There is a serial killer at work, and Detective Inspector Bruce Appleby has only one lead, there is a common link to all the deceased men. The Candy Cane Club. This is a private and exclusive TG club in the heart of Reading, and he finds it resistant to any form of intrusive investigation. No females are employed in the club, and only males of a certain persuasion. All the staff are transgendered in some way, and Bruce has to try to unlock the intelligence which can only be inside, either from the clients or the staff. The only answer is to get someone inside, but what cop would ever volunteer for such an assignment? One did, and for Police Constable Nick Winton, a whole new life is opened up. The question is: where will it take him?

 
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The Legal Stuff:The Candy Cane Club  ©2004 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.
 
If you enjoyed this story, then please PM me and tell me. If you hated it, PM me and lie.
 
 
Book One
 
 
Chapter 1
 
 
It started to drizzle as the man left the club around midnight. The flashing neon sign above the door was the only indication that the club existed - down a dark and secluded alley with the single thick door as its only entrance. The sign, a red and white candy cane, fizzed and spluttered as raindrops made contact.

He was quite a tall man, around 40, but overweight and sweaty, as he’d consumed at least one drink too many. His walk was slightly uneven as he made his way out to the main road. The streetlights didn’t reach into the alley, so the figure watching him was in complete darkness.

The man stood for a moment, as if to get his bearings, looking both ways before turning left and setting off along the pavement. He smiled to himself, as the evening had been a good one and he had enjoyed the entertainment. The thought of Mandy gave him a partial erection as he arrived at his block of flats.

He used a keypad to gain entry to the communal front door and he ascended the stairs to his flat on the first floor. The tiled floor seemed to resonate with every sound he made, and the staircase, with a hard-wearing carpet seemed longer than usual. He was getting his door key out of his pocket when he heard a slight sound behind him. In surprise, he turned, but on seeing who it was, he smiled.

“Oh, it’s you. Are you coming in?” he said.

He hardly felt the knife as it slid between his ribs and pierced his heart. Then, all at once, he felt this sharp pain. The world seemed to stop. With an expression of sadness and surprise, Warren McCarthy died on the landing outside his flat. The sound of footsteps echoed around the hall as his assailant walked calmly out of the building and into the night.
 

*          *          *
 
Detective Inspector^[1] Bruce Appleby got the call at 03:00. He was asleep, so his wife was not best pleased. She huffed at him, turning her back to him as he answered his mobile.

“DI Appleby,” he grunted into the phone, as he rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom. He closed the door and put on the light.

“Sorry to trouble you at home, Guv, but there’s been another one,” said Sergeant Mike Carter, one of the night duty uniform supervisors.

“Oh shit, when?”

“It was called in about half an hour ago, but the doc thinks he’s been dead since about midnight.”

“Where?”

“In a block of private flats called the Gables, just off the main drag. The victim is a bloke called Warren McCarthy. He was killed just as he was about to open his front door, his key was in his hand.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Apart from the neighbour who called it in, none that have come forward yet.”

“What about the neighbour?”

“Jonathan Briggs, thirty-three, just returning from a delayed transatlantic flight from Gatwick. He lives on the floor above the deceased, saw him slumped on the floor, checked and dialled the nines. I checked and his Continental Airlines flight didn’t get in until zero one hundred hours.”

“Okay Mike, I’ll be twenty minutes, leave the body there until I get there.”

“Right Guv. I’ve started door to door enquiries.”

“Good. Bye.”

Bruce dressed and left the house as quietly as possible. The kids were still asleep as it was a school day tomorrow. Carol would get over it; at least he didn’t have to do shift work any more.

He made it in fifteen minutes, as the roads through Reading were very quiet. He parked his Ford Mondeo outside the flats and made his way over to where all the police cars were parked. A black undertakers van was waiting close by.

A young probationer constable wearing the distinctive ‘Bobby’ helmet and yellow florescent jacket was on the door. Bruce had to show him his warrant card before he would let him in. Mike Carter was at the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing latex gloves, and he handed Bruce a pair.

Bruce put on the gloves and looked around the lobby.

The lobby floor was a mess of damp footprints, mostly made by the officers. Bruce cursed silently.

“Hi Bruce. Sorry about this.”

“No problem. Where’s the body?”

He followed the Sergeant up to the first floor and saw the deceased lying on his back by his own front door. The police surgeon, Sharon Hillier was packing up her case. She looked tired and fed up.

“No blood?” Bruce observed.

“It seems the murder weapon was a very thin blade, so the hole closed up as it was withdrawn. The body cavity has filled and the heart was punctured. He rolled onto the wound, so his excess fat helped seal it up. His heart stopped almost immediately, so it ceased pumping at time of death,” she told him.

“Mike said that you think he died around midnight?”

“Something like that, you’ll have to wait for the P.M.”

“Was he on his back like this when he died?”

“I think he was dead almost from the moment the implement entered his heart. But yes, the wound is in his back and he fell as you now see him. Whoever did this was either very lucky, or is an expert. The ribcage is not an easy thing to negotiate, so a single well aimed blow like this requires either a good deal of luck, or a lot of practice,” she observed. She picked up her bag and left them to it.

“Well, this is the third. And it seems that each one was as clean and in similar circumstances,” Bruce said, “Has anyone been into his flat yet?”

“Not yet, we were waiting for you,” Mike said.

“Has the photographer been?”

“Yes, and Scenes of Crime.”

“Right, get the undertakers to remove the body. Have you searched him?”

Mike held up a police property bag, containing the man’s wallet and various other items, including a mobile phone.

“Where’s his key?”

Mike held up a bunch of keys, singling out a single yellow metal key.

“Open it then,” Bruce said. The Sergeant opened the door.

It was a large flat - quite up-market judging by the size and as reflected by the local neighbourhood. It was very clean and tastefully decorated, with expensive furniture and modern paintings on the walls.

“Did he live alone?” Bruce asked.

“So it seems. Mind you, the neighbours seem rather disinterested on the whole. No one seems to have seen a partner, but occasionally a woman was seen coming or going, but no one knows who she is,” Mike said.

“Or whether it was always the same one. Right, check the phone messages and his phone book,” Bruce said, as he looked for the main bedroom.

“Bloody hell.” he said as he saw the enormous waterbed. There was a mirror on the ceiling and huge highly erotic pictures of naked men and women covered the walls. One wall was a huge fitted wardrobe with four sliding mirror doors. He opened the first, observing that Mr McCarthy had more suits than the whole CID office. The second door revealed a complex rack system for shirts, socks and underwear. The third door was more shirts on hangers and some casual trousers, but the fourth door was locked.

Bruce frowned, why only lock one door? What is he trying to hide?

“Mike.” Bruce called.

The Sergeant came. “Yeah?”

“You got those keys?”

“Yes, why?”

“Open that,” he said, pointing at the locked wardrobe door.

Mike fumbled a bit trying to find the right key, finally opening the locked door. He slid it back.

“Bloody Hell.” he said.

The wardrobe was filled with women’s clothes, chains, whips and all kinds of sex toys and gadgets. There were long blonde wigs and silicone breast forms, PVC skirts and padded petticoats and corsets. Two racks of ladies shoes, most in a large size, lay on the floor.

“He was a poof,” observed Mike.

“Maybe. Certainly it seems he was into cross dressing and all kinds of kinky stuff, but let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Bruce said.

The men searched the flat, finding few other clues as to the victim’s private life. He had been one of six financial advisers in a local company, so obviously wasn’t badly off. There were few photographs, letters or any other personal items that tied him to anyone else. There were not even any family contacts, except two numbers in his personal phone book, his mother and his sister, both living in Worthing in Sussex.

“Let’s have a look at his wallet,” Bruce said, so Mike removed it from the bag, spreading the contents on the table.

There were eighty pounds in notes, three credit cards, a cheque/cash point card, a store card, his driver’s licence, some receipts and one club membership card.

Bruce held up the latter and turned it over. There was a picture of a red and white candy cane on the front and the victim’s name embossed with a number 3209 next to it.

On the rear were a magnetic strip and a signature strip, which the victim had signed. There was no name or any other details, except a small printed section stating, “The Management reserve the right to refuse entry or to rescind membership without notice. If found this card should be posted to PO Box 12668.”

“Not a lot of information there,” said Mike.

Bruce smiled.

“There’s enough. This is the club card for the Candy Cane Club. It’s not that far from here, and this could be the break we’ve been looking for.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s the only common thread that links all three murders together.”

“I’ve never heard of the Candy Cane Club,” Mike admitted.

“You’re hardly likely to, unless you are of a particular bent. It rarely comes to police notice, as it has private membership and it doesn’t advertise. It’s one of the top Transgender clubs in this part of the country,” Bruce explained.

“Oh yes, and just how did you come to hear of it?” Mike asked with a grin.

“The first murder victim, Daniel Fleming, had been picked up by a cab having just left. The second victim, Simon Harris, had been there three days before, and now Mr McCarthy has the card in his wallet. I’m willing to gamble that he had just come from there.”

He looked at his watch.

“The club will still be open. Let’s go pay them a visit, you’re about to be educated,” Bruce said.

Mike collected all the bits together and sealed the bag. Bruce took a photograph of the victim out of a frame from the dressing table and they left the flat. Mike handed the bag to a constable with the instructions to book them into the property store.

They went in Bruce’s car and parked on the main road just near the alley. They walked up the alley to where the candy cane sign still winked at them.

“I never knew this was here and I’ve been working in Reading for six months,” Mike admitted.

Bruce knocked on the door and an eye appeared at the small window. Bruce held up his warrant card and the eye swivelled to take in the uniform Sergeant standing next to him. The door opened.

A very large black man, about six foot six and all muscle stood filling the doorway.

“Yes?”

“I am DI Appleby, Thames Valley CID from Reading Police Station. I need to speak to the manager and some of the staff. Have you been on the door all night?”

“Most of the time, why?”

Bruce held up the photograph. “Has this man been here tonight?”

The man didn’t look at it. “I’m not allowed to discuss membership, nor who is or is not here,” the man said.

“Right, let me explain something. This man is dead, so this is a murder investigation. If you refuse to answer, then you will be arrested for attempting to pervert the course of justice, and probably charged with obstructing police. Now, has this man been in here tonight?” Bruce repeated, his voice as cold as ice.

The man swallowed and simply nodded.

“When did he leave?”

“Around midnight.”

“Anyone else leave at that time?”

He shook his head.

“Was he a frequent visitor?”

He nodded, “Twice, sometimes three times a week.”

“Any favourites?”

“Favourites?”

“You know, staff, hostesses, dancers or artistes?”

“He liked Mandy a lot. But I work the door, so I don’t really know.”

“Was he alone when he left?”

“Yes. He was always alone.”

“Thanks, where’s your manager?”

“I’ll call him,” the man said, picking up a phone and speaking into it briefly.

A few minutes later a man in a dark suit appeared. He was around thirty-five and had a shaven head.

“I’m Sean Cooper, the manager. Can I help you, gentlemen?” he said, eyeing Mike’s uniform distastefully.

Bruce introduced himself again.

“Mr Cooper, I’m a Detective Inspector from the local police station. I’m investigating a murder and the victim was in this club shortly before he died. This makes the third man killed who had a link with this club, so I think we need to talk.”

The man nodded and led them to a small office. Mike noticed that the club was huge, on three floors, with many small rooms. There were two bars, with a dance floor in one and a small stage in the other. All the staff and artistes were in very sexy clothing, some were topless, and they had glitter on their naked breasts.

Mike was slightly confused when Sean shut the door of his office.

“I was under the impression that all your staff were male?” he asked.

“They are, although they would take offence if you described them as such. Apart from the kitchens, which are completely separate, we have no genetic females working here. All the staff and hostesses are in drag. They’re all transvestites or transgendered in some way. The only exception is a transsexual who has had her operation. We allow them to stay on staff, but not as hostesses.”

“Oh.” Mike shut up.

Bruce passed the photograph over.

“This man, his name was Warren McCarthy. He was here earlier and we know he left around midnight. He was found dead just outside his flat, having died shortly after leaving here. He was murdered. This is the third death linked to clientele of this club. Now, I need some answers, otherwise the press are going to be round here so fast, your members are going to be conspicuous by their absence.”

“What do you want to know?”

“The doorman said that McCarthy was here two or three times a week, is that right?”

“Yes, he is, sorry, was one of our most frequent members.”

“How long has he been a member?”

Sean turned to his PC and, using the mouse, brought up the membership database.

“He joined this club three years ago, on the 4^th July 1998.”

“Does it have how often he was here?”

“No, only his membership details.”

“May I have a print out of that?”

“Under the Data Protection Act, all our information is confidential, I’m not sure I can let you have it.”

“Mr Cooper, this is a murder investigation. If necessary, I can have a warrant to seize all computers on the premises, if I have grounds to suspect information pertaining to my case may be in one of them. It may be I will have to have access to all your records at some point, but all I want, at the moment, is a copy of one man’s file.”

Seconds later the single sheet of paper rolled out of the printer. Sean handed it over to Bruce.

“Thank you, the last thing I want is to ruin your business, but I need to find this killer before he or she ruins a lot more than your club.”

“I understand. But you must appreciate that this club exists due to its high degree of confidentiality.”

“I accept that, but during this investigation, we may have to tread on a few toes. We will try to avoid it, but these things happen.” Bruce said.

“I accept that, thanks for the warning.”

“Now, who is Mandy?” Bruce asked.

“She is one of the hostesses, why?”

I have reason to believe that she was a particular favourite of the deceased. Would that be accurate?”

Sean nodded. “Yes, he was rather partial to her. In fact she performed for him this evening.”

“Performed?”

“This is a TG club. The girls are lap dancers and entertainers. Members can pay them for private sessions in private rooms, and Mandy performed for Warren at about eleven.”

“Just how far do the ‘girls’ go with this entertainment?”

“This is a respectable club. We have a no touching rule, the members are not allowed to touch the girls, and there is CCTV in every room for the girls’ safety.”

“How long do you keep the CCTV tapes?” Bruce asked.

“They are rerun over within a week, unless there are complaints or an incident. We haven’t had either for about six weeks.”

“I’d like all tapes from this evening seized,” Bruce said to Mike, who nodded and made a note.

“Do any of the girls take things further with the members off the premises?” Mike asked.

“If they do, that is their business. We don’t encourage it, and we certainly don’t allow anything like that on the premises. They earn very good money inside the club, so they don’t have to turn tricks like prostitutes.”

“How many of the girls are transsexuals undergoing transition?” Bruce asked.

“Over half. Once they have had SRS we terminate their contracts, as we don’t allow any females to dance here, whether they are real or constructed,” Sean said with a smile. “As I said, the only exception is with the bar staff and waitresses. Some of them have been with us for a long time, and many have been through their sex change surgery.”

“It is an expensive business, I understand,” Bruce observed.

“Oh it certainly is, the hormones and the surgery alone comes to about  £20,000. Then there is the other surgery, the implants and all the rest. But, by working here, the girls can earn up to  £500 on a good night. We don’t employ them, they pay us to work here, and then they keep all their proceeds.”

“How much do they pay?”

“We charge them  £50 a session. And they have to pay for any drinks as well.”

“So the punter pays to get in, then the girls pay to get in, they both pay for the food and drink, and anything the girls get, they keep?” Bruce repeated.

“That’s it. They’re all self-employed, and have to audition to be allowed to come here. This is the highest class of club of this kind within the TS/TG/TV community,” Sean said.

“What about the bar staff and waitresses?”

“We employ them, and some go on to be dancers. The members come here to be around beautiful girls, who happen to be, or have been, boys. But they are paid staff while they work in the bars.”

“May we speak to Mandy?” Bruce asked, making some notes in his notebook.

Sean picked up the phone and spoke to someone. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Sean got up and opened it. A very tall dark skinned girl walked in. She was exceptionally attractive, with remarkable red hair flowing half way down her back. She had large breasts, which were very evident and very real, straining for release from a very tight, short red dress. However, as one looked closely, her hands and feet were perhaps too large, and her shoulders were rather too broad.

“Sean, you wanted to see me?” she breathed, her voice very husky and sexy.

“Mandy, these gentlemen are police officers, and they have come about Warren. They want to ask you some questions,” Sean explained.

She touched her chest with both hands in a very feminine gesture.

“Oh my God. Has something happened to him? He was only here earlier, when I danced for him,” she said.

“Mandy, I’m Detective Inspector Appleby. I’m afraid that Warren is dead. He was killed just outside his flat just after leaving here,” Bruce said.

Mandy sat down, holding her head with one hand.

“Oh my God. How? Why?” she asked.

“That is what we are trying to find out. You danced for him earlier. What time was that?”

“He had the ten o’clock session, I used the green room. He always liked the green room.”

“How well did you know him?”

“You mean, did we have sex?”

“Did you?”

“No. He was into bondage, he told me that but I’m not. He liked to dress up and have the girls screw him. I’m not into that either,” she said with a smile.

“Oh?”

“I’m a transsexual, Inspector, but I’m transitioning, awaiting surgery. I’ve had so many female hormones that I don’t function as a male any more,” she said.

“Ah.”

“I went home with him once. To his flat, just down the road. He wanted to dress up for me, and then he wanted to go out in public. It gave him a sexual kick, I think. The problem is, he doesn’t pass, and it would have been very embarrassing, also he drinks too much.”

“Was he drunk tonight?”

“Not far off it. He is, no, was a very lonely man, frustrated at not being much of a man, and wanting to be a woman occasionally. He hadn’t the bottle to go for a sex change though,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“He used to tell me things. He was very screwed up, but he didn’t really know what he wanted.”

“Have any of the others been to his flat?”

“Most of them have at one time or another. But he was into some weird stuff. That sounds strange coming from someone like me, but, believe it or not, all I want to be is a normal girl, and live a normal life,” she said.

“What sort of strange things?”

“Well, he would have parties, where often there would be ten people there. He would have lots of drink and some other stuff, if you know what I mean? Anyway, it used to get pretty wild. Some girls wouldn’t be able to work for a couple of days.”

“Why not?”

“Too sore. I think that they were fucked with all kinds of amazing things.”

“You mean anally?”

“Darling, much as I would love to have the other, it’s all most of us have got.”

“Do you know who went to these parties?”

“Not personally. Some of the girls used to, and they said that they saw people there who were members of the club.”

“Did they get paid for this?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Have you been here all night?”

“Yes, I’ve had a client every hour on the hour since eight pm.”

“Including midnight?”

She smiled, “Including midnight,” she said.

Bruce looked at Sean, who nodded.

“I need to know where I can contact you again, can you give the Sergeant your real name and address. We will be very discrete, and make an appointment with you via mobile if necessary,” Bruce said. She nodded, turning to Mike and telling him what he wanted to know.

“I need to talk to the barman,” Bruce said to Sean.

“I’ll get him to come up.”
 

*          *          *
 
Twenty minutes later the two officers left the club.

“Phew. That was certainly different,” Mike exclaimed; he was holding a property bag containing half a dozen VHS tapes.

Bruce laughed. “We won’t get much more out of them, they’ll clamp up tighter than a swan’s arse in winter,” Bruce said.

“So what do you reckon?”

“The answer is somewhere in the club. Either a staff member, one of the girls, or ex-staff or ex-dancer, or a disgruntled member or a relative. But the club is the only connection.”

“So how the hell do we get in there?”

“If it was an ordinary club, we could get someone to work behind the bar, or even a female officer to be a dancer. But there, no copper would be willing to go undercover in there,” Bruce said.

“How about a WPC pretending to be a transsexual?”

“Possible, but remember, they don’t employ females, the only exceptions are those who started out as males and while working here, had the change and are now females. I understand they check all their people very thoroughly.”

“You never know, it could be right someone’s street,” Mike said with a smile.

“Yeah, right. Look, I’m completely knackered, I’ll take you back to the nick, and then I am going home for a couple of hours. Thanks for what you did.”

“No problem. I’m just glad that this is not my problem any more.”
 

*          *          *
 
Six hours later, a very bleary-eyed DI Appleby was in with the Detective Chief Inspector and Detective Superintendent in the latter’s office.

“So, what are we going to do about this club, close it?” the Superintendent asked.

“No, if we closed it, we’ll lose all leads. I’d like to put someone inside, and see what intelligence is available,” replied the DCI.

“Hmm, that is not as easy as it sounds, right Bruce?” the Superintendent asked.

“Right boss. This is a club that only hires transvestites and transgendered staff. All the bar staff and hostesses are genetic males, but look female. Many of them are half way between male to female, and most have had breast implants. We would be hard pushed to put in anyone undercover in these circumstances. With the exception of the manager and the doormen, all the others are in drag,” he told them

“How about as doorman, then?”

“Possible, but the doormen don’t see or hear half of what goes on. Ideally, I should like to put two in. One as door staff, with the knowledge and agreement of the management, and another as bar staff, without letting the management know. The manager co-operated, but he is under immense pressure to keep his members confidentiality and is likely to clam up tight if pushed.”

“How the hell do we persuade a PC to go into such a job?” the DCI asked.

“With great difficulty. Also, there would be a problem if he is a local TVP officer, his life could be made a living hell if it got out, and the chances of that is very high,” Bruce said. The other men agreed.

“Right, then I’ll approach the Metropolitan Police, and ask if they could lend us someone on attachment. If they can’t find someone from their thirty-five thousand officers, what chance have we?” the Superintendent said.

“Sir, I also believe that we need to keep a very tight lid on this. It wouldn’t do to let anyone else know that the guy is in there. Particularly the officer we put in as doorman. I’ll get a small team to run with this, and they will keep things tight,” Bruce said.

“I agree. Then, I’ll see if we can get someone from the Met, and then Bruce, you see to it that the poor bugger gets trained properly.”

“Trained properly?”

“Yes, you can hardly expect him to go straight in having just parked his panda in the yard. He’ll need coaching in dressing, walking and all the rest of it. That’s your job. I’ll get you your bloke, you train him.”
 
 
Chapter 2
 
 
The shoplifter did not want to be arrested, as he had already assaulted the store detective. PC Nick Winton went as backup for PC Edgeson, who had taken the call initially. When Nick got there, he saw a large Irishman struggling with Mark Edgeson. Mark was obviously trying to get him to his car, but the man simply didn’t want to go.

Nick calmly went in with a knee strike, which made the man fall over. Nick then placed him in a straight-arm lock and placed him in handcuffs. Mark, who was well over six feet, looked sheepishly at the smaller officer.

“Thanks mate,” he said.

“You are just too damn soft, Mark. You’ve got to go in hard, and not let them take the piss,” Nick said, as he dragged the pissed Irishman to his feet.

“Fuck off ye little bastard.” said the prisoner.

“Oh ye of little brain,” said Nick. “You, my old fruit, are busted. You do not pass go, you do not collect  £200 social security, and now you are going straight to the nick for theft and assault.”

He put the man in the back of Mark’s patrol car.

“Can you cope on your own, or do you want me to stay as escort?” he said to his colleague, grinning.

“I can manage, you Yankee dwarf you,” Mark replied, also grinning.

“Well obviously height doesn’t get the brains, for you damn well know I’m Canadian, and not American, so thank fuck I’m only 5’8”. As you obviously suffer from oxygen starvation up there, and your brain has ceased to function properly,” replied Nick, returning to his car.

He left Mark to it, returning to his patrol area. He was always touchy about his height. The Police had only recently abolished height restrictions for applicants, otherwise he may not have been successful. He was in fact only 5’ 7”, and although he was slightly built, he was wiry and very fit.

He had only recently returned to the UK, after living in Canada since he was about four. His father had been an English university lecturer in History, and his mother was a French Canadian from Montreal, who had been a teacher. They had lived for many years in Montreal, and latterly at Guelph in Ontario, where his father had headed the History department. After they died in a car accident, Nick came to the UK having just left school. He had stayed with his cousins in Bath, but found them really dull, so he had bummed round Europe for a year. He had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He had a personal problem, which he hoped he would grow out of.

Returning in 1998, he joined the Metropolitan Police on a whim. He thoroughly enjoyed the job, and now, with nearly three years under his belt, was eager to join the CID and deal with the more exciting and challenging crimes.

He was a popular man, who got on well with nearly everyone, but he found it hard to make close friends. There was a huge culture gulf between the British and Canadians, so he tended to socialise little, but when he did, it was mainly outside the police. He had just split from his girlfriend of eighteen months, over various things, partly he was unwilling to get too serious and partly because she wanted him to leave the police, but he wasn’t prepared to do that. He did hold his one secret, refusing to let it interfere with his life. His rationale being, you were dealt a hand of cards at birth for a reason, so you may as well play it as best you can.

He had applied for every CID job going, as well as any opportunity to work in plain clothes. The answer was always the same, “Get some more experience, and try again.”

It was a catch-22 situation. He wanted the job for the experience, but where he was, on shift in Kentish Town, he was dealing with crap - day in and day out.

At the end of the tour of duty, he returned to the station and booked his car back in. As he was filing a couple of reports, his sergeant, Dick Wells, came over to him.

“Ah Nicholas. You know you applied for the CID?”

“Sarge, it’s Nick, not Nicholas. My mom was French Canadian, but I’m not. Okay? What about the application? I failed.” he said.

“Well, you and several others have been invited to attend New Scotland Yard for a second board. It seems there may be a special vacancy, so they may select you yet,” Dick told him.

“Great. When?”

“Tomorrow, Friday at 14:00.”

“Shit. That soon, how the fuck can I prepare for that?” Nick asked.

“That is not my problem, if it’s any consolation, you all get the same warning,” his sergeant said.

“Thanks Sarge.”

Nick went back to the section house a happy man. He still had a chance of joining the CID.
 

*          *          *
 
He arrived at New Scotland Yard at 13:30 and asked at the reception desk where the boards were being held.

He was directed to the lift, making his way to the 10^th floor. He went into the appropriate room, to find at least twenty other hopefuls all waiting. By the time 14:00 came, there were fifty. Nick felt less optimistic, as there were clearly some very much more experienced officers here.

A uniform Superintendent and another man in a suit came into the room.

“Gentlemen, thanks for coming today. You’re all here because you have at some time or other applied for specialist posts relating to the CID, plain clothes work or surveillance and undercover work. This board is for just one post, and it requires special qualities. I have to tell you that if you are in a long-term relationship or married, this job is not for you. For those with heavy personal commitments, or substantial court warnings, this job is not for you.

“If you are over-weight, or over six feet, then this job is not for you. It is anticipated that you may be working undercover for a period up to six months, in an extremely stressful environment. So have a think, and we will see who is left.” The superintendent said.

There was some muttering and shuffling, after which many of the hopefuls left, leaving just six.

The Superintendent nodded, looking at the remaining men.

The man in the suit looked at each of them in turn, and then spoke quietly to the Superintendent. He spoke to three of the men, and they nodded and left, which left three. Nick was still there.

“You will each be interviewed. I have to warn you, personal questions are going to be asked, and some of these will be embarrassing. So be prepared.”

They sat, and as Nick’s surname started with a W, he was last. No change there. He sat and read a paper, and after half an hour, the first man came out, looked at the other two and grinned.

“Shit, it’s all yours,” he said to them, and left whistling.

The next man went in, only to come out after just ten minutes.

“They are having a fucking laugh, all the best mate,” he said, leaving Nick alone.

Nick was worried now, as this was not going to plan at all.

He went and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He went in. There were three men in suits. He had seen one of them before. They were seated in armchairs, and there was a fourth chair slightly apart. There was no desk between them and him

“Sit down, please.”

Nick sat in the fourth chair.

“PC Winton, is it?” said the man in the middle.

“Yes sir. Nick Winton.”

“I am Detective Superintendent Richardson, Thames Valley Police. This is Inspector Haddow, who is Metropolitan Police Federation, and this is DI Appleby, who is also TVP. I will let Inspector Haddow explain the circumstances, before we start.”

“PC Winton, the Thames Valley Police are investigating a series of murders in the Reading area. The MO is the same, and they are linked through one factor, a certain club in Reading. The problem is that this club is run for and by transgendered males. All the members of staff are male, but have the appearance of being female. Due to the circumstances, and the highly delicate nature of the club, the TVP have approached the Met to try to obtain the services of a male officer willing to work deep undercover in the club as a member of staff. They are unable to recruit a TVP officer for this task, and this is why they are here.

“There is no compunction for anyone to undertake the task, and no lawful order will be made to force anyone to do it. Do you understand?” the inspector asked.

“Yes sir. I understand.” Nick’s pulse was racing, fortune had a funny way of reshuffling the cards at times.

“Do you want to proceed with the interview?”

“I might as well, as I can still turn it down, right?”

“Right.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You have an American accent, or is it Canadian?” the DI asked.

“Canadian sir. My Dad was English, and Mom was Canadian. I lived most of my life over there.”

“I understand your parents both died some years ago,” Bruce asked.

“Yes sir, in 1996.”

“Do you have a girlfriend at the moment?”

“No sir, I split with my last girl a couple of weeks back.”

“How do you feel about wearing women’s clothes?”

“It is not something I have any knowledge of, I’ve never done it,” Nick replied, hoping his lie was not apparent.

“Have you ever had a homosexual experience?”

“Not since I was a kid, about ten or so, just experimenting. Certainly not as an adult.”

“Now, you are living in a Section House at the moment. What commitments have you at the moment?”

“None, I ride a motorcycle. That is bought and paid for. I guess I am pretty free of commitments.”

“How would you feel about working in an overtly transsexual environment?”

“I’ve no idea, it’s not something I’ve any experience with. I guess I can get along with most people. I don’t see I would have a problem. But I may have difficulty persuading them that I was one of them.” Again, he was very glad his pulse rate was not being monitored.

“I accept that. We can take care of that side of things,” the Superintendent said.

The questions continued, many personal, and many professional, the ‘what if’ scenarios. Nick looked at the clock. He had been in here for over an hour.

“Thank you, PC Winton. We appreciate the time you have given us, and also the honesty and candour with which you have answered our questions. If you would be willing to take on the job, it’s yours. But once you accept, you must move out of the section house, and we will provide you with accommodation until the operation is concluded. All contact with your friends and colleagues will cease, and you must accept that you are undercover, as from now. There is much work to be dome in preparation, and very little time to do it.”

Nick looked at each of them. The Federation Inspector couldn’t meet his eyes, yet DI Appleby gave him a small reassuring smile.

“I’ll do it, as long as I can back out if it gets too much.”

“Agreed. Welcome aboard Nick. You are a very brave man,” the Superintendent said.

Nick smiled, but inside he felt a tight knot of excitement. He had felt from a young age an irresistible interest to explore his feminine nature. He vaguely suspected he was partially transsexual, but managed to successfully hide his feelings deep in his sub-conscious.

Nick was given the weekend to clear any stuff he wanted from his section-house room or the police station. They were allowing him to keep the room, in case he washed out and returned soon, but he needed to take any personal possessions with him. He did not have much, and he put everything into his large rucksack and one suitcase. There was nothing at the police station he wanted. A car and driver collected his possessions on the Sunday evening and he put his leathers on, and started his Kawasaki VN800 Classic. He was given an address just outside Newbury, and he took off, heading due west, down the M4 motorway.

He arrived at the house before the car. It was a large detached house, in a small Berkshire village, secluded from the road. It was a nice house, and he parked the bike and took his helmet off. DI Appleby was at the front door.

“Well done, you made it then?” he said.

“You guys know how to treat your PCs well,” Nick said, admiring the house.

“This is one of the job houses we use for Assistant Chief Constables. But all the current senior officers have their own houses, so we use it for specialist operations, training etcetera. So, it’s the base for operation ‘Sugarplum’, as we are calling this operation.”

He took the young man inside, taking him upstairs to the main bedroom. It was a huge room with a king size double bed in it, plus en suite bathroom.

“This is yours until you are ready to go in. Hopefully, you will be here for no more than a couple of weeks at the most.

“While you are here, you must not go out as you are now. There will be a team with you, and food will be brought in. There is an excellent kitchen, and one of the team will do the shopping if necessary. You will be worked very hard over the next few days, and it will be very tough. I don’t envy you one little bit.”

“I’m hardly looking forward to it. But it will certainly be a challenge.”

“It certainly will. Incidentally, you are now on special attachment rates. Which means that you are on a standard daily pay, for all 24 hours, regardless of how much you work. All leaves are cancelled, so you get the overtime for them, and that is regardless if you actually do get a day off as part of your cover. Any expenses you incur then keep the receipts and submit them through me at regular intervals, or at the conclusion of the case. You will find that if nothing else, you will be financially better off when it is over.”

The car arrived and Nick took his belongings to his room and unpacked. He then went downstairs and into the lounge. There were two other people there, a man and a woman, both a little older than was he. They introduced themselves as Detective Constables Jenny Carter and Pete Small. They were part of his back-up team, and he was to rely on them for any support or help. They ordered take-away pizzas, and sat and watched TV for a while, enjoying a few beers. Bruce had stipulated that Nick’s identity and part in the operation was completely secret, and must never be mentioned to anyone, on pain of death. They agreed, and understood the situation completely. When Jenny and Pete left, he was alone.

Nick went to bed, but sleep was a long time coming, just what the hell had he let himself in for?
 

*          *          *
 
He woke on the Monday morning at about seven, and for a moment forgot where he was. Almost lost in the enormous bed, he recalled the previous day, and went and had a shower. He slung on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, and went looking for breakfast.

He searched the kitchen and found some cereal, milk, and the necessary crockery and cutlery. He found some bread, and put some in the toaster. He made himself some coffee, and sat in front of the TV with his breakfast. Jenny and Pete arrived at about half past eight, closely followed by the DI and two other people, both women.

Bruce had Nick, Jenny and Pete together first.

“Okay, you are the A team on this one. As you know, we are putting Nick in under cover in a few days time. Now what we have to do is get a system of communication going that will leave no room for errors. They are here because you need to know who you are going to have watching your back, okay Nick?”

Nick nodded.

“Right, you won’t see them for a while, we will get you together just before you go in, and then hopefully you will not see them again for ages, but they will see you from a distance. They’re off now to set up their O.P., and, guess what, your new flat just happens to be right next to theirs, so we can watch your back at work, and at play. But don’t worry, you call the shots, so if you want privacy, you get it.”

The others smiled at Nick, wished him good luck and left. The two women came in, and both looked rather nervous and unsure.

“Come in ladies, this is Nick. He is your subject, and you have about ten days to work a miracle. Nick, this is Doctor Gillian Hepburn, and Rachel Holloway. They are both on loan to the Police from a Transgender advice centre and clinic. The doctor is a specialist in SRS and hormone treatment, and Rachel is a counsellor and coach for male to female transsexuals who are undergoing transition from male to female, prior to the actual surgery, and then after surgery as well, if required.

“What we propose is this, you must start today and live as a female. The doctor is going to give you an injection of androgen, a testosterone blocker, and then an implant that releases small amounts of female hormones, like oestrogen, which will give you a more feminine appearance. It will affect beard and body hair, and it will be in small enough doses to be harmless, and once you have the implant removed, then you will revert back to normal. There is no likelihood of any complications, neither will it affect your reproductive chances later.

“Once the doctor has given you a complete examination, she will insert the implant in your thigh. Then she will leave. Rachel, here, will be your constant companion over the next week to ten days. She will be very critical of everything you do and say. She will give you an idea as to the psychological aspects of transsexuals, and the way their minds work. If you are to fit in, then you need to know how to think, breathe and behave as one of them. Okay so far?” Bruce said.

Nick nodded, uncertainly. “Why do I have to live as a female, I thought it was only for work?” he asked, privately relishing the idea.

“Most of the ‘girls’, live full time as girls, and are at some point along the road to full SRS. Some are transvestites who get a thrill out of dressing and looking like girls, and others are gay who just enjoy the drag aspect for a brief period. Most are simply in transition, having turned their back on their old male lives. The gay group are the ones who tend to only dress at work, so we thought that it was far less complicated to keep you in one mind set, and away from the overtly gay group. But if you have a problem with this, we can change and work something out.”

“No, I understand. I would rather not be associated with the gays, thanks.”

“Good, then the first thing is to sign this indemnity and consent form, which absolves the good doctor and Rachel of all responsibility should something go wrong. It also lets the Thames Valley Police off the hook, in that you agree that everything is explained and you still agree to go ahead.”

Nick had many questions relating to the procedures and medical rational for the selected course of action. In order for him to be believable, there had to be a real physical change, even if only temporary. It was essential that he was not the least bit likely to be suspected of being a police plant, so this course seemed the most appropriate. No one would believe that a police officer would go to such lengths just for a short undercover operation.

Nick read the form, and signed.

“Doctor, he’s all yours,” Bruce said, and left him alone with the women. Rachel went out to her car and started bringing in suitcases. The doctor smiled at Nick, and told him to get undressed.

Gillian was around forty, and had short dark hair. She was very pleasant, and sympathetic. She was very knowledgeable about her specialised field, and he plied her with questions relating to the Transsexuals’ mental attitudes, and self-perceptions. He was going to be playing a role of a transsexual, and he needed to know how to think and live as one.

“You have got to be convincing as a woman who really believes you are trapped in a male body. Most transsexuals have had this feeling since they were very young, and every day, have to cope with being the wrong physical gender,” she told him. What she didn’t know was that this young man had been plagued by such feelings for a very long time.

The next hour was rather unpleasant, he was poked and prodded, and the doctor was very thorough, taking several syringe loads of blood from him. Finally, she applied some anaesthetic paste to his thigh, and made a small incision. She placed a small implant into the wound, placing a couple of butterfly stitches over it, and a dressing over the wound. She then gave him an injection in the bum.

“Right, as the Inspector said, you should feel no real ill-effects, but you may find increased sensitivity in the area of the breasts, and your moods may swing a little more than you were used to. If you feel really awful, then tell someone to call me, and we will remove the implant. It will cease to function after six months in any case. Do you understand?”

Nick nodded. “Doctor, are you sure the hormones will not cause any permanent damage?”

“Yes, as long as you stop within the six months. Should you continue to take this level of oestrogen, then you may become sterile, and even lose the use of your penis for sex.”

“Shit, let’s hope we solve this in a few weeks,” he said.

“This is very serious, but then so is catching the murderer. You are very brave to go through with this.”

“Or stupid,” said Nick.

The doctor smiled, said goodbye and left. Rachel returned.

Rachel was around thirty-eight, a large plump jovial lady, who hardly drew breath.

“Right, the first thing is let’s go to your bedroom, and we will start from there.”

Nick followed her upstairs, to find his room full of cases and boxes.

“Okay, Nick is it?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Right, what are you wanting to be called?”

“Huh?”

“If you are going to live as a girl, you need a feminine name. So, what’s it to be?”

“I dunno.”

“How about Nicola, or Nicole, or Nikki, perhaps?” she suggested.

“Nicole sounds okay, it has a French sound to it, and my mom was French Canadian.”

“Right, Nicole, that’s the only name I’ll call you from now on. I’ve seen naked men, naked women and all the stages in between. I was happily married for years, have four children and was a nurse for twelve years, so please don’t feel embarrassed in front of me, but just do what I ask, and we will get along fine. Normally, I have months to do what I am trying to do with you, and I have only days. So, it’s vitally important that we start in tune with each other, right?”

“Sure.”

Rachel produced a large tub of paste.

“Right, Nicole, strip off.”

Nick stripped, and she demanded even his jockey shorts came off too. She smeared the paste all over his body, while, at the same time she critically examined his general physique and appearance.

“You have many things going for you. You are not too tall, you are not too broad, and you have a young and fine featured face. You don’t have an obvious Adam’s apple, and that really is a bonus, because so often that has to be altered by surgery. You are nice and slim, and not too muscular, and the best thing is that you are fair, and haven’t a strong beard. This paste is a hair remover, and is much better than shaving. Leave it on for a few minutes, and then go and have a nice hot bath. What size feet have you?”

“Seven, why?”

“Usually men have huge hands and feet. You are lucky, we will be able to get you some lovely stuff, and I am hopeful that this will work. When the Inspector approached me, I imagined having to work with some six foot Goliath, but you really are quite small for a policeman, aren’t you?” Rachel asked. Nick came to realise that Rachel spent an enormous amount of time talking.

Nick went for a bath, and when he got out, he saw a vast amount of hair lying in the empty bath. His body felt different, and his arms and legs were incredibly smooth.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, returning to the bedroom.

“The trick about believing that you are a girl is to look and feel like one. The rest seems to follow. So we are going to make you look like one, and hopefully you will feel like one as well.”

She rooted about and handed Nick some underwear.

“These knickers are specially designed for the task. They are very tight, and so you can tuck your male bits away between your legs. Your testicles you just slide up into the cavity, underneath, and this holds everything in place. Now, you have quite slim hips and bum, so the padding gives you a more rounded feminine bum and hips. Believe it or not, the idea was originally designed for Japanese women, who wanted western style bottoms.”

Nick managed to put them on, rearranging himself so as to be reasonably comfortable. Rachel then sat him down, and pasted some clear liquid onto his chest. She then made him lie on his bed, and she stuck two very realistic breast forms to him, taking great trouble to get them exactly right. She had found a pair that matched his skin perfectly. She then covered the top edges with light foundation, the same colour as his skin.

“Just lie there for a few minutes. The resin is very strong, so you will not need to take them off for ages. If you do need to take them off, then this solution does the trick in seconds.”

“How long is, ages?”

“You should take them off once a week, and have a good wash, you can take them off every night, but the resin and solution is not cheap. And the more you take them on and off, the more tatty they get. So I suggest once a week, you can leave them on longer if you have to.”

“So how did you get into this?” Nick asked.

She laughed. “My darling husband, after fifteen years of marriage, he tells me, out of the blue, that he wants a sex change. So, it was either, leave, and try and start again, or help him through. I chose the latter, and we are still best friends. I got involved with a support group, and it is now a full time job.”

“What happened to your husband?”

“We got divorced after she had her operation. She is now called Nancy, and lives in Edinburgh with her male partner. She is blissfully happy, and we often see each other. The kids are funny about it, and they are not as accepting as me, but, they have been robbed of their dad.”

“You could say the same.”

“True, but I’ve found another man, and we are getting married next year.”

“Oh, good for you.”

“Okay, Nicole, up you get, and let’s get you looking pretty.”

Nick got up, and was amazed at the feel of the breasts now firmly part of him. He found it mildly erotic, and could help grinning in a self-conscious way.

“Now, Nicole, get used to them, as they have to be part of you. Real girls grow them slowly, and have time to get used to them. Treat them like old friends, just as if they have always been there,” she said, handing him a white cotton bra. She showed him how to put in on and adjust it so as to fit comfortably.

She gave him a pink top, that fitted tightly, and a dark red shortish skirt. As it was summer, she decided that tights or stockings were not practicable for the time being.

“I’m going to do your makeup today, but from tomorrow on, you’re going to have to do it. Even if it takes you three hours, you will keep doing it to get it right. We can’t afford to have you relying on anyone else.”

So started a very long morning for Nick. Rachel painted his toenails, in the same dark red as his skirt. Then she stuck false nails onto his fingernails, painting them in the same colour. She spent a good hour on his face; firstly plucking about four hundred hairs from his chin, eyebrows and cheeks. Or that was what it felt like. Then she applied a light foundation, so it covered up any blemishes.

“You have a very light facial hair growth. The hormones will mean you probably won’t need to shave in a couple of weeks, but until then, just keep an eye on it.”

She explained what she was doing, and why, for every step. She showed him all the tricks and techniques he needed to know, and after she had done his right eye, she let him try the left. At last, having repaired any damage he had inflicted, she announced that she had finished that bit.

Nick stared at the apparition in the mirror. He knew that it was him, but he hardly recognise himself. Rachel slicked back his short hair, and then put a luxurious long blonde wig onto his head. She fussed about for several minutes, and eventually announced that, ‘It’ll have to do.’

Somewhere amongst the many cases and boxes, she found a pair of red shoes, with 3” heels, and open toes.

“Here, my dear, try these on. I didn’t know what size you were, so I brought several.”

Nick slipped on the shoes and stood up, feeling very precarious indeed.

Rachel stepped back, sucking her breath in through her teeth.

“Right, so far so good, Nikki, you really look the part, but we are going to have to teach you how to walk, stand, sit down, and how to move about like a girl.

“Just watch yourself in the full length mirror, stop rolling your shoulders, and place one foot in front of the other, toes out slightly, swing your hips as you go. Beautiful. That’s it, don’t rush, just take your time. My God, you really have got it. It’s remarkable.”

Nick was staring at the girl in the mirror. He was speechless, as he caught his lower lip in his teeth and then licked his lips. The girl smiled back at him, very seductively. She was really beautiful, and he felt muted stirrings from deep within his constricting underwear.

So started another gruelling session. She had him standing, sitting, walking, going up and down stairs, shaking hands and doing all kinds of everyday tasks. He found it very hard to concentrate on actions that had been second nature. She showed him how to swing his arms when walking, how to bend the arms outwards from the elbows, and how to be much more wristy with hand gestures.

She had him practice flicking hair back, and touching the face as a woman would do it. By lunchtime, he was knackered, and she called a break. He collapsed on the sofa in relief.

“Nicole, that is not how you must sit,” she said.

“But we’re having a break.”

“Even so, everything you do must be as a girl, don’t let slip for a second. You must believe that you are Nicole, so start now. Say goodbye to Nick, and live as Nicole, for every second of every day. Every part of you must be female from now on, I will never refer to you as a male, and you must do the same. It is the only way, believe me,” she said.

“Okay, but I am working as hard as I can. I never realised just how different it is.”

“Shall we go?” Rachel asked.
 
 
Chapter 3
 
 
“Go? Go where?” Nicole asked, surprised.

“Out for lunch. I don’t intend staying here, as there’s a nice shopping area in Newbury, and we have to get you some clothes and your own makeup.”

“What. Like this?” Nicole asked, horrified.

“Of course, why not?”

“But, I’m not allowed to leave the house,” Nicole said, gratefully recalling the DI’s instructions.

“That’s not what he told me. He said for me to use my judgement, and you were only to go out if you could pass as a female. Believe me, you can pass, even your voice, which could do with a little work, will be fine,” she said to the miserable officer.

Rachel handed Nicole a shoulder bag, also in red, but suede. She gave her some make up, some tissues, a purse, which Nicole placed some money in, and a hairbrush.

They locked up and got into Rachel’s Vauxhall Astra. Rachel showed Nicole how to get in and out of a car whilst wearing a short skirt. Nicole realised that the lessons were never going to stop.

As they drove the eleven miles to Newbury, Rachel coached Nicole how to pitch her voice.

“You have a really good voice, the Canadian accent is perfect. What you have to do is come down to go up. Bring the tone down to a sexy husky level, and pitch it higher, so as to be more feminine, without sounding like a man speaking in a high voice. Your natural voice is just about at the deepest range for a girl, so you don’t have to do much, just make is huskier, and breathy somehow,” Rachel said, and then had Nicole practice saying, “Hi, I’m Nicole. I’m pleased to meet you.”

Rachel parked the car and they walked into the shopping area. It was a little after one pm, and a busy May weekday. The sun was shining, and many workers were out having their lunch breaks. Nicole kept seeing her reflection in shop windows, feeling increasingly uneasy and vulnerable. She kept seeing this tall, very attractive girl in a short skirt, so she found she had conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she knew what she was underneath, and on the other she found herself becoming excited at seeing how she looked. She had gone from being a below average height as a rather nondescript male, to a tall and rather strikingly attractive female.

Nicole was convinced that everyone could see straight through her disguise, and could see her for what she really was. Rachel kept having to reassure her.

“Do you like Chinese food?”

“Yeah, love it, why?”

Rachel smiled, taking the officer’s arm, and leading her into a nearby restaurant.

They were greeted and seated at a small table for two. They were given a menu, and the waiter asked if they would like a drink.

Nicole was about to ask for a pint of lager, when she saw Rachel’s raised eyebrow.

“A glass of white wine, please,” she said, in her sexiest voice.

Rachel almost laughed out loud, as the waiter grinned at Nicole.

“Make that two,” Rachel said, and the waiter left.

“Okay, girl, not quite so sexy. Otherwise I’ll have to start beating the men away with a big stick,” Rachel said with a smile.

Nicole smiled back. “I think I am beginning to get the hang of this,” she said.

“Careful, don’t get cocky. Take your time.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, and took their order from the lunch menu.

Nicole took a sip of her wine, and realised that she needed to go to the loo.

Rachel reminded her to use the ladies, so Nicole went off to find it.

Three suited businessmen were at a table further back, and they stopped talking as the long-legged blonde, dressed in a short skirt, walked past their table. Nicole heard one of them say, “Phew. I would.” She grinned to herself. Oh no, you wouldn’t, not if you knew what I know. She thought privately.

She went into the ladies and sat on the loo, having permitted her crushed nuts a moment of freedom. As she sat there, she tried to analyse her feelings about what was happening. In a perverse way, she actually was enjoying the whole experience, it was such a challenge, and she knew that it was not forever. The funny thing was, even at this stage, that was the disappointing part, she rather wished it would be forever. She found she liked the feel of the clothes, and she liked looking as she now did. She got an enormous kick out of fooling people, and loved being admired by men.

She found it easier now she thought herself as a female. Rachel was right, as it was all in the mindset. Rather like a foreign language. She spoke fluent French, but when speaking French, she thought in that language, she didn’t think in English, and then translate everything as she went. It was the same being a girl. If she thought as a girl, it seemed to come easier.

It was the breasts that made it more believable, somehow. As she looked down, she was aware that she had accepted them as being part of her, and every time she felt any self-doubt, she touched them, and they reassured her as to what she now was. They moved when she did, and jiggled when she made sudden movements. She accepted them as being perfectly natural, and it was as if she had always had them. It dawned on her that she was enjoying this a little too much.

She finished what she had to do, and tucked everything away again, as she dressed. She checked her make up, and even did some minor repair work. Another woman came in and smiled at her, in that self-conscious way that some women in loos seem to.

She returned to her table, smiling at the three businessmen as she passed them. Then she slid onto her seat, as she had been coached, flicking her long hair back with the appropriate gesture.

“Very good, I’m impressed. But the ‘come fuck me’ smile to the three men was a little over the top.”

“Is that what it looked like? I was just returning their smiles,” Nicole said, rather aghast.

“Their smiles were, ‘hello, do you fuck?’ smiles. And yours, my girl, said, ‘who wants to fuck me first?’” Rachel observed.

“Oh. Perhaps I have more to learn. How should I have smiled?”

“Why give so much? You must learn to graduate your smile, sometimes you can smile with the eyes only. It will come, just take your time,” Rachel said, smiling at the girl’s innocence.

“It is all so hard. And this wig is real itchy,” Nicole complained.

“Well get used to it, until your own hair grows, you’re going to have to wear one. We’ll get your own cut in such a way as to be feminine, and so when it does grow, it will be a nice shape. But that will take several weeks, and the whole thing may be over by then.”

The waiter arrived with their food, and Nicole just concentrated on eating. Even then, Rachel was coaching her to take smaller mouthfuls, and to eat slower and more daintily. Nicole switched to chopsticks, and the criticism lessened.

They finished their lunch and left the restaurant. Nicole was pleased that the three men were still there.

They spent the afternoon shopping, and Rachel helped her buy a huge range of clothes and accessories. However, when Nicole found herself having her ears pierced, she almost lost her temper. But when presented with several pretty ear studs and earrings, she mellowed, and just went with the flow.

By four o’clock, she was relaxed and comfortable with what she looked like. Rachel smiled as she observed how natural Nicole had become, she was secretly very surprised and pleased at the rapid progress they had made. She wondered whether, deep down, something in Nicole’s nature was this way inclined to start with. She had to admit to being a little concerned at the ease with which Nicole had got into role, and was beginning to get a little perturbed that going back may be difficult.

Nicole’s eyes said it all, as she was actually thoroughly enjoying herself. This was a whole new experience, and she found being a girl a lot of fun. She thought briefly that it perhaps shouldn’t be, but placed the thought firmly at the back of her mind, and got on with it.

They stopped off at a coffee shop and had a coffee, so Nicole took her shoes off.

“These shoes may be pretty, but my feet are killing me,” she said.

Rachel remembered that they had not bought Nicole any new shoes. So, after their coffee, they returned to the fray, and Nicole came away with eight pairs of shoes. In the last shop, there was a pair of black leather boots in the sale. They were knee length with very high heels. They immediately caught Nicole’s eye and she tried them on. She had a wicked look in her eye as she bought them.

“These will go really well on my motorcycle,” she said.

Rachel smiled, again pleased at the depths that Nicole was taking the whole project. This might work after all, she thought

They returned to the house to find a very concerned Bruce Appleby waiting outside.

“Where the hell have you bee….?” He started to say, and then he saw Nicole get out of the car. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes nearly popped out on stalks. He saw a tall blonde girl, with amazing legs and a superb figure. She was stunningly attractive. Then he realised exactly who she was.

Nicole smiled, and walked towards him with as much hip swing as she could.

“Why, Mr Appleby, how lovely to see you again so soon. I sure am glad we caught you,” she said in her sexy Canadian voice, so Rachel laughed at the girl’s performance.

“Fucking hell.” Bruce eventually managed to say.

“Well. That’s no way to speak to a lady,” Nicole said, and her hands flew to her mouth, as if shocked. Rachel noticed that every gesture was perfect, and this girl loved every minute of it.

Bruce turned to Rachel.

“This is a bloody miracle, and you’ve done this much in a day?” he asked.

“We’ve made a start. Fortunately, she’s a fast learner and is a born performer. When you gave me this task, I was very doubtful whether we would be successful. But with Nicole here, I’m convinced that she will be able to go to work in less that a week.”

“Excellent. Here let me carry these. Bloody hell, how much have you bought?” he said as he found himself laden down with a dozen carrier bags.

“She needed a whole wardrobe, and it’s not cheap,” Rachel said.

“Okay, give me the receipts, and I’ll sort them out,” Bruce said.

They went into the house and put the bags into Nicole’s room. They met downstairs again, so Nicole put the kettle on and made everyone tea.

Bruce watched as the girl went through everyday actions in a very natural way. When she sat on the sofa, she sat down, being careful to keep her knees together, as she folded her legs under her in a very feminine manner. Try as he might, Bruce just could see no sign of the young man he had seen earlier the same day. But there was something else; Nicole was more confident and relaxed than Nick had ever been. She was prone to smile and laugh, whereas Nick had been rather sombre and withdrawn. He glanced at Rachel, and she looked at him and raised an eyebrow. They would have to speak later, he thought.

He opened his briefcase.

“I have here your drivers licence, in the name of Nicole Le Fevre. I thought it appropriate, as Le Fevre was your mother’s maiden name. You will notice that the date of birth code still has you as male, that can’t be altered, unless you have the surgery,” he joked. He noted that no one laughed.

“I’ve got you a National Insurance card, again in the same name. You’ll see the date of birth the same as yours. These are genuine, as we have the means to do this in jobs like this,” he explained.

“What about my bike insurance?”

“Ah, give me the details, as we will get you put on it as a named driver for the duration. Likewise, we will arrange a special bank account.”

While they sorted out these rather mundane, but vital details, Rachel went and retrieved all the stuff from Nicole’s room that she no longer needed. She loaded her car up, and returned to the sitting room.

“I have to go as I have my kids to deal with. I’ll be back tomorrow at around half past eight, okay Nicole?” she said.

Nicole smiled, and said, “Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, it’s been fun.”

Rachel smiled. “You worked very hard. So well done.”

Nicole’s smile seemed to light up the room.

“I’ll see you out,” said Bruce.

Nicole went up to her room to unpack her shopping, while Bruce went out with Rachel.

“I’m completely gob-smacked. I never expected the result you’ve achieved so quickly,” he told her.

Rachel looked at him, and then at the window of the room where Nicole now was.

“Don’t underestimate her part in this. I’ve been dealing with transgendered people for many years. Hell, I was married to one for fifteen years. But she is something else. In all my experience, I have never seen quite so natural a girl. The transformation from the young man I saw this morning to this bright and very pretty girl is so deep that I believe that we have uncovered something that perhaps we shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I don’t know anything about him, but in the short time I saw him as a male, he struck me as a rather withdrawn and quiet lad. As the day has progressed, I have watched a veritable butterfly emerge. The trouble is, I believe that she is happier now than she was before, and come the end of the operation, whether in one or six months, she will probably not want to revert.”

“Shit. Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure, but it’s just a feeling I get. You saw how she teased you and played with you when she noticed your reaction to her appearance?”

“Yes.”

“I hadn’t taught her any of that, it was all natural. She has more natural female reactions to things than male.”

“So, you are telling me that she is a latent transsexual?”

“Possibly. There are many facets to the human condition. But that individual is more of a girl than I could have either expected or wished for. It seems that Nicole was there all along, and only needed a tiny jolt to come to the fore.”

“Will this be a problem for us, operationally that is?”

“No, in fact you will probably get more than you bargained for. The problem may come when the operation is over, and you try to get her to go back.”

“Well, we will have to cross that bridge when and if we ever come to it.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Will you be here?”

“No, I have to set up the O.P., and sort out young Nicole’s insurance and banking problems. This is far more complex than I had anticipated.”

“That’s what happens when you screw around with people’s lives,” Rachel said with a wry smile.

“Hmm, maybe. Anyway, thanks for your help. Bye,” Bruce said, and he watched Rachel drive away.

He went back into the house, and Nicole was still upstairs. He felt awkward and embarrassed, yet he had to speak to her.

“Hey Nikki,” he shouted, he found it hard to call her Nicole, so this was a sort of compromise.

She came out onto the landing. She had changed into a summer dress. It had straps and was longer, reaching down to her knees. It was in yellow and green with a floral print, and she had sandal type shoes on. Her hair flowed down her back, framing her pretty face.

“Hi, sorry, I was just trying on some of the clothes we bought,” she said, descending the stairs.

Bruce watched her, noting the nail varnish and earrings. She was every inch a girl, while none of the old Nick was visible.

“Hey, you look very convincing,” he said.

She blushed and looked down, “Thanks.”

“But I really need to know. How do you feel about it?”

She looked at him and frowned. “There is the weird thing; I know that this is the first time I’ve done anything like this, but I have to confess I’ve always been curious to explore my feminine side, perhaps more than was either normal or healthy. But it is as if I have suddenly found the real me. I actually feel more in control and more relaxed than ever before. I’m a little worried that I’m enjoying it too much,” she said.

“Do you want to back out? It’s not too late,” he asked.

She looked at him with a curious smile playing across her lips.

“No, I need to complete this job. I need to know that I can do it and then walk away. If I stop now, I’ll never know if I could have made a difference or not. But thanks, as I know you mean well. Also, it’s great fun, and I actually am looking forward to the challenges to come.”

“Do you want someone to stay with you tonight?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet, as it’s a nice change to the section house.”

“Okay, you should have all the food you need in the freezer, so I’ll see you when I have sorted out your insurance and bank details.”

“Okay, bye.”

Bruce left, feeling rather guilty at interfering with her life. Then he realised that he thought of her as female now. Maybe this would work after all.

Nicole watched Bruce’s Mondeo disappear down the drive, and she sighed. She was somehow frustrated, as she was all dressed up and had nowhere to go.

She went back to her room and took her dress off. Then she saw the boots. She smiled as she tried them on, and they were incredibly sexy, with the high heels and skin-tight feel. She rooted through her bags and found the little black leather miniskirt, and the white tee shirt she had bought. She put them on, and posed for herself in the mirror. She felt her erection fighting through her underwear, and gasped with surprise as she felt herself coming to orgasm. She rushed into the bathroom, and managed to release things into the basin.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and she slowly smiled. She felt really good. She adjusted her tight-fitting underwear again, feeling a little guilty.

She found her leather motorcycle jacket, and her full-face black helmet.

She practiced putting her helmet on over her wig, and taking it off, without disturbing it. Then she went down and locked up. She put on the jacket and helmet, and started her bike. With her boots, long blonde hair and miniskirt, many a head turned as she swept by. There was a pub on the A34 frequented by bikers, so she fancied a ride.

She cruised at a nice slow speed along the open road. It was a lovely warm evening, and she pulled off at a lay-by, and took her jacket off, placing it in her pannier. She started off again, and enjoyed feeling incredibly sexy as she rode along, well aware that her tee shirt emphasised her breasts.

Several cars containing young men tooted at her, so she raised her visor and waved at them. She finally reached the pub and saw several leather clad men and women outside enjoying their drinks. She rolled to a stop and put the bike on its stand.

She took her helmet off, carefully, shaking her hair free. Then she walked into the pub. Her heels were very high, so she walked quite slowly. She ordered and paid for her pint of lager shandy, and went back and sat by her bike. Within a few minutes, several bikers wandered over and admired her bike. They sat and chatted to her, and she felt very relaxed and at ease.

One large guy, who had been sitting on a huge gleaming Harley, and dressed in the full Harley leathers, spoke to her.

“Hi, nice bike.”

“Thanks. It’s not a Harley, but I like it,” she said.

“Hey you’re Canadian.”

“Glad you could tell, most people think I am American.”

“I lived in Vancouver for four years. So I can tell the difference. I’m Reg Lawrence.”

“Hi Reg, I’m Nicole Le Fevre.”

He held out his hand and she shook it, as per Rachel’s instructions.

“Nice to meet you Nicole. Are you waiting for anyone?”

She laughed, and he found her laugh delightful.

“No, I just split with my guy last week, so I’m enjoying my freedom. How about you? No chick on the back?”

“My wife’s at home. She hates the bloody bike, so I just cruise, have a half and go home again. At the weekends we go on long trips down to Devon or Wales or somewhere like that.”

“We?”

“There is a group of us from work. We are all middle aged schoolboys.”

“Oh. What do you guys do?”

“We work in a bank. How about you?”

“I hope to work in a club, behind the bar. I have not long been back in the UK. My dad was English, but mom was Canadian. We lived in Canada for most of my life, until they got killed,” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all in the past now. Life goes on.”

“It certainly does. Can I get you another drink?”

“No, one is plenty, I had better get back. I just needed to get out for a while. I’m house sitting for a friend. So I can’t leave for too long,” she said.

At that moment, three motorcycles pulled in, and to her horror she recognised the men, they were all Met officers from her police station. They knew her bike, so she had to leave in a hurry.

However, they didn’t give her bike a second glance, as they were all too busy looking at her. They all went into the pub, she said goodbye to Reg, and left quickly.

As she travelled down the road, she began to relax, until she became aware of another bike matching her speed, she checked, and it was Reg. She slowed, allowing him to pull alongside, and he grinned at her. She smiled and nodded, so they rode like that until her turn off. She waved, and he disappeared up the A34 towards the M4.

She returned to the house, confident that she had what it took to pass the test. She went into the kitchen and looked in the freezer. There were some chicken Kievs and some oven fries, so she cooked herself a meal. She kept seeing her reflection in the windows, and it made her smile. The one thing which kept catching her unawares was the nail varnish on her hands. She kept surprising herself, and she knew that it was going to take time to get used to things.

She ate her food watching the TV and then washed up. With nothing on TV, she went and had a shower.

She took her wig off and stepped into the shower. She watched the water run off her breasts, regarding her male genitalia with distaste. It was at that precise moment she realised that she no longer wished to be male, and had she the opportunity to rid herself of those appendages, she would have quite happily done so.

This caused her considerable confusion and anxiety. She washed and put on a nightdress. She sat on her bed, on the verge of tears, unsure of what was happening and why. Every time she tried to become Nick, and get things into perspective, Nicole took over, and pushed Nick away. Nicole was the dominant and prime personality. She was fighting for her survival, and Nick hadn’t got a chance.

Despite the physical evidence, Nicole won the battle that night and, eventually, as dawn beaconed, the girl slept, content to be just that, a girl.
 
 
Chapter 4
 
 
Bruce Appleby was very quiet that evening, so Carol asked him several times if he was okay.

Eventually, he admitted that he was worried about the murder investigation, and the fact that one officer was having to take a very tricky undercover job.

“The trouble is, it may cause him some personality difficulties after the job is over, so I feel guilty asking him to do it,” he admitted.

“He knew what you were asking from him, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“You told him what was expected, and the problems he may face?”

“Yes.”

“Then if he was still willing to go ahead, and no one made him do it, it’s his problem,” she said.

“I suppose you’re right, but I’d hate to see him get screwed up because of my investigation.”

“He can get out if he wants?”

“Yes, oh I know, I even gave him a chance to back out today, but he sees it as a challenge now.”

“Well then, there you are, he’s made the decision, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about it,” she said.

“Yeah, okay. I still feel responsible.” Bruce said, obstinately.

“How is the investigation going?”

“It isn’t. We’ve come up against a complete brick wall. The only hope for a break through is the undercover operation.”

“Well, there’s another justification for keeping him in place.” Carol said. She knew Bruce only too well, and he just needed reassurance that he was doing everything properly.
 

*          *          *
 
The next day, first thing, Bruce went in to see the DCI.

“Well, Bruce how is our man getting on?”

“Our man, or rather our girl, is getting on fine. Rachel, the coach, reckons she will be ready to go in to the club in a week.”

“A week, I thought it was going to take longer?” the Chief Inspector said, sounding surprised.

“We all did, but it seems Nick, or rather, Nicole, is a natural and has taken to the role very quickly. There’s a slight possibility that there may be problems as and when the operation is over, and she has to go back to being Nick again.”

“Hmm, is that serious?”

“For him, or for us?”

“Both.”

“For him, yes, there may be all sorts of counselling needed. For us, not really, he hasn’t been ordered to do it, he can back out whenever he wants, and I will give him that option every day.”

“This woman, Rachel, can she help?”

“Sure, but at the moment her brief is to make him into a her. But, she brought the matter to my attention, as she is very sharp. I think we’ll be able to handle it. But you should have seen her.”

“Who, Rachel?”

“No, Nicole. It was amazing, she was a girl, no doubt about it, she was very attractive and 100% convincing, even down to the mannerisms and voice. I wasn’t sure it would work, but now I am sure it will.”

“So what are you doing today?”

“I have a meeting arranged with the manager of the club. I want to put one of our guys in as a doorman, and I need to make it look as if this is the important part of our investigation. Then I have some admin work to do in relation to Nicole’s insurance and bank details. I have to check up on the O.P. and Nicole’s flat. And most importantly, I have to submit her application for the job at the club, but I have to get a digital photograph taken of her to put with it.”

“How can you do that?”

“They only take applicants from the Internet, and the application form is on their web site. The idea is you fill it in, and send it off, without printing any paper off. With a digital camera, you download the picture direct onto the application form. It is all very clever. I’ve even set up an email account for her, and we filled in the details last night. As it happens, she actually worked in a cocktail bar in Toronto, so has the necessary experience.”

“You keep referring to him as her. Is that intentional, or am I missing something?”

“You have to meet her. I know what I saw, and there is no way I can call her anything other than ‘her’. I don’t really understand how they managed it, but she is a girl.”

“Well, that’s what we wanted, you seem surprised?”

“Yes, I am. I expected someone who looked like a bloke trying to look like a girl. Well, there is nothing blokeish about her.”

“Well, that sounds as if everything is going to plan. Keep me updated, and let me know if anything changes.”

Bruce went and sorted out Nicole’s bank details. He called on the local branch manager, and set up an account in her false details. He explained all the circumstances, so under the circumstances, the manager was pleased to help, particularly as he could see positive publicity coming out for the bank at the conclusion of the case. He supplied all the necessary forms, and Bruce promised to have them all signed and returned within 24 hours.

He then contacted the insurance company, and they simply added the name of Nicole Le Fevre as a named driver.
 

*          *          *
 
Later, when Bruce arrived at the club, Sean Cooper was expecting him, so he was whisked straight into his office. It seemed the club opens at 10am, and didn’t close until 3 or 4 am.

“Thanks for seeing me, I suppose you have a rough idea why I’m here?” Bruce asked.

“It’s crossed my mind. I suspect you want to put a police officer into the club?”

“That’s right, but the only role I can envisage is that of door staff. I can’t impress upon you enough how important this is, and how essential that this knowledge never leaves this room.”

Sean shrugged. “This is an exclusive club, so it’s as important for us that no scandal occurs. Society is hard enough on the transgendered community, the last thing they need is a witch-hunt in the press. So it’s in our interests to catch the murderer as soon as possible.”

“Good, I’m glad we can agree on that point. When can we put someone in?”

“As soon as you like. He must be presentable and reliable. But if he is a copper, then he should be,” Sean said, smiling slightly.

“I will arrange it within the next few days; can you let me know what hours they work, and all the rest of that sort of stuff?”

“No problem, I have the file here. Here, take this with you, and it would be best if he fills out an application form. As it happens, we are short of one, so it will be timed well. Do we need to pay him?”

“Do everything as usual, all his pay will be refunded, straight back, but give him a pay slip in the usual way.”

Sean smiled. “Even better. I may take on another guy at the same time, that way, if your man leaves when the operation is over, we will still be up to strength.”

“That’s your decision. Thanks for your cooperation. I’ll get the officer to attend, clutching a completed application form.”

“Ah, difficult. All our application forms are on our web site, as we are paper free. Just log in, fill out the form, and submit it as per the screen instructions. Then ring and tell me which one is yours,” Sean explained, passing over a card with the website address. Bruce smiled, as he already knew the procedure.

“One more thing Mr Cooper, I have to ask, where were you at midnight on the evening Mr McCarthy died?”

Sean smiled. “I was here, Mr Appleby, as I never leave the club between ten pm and when it closes. It’s more than my job’s worth. You will see me on video, I was at the upper bar, and I was there for about an hour,” he replied.

“Fine. Now comes the sensitive question, I am afraid. If you are unwilling to give me a list of current members, I will need a list of any members who had their membership terminated or withdrawn within the last eighteen months, in addition, any members who have resigned. Also, I’ll need a list of any staff or performers who have left over a similar period. Ideally, I should like a list of all members too, but I see we may need a court order for that one.”

Sean had been waiting for this question. He was not happy about it, but he knew that it would be very simple for the police to seize what they wanted, so he appreciated Bruce’s approach. He handed him an envelope.

“That’s a list of what you want. I understand your desire to have a list of current members, and I have spoken with the directors. We may be able to come to a compromise, so bear with me.”

Bruce took the envelope.

“Right, that’s all then. Thank you Mr Cooper. I hope we don’t get in each other’s way too much.”

“So do I. Goodbye Inspector.”
 

*          *          *
 
Meanwhile, Rachel had arrived at the house to find Nicole up, dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, made up, and looking very presentable indeed. She was in a sombre mood, looking tired, and was yawning.

“Morning Nicole, you look good, but how come you are so tired?”

“Hi Rachel, I don’t know. I didn’t sleep very well. I’m not used to these, for one thing,” she said pointing to her breasts. “And I had a small crisis when I had a shower last night. Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, that is why I am here?”

“How does one know that one is a transsexual?”

Rachel looked at her; she had half expected the question, but not yet.

“There are various ways, but no two are necessarily the same. Why?”

“Well, I decided that I actually like being a girl, and I know it’s all new and strange, rather exciting, and all. However, it bothered me that I find it so much more enjoyable than perhaps I should. Not only that, I’m aware that my personality seems to change, I feel more outgoing, more confident, and frankly, more fun. Last night, I took a deep, long look at myself and thought that maybe I’m a transsexual, but never really realised it. Can that happen?”

Rachel didn’t know, so she admitted it. “As I said, there is no set formula. In some, the urge and feeling has been there since birth. For others it’s a gradual process, which builds up over time. There’s no reason that a sudden change in life circumstances can’t trigger it off. The crucial factor is not what causes it, but what’s going through the mind now. You must ask yourself three questions.

“One: do you feel you want to be a woman, rather than a man, with all your heart and soul?

“Two: if you had to stay as a male, would it be the worst possible thing for you?

“Three: would you be willing to undergo whatever process it takes to get to being female, regardless of cost, pain, and time?

“If the answers to all those are yes, then girl, you have a problem. You may well be a transsexual, and may face a long and very tough road in front of you. If the answers are No, then you are getting a kick out of the situation, so enjoy it while it lasts.” Rachel said.

To her dismay, she saw tears forming in Nicole’s eyes, and they rolled down her cheeks.

“The answer is yes, to each of them.” she said, and started to sob, so Rachel cradled her in her arms, just allowing her release her tensions. Finally, Nicole managed to stop crying, and blew her nose on a tissue.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know what made me cry. It’s very strange, I haven’t cried since I was a kid.”

“It’s possibly the hormones. The injection you had yesterday was a cocktail of testosterone blockers and female hormones, just to set you up. It is perfectly normal, so don’t worry. But you need to seriously think about what you told me. I think it wise to back out now, before you get in so far that you never can get out again.” Rachel suggested.

“NO!” Nicole said, forcefully, but then continued in a reasonable tone. “No, I think it’s even too late now, but I want do this. It’s my decision, no one has forced me, but this is my free decision, so I want to keep going.”

She smiled. “Besides, I’m enjoying it more than if I was being what I used to be?”

Rachel looked at the girl, but could see no trace of Nick whatsoever.

“Listen to me, I want you to forget gender games, forget the police and undercover operations, forget why I’m here and what happened yesterday. Just tell me, in you own mind, honestly, who are you?” Rachel looked earnestly at the girl.

Nicole frowned, obviously searching her soul. Finally, she looked Rachel square in the eye.

“I’m Nicole. I’m a girl, despite what I was, and despite what’s between my legs. I am a girl,” she said, very clearly and without hesitation. Rachel nodded.

“Then, my dear, once this little job is over, we need to talk,” she said.

“Why wait, surely we can talk now, and as we go?” Nicole asked.

“I suppose we can, but what do we tell your bosses?”

Nicole frowned. “Nothing, they don’t need to know yet, until the time comes.”

“I have to tell you, they’ll probably already guess,” Rachel warned her.

“How come?”

“Because of how well you took to the task. It’s obvious that you enjoy being a girl. You blossomed, and your pleasure was very apparent.”

“Oh,” she said, frowning.

“Look, I’m in a tricky position. They asked me to help coach you for a role, and it seems that that you’ve grasped the role very well, too well perhaps. I think it wise for us to just tread carefully, and not to immediately make decisions, which have far-reaching consequences on your future. So, let me do what they’re paying me for, and at the same time we can deal with any issues as and when they come up. Okay?”

Nicole nodded. “You know, I feel better now.”

“Good, why?”

“Because I know what I have to aim for, and it helps to know I’m not alone. But I am a police officer, regardless of any gender issues, and I will do my job,” she said.

“Fine, then go and repair your make up, crying is not good for mascara,” Rachel said.

Rachel put the kettle on, and Nicole joined her a little while later. She was dressed in the summer floral print dress they had bought the day before. She looked very relaxed and natural.

They sat at the kitchen table, sipping their mugs of tea.

“Okay, coach. What have you got lined up for us today?” Nicole asked.

“Well, I thought we’d venture out again, perhaps to the market. You need to get out as much as you can, into different situations,” Rachel said.

Nicole smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Rachel asked.

“Last night was such a lovely evening, that I went out for a ride on my bike,” Nicole admitted.

“Oh yes?”

“I wore that leather mini skirt I bought yesterday, the white tee shirt and the boots. I went to a pub on the A34 where bikers hang out. Anyway, this middle-aged Harley fanatic chatted me up. He was actually very sweet, but I realised that I can pass whenever I want to,” she said with a big grin.

Rachel nodded, and knew that Nicole was right, but she needed a few pointers to make it even easier for her.

They were about to go out when the phone rang. Nicole answered it. It was Bruce Appleby.

“How’s things?” he asked.

“Fine, we were just going out.”

“Good. What time are you going to be back?”

Nicole asked Rachel.

“About three pm.”

“Fine. I’ll be there then, I’ll bring a laptop, as we need to fill in your application form and take some pictures. Oh, I’ve sorted your insurance for the bike, and the bank. So you’ll be getting a cash point card and cheque book soon. They’ll be sent to your flat.”

“My flat?”

“We’ve rented you a flat not far from the club, remember?”

“Vaguely. Okay. See you at three.”

He rang off.

Rachel and Nicole went to the Market in Newbury, and they spent the time going round the stalls. Rachel had Nicole talking to all the stallholders, making her watch the interaction between women generally. Nicole watched their mannerisms; she picked up on their positive traits, and negative ones, such as poor listening skills.

“Can I not have my own hair done soon, I really hate this wig, as it’s so hot and itchy?” she asked.

“Your hair really is too short, perhaps in a couple of weeks or so. I’m sorry, but there is not a lot to work with,” Rachel said.

“Can I have hair extensions or something?”

“There is nothing to attach them to. You need to be patient. It is a pity you couldn’t have been given a few weeks notice to grow your hair.”

“Mmph.”

“Look, Nicole, your wig looks lovely, it makes you look great. Just be patient, okay?”

“Okay, but I’m not happy.”

“You’ve made your point, now shut up,” Rachel said, laughing.

They had some lunch at a pavement table of a wine bar, and Rachel watched Nicole closely for any masculine traits that might be creeping in. But, of these she could see no sign. Indeed, it seemed that with every passing moment, Nicole was becoming more entrenched as the girl she so obviously enjoyed being.

Rachel had to use the ladies, so she left Nicole alone for a little while.

Nicole was enjoying the sunshine, feeling more relaxed than she had for a while. She had been stressed during the night, but now she felt more comfortable about herself.

“Excuse me, is anyone sitting there?”

The voice brought her back to reality. She turned and saw a tall young man, and he was pointing to Rachel’s seat. He was quite dishy, but his hair was too unruly and needed seeing to. He was wearing brown corduroy trousers with suede boots, a check shirt and an old suede jacket.

“I sorry, but my friend has just gone to the ladies. She’ll be back soon, but we won’t be long. We’ve had lunch and we’ll be on our way,” she replied.

The young man blushed, “Actually, I know, as I saw you both together. I was just waiting to get you alone. I’ve now totally lost what I was going to say,” he said, and looked so miserable that Nicole laughed.

“So why did you want to get me alone?”

“I saw you in the market, about an hour ago, and I just had to talk to you. My name is Jamie, Jamie Calder. I’m sorry, you must think me very odd. I just wanted to know if you were real,” he stammered.

“Real?” Nicole was almost lost for words, worrying that she’d missed something and he’d seen through her disguise.

“I’ve seen pictures of models and film stars, but I’ve never seen someone like that for real, until now. So I had to know that you were real.”

“Come on, is this a wind up, or what?” Nicole said, looking around for his friends or a camera. Jamie blushed even redder, unable to meet her eyes.

“No, it’s not a wind up. Look, I’m sorry, I’ve completely fucked this up. I just wanted to say I think you are beautiful, and, well, that’s all really.” He turned and was about to retreat rapidly.

“Hey, Jamie, wait,” she said.

He looked at her with a soppy expression on his face.

“Pull up a seat.”

He did so.

“Look, you’re very sweet, and I’m flattered, but you have gotta get a better line than that. Mind you, you are still here, so it could work,” she said, and he smiled very shyly.

“I’m Nicole,” she said. He thrust out his large hand, which she shook, despite her hand being swamped completely. His grasp was gentle and his hand was warm and dry. His grin was so huge she thought is head was going to fall off.

“So, Jamie, apart from propositioning strange women, what do you do?”

“I have just finished college, so I’m working for my father.”

“And? That doesn’t answer my question, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry. I help run the estate.”

“The estate?”

He blushed again.

“Yup, my dad is the Marquess of Bramford. We have a stately home, which is like a conference centre and country club, and then there are the museum and farms. I sort of manage the estate side of things. I did estate management at Cirencester Agricultural College.”

“Is that a fact? Well, I’m afraid that I’m the daughter of a university lecturer, and we don’t have stately homes in Canada.”

“I love your accent. Where about in Canada are you from?”

“Well, we lived for a while in Montreal, and then we moved to Guelph in Ontario. My mom was French Canadian, and my dad was English. They died in a car wreck a few years back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. It must be hard for you. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m twenty-three, and I don’t mind. How old are you?”

“The same. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not at the moment, do you?”

He went bright red again, but then laughed.

“Very droll. Good, that. No, I haven’t, got a girlfriend, that is,” he said.

“Hey Jamie, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Please, yes, of course.”

“You seem like a nice guy, but kinda innocent, have you ever had a girlfriend, I mean, a real girlfriend, not just a girl who is also a friend?”

He went so red Nicole thought she would see steam coming from his ears any second.

“Not really. I’m not very good with girls, I always seem to say the wrong thing,” he stammered.

Nicole saw Rachel watching with a wry smile on her face.

“Well, I think you’re sweet. But, my friend is back, so we gotta go. It’s been an education meeting one of the titled classes,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, must you? Can I buy you a drink, or a coffee or something?”

“Sorry Jamie, we got a lot to do. Maybe we can meet up another day.”

“Oh, can we? I mean, that would be super if we could. Look, I’ll give you my number and anytime you’re free, just ring me. I can meet you anywhere you like.” He fumbled with his pockets, so she produced a pen and a paper pad. He scribbled down his mobile number and handed it to her. She noticed his hands were shaking.

“Now, if I ring this, I ain’t gonna get the Marquess or anyone like that?”

“No, that’s my mobile. I put my email address on there as well. Just in case. I have my own house in the grounds. But I’m all over the place, so it is much easier. You will ring, won’t you?” he asked, his face so hopeful.

“Sure, if you want me to.”

“Oh, I really do. If you can.”

“Okay Jamie. I’ll call you,” she said, standing up as Rachel appeared.

“Thanks Nicole. You won’t forget, will you?” he said, as they walked off.

She turned round and said. “Jamie, how could I ever forget you?” in a loud voice, and everyone turned and stared at him. He went bright red again and grinned.

Rachel stared at the young man, as if she recognised him, but had forgotten his name.

“You are not safe to leave for a second,” Rachel said. “So who was your friend?”

“Some sweet little guy who has a crush on me. His dad is a Marquess, whatever that is.”

“Little? He’s over six feet. Just what is your admirer’s name?”

“Jamie Calder. Why?”

Rachel rolled her eyes to heaven.

“He is only the Honourable Jamie Calder, you silly girl. His father is Lord Rupert Calder, Marquess of Bramford, he’s in the top twenty richest men in the United Kingdom, that’s all. And young Jamie stands to inherit the lot.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. That’s one young man you leave well alone. I can see the headlines now. ‘Aristocrat Millionaire elopes with Sex Swap Cop.’ It won’t work, my dear, no matter how sweet he may be.”

“Nah, I suppose you’re right. But he was very sweet and very innocent.”

“Let’s get you home, your boss is coming over, remember?”

“Okay coach. Say, how am I doing?”

“Straight ‘A’s today, but you may be a bit too much of a flirt.”

They drove home, and sat out in the garden, awaiting Bruce’s arrival. Nicole changed into a pair of shorts and a singlet style top. Bruce found them discussing make up and cosmetics. Rachel was showing Nicole how to do her own nails, and there was much laughter.

He thought that Nicole was looking very relaxed, and if anything even more self-assured than the previous day.

“Hi guys. What kind of day have you had?” he asked.

“Hi Bruce, we went shopping and it was so cool,” said Nicole.

“Nicole only picked up a peer of the realm,” Rachel added.

“Shhh. Rachel. You promised not to tell him.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just be assured that Nicole doesn’t need any help in being a girl.”

“Really?”

“She has a few of the finer arts to conquer, but essentially she is pretty much ready. I think she will be more than ready by Monday next week.”

“Excellent. Then we need to get a move on. I need to get a picture of you in something sexy.”

“How about my leathers?”

“They would be good,” Rachel agreed. Nicole jumped up and ran indoors.

“Leathers?”

“Leathers.”

“Oh.”

Rachel laughed.

“So how is she?” Bruce asked after she had gone.

“I was right. She had a crisis last night. She seems to be suffering from an element of Gender Dysphoria. So she didn’t sleep very much, so with the hormones we had some tears this morning after I arrived.”

“Gender Dys.. what?”

“She believes that she really should be a girl, she is convinced that she is a transsexual. Whether the feeling is temporary or permanent, I don’t know. But she will do the job, and is keen to succeed. I gave her the option to quit this morning, and she shouted me out. We had a really nice day out, and I can’t see any signs of her masculine personality. Nicole is here to stay.”

“Shit. So what do we do?”

“Nothing, she doesn’t want you or the police generally, to know. This is something she sees as personal to her, and nothing to do with the job. It probably would have happened anyway. So we play by her rules. She does the job, and then we face the consequences. To be honest, I am not terribly worried. If she wants to go back, then that’s fine, if she wants to follow the female road, she is so nearly there already, all it would take is a psychological assessment and then surgery. I can already see the results of the assessment, and the surgery is the final act.”

“That will screw up her career, or his career. Shit, she’s got me confused now. What is she, a he or a she?”

“What do you think?” Rachel asked as Nicole appeared in the boots, the leather mini skirt and the tight white tee shirt. She had also repaired her make up.

“That is most definitely not a bloke,” Bruce said quietly to Rachel.

“There you are then, deal it as you see it,” Rachel said, chuckling.

Bruce took several photographs with the digital camera. Then he plugged in the laptop and downloaded the pictures. They all looked at the choice, selecting the best one.

They completed the application form that Bruce had downloaded earlier, which included a reference. This was an ex-copper, who now ran his own pub near Leamington Spa. The Thames Valley Police contacted him, and after an explanation, he agreed to be a reference for their undercover officer. The peculiar nature of the job was explained, and he agreed to back up the story that he had given a job to a young Canadian bloke, who was good at the bar job, but left to live as a girl prior to having a sex change.

Bruce checked and double-checked the details with Nicole. Then he logged onto her new email address and sent to the club address. A message returned to the effect that they had received it.

“Is there any way I can get a PC?” she asked.

He smiled.

“This Toshiba Satellite is now yours for the duration of operation Sugar Plum. So be nice to it. Email is one good way to keep in touch with us,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Right. One of the door staff will be one of our chaps. His name is John Morris. He is a big Milton Keynes officer. He has been on the support group, so he can take care of himself. You’ll know him as he has a scar on the back of his right wrist. He was slashed by a razor a few years back. He doesn’t know of you, and we will not tell him. However, if you get into difficulties, just shout ‘sugarplum’, and he should help.

“So if there is nothing more, I’ll be off. I’m actually taking Mrs Appleby out for a meal tonight. So I mustn’t be late.”

He walked off, and Rachel said. “I may as well go. Tomorrow, we will do some make up and other stuff in the morning. And then, in the afternoon, let’s go up to London by train and take in a show. How does that sound?”

“Like fun. Are you sure I am ready?”

“What do you think?”

“I feel ready, but you’re the coach.”

“Nicole, I have been doing this for a few years. For some individuals, I could give them one to one coaching for several months, and they will never ever be ready. I’ve been with you for only a few hours, and yet it’s as if you’ve always been what you now appear. A very few people are naturals, and you, my love, are one.”

Nicole grinned.

“But that’s not to say you couldn’t make a mistake. So, don’t think you know it all. It takes a lifetime to even start to know how much is all, let alone know it.”

She hugged Nicole and left her alone.

Nicole switched her new laptop on, logging in to her email account. She smiled and went and found Jamie’s email address, and wrote short note to him.
 
 

Hi Jamie. Remember me? I am the mad Canadian you propositioned in Newbury today. Just to let you know that I lived to tell the tale, and so you can have my email address. You can proposition me via the internet now as well. I will call. But you need to give me one very good reason. Nicole.XX PS. Do I have to call you your lordship or anything dumb like that?

 
 
She sent it and had a wicked grin at the thought of meeting his parents. She knew that it would never work, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

She heard the doorbell, so she went to answer it, forgetting that she was still dressed in the boots and leather mini skirt.

She shrugged and opened the door. Two scruffy looking men stood there, a transit van was in the drive.

“Yes?”

“Hello Miss. We are in the area, and were wonderin’ whether you’d be wantin’ yer drive tarmacked?” the first Irishman said.

Nicole looked both men up and down, taking a mental note of what they were wearing. She thought they were travellers.

“My father is due back any second, he would tell you. He is a Traffic Police Inspector. If you hang about, I’m sure he would be very interested in seeing you.” she said. She smiled as they couldn’t disappear fast enough. Out of habit she took the number of the van, writing it on a piece of paper.

She went back into the house, feeling bored, so she logged on to her computer again, to find that Jamie had replied already. She opened his email.
 
 

Nicole Thanks so much for your message, I was thrilled and surprised you contacted me so soon. But I am so pleased you did. I am really sorry about earlier. I can be a real idiot at times. It is just I get all awkward with women, particularly if they are beautiful, as you are. Look, how about meeting me for a drink. Anywhere you like. I would very much like to see you again. I will try not to be such an arse next time. Jamie. XXX PS Just call me whatever you like.

 
 
She smiled, as he really was such an idiot. But she had a soft spot for him, he was either a brilliant actor, or he really was as naíve as he appeared. She picked up the phone and rang his mobile.

“Hello, Jamie Calder,” he said.

“Hi Jamie. It’s Nicole.”

“Bloody hell. Nicole, oh. Shit. How lovely. I didn’t expect you to ring so soon.”

“Hey Jamie, count to ten and we’ll start again, okay?”

“I’m okay now. You surprised me, that’s all. Thanks for phoning.”

“So where would you like to meet me?”

“There is a really nice pub called the King’s Head just down the road from here.”

“Are you known in there?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Then perhaps it is not such a good idea. I don’t want your parents to get the wrong idea.”

Eventually they agreed to meet at the Fox and Hounds a few miles outside the village that Nicole was living in.

“I’ll see you there at six, bye now,” she said.

“Super. I can’t wait,” he said, but he found the phone dead.

He was shaking. He had never been very confident with women, and today as he wandered round the market, he had seen her. To him she was the most beautiful girl ever, and he fell in love with her. He had followed her and her friend as they went round the market. At one point, he had overheard her speaking to the stall holder, and she had a really sexy Canadian accent. He didn’t know it was Canadian then, but she had told him later.

He still was unsure how he had managed to pluck up the courage to approach her, but he rehearsed his speech, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he had gone to pieces. Yet she had been so gracious and delightfully forgiving, that he had been able to leave her his number. He never once believed she would call, they never did. But she emailed him and then called. He had been so surprised to hear her voice that he had gone to pieces again.

He was rushing back to his small house when his father saw him.

“Ah, Jamie. Where are you off to?”

“Can’t stop, Dad, I have a date,” he said.

“What kind of date?”

“I’m meeting a girl in a pub, so I have to change.”

“What girl?”

“A Canadian. I met her in Newbury this afternoon,” he said, still moving.

“Really? She just picked you up?”

“No, I approached her. She was at this restaurant, and I went and spoke to her. I asked her out for a drink. Look, I have to go. I’ll tell you about it later.” He was now out of sight, and running.

“Bloody hell,” said his father, and went n search of his wife. She was in the kitchen, extracting a tick from the Labrador.

“Jamie is off to meet some woman in a pub,” he said.

“Why?”

“Buggered if I know. Apparently, he just picked her up this afternoon, and now he is meeting her at a pub.”

“How do you know?”

“He just told me. Funny thing. Can’t remember this happening before.”

“He’s not usually very good with girls, he used to be quite good with horses though,” said his mother.

“I know. Do you think she comes from a good family?”

“If she is Canadian, probably not, but, it is a good sign.”

“Mmm. I was dreading him telling me he was like my uncle David.”

“What, your queer uncle?”

“That’s the one. I’m pleased really, but I hope he doesn’t propose on the first date. That would be a mistake.”

“Oh Rupert, don’t be an arse, and pass me the tweezers.”
 

*          *          *
 
Jamie was at the pub at five forty. He sat at one of the tables outside, nursing a pint of bitter. He was wearing a short sleeved, pale blue shirt and a pair of jeans. He watched the seconds tick away and, as six o’clock got closer, he became more and more nervous. He heard the clock in the pub chime, so he felt disappointment creep over his entire being. However, just then, he watched a large motorcycle come up the road and swing into the car park.

There was a group of young men at the next table, they started whistling, and one said, “Fucking hell, will you look at the legs on her!”

He stood up to see better at the exact moment the rider took her helmet off and shook out her long blonde hair. It was Nicole. She then took off her leather jacket, having a tight white tee shirt on underneath, a very short skirt, and the most wonderful boots that Jamie had ever seen. Jamie thought she looked wonderful.

She waved at him, walking past the crowd of lads.

“Hiya fellas,” she said, smiling at them as she passed. Then she came up to him, kissing him on the cheek. He felt completely numb.

“Hi Jamie, been waiting long?” she asked, as he struggled to speak.

“No, just got here,” he lied, but she glanced at his empty glass and smiled.

“You sure are a quick drinker, or was that here when you got here?”

“Actually, I got here at twenty to. You look really pretty, you know,” he said blushing again.

She swept her hair back and laughed.

“Thanks, you look neat too. Do you want another?” she asked. He stood there aghast.

“No. Thanks, but, I mean, let me get you one,” he said.

“You really are old fashioned, but if you insist, I’ll have a bottle of Bud, or Labatts, if they have it. Don’t bother with a glass,” she said, and he shot off like a well-trained retriever.

She put her jacket on the bench beside her, and placing her helmet on top, sat down.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, when he returned with the drinks. He handed her a bottle of Budweiser. “They didn’t have Labatts. Sorry.”

“No problem. Thanks. No, it’s a bit early for me,” she said, taking a long pull at her drink.

“Me too, normally we eat at eight.”

“We?”

“I usually eat with my parents. It saves me having to cook. I’m not very good in the kitchen, I keep burning everything.”

“Not good,” she said, making him laugh.

“I bet you’re a good cook,” he said.

“I get by. Living on one’s own is boring, so I get a lot of ready prepared stuff.”

“What do you do?”

“At the moment, not a lot. I hope to get a job behind a bar soon.”

“Oh.”

“You seemed surprised?”

“I thought you’d be an actress or a model, or something like that.”

She laughed. “Well, who knows, maybe if I get discovered. So Jamie, have you any brothers and sisters?”

“No, only child, I’m afraid. My parents were quite old when they had me. Dad is 67 now.”

“I’m an only child too,” Nicole said.

She looked at the man opposite her. He was about six foot one, but so self-conscious that he appeared smaller. He seemed to want to hide from the world, and yet that just made him more conspicuous. He had unruly light brown hair that seemed to violently resist any attempt to put it in order. He was clean-shaven, and judging by the small speck of blood on his chin, recently too.

He had an honest and nice face that would have been almost too handsome if it hadn’t had a broken nose smack in the middle. It gave him a slightly rough edge that Nicole felt improved him. His blue eyes were what her mother would have called, ‘smiley eyes’, and he had large hands.

“How did you break your nose?” she asked. His hand flew to the offending object, as he grinned.

“Rugger, I was about sixteen. It lost an argument with someone’s head.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Eton. I loathed it, I’m afraid. How about you?”

“I went to my first school in a small town just outside Montreal, and then High School in Guelph.”

“Did you like your school?”

“It was okay, I guess. I don’t think I looked at it as something you enjoy, just something you had to do.”

“So do you speak French?”

“Sure, but the French would probably disagree,” she said, and he laughed again.

She took another drink, as Jamie watched her. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else ever since she had left him in Newbury. No one had ever affected him quite like this, and he was just so happy she was here. He pushed his hair from his eyes, for about the eighteenth time.

“Say, Jamie, why don’t you get a decent hair cut?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked, defensively.

“It makes you look like a schoolboy and doesn’t suit you,” she told him.

“I’ve always had it like this,” he said, still rather defensively.

She looked at him, trying to see what style would suit him. He was a big man, so she smiled.

“You should have a crew cut. It would make you look like a GI,” she said.

“God. Mum would have a fit.”

“Jamie, you’re twenty-three, for Pete’s sake. It’s time to get your own life.”

He thought about it, realising that she was absolutely right. He was so tied to his family that he had never thought about anything different.

“I wish I was like you,” he said.

“What?” she said, as she was suddenly worried that he had seen through her.

“I mean, I wish I was just a normal person. Every time I get close to a girl, my family frightens her away. All the girls that my family want to hitch me up to, have less endearing qualities than horses. You’re so lucky being normal.”

Nicole looked at him.

“Oh Jamie. If only it was so simple,” she said, sadly.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter, but believe me, no one really gets an easy ride, and that includes me,” she said. She considered telling him, but decided against it.

They just sat and chatted, and the time passed. She was relaxed, just enjoyed being herself, and felt no constraints or pressures on her. He, on the other hand, was calm on the outside, but inside was in turmoil. He believed he had fallen in love, and was desperate not to lose her. He knew that if he was too serious, she would back off because of whom he was, and he felt it was so unfair.

She stood up.

“I have to go to the loo, so I’ll get the drinks on the way back. Is that bitter?” she said.

“Yes, but you don’t have to get them, the evening is on me.”

“Hey honey, I’m a Canadian, I pay my own way. Okay?”

He smiled and surrendered.

He watched her walk into the pub. She moved so nicely, her hips swinging, and those legs. He felt very proud that she was his date and humble that she was prepared to come and be with him. He tried to work out how he could propose to her without frightening her off.

Nicole went to the ladies, and then bought the drinks. Several men eyed her and one even approached and asked if she was alone.

“Sorry, but I’m with a guy,” she said, to which he smiled and walked off.

She looked at the menu on the wall, deciding that it looked good. She went back out to the table, observing that Jamie looked rather cross.

“Hey, why the long face?” she asked, as she passed him his drink.

“You don’t want to know,” he said.

“Okay, if you say so,” she said, and sat down next to him. He looked surprised, so she laughed.

“I don’t like having the sun in my eyes, okay?” she said.

“How does someone like me ask a girl like you to marry them?” he said after a long pause. Nicole wondered if she had heard correctly.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Nicole, I know I’m making a monumental fuck up of this, but I need you to be honest. I’m not good at expressing myself, so bear with me. I think I’m in love with you, and I don’t want you to just walk away from me. Is there any way you would consider marrying someone like me?” he said, blushing beetroot red, and looking so serious Nicole thought he was about to burst into tears.

Her initial reaction was to laugh, but she managed to resist that, as it would destroy him completely.

“Oh, Jamie, you are very sweet, but we both know that you should never propose on a first date,” she said.

“I know, but this not exactly a proposal as more a sort of exploratory question. No one has ever made me feel this way before, and I just need to know whether I have any hope at all,” he said.

She took his hand.

“Jamie, believe me, we are just too different. I like you, but we would never be able to get married. Get real kid, I wouldn’t make a good Marquess-ess,” she said, and her heart lurched as he looked even more miserable.

“That’s Marchioness, by the way.”

“Whatever. Do you really see me as one of them?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, come on Jamie.”

“Life is so unfair. I wish I’d been born as something else,” he said, heatedly.

“So do I, Jamie, so do I,” she said.

“Do you? Do you really?” he asked.

“Sure, every day I wish I had been born different, but let’s not go into that now,” she said.

He looked so despondent, that she squeezed his hand.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. There’s nothing to stop us being friends, and who knows, the future might hold surprises for both of us,” she said.

He looked at her and smiled weakly. Hope gleamed in his eyes once more, and the little black cloud over his head seemed to disperse.

“Look, let’s grab something to eat, and leave this subject for a while,” she suggested. They ordered some food and talked about all manner of things, mainly of him and his family.

By ten pm, they were still sitting outside in the warm June evening, and Jamie realised that he had never felt quite so happy in his life. He said so, and she chuckled.

“You sure have a neat way of flattering a girl,” she said.

“It’s true. I just love being with you, you make me feel different, somehow.”

“Different? That’s a new one.”

“It is hard to explain, but when I’ve been on dates before, I’m always on edge, and worried about thinking of something to say. But I don’t feel like that with you. We just talk, and if we don’t for a bit, it seems fine, and I’m happy just to be in your company,” he said.

“You are sweet, but you need to get out more,” she said.

“I’d like you to meet my parents.”

“Oh. I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”

“Why not, you’re beautiful, intelligent and I love you. What else is there?”

“Jamie, slow down, honey. We only met today, so don’t leap off into this too seriously too quickly. You don’t know anything about me, so back off a little, okay?”

“I don’t need to know anything else about you. I do love you, you know,” he said. “Our children would be beautiful.”

“Oh Jamie, don’t do this to me, not now, not yet. Look, I can’t have kids, okay, I had something wrong with me, so I will never be able to have kids, so don’t get this heavy with me. It isn’t fair to either of us,” Nicole pleaded.

“I don’t like kids anyway. Besides we could always adopt.”

“Jamie, enough. This is going too far. Okay?”

He looked at her and nodded.

“I’m sorry. I told you I always fuck up,” he said, miserable again.

“Look, just take a step back. Otherwise, I’ll not be able to see you again. I’m not ready for what you want, so either give me space, or I’m outa here,” she said.

“Friends then?”

“Sure, but no further. One step at a time.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry.”

Nicole looked at her watch - it was nearly eleven.

“Look, I have a busy day tomorrow, so I’d better go. It’s been fun, but don’t put me on a pedestal, I’m not the girl you seem to think I am.”

“To me you’re everything.”

“Jamie, stop it.”

“Sorry.”

“So, I’m off, thanks for the evening,” she said, standing up and putting on her jacket.

He stood and pushed his hair from his eyes.

“May I call you?”

“If you want.”

“Can I email you?”

“Sure, but don’t get heavy on me, okay?”

“I promise. Thanks for coming, I really enjoy being with you.”

“Okay, bye then,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, and please get a haircut,” she told him just before pulling on her helmet.

He was still standing there as she rode off. He touched his cheek where she had kissed him. Somehow, he was going to marry her, he thought to himself.
 
 
Chapter 5
 
 
Nicole slept really well that night, so Rachel arrived to find her up and dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. She had taken her false nails off, having varnished her own neat but shorter nails, and she had not put the wig back on. Instead, she had back-combed her short hair into a good attempt at a feminine style, and Rachel smiled at the girl’s determination to do things her way.

She was busy on her computer, so smiled as the woman came in.

“Morning, Nikki, how are you today?”

“Great, thanks. No crisis last night. I’m happy with who and what I am. You know, I’m amazed that I never clicked before, but so much of my life makes sense now,” she told the older woman.

“Oh yes, like what?”

“Oh, like how I had difficulties forming any relationships, and how uneasy I felt about my own sexuality and personality. I actually went through a transvestite period when I was about fourteen, but it was in my mind only, I never tried anything. But deep down I recognise that I always wanted to be a girl, but refused to accept or acknowledge the thought.”

“I see. So where does that leave you now?”

Nicole smiled.

“Two agendas, the first, and foremost, my job. And the second, my life. I have decided to go for it.”

“Go for what?”

“The works, SRS, implants, Rachel, I want to finish the job. I’m a girl, so I need to make everything right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, it all makes perfect sense, and I’m prepared for everything that that means.”

“It’s a hard route to follow.”

“I’m aware of that. I’ve been reading lots of personal stories by girls who have been there, there are so many web sites devoted to the subject.”

“Well, if you’re sure, then after the police operation, I’ll help you all I can.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. But you can tell me one thing?”

“If I can.”

“Do you think that I’m right to go for it?”

“I can’t tell you that. You’re the only person who can answer that one. But I can say that you make a lovely girl, and I think it may well be right for you.”

Nicole grinned.

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“You’re welcome. So, what did you get up to last night, after I went home?”

“Not a lot, I went out to a pub with Jamie whatsit, for a meal. Then came home and went to bed.”

Rachel stared at her.

“Please tell me that was a joke?”

Nicole grinned. “No, we went to the Fox and Hounds, just down the road. We had a couple of drinks and he bought me dinner. It was pretty good really. Oh, you won’t believe this, he actually proposed to me,” she said, giggling.

“Oh my God. Tell me you didn’t accept?”

“Of course I didn’t accept, what sort of girl would accept a proposal on a first date?” she replied.

“How on earth did you let that happen?”

“He’s a sweet guy, but not really of this world. He’s so innocent and sheltered I found it hard work. But, we parted as friends, and he seemed to accept that. He has a real bad crush on me. I told him I can’t have kids, and he said it didn’t matter. So I’m going to step away a little from him. His parents wouldn’t approve of me.”

“I should say not. You’re playing a dangerous game, my girl. And you ask me whether you ought to go for SRS?”

“Why?”

“At this rate, you are going to need surgery to keep up with your love life.”

Nicole grinned again.

“So, shall we sort out your hair, as the wig doesn’t meet with your approval?”

“Yes please. Don’t get me wrong, I think it looks great, but it’s so hot and itchy.”

“All right. Those early years as a hairdresser now will pay off.”

Rachel brought out a pack with hair care tools, scissors and the like.

“Oh, the Candy Cane Club have sent me an email,” Nicole said.

“Oh yes, what do they want?”

“I have to go on Saturday morning for a job interview. I have to go dressed, is that what I think it means?”

“Yes, they want you en femme.”

“No problem. I’ll let Bruce know,” she said, acknowledging the email, and returning a note stating she would be there at 11:00.

She then called Bruce on his mobile and told him the development.

“Right. Hair,” she said, and let Rachel get to work.

There was not a great deal to work with, but she did what she could. She trimmed and shaped the hair, taking away any masculine styling. Then, after a shampoo and blow dry, she styled it to make it look much fuller than it really was. It was good, but she would have to wear the wig for a while, certainly at work, just for a few weeks.

They went up to London by train at about noon, and Nicole chose not to wear a wig, and managed to look very pretty in her summer print dress. Try as she could, Rachel could only see a pretty girl in her companion. As they had several hours before Les Miserables started, they wandered up Oxford Street. Nicole bought a white summer hat, cowboy style, with a wide brim, which went superbly with her dress and colouring, and her shorter hair became somehow irrelevant. As they walked, and window-shopped, Rachel was able to see another side of Nicole. The emotions of the previous days had dispersed, as had the excitement of new experiences. Nicole was completely at ease with her identity, accepting the transition stage would be a long and hard one. She accepted her male physical gender, and her female identity and emotional response, and was able to deal with all issues without resorting to denial.

Rachel was quietly pleased that the girl was as detached and as clinical as she was, it would make the various steps she would face much easier.

They went to Garfunkles for lunch, and Rachel shared about her marriage and the trials of being married to a transsexual.

“It must have been awful for you. What made you first aware that he was going through a crisis?”

“He had been hinting for months, but I chose not to realise it. He would take a more passive role in our love making, and he suggested strange role-playing games, which usually meant he could pretend to be female. But in the end, he just came out and told me he wanted to be a woman. At the time I was completely taken by surprise, but with hindsight, I should have seen it coming.”

“Was he a good father?”

“He was a superb father, a wonderful husband and a very adequate lover. His main regret was that he was letting me and the children down. We stayed together throughout the whole procedure, and after it was all over, we were divorced. She was more than generous with the settlement, and she does more than her fair share with the children. The older ones are a bit reluctant to go and see her now, but we all know that if anything is needed all we have to do is ask.”

“Did you feel it was somehow your fault?”

“At first, yes. I thought that if I had been a proper wife, he would not have been like this. However, his feelings started a long time before we ever met. He thought that by living a normal life, his feelings would go, and until his forties, they did. But as middle age beaconed, the feelings returned with a vengeance, and he no longer had the power to resist them.”

“Do you have any regrets?”

“Only one, that he had been honest and open with me when we first met. It would have saved an awful lot of grief.”

Nicole was quiet.

“What are you thinking about?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t know. My life has been turned upside down in the last few days. I don’t know where I’m going any more. I thought my future was cut and dried, but it seems that I was wrong.”

“One thing I learned, is don’t make long term plans. Make little short term ones, and then move on to the next.”

Nicole smiled.

“That makes sense. How much are breast implants, anyway?”

Rachel nearly choked.

“What?”

“That has to be my next goal. I can’t wear these things for the rest of my life, and the hormones won’t give me nice big ones, so I’ll have to get some implants.”

“They are not cheap, and I doubt whether the Thames Valley Police expenses would stretch that far.”

“I have a healthy bank balance. My parents left me quite a bit, and I have it all invested. I think I’ll make enquiries and set it up as soon as possible. How long does the surgery take, and what’s the recovery time?”

“You can be in and out in the same day, but there is a couple of weeks recovery before the stitches come out.”

“Oh, do you think I’ll be able to work while waiting for the stitches to be taken out?”

“I don’t know, as long as you are careful, I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks.”

Nicole changed the subject and they spoke of other things for a while. They finished their meal, did a little shopping and they caught a cab for the theatre.

The show was superb, and Nicole experienced the full range of emotions, courtesy of her new hormone balance. She laughed, cried, smiled and wept, and came out feeling exhausted.

She returned home and slipped into bed gratefully.
 

*          *          *
 
Rachel dropped in on Bruce in his office, the next morning. They briefly spoke about Nicole’s emotional state, and Rachel assured Bruce that she was stable, and more than capable of doing the job as required. She decided not to speak any more about Nicole’s stated intentions or plans.

Bruce was pleased that Nicole had managed to get an interview so quickly, and knew that she should have no problems getting a job. He arranged for the flat to be stocked up, and ensured that the back up team were all set. John had started his job as door security, and found that all the doormen were pretty isolated from the ins and outs of the club. There were six doormen, working a rota system. They were the only non-transgendered persons on the staff, and kept themselves apart.

They decided that Nicole could move into her new flat, and get settled before the interview. So Rachel planned to spend Thursday tying up loose ends with the girl, trying to cover any eventuality that she might come across.

As they had a cup of tea at about four pm, Rachel told Nicole that this would be her last evening in the house, and that she was going to the flat on the Friday.

“Already. Do you think I’m ready?”

“Yes. You’ve been a wonderful subject. It’s been fun. If only everyone else would find it as easy and natural as you have.”

“You’re so patient and wise. I’m so grateful for your help. I hope I can call you if I need any advice or am having another crisis.”

“Of course, here’s my card. My mobile number is the best one.”

“Thanks Rachel.” Nicole said, “Do you think Doctor Hepburn can help with the breast implants?”

“Yes, I do. Would you like me to set up an appointment for you?”

Nicole nodded.

“I’ve thought about it a good deal. Yes, please. I think I want them as soon as I can. I’ve enough invested to pay privately. And, if the job goes to plan, I should have enough to pay for my surgery at the end of it. I can always sell my bike.”

“Oh Nikki, are you sure about this? It really is very sudden and quick.”

“I’m sure. I don’t think I’ve been as sure of anything in my life.”

“Look, I’m going to arrange for a psychiatrist friend to come and see you this evening. I want her to give you an assessment and a full evaluation. You need full professional advice and medical supervision over something as drastic and irreversible as SRS. Would that be okay?”

“If you think I should, yes.”

Rachel nodded and went and phoned Dr Hillary O’Flynne. She was the psychiatrist for the clinic where Rachel and Dr Hepburn worked. Rachel explained the situation and asked her if she could come over. She checked her diary and found that was free and agreed to come over at five o’clock.

Nicole became quite nervous while waiting for the psychiatrist to arrive, and dreaded her saying that for some reason, she would be an unsuitable subject for SRS.

Hillary arrived just after five, and Nicole was about to start screaming. The psychiatrist was a thin lady in her mid forties, but she was very cheerful and friendly. Rachel introduced her to Nicole, and made no mention of the police or of the operation. Indeed, Rachel only introduced Nicole as a client who was in transition, and needed a full assessment. Hillary made light of the fact that she believed Nicole to be a genuine female, and was surprised at finding out that she was the subject. Nicole stunned by this remark, was very pleased.

Then Rachel left them to it, and Hillary took out her notebook and pen, and started chatting to Nicole. The chat was very conversational to begin with, and gradually became focussed on Nicole and her life history. Nicole was honest and answered all questions as fully as she felt able. She discovered things about her childhood that she had forgotten or deliberately shut away.

The doctor began to focus on the Nicole of today, her desires, her attitudes and aspirations. She asked her to describe how she felt as a girl, compared to as a man, and where she felt she belonged. She wanted to know how she related to others, male and female, and how, if any, being a girl altered those relationships.

She asked about sex and fantasy, love and marriage. She queried her gender identity and sexual experience and any change in sexual preferences. She asked about motherhood and children, and then about where she saw herself in ten, and even twenty years time.

Finally, after nearly an hour, Hillary drew the session to a close. Rachel appeared with some mugs of tea, and they sat together and drank them.

Nicole was so frustrated that she wanted to burst. Rachel smiled as she recognised the signs.

“So, Hillary, what do you make of our girl?”

“Our girl, is exactly that. Nicole, there are all sorts of terms for the various things that have happened in your life, and how you have dealt with them. Actually, you are far from being the standard case, but I can tell you that you are certainly suffering from gender dysphoria, and as a transsexual, I would recommend that you continue with the hormone treatment and undergo SRS within a few months. I must tell you that I have rarely met such a well adjusted individual, with a sensible and relatively objective view of your condition and situation. I don’t know how long you have been in transition, but I should say that you are perfectly suited to life as a female.”

“What does that mean, for me, that is?”

“I shall submit a recommendation that you are suitable for continued hormone treatment, SRS, Breast implants, and any corrective cosmetic surgery that may be appropriate. I shall refer this to Dr Hepburn, and I am sure she will make the necessary steps to help you on your way.” Hillary said, then she took her leave, wishing Nicole good luck, and that she would see her in a few months, just to make sure things were still fine.

“Rachel, I still don’t really understand, what is happening?”

“Nicole, you have passed the hardest test, now you are free to go for it. No doctor or surgeon would consider accepting anyone who has not had a thorough Psychiatric assessment undertaken. They would be left wide open for civil litigation and suits for damages without one. So it means that this referral will allow Dr Hepburn to treat you and to undertake the necessary procedures on you as and when you feel ready.”

“But I’ve only been doing this for a couple of days. She seems to have got the impression that I’ve been like this for ages.”

“That is because that’s the impression you gave her.”

“Oh.”

“So, relax, and let things progress day by day. I’ll see what I can arrange with the clinic for your implants. And I’ll see you tomorrow at the flat.”

“Okay, and thanks so much Rachel. I would be lost without you.”

“No, if this hadn’t started you would still be PC Nick Winton, and be none the worse off.”

“I actually believe that I’m better off now.” she said with a smile.

“Whatever. Bye, my dear.”
 

*          *          *
 
Nicole was alone again, but in a rather dazed mood. She tried to take stock of all that had happened, and the speed with which events had overtaken her. She knew that, at heart she was a girl, notwithstanding her masculine physical attributes. She knew she wanted to remain a girl, and therefore she wanted to be rid of the maleness and to replace them with the correct anatomical equipment.

But, she also realised that she now faced an uncertain and difficult future, but smiled as she would face it in a way she preferred.
 

*          *          *
 
Jamie was sitting in his parents’ large drawing room with a beer in his hand. His mother was in the kitchen and his father was going through the accounts with him. He was miserable.

Firstly, he loathed the house, the estate and everything to do with it.

Secondly, he loathed his job as general dogsbody, and assistant to his father, who refused to relinquish any responsibility to him. Not that he wanted the responsibility, but he was still nothing.

Thirdly, he was in love, and his parents were totally unsympathetic as she was not of the same class, and foreign to boot.

Fourthly, he had done what he always did with a girl, he had allowed mouth to over rule brain, and said the completely wrong things, despite her being so understanding and nice about it all. How could he have been so stupid?

He had tried to be so diplomatic when broaching the subject to his mother.

“Mother, has anyone in the family ever married a Canadian?” he had asked.

“God no. Whatever would they do something like that?”

“Canadians are really nice people.”

“So they very well may be, but they are not really our sort of people.” she replied.

“Nicole is Canadian.” he said.

“Who, may I ask, is Nicole?”

“She is the girl I met in Newbury yesterday. We had dinner together last evening.”

“Oh,” said his mother, in the same tone as if she had found a dog turd under the dining room table.

“Actually she is only half Canadian, her father was English. He was a University Professor.”

“Does she have an accent?”

“Yes, it is really nice.”

“Nice? A foreign accent, nice? Jamie, don’t be silly, there’s a dear. And what have you done to your lovely hair, you look like a bovver boy?”

Jamie had given up at that stage. He actually liked his new haircut. It was a crew cut, with a little left on the top. Nicole had been right, as he looked more like a U.S. Marine than a peer of the realm.

He hadn’t even tried to talk to his father. The fact he wasn’t queer was a great relief, and then he had said, “Your mother will find someone quite suitable for you to marry.”

So, Jamie had made several decisions. First, he was going to have his hair cut, then he was going to look for a job. A real job, with nothing to do with his family, or the bloody estate.

Then he was going to find Nicole, and, well that was the problem, he didn’t quite know what he would do. He wanted to marry her, settle down and live the rest of his life with her. But even he was aware that that was an unrealistic dream, and he had to come back to reality. He remembered what she had told him, “Jamie, you are twenty-three, for Pete’s sake. It’s time to get your own life.”

She had been perfectly right. Here he was stuck at home with elderly parents, in a crumbling ruin, and no prospects, other than inheriting father’s millions and decaying with the house and grounds.

His father was going on and on about the accounts, and Jamie had enough.

He stood up.

“Dad. Stuff the bloody accounts, stuff the house, stuff the estate, and stuff you. It’s time I grew up, so I’m leaving in the morning and I’m going to find a home and a job. I may be some time. But I will be buggered if I will allow you both to determine the air I breathe, the food I eat and the girl I marry. I may burn everything I try to cook, and I may ruin any relationship before I get a proper chance, but it’s my life and I’ll live it my way, so I’ll suffer the consequences,” he said. He put his glass down and walked out and returned to the house his parents had provided for him.

His mother had heard the end of his little tirade and asked her husband what it had been all about.

“Jamie, it seems, has at last decided to join the human race. He tells me he’s going out there to find a place to live and a job. Oh, and it seems he’ll marry whomsoever he wants to.” he said.

“About bloody time, I thought we’d have the silly bugger hanging about until we both snuff it. Do you want peas or beans with your pheasant, dear?”

Jamie stood shaking in his sitting room. He was angry and frightened. He didn’t want to upset his parents, but he was determined to make a go of things on his own. He sat at his computer and sent a sixth email to Nicole. He was disappointed that she hadn’t replied, but he held hope that she was not gone forever.

He then phoned an old school acquaintance, Archie Slade-Thompson. Archie was an estate agent now in Henley-on -Thames, and they had occasionally had a drink together.

“Archie, it’s Jamie. Jamie Calder.”

“Jamie, old thing, how the devil are you?”

“Fine thanks, how are you?”

“Bloody good, actually, why the call?”

“Good, now the reason I’m phoning, I’m after a flat in or near Henley. Can you help?”

“Do you want to rent or buy?”

“Oh buy, can’t be doing with renting.”

“Are you borrowing, or will it be a cash purchase?”

“Mortgage, no, cash old boy.”

“Then I’ve several that should be right up your street, one came in just this morning. Why don’t you pop over and take a peek?”

“Super, I’ll be over tomorrow. About nine am.”

“Yup, fine, see you then, bye.”

He put the phone down and thought for a while. Then he picked it up again, punching in another number. Will Bishop owned and ran a bistro in Henley, and was always after bar staff.

“Hi Will, it’s Jamie.”

“Jamie?”

“Yah, Jamie Calder.”

“Oh, Jamie, how’re you?”

“Fine, fine. Look, I’m sort of cutting free from the old dears for a few months and was wondering do you need any staff in your bistro?”

“Always need casual staff, old boy, exactly what are you after?”

“Well bar work preferably, not much bloody good in a kitchen.”

“I need a commis-chef, actually.”

“So what’s that?”

“Someone who sort of helps out the chef, so it’ll mean a bit of this and a bit of that.”

“Just help in the kitchen, I don’t have to cook anything?”

“Not really, maybe stick something in the odd oven or something, but most of the time you’ll be clearing up. I only pay five-fifty an hour, so it’s not a lot.”

“Washing up and stuff like that. Yes, I could handle that. The money, not bothered really, but that sounds good to me.”

“Really? I am surprised, but if you’re serious, come over and start on Monday,” Will said.

“Monday, okay. Look can I doss down with you until my flat is ready?”

“Um, rather not, not at the moment, the girlfriend wouldn’t be too pleased, but there’s room in the flat over the restaurant.”

“Where is that, above the bistro?”

“Yes, we’re just renovating, so it’s vacant for a few weeks.”

“Thanks old man, I appreciate it.”

“See you Monday then, bye.”

He put the phone down, returning to his computer to write a seventh note to Nicole, and sent it, then he packed, feeling better already.
 

*          *          *
 
Nicole checked her emails, finding six from Jamie. All were apologetic for ‘being such an arse’, and all were very sweet and rather pathetic. She was toying with the idea of replying, when another one came in. She read it and burst out laughing.
 
 

Nicole Disregard previous pathetic drivel from self-confessed arse. Am leaving home, and have got job in kitchen in Henley. Buying flat in Henley too. Jamie.XXX P.S. Have had hair cut, any chance of a drink?

 
 
She phoned his mobile, which he answered almost immediately.

“Jamie Calder.”

“You’re such an arse, Calder.” she told him.

“Nicole. It’s you.”

“Last time I looked. So what are you doing?”

“I’m getting a life, as you suggested.”

“Why Henley?”

“I have friends there, one’s an estate agent, and the other runs a bistro. I’m staying in the flat above the place for a while. He’s having it renovated to rent out, but it is liveable in for someone like me, and I start work there on Monday.”

“Have you really had your hair cut?”

“Yes. I think you’d approve, as my mother thinks I look like a bovver boy.”

“This I have to see,” she said, chuckling at the picture.

“Join me for a drink?”

“Oh, alright, on one condition.”

“What?”

“Marriage is not mentioned or even hinted at.”

“Agreed.”

“Okay, where?”

“Well, I’m moving out now, how about the bistro in Henley? I’ll buy you dinner.”

“I owe you for last night.”

“Look, I can be obstinate too, either you come as my guest, or I propose every other minute.”

“Okay, you win, when?”

“Eight thirty?”

“Give me directions, as I don’t know Henley at all.”

He gave her directions, telling her that it was not the type of place that leather mini skirts and sexy boots were really appropriate.
 

*          *          *
 
Jamie arrived in his Range Rover, parking in the car park behind the restaurant. He met his friend Will, who showed him up to the flat. It was a two bedroom flat, but most of it was undergoing extensive redecoration.

“I’m buying a flat through Archie, so it shouldn’t be for long.” Jamie told Will.

“Actually, you’re doing me a favour. The renovations are on hold until I can scratch together a few bob, and so it helps having someone in here.”

“Look, why don’t I do a spot of painting and stuff, in lieu of rent, and I’ll probably be better at this than in the old kitchens?” Jamie suggested.

Will considered this. He had adequate kitchen staff, but it would help him to get the flat ready. Besides, he knew the Jamie was a liability in any kitchen.

“Okay, that sounds a good idea. Look, I have to get back, dump your stuff, and pop down for a drink.”

“Ah, I’ve a girlfriend popping round, any chance of a table?”

“That’s not a problem for paying clients,” Will told him with a grin.

“Thanks. I’d hate for her to turn up and then find there is no table.”

Will frowned. “Who’s the girl, anyone I know?”

“Doubt it, she’s a Canadian model.”

“Really? I can’t wait.”

Will went back to his business, and Jamie unpacked his car, including his laptop. It was quite a nice little flat, and Jamie put everything in the bedroom, as it was the only room free of dustsheets and paint brushes.

He was in the bar when he saw the motorcycle arrive. Nicole rode it into the car park, stopping next to his Range Rover. She smiled at the number plate JAM 1 E. She didn’t use her police training to work out whose it was.

She took her helmet off, rearranging her long hair in her mirror. She then took off her proper motorcycle boots, placing them in her pannier with her leather jacket. Then she slipped her feet into a pair of elegant high-heeled, black shoes. She was wearing a black top with a pair of very chic black leather trousers. She took out her small evening bag from the pannier and walked to the door of the bistro. Jamie was at the door before she got there.

He looked at her and smiled.

“You look fabulous.” he said.

“Thanks, I like the hair,” she said, running her long slender fingers across his hair.

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he said, bowing low.

“You are such an arse, Jamie,” she said, laughing at him, but she noticed a subtle change in him.

He held out his arm, so she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow as he led her into the bistro.

A tall man, of a similar age to Jamie, was just showing another couple to a table, and he looked up as Jamie and Nicole entered the bar.

He grinned and came over, staring with unconcealed admiration at Nicole.

“Well, hello. Jamie, you are a dark horse. Hi, I’m Will. This is my humble establishment. You are the delectable Canadian model that Jamie has been telling me all about?”

Nicole looked at Jamie, who blushed very deeply.

“Hi, I’m Nicole. I’m afraid that Jamie is the master of exaggeration. I modelled once, for nail varnish, but I’m now a lion tamer with a Hungarian Circus.”

Will burst out laughing, taking her by the hand and squeezing it.

“I’m so pleased to meet someone with a sense of humour. Most people in Henley are senile from the neck up, or have had a personality bypass.”

“That’s hardly fair,” she said.

“I know. But I do like a girl with a sense of humour and an amazing body,” Will said.

“I just love English men, you are so respectful and subtle with your compliments,” she said, and Will laughed.

“Jamie, you old dog, if you let this one go, I’ll be right behind you. Have a lovely evening; I’ve put you at table two, over there.” Will pointed and left them to greet some more customers.

“Would you like a drink?” Jamie asked as they sat at the bar on the tall stools.

“If we are having dinner, I ought not drink too much, as it’s a long ride home.”

“Oh, I was forgetting. How far have you come?”

“Newbury.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you lived that far away. I would have suggested somewhere closer.”

“That’s okay. I’m moving tomorrow as I’m renting a flat in Reading, close to where I hope to work.”

“Oh, right. Shall we get a bottle of wine then?”

“That sounds good.”

“Red or white?”

“I don’t mind, either is fine.”

“Let’s see what we are going to eat, and then we can decide what wine to have.”

He passed her a menu, and she was staggered at the prices.

“Jamie, this is expensive,” she said, quietly.

“Is it? Don’t worry, it’s on me,” he said.

She shook her head, as he had no concept of how most people lived.

They selected their starters and main courses, and a waiter took their order. Jamie ordered a bottle of red wine.

They sat and chatted, and Nicole felt that the simple act of rebellion had freed Jamie of a lot of baggage. He was more relaxed, less vague and seemed more confident. He was actually much better company, so Nicole warmed to him. He made her laugh, as she relaxed too.

The waiter announced that their starters were ready, so Jamie took her arm as they went to the table. She liked the touch, and allowed him to seat her before he sat down himself. He actually had very good, old-fashioned manners, and he treated Nicole like a lady for the first time in her life.

The food was excellent, but she kept hearing Rachel telling her to take smaller mouthfuls and eat slower. She was careful to only drink two glasses of wine, and even they affected her slightly. She felt sort of warm and fuzzy, and most of it was due to her feeling very happy.

They made the meal last a long time, and she was actually pleased that he was no longer going to work in the kitchens, but was a decorator instead. They sat over a cup of coffee, and she glanced round. There were few people left, so Will came over, pulling a chair to their table.

“Well, was the meal okay?”

“It was lovely, thanks,” she replied.

“Good. I do like it when beautiful people frequent this place. It makes it look trendy and fashionable,” Will said.

“Then you had better find some beautiful people, coz there are only us ugly folks,” she said and Will laughed.

“Actually, joking aside, and it pains me to say it, but you two make a very good looking couple,” Will said, quite seriously.

Jamie looked at Nicole and simply smiled, so she had to return it.

“So, Nicole, how long are you over here for?”

“Good, I hope,” she said, and found herself looking straight into Jamie’s eyes. He blushed and broke eye contact. She hadn’t meant there to be a message there, or had she?

“Splendid. Now, I don’t believe that you’re a lion tamer, so what do you do?”

“I’m an expert barmaid, specialising in exotic cocktails,” she said.

“You are joking?”

“No, but I do other things as well. I’ve not been here that long, and Jamie was right, I’m a model, but I’m looking for the right opportunities, so in the meantime I’ll have to work in a bar.”

“I’ll give you a job,” Will said, and she laughed.

“No, seriously, I will give you a job.”

“Can I come back to you? The job I am going for pays  £200 a night if the tips are good.”

“Ah, out manoeuvred by the cash flow situation. The offer still stands, but I can’t afford those rates,” Will said.

He was called away to sort out another customer’s bill, and Jamie took her hand across the table.

“Nicole. Thanks for coming. This has been really good. And I am really sorry about yesterday.”

“I forgive you. Thanks for a lovely meal,” she said, squeezing his hand.

She saw it was half past eleven.

“I must go, but I’ve really enjoyed tonight. I prefer the new Jamie. Thanks,” she said, standing up. He walked with her to the bike. She took off her shoes, putting them in her pannier and pulling on her boots. She put on her jacket and picked up her helmet. He was standing looking rather forlorn. She put her helmet on the saddle and walked over to him. She reached up, took his head in her hands and pulled his head down towards her. She kissed him on the lips, as his arms encircled her, drawing her close.

Her tongue darted into his mouth, to which he reciprocated, and the kiss went on. Finally, she broke off, smiling an enigmatic smile.

“Goodnight Jamie. Thanks.”

She pulled on her helmet, swung her leg over the bike and started the engine. She switched on the lights, kicking in the rest, and selecting a gear. With a wave, she rode off into the night, and Jamie sighed. Now he was certain she would marry him.

Nicole’s heart raced for most of the way home. She had never set out to kiss him, and yet it seemed so natural and so right. But most of all, she had made the first move and had thoroughly enjoyed it. In her mind, there was a conflict of emotions, guilt, sorrow, anger and affection.

She felt guilty for feeling as she did, knowing that it was probably wrong. She felt sorrow that she would never be able to see the relationship through any further, which led her to the anger she felt towards her physical gender. Lastly, she knew that she felt quite deep affection towards Jamie, which started the whole cycle off again.

She went to bed that night, excited about actually getting to do the job, but sad that she couldn’t be the free person she wanted to be. She cried herself to sleep.

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UK POLICE RANKS

The United Kingdom is divided into three Police Regions:

England & Wales (including the Channel Islands) Scotland Northern Ireland)

There are about 50 police forces in the whole country, and the ranks the same across the whole of the three regions. The only difference is at the top levels, as depicted below.

All other Forces	Metropolitan Police (London) & City of London Police	US Equivalent (More or less.)
-	Commissioner1	» «
-	Deputy Commissioner1	» «
Chief Constable	Assistant Commissioner1	Ranks vary according to
Deputy Chief Constable	Deputy Assistant Commissioner	State & type of dept.
Assistant Chief Constable	Commander (MET)	» «
Chief Superintendent	Chief Superintendent	» «
Superintendent	Superintendent	» «
Chief Inspector	Chief Inspector	Captain
Inspector	Inspector	Lieutenant
Sergeant	Sergeant	Sergeant
Constable	Constable	Patrol Officer

Of the two forces mentioned in this work, the Metropolitan Police and Thames Valley Police, there are now 35,000 officers in the London Metropolitan Police, and 4,000 in the Thames Valley Police.

The Metropolitan Police operates within the Greater London Area, with the exception of the one square mile that is the City of London, which has its own small but fiercely independent force.

The Thames Valley Police covers the area to the west of London, covering the counties of Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire. This police area has more miles of Motorway than any other force in the UK, covering the towns and cities of Oxford, Reading, Slough, Maidenhead, Windsor, Newbury, Aylesbury, Amersham, High Wycombe, Milton Keynes, Banbury, Bicester, Abingdon, Didcot, and many more.

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^[1] For UK Police ranks, see appendix A

To Be Continued...