

---

 
To Be Continued...