Penelope awoke on Saturday morning and after she had showered and recovered enough from her hangover she sent Brin Longmire a text to which she got no response. She had a busy day packing up and moving into her new apartment so she didn’t really care that he didn’t respond. She moved her stuff into her pokey little apartment which was located in one of the least salubrious areas of the city. She was just happy to be an appointed police officer and to be able to live her life as she wanted, free of the shackles of the Police Academy.

After she had moved her meagre possessions into her new digs she sent another text to Brin to see if their Saturday night date was still on but again she got no reply. She called him twice but he didn’t answer and she started to think that her fear that Brin just wanted a one night stand might ring true.

She had plenty to do and of course all of the tailoring services accredited to the Balwyn City Police Department wanted nothing to with her so she bought a second hand sewing machine and set about tailoring her uniforms to fit, which took up most of her time over the weekend.

She unpicked and re-sewed her blouses so that they fitted her unique frame and her size B breasts and did the same with the two jackets she had been issued. The pants presented a problem because she would have to take them apart to put a lining in them and she decided to just peg and crutch them so they fitted her better; she would continue to wear pantyhose underneath them to combat the itchy fabric until she could buy a better quality garment. She worked on her skirts, lifting the hems, shaping them to fit and putting in a kick pleat as she had seen other female police officers do. When she finished she had a decent array of uniforms that fitted her very nicely.

Of course being in Texas, the Balwyn PD was very pedantic about their choice of firearms. Each new police officer was issued with their service sidearm, a Smith and Wesson M&P40 .40 calibre and also entitled to an off duty weapon they could carry concealed. Penelope went to the accredited gun store, showed the gunsmith her credentials and took her time selecting her personal weapon. She took a Glock 27 .40 calibre subcompact to the indoor range at the back of the store and after putting fifty rounds downrange she decided that it would be the perfect weapon for her. It used the same ammunition as her service weapon which was handy.

Saturday night she called her mother and then Kyle and told them that she had graduated and was now a police officer in the Balwyn City Police Department but neither seemed particularly interested. Both of them implored her to return to Berkeley California so she clipped the conversations short, advising both of them that she had chosen the career that she intended to pursue at this stage of her life.

All of Sunday was taken up with sewing and trying to make her apartment liveable and having received no responses from Brin to either her text messages or telephone calls she gave up on him. She concentrated on presenting herself at Police Plaza on Monday as a professional and fully trained Police Officer, willing to learn on the job and be the best she could be. She put Brin Longmire in the ‘tranny chaser’ box, she was disappointed but not surprised. She knew that her own behaviour was probably a contributor to the situation, behave like a slut and get treated like a slut.

With her uniforms tailored, her weapons issued and feeling exhilarated at being free of the Academy she finally felt like a real police officer, she slept very soundly on Sunday night looking forward to starting her new career.

Penelope turned up at Police Plaza on Monday morning ready to serve and protect, the motto drilled into the cadets at the Police Academy. She was nervous but excited, wearing her blue pants and jacket with her sliver shield pinned to her chest. Police Officers were only allowed to relax their jackets when it got too hot or if they were in the confines of Police Plaza or a precinct house and then they pinned their shields to their belts on the top of their pants or skirts if they were female. The badges were too heavy to pin on their shirts and blouses.

All of the graduating class had been directed to report to the morning shift rollcall brief to receive their assignments. Most of them would be assigned to a more experienced police officer and conduct patrol and response duties. Penelope went to use the ladies before the brief and was not surprised to find that the doors to toilets which were marked ‘Gentlemen’ and ‘Ladies’ had been defaced. The Ladies sign had a crude drawing of a woman sporting an erect penis and the word ‘Trannies’ written on a piece of paper taped to it. She snatched it off and threw it in the bin and used the facilities.

She followed the signs to the briefing room or ‘squad room’ as police officers called it and found the place packed with men and women dressed in blue. She was shocked to see that a pull-down screen at the front of the room had a pornographic movie projected on it. On closer inspection she realised that she and Brin Longmire were the stars of the movie.

“Asshole” she hissed under her breath.

She hadn’t noticed that Brin had turned on the camera of his phone and trained it on the bed when he had put it on the nightstand in her room. She decided that being demure and submissive was not a course of action to take this time. She would put Brin Longmire back in his box.

Penelope strode to the front of the squad room and clicked the laptop, freezing the frame so that Brin Longmire was mid-stroke fucking her in the ass. She put her face right up to the screen and studied it for a beat and turned to the assembled police officers.

“Hey you know they say the camera adds on ten pounds; funny how in your case it didn’t make your tiny wiener look any bigger at all Brin,” she said.

“I think a girl’s got a right to something that comes close to satisfying her; isn’t that right ladies?” she held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

The squad room burst out laughing while Brin Longmire blushed and lowered his head in shame.

“Maybe that’s why your wife is so pissed off at you Brin; you can’t bring home the meat!” a bon-vivant announced.

“So you’ve been putting a hotdog in the front of your PT shorts all these years to make yourself look bigger? Is that why you only ever want to fuck with the lights out?” a female officer joked from the back of the room.

Brin seethed with anger and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Penelope switched off the projector and the laptop, and made her way to the back of the squad room, happy that she had turned the situation around on Brin. All of the minorities were situated at the rear of the squad room; the pecking order was still in play outside of the Academy.

The Duty Sargent called roll and gave a brief on wants and warrants, local crime patterns, and finally issued duty assignments. Every officer got paired up except her.

“Bishop; evidence room,” he barked and turned to leave.

Penelope sprang forward and caught the Sargent on the shoulder.

“Hey! How am I supposed to complete my training as a police officer if I don’t get out on patrol?” she implored him.

“Bishop, I just issue duty assignments; I don’t write them, see the Lieutenant,” he replied.

He leaned in very close and whispered in her ear.

“If you don’t like the evidence room you can always come to my office and suck my dick. It’s bigger than Longmire’s,” he grinned.

Penelope blushed.

“And go home at lunchtime and change; you’re in the wrong uniform,” he growled.

Penelope found the evidence room. There was a Perspex window with a large slot for accepting and issuing evidence, beside it was a door fitted with a security lock. She knocked on the door and it was opened by an old fat policeman whose food-stained shirt was bursting at the buttons.

“Oh it’s you, they told me you’d be working for me,” he bit into a sandwich and opened the door to let her in.

“That’s your work station there,” he pointed with his sandwich.

“They taught you how to log evidence at the Academy right? Well make a start on that,” he waved at a huge accumulation of evidence bags piled on her desk and beside it on the floor.

“I’m Penelope Bishop,” she held out her hand trying to be civil.

“I know what you are. Get started, those bags won’t log themselves,” the man dropped his bulk into his saggy chair and concentrated on eating his sandwich which he was washing down with a litre of Coke.

Penelope soon came to realise that officer Tony Abbot was the laziest man on the force. He worked in the evidence room because he was too unfit for patrol duties and no one would partner with him. He was also a drunk who kept a pint of cheap liquor in his desk which he usually started drinking at lunch. Besides eating and drinking, his other favourite pastime was watching porn on his desktop computer. He deliberately didn’t cover the screen or turn down the volume, even when she asked him to do so. He was fast approaching retirement age and was only hanging on to maximise his pension.

During the lunch break she drove home in her Honda to change. She removed her jacket, kicked off her shoes, took off her pants and shucked out of her black pantyhose and replaced them with regulation smoky grey pantyhose; being fifteen denier they were a lot sheerer than the black ones she wore under her pants. She smoothed them up her legs, admiring the feel of the gossamer fabric on her toned legs. She put on her skirt and smoothed it out. It fitted her well, the hem was much shorter than regulation and showed a lot of leg; she stepped into her low-heeled dress shoes and but her jacket back on. She clipped her sidearm and to her duty belt and put it on. It was weighty having her weapon, spare ammo, an extendable baton, capsicum spray, and police radio attached to it.

Technology had come along way and the police radio, or PRs as the cops referred to them, was lightweight and state of the art, it was encrypted and connected to an earpiece by Bluetooth. It was also linked the tablet inside the officer’s allocated vehicle. The PR had a GPS tracker incorporated and could send voice and data. She was required to wear the PR whenever she was on duty and not in the stationhouse. She would take off her duty belt when she went back in the evidence room and hang it on a peg beside Tony Abbot’s duty belt, whose weapon she noted was grimy and most likely had not been unholstered for months. She could also take off her jacket and clip her shield to her belt.

She made quite the impression when she came back into Police Plaza; she confidently walked down the corridor to Evidence turning heads as she went.

Now that she was wearing a skirt, Tony Abbot found a new pastime. All of the evidence had to be boxed and stowed once it had been bar-scanned, checked for tampering and chain of custody and had a crime number assigned to it. The evidence box was assigned the same crime number and the computer told the operator precisely where on which shelf to put it among the labyrinth of shelving they called the ‘stacks’. Tony Abbot reprogrammed the computer to assign most of the boxes to the top shelf which meant Penelope had to climb up the wheeled ladder about ten feet to stow the boxes.

It was a two person job and Tony would stand under the ladder looking up her skirt while handing her the boxes. She once even caught him with his hand down his pants while he gawked at her underwear.

There was one bonus to working in the evidence room; Tony Abbot usually fell asleep around two in the afternoon, earlier sometimes depending on when he hit the bottle, and that left her free to check the evidence relating to her father’s murder. It took her about two months to become completely familiar with the evidence logging software and confident enough that she could search for evidence without leaving any trace of her having done so.

Penelope went into the stacks of shelving and laid out some cleaning products and wipes on the table; it was to be her excuse for being back there if caught. Then she logged in and found the crime number assigned to Charlie Bishop’s murder and the location of the evidence pack into the stacks. She climbed the ladder and took down the evidence box assigned to his crime number. There evidence bags assigned to the case consisted mainly of spent cartridge cases, crime scene photographs and forensic material such as fibres, prints, and some of the his clothing.

She choked when she saw his uniform shirt soaked in dried blood but she was more interested in the red velvet bag that she had seen in the photographs left under her pillow. She squeezed the evidence bag containing the red velvet bag and was almost certain that it was empty. But she decided to open it anyway. She ripped open the plastic evidence bag open with her teeth and extracted the red velvet bag and pulled on the drawstring. It appeared to be empty but on further inspection she felt a miniscule bump in the bottom right corner of the bag.

Penelope reached in and dragged out a fragment of stone with her fingernail; it glowed a dull red. The put the red fragment into a small ziplock bag and tucked it into her pocket. She lay out everything in the evidence box and took photographs of everything with her phone. Next came the tricky part; she put the red velvet bag into another evidence bag and sealed it and then went out front to her desk. Tony Abbot sat comatose in his chair with his head tilted back snoring and she carefully sat down and scanned the barcode on the evidence bag, replacing the evidence bag number in the online evidence log. She went back out into the storage room and did her best to return all of the evidence bags back into the box in the same order that she could best recall and then climbed the ladder and returned the evidence box to its assigned place.

“Whatcha doing up there ‘legs’?” it was Tony’s demeaning nickname for her.

Penelope was shocked and nearly fell off the ladder. She recovered the best way she knew how.

“I was going to call out to out to you Tony; can you pass me up the spray and wipe, some of these shelves are really dusty,” she smiled down at him.

It was a thin alibi; Balwyn PD hired civilian cleaners and those who had to clean in sensitive areas of building were security cleared to do so but no one wanted to wipe down acres of shelving. Besides it gave Tony the ideal opportunity to look up Penelope’s skirt. She might be a tranny but those legs clad in sheer grey nylons and that ass encased in those pretty satin panties were a delight to behold.

Tony passed the cleaning products up to Penelope and she deliberately stepped out and put a foot on one shelf to balance herself which caused her skirt to open wide so that Tony could enjoy the view. He lost any interest in why his partner was amongst the stacks by herself . Instead he spent a leisurely half hour gazing up Penelope’s skirt until he couldn’t take it anymore. Then he raced back to his computer to bring up some tranny porn and opened his desk to extract the little nylon footlet that he put over his cock when he masturbated. Penelope knew about it and called it ‘crusty the sock’.

“Just keep cleaning back there Bishop; I’ll call you when I need you,” Tony called out as he extracted his erect cock from his pants.

She was already down from the ladder, leaning back against the shelving smiling to herself.

“Men! They are so fucking easy,” she whispered to herself.

Penelope had a different moral code than most people. She was not shy about sex and she liked it, as had been evidenced in her willingness to trade blowjobs with boys she liked when she was younger and then her outright slatternish behaviour when she had almost demanded that Kyle Beamish and Brin Longmire fuck her. She was not afraid or disgusted by using sex as a means to get her way so long as she enjoyed it. She didn’t particularly like that fat slug Tony Abbot looking up her skirt while she performed for him on the ladder, but it did the job of distracting him.

In fact Penelope didn’t think of herself in terms of being homosexual, heterosexual, or bisexual. She was of course transgender, but her sexual peccadillos varied to the extreme. She just thought of herself as sexual.

Which was proven not long after she had moved into her apartment. At first she was preoccupied with all the hassles that go with moving into a new abode, changing her mailing address, selecting an Internet provider, getting her name on the utilities, decorating the place, generally making a home for herself. She spent a lot of time researching her father’s murder, as much as she could from open sources. But she soon craved company.

She had received plenty of offers of casual sex from some of the other police officers; especially those who had seen the video of her fucking with Brin Longmire, but even though some of then were handsome she didn’t trust them after the incident with Brin. Besides, she might not be the most moral person she was not going to let some policeman ‘hate fuck’ her. They might want to get into her pants but those assholes still treated her like shit at work.

One of the few exceptions was Molly Harper. She renewed her childhood friendship with Molly and they became drinking buddies. They stayed away from the Longhorn and Molly took her to the few gay bars, tranny bars and other eclectic drinking holes in Balwyn that she knew of, usually on Friday and Saturday nights.

One night she took Penelope to a dyke bar called The Tunnel which was a different experience for Penelope. She found that she quite liked being a in a ‘women-only’ bar, away from leering men who usually baulked when they discovered that she was trans. Not that she didn’t receive more than a few appreciative glances in The Tunnel. As usual she was dressed ultra-femme, short black leather skirt, mauve satin blouse worn open to show her breasts, sheer tan pantyhose and shiny black ‘fuck-me’ pumps. Her long blonde hair was teased out, her makeup heavy and her jewellery cheap and excessive; she liked to dress this way when they went bar-hopping.

She sat beside Molly who was dressed in her usual weekend attire consisting of jeans, Western shirt and cowboy boots. She was a big girl but carried her weight well; most of it concentrated in her large bosom and booty-butt, and she made the most of her dark wavy hair which framed a face that was pretty with only a little improvement from cosmetics. They were drinking beer with JD chasers; both of them liked to drink, sometimes to excess and both were well in the bag again tonight.

An attractive woman wearing an elegant tailored white pantsuit complete with a trilby hat approached. Her makeup was carefully applied, her shoulder-length red hair had been straightened and dyed with deeper red highlights, she appeared to be wearing spike-heeled Jimmy Choo’s. She exuded confidence, glamour and refinement and a cloud of expensive perfume.

“You always go for the lipstick lezzies don’t you Harper?” the woman sidled between them, smiling salaciously.

“Penelope is my friend,” Molly grinned back at her.

“With benefits?” the woman’s grin widened.

“You would be surprised what benefits Penelope is endowed with; but why don’t you ask her yourself Gillian?” Molly said sarcastically.

“Penelope Bishop meet Gillian Wells, my good friend and one time lover,” Molly made the introductions and Gillian turned to Penelope and leaned in and kissed her cheek which Penelope found a little forward.

“Oh much more than ‘one time’, Molly,” Gillian slid her hand along Molly’s thigh.

“You know what I mean Gillian,” Molly countered and removed Gillian’s hand.

Gillian feigned pouting in a childish way, her bright-red lipsticked lips puckered.

“We had a bad breakup but we are friends now, aren’t we diddums?” she said to Molly, then turned to Penelope and placed a hand on her thigh.

“Be careful that she doesn’t snag your nylons with her nails; she likes to get her talons into people,” Molly countered.

“Come on Molly, we are friends who understand our little back and forth repartee but I don’t want to scare off this delightful creature,” Gillian drew lazy circles with her finger on Penelope’s thigh causing her sheer nylons to sheen under the coloured lights.

“I do like a girly girl,” Gillian beamed at Penelope as a cocktail appeared in front of her apparently without bidding.

Gillian picked up her cocktail and sucked on the straw while her other hand continued to draw circles on Penelope’s thigh.

“Well I am a girly girl but then I’m not,” Penelope smiled back.

Gillian looked puzzled and shook her head, unsure of Penelope’s meaning.

Penelope leaned in and whispered something drowned out by the unce, unce, unce, of the disco beat.

A grin grew on Gillian’s face and her eyes sparkled with delight.

“Oh how wonderfully decadent! Molly has a girlfriend with dick! The best of both worlds!” she clapped her hands together like an excited toddler.

“She’s my friend, not my girlfriend!” Molly snapped back at her.

“Well in that case can I play with her? I’ve never been with one but I’ve always wanted to try,” Gillian’s hand went back to Penelope’s thigh, this time higher.

“Don’t treat her like she’s a piece of meat! She’s a person not a plaything and she’s sitting right there so ask her not me!” Molly was genuinely angry now.

Gillian turned to Penelope and was about to speak when Penelope put out a finger and placed it against Gillian’s lips to silence her.

“Yes I am a person; but I have always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman. So take me home and make me your plaything, just for tonight” Penelope surprised them all by leaning in and kissing Gillian passionately.

“Is that ok Molly?” Penelope asked.

“Hey sugar-tits, I’m half in the bag and ready to go to sleep. If you fancy your chances with this reptile go ahead, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Molly eased herself off her stool.

“Call me in the morning; I want to make sure Gillian hasn’t eaten you alive,” Molly dropped some notes on the bar and turned to leave.

“Oh honey don’t be jealous; I’m going to eat her and she’s going to eat me… all night long,” Gillian called after her.

Molly raised her middle finger in reply as she walked out the door.

“Just you and me sugar-tits,” Gillian grinned.

“Don’t call me that, Molly can get away with it but I don’t know you well enough,” Penelope removed Gillian’s hand from her thigh.

“Oh you will soon honey; you will soon,” she put out her hand and Penelope took it.

Gillian’s apartment was opulent. Not that Penelope saw much of it because Gillian led her straight to the bedroom. Kissing Gillian was a new and sensuous experience for Penelope. Gillian felt so feminine and tender in her arms, their breasts pressing together, their lipstick smearing, and their perfume mingling; it felt both exotic and erotic. Gillian, who was used to seducing young women, enjoyed the difference. Penelope felt and tasted just like any other woman she had been with until Penelope released her gaff and she felt Penelope’s hard cock pressing against her.

“Wow! This is so wonderful! You are so sweet and feminine but that bulge you’re pressing against me is so very different but exciting,” Gillian reached under Penelope’s skirt and squeezed her cock through her panties.

Penelope responded by undressing Gillian down to her underwear. Penelope freed Gillian of her jacket and blouse but insisted that she step back into her Jimmy Choo’s so that they were the same height. She was surprised to find that Gillian wore pantyhose under her suit pants but it was likely she wore them for the same reasons that Penelope did, to help the trouser fabric slide easily over her legs. She thought Gillian looked very sexy dressed only in panties, bra, pantyhose and high heels.

Gillian was not so subtle undressing Penelope and ripped off her skirt and blouse leaving her dressed identically. Now that they were down to their underwear, they could begin to explore each other starting with their bosoms. They sat on the bed and unclasped each other’s bras, freeing their breasts. They stroked each other’s globes, Gillian’s being quite pendulous compared to Penelope’s pert, implanted, B-cups. Their nipples became erect like berries and they toyed with the nubbins with the tips of their fingers, gently caressing the engorged buds. They kissed whilst engaging in breast-play and it was Penelope who first broke the kiss so that she could suckle Gillian’s nipples.

Penelope’s first time sucking and nipping at another woman’s breast was a unique experience but she just imitated how she liked her own breasts to be fondled and suckled, and soon had Gillian mewing with her head thrown back in delight. She eased Gillian down on the bed and lay on top of her, she continued to attend to Gillian’s breasts whilst rubbing her legs along Gillian’s; the hissing of their nylons joined the sounds of Gillian’s soft languid sighs.

Gillian pulled Penelope on top of her and lifted her face from her breasts so they could continue to kiss, she opened her legs and encouraged Penelope to press her groin against her mound. Penelope felt her hard penis pressing against Gillian’s pliant sex very erotic and exciting; she could feel the dewy warmth of Gillian’s vulva through the layers of satin and silk. Penelope pressed harder against Gillian’s sex and then got to her knees and impatiently tore off her panties and eased Gillian’s down her legs and over her Jimmy Choo’s.

See saw the gleaming wetness in the crotch of Gillian’s sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose and was intrigued by the sight of her vaginal petals and scent of her secretions. Penelope had seen plenty of vagina’s in porn movies, but this was the first time that she had been up close and personal with one.

“Oh course! You’ve never been with a woman before have you?” Gillian smiled up at Penelope and placed a finger on her labia.

Penelope shook her head and continued to stare at Gillian’s sex, fascinated by it.

“So what do you think of your first encounter with a cunt?” Gillian giggled.

“I’ll let you know after I’ve tasted it,” Penelope smiled lewdly and lowered her face into Gillian’s groin.

She pressed her lips to the gossamer fabric of Gillian’s pantyhose and licked Gillian’s labia. Gillian opened her legs wider, gripped Penelope by her hair and pushed her face harder into her groin as she writhed with pleasure. Penelope snagged her teeth into Gillian’s pantyhose and tore out the crotch, then began to lick her cunt in earnest.

“Oh my god!” Gillian cried as Penelope’s tongue slipped inside the folds of her sex and found her clitoris.

Penelope was enjoying exploring Gillian’s vagina, the puffy outer lips, she pink fleshy labia and the little hooded kernel of her clitoris which she soon discovered was highly sensitive. She soon came to realise that she needed to treat the little joy-spot with tenderness and gently lapped at it while Gillian entangled her hands in her hair and guided her mouth to where she wanted it most.

“Turn around honey and kneel over me; let me return the favour,” Gillian begged and Penelope was more than willing to comply.

Penelope scooted around so that they were in the sixty-nine position, her penis sheathed in her translucent pantyhose. Gillian had encountered penises before she realised she was lesbian and knew how to manipulate them. She raised her head off the pillows and lapped at Penelope’s nylon-sheathed erection, working her tongue around the corona of the glans and then using the tip of her tongue on Penelope’s fraenulum.

It was Penelope’s turn to gasp and then she returned to working her tongue on Gillian’s sex, lapping up her vaginal secretions which she found to be both delectable and enticing. Gillian pressed a long, red, manicured nail into the web of glossy pantyhose material encasing Penelope's scrotum and tore a hole just big enough to ease Penelope’s erect penis through and then she took the engorged flesh in her mouth and began to suckle it.

Gillian was more than happy to suck on Penelope’s turgid phallus but did not want her scrotum dangling in her face so the present compromise was perfect. This was ingeminated by Penelope's moans of delight at the delightful sensations of having Gillian suck her hard cock whilst her sensitive scrotum was shrouded in her pantyhose. Her increase in sexual delectation was repaid as Penelope lapped harder at Gillian's clitoris and inserted two fingers into her vaginal sheath.

Both women were driving each other wild as they respectively enjoyed cunnilingus and fellatio, but they were both cognisant that the ultimate carnal gratification awaited; the reason Gillian wanted Penelope and she wanted Gillian. It was something almost taboo to them both but something they both relished the anticipation of consummating. Simultaneously they sensed that now was the time and Penelope extracted herself from Gillian briefly to reverse her position so that she lay between her legs.

Penelope kissed Gillian and explored her mouth; Gillian could taste herself on Penelope’s breath. Their breasts squished together, their nipples engorged and tender, they gasped into each other’s mouths as they writhed and pressed their bodies together.

“Honey I want this so much; do you?” Gillian looked up into Penelope’s beautiful green eyes.

Penelope smiled down at her lover and nodded.

Gillian took Penelope’s throbbing phallus in her hand and guided it into the folds of her sex. Penelope gasped as for the first time in her life she experienced her penis sliding into a tight, slick, warm, tunnel. She drove herself all the way inside Gillian delighting in the sensation of her flesh gripping her swollen member. Gillian revelled in the feel of the hard but pliant penis invading her tight hole; she had on countless occasions experienced a dildo or a vibrator penetrating her but the feel of this delightful creature’s member inside her was exquisite.

“Fuck me darling,” Gillian gasped and locked her legs around Penelope to encourage her.

They were both amazed by the juxtaposition of their femininity and Penelope’s virile penis. The feel of their sheer nylons rubbing against their bodies, the taste and texture of their makeup and perfume, their soft delicate flesh; all so womanly, obverse to Penelope’s hard cock droving itself in and out of Gillian’s tight cunt.

Penelope relished the feeling of her cock, encased by Gillian’s tight vagina, Gillian’s flesh gripped her hard penis eliciting pleasurable responses from her glans and shaft, and she felt her orgasm approaching. She felt Gillian rising up to meet her thrusts and ground her pubis against Gillian’s clitoris to increase her pleasure.

“I coming honey,” Penelope cried.

“Come in me! Fuck me! Fill me with your cream baby,” Gillian bucked beneath her as her own climax approached.

They kissed each other passionately as they ground together, their orgasms exploding, Penelope’s cock convulsing and ejaculating her hot load deep inside Gillian who pressed her vulva hard against Penelope’s groin to elicit and amplify her own wondrous sexual pinnacle. Penelope felt Gillian’s cunt vacillate and milk her of her seed.

They finally lay spent, Penelope on top of Gillian; a sweaty clump of gasping flesh, torn pantyhose, high heels, dishevelled hair and ruined makeup.

Penelope finally regained enough energy to attempt to extract herself but Gillian wrapped her arms and legs around her and locked her to her body.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Gillian growled in Penelope’s ear.

Penelope smiled down at her and shrugged.

“You’re not goin anywhere until you get that thing hard and do that to me again,” Gillian raised her head off the pillows and opened her lipstick-smeared mouth invitingly.

Penelope lowered her face to meet her lips, a lascivious smile forming.

Penelope called Molly mid-morning the next day.

“So you’re still breathing?” Molly greeted her.

“Yes,” Penelope was lying on her own bed, freshly showered and delightfully bruised in all the right places.

“Gillian said she said she was going to eat you alive,” Molly was sitting in a coffee shop admiring the tight ass on a cute waitress wearing a black micro-miniskirt.

“Well let’s just say we ate each other alive,” Penelope put a finger to her bruised lips.

“Bitch!” Molly quipped and broke the connection; she was imagining what might be under that little micro-miniskirt and decided that she’d try to find out.

Working in the evidence room had its advantages, Penelope had the run of Police Plaza and she was able to gain access to various files and databases that she used to research the incident involving the death of her father.

Balwyn was a cop town but even so, it was apparent that the crime rate was well below the state and national averages and the clean up rate was even better. There appeared to be no apparent reason to support the statistics. Looking at the size of the city, the population and demographic of Balwyn and the size and operation of the police department, there was no rationale for the anomaly.

The Mayor of Balwyn , the State Legislators, and the even the Governor of Texas were proud of the city’s crime statistics and had no interest in investigating any irregularities, it was not in their interest.

After months of research, Penelope concluded that the reason for the crime statistics were either a genuine ‘blip’ in statistics or police corruption and she didn’t believe in blips.

A few weeks after starting in the evidence room she finished work and came out to her car to find an envelope under one of the windshield wipers. She expected it to be the usual humiliating object that she often found taped to her locker or in any of her personal belongings that she left unattended. So far she had found pornography, with her face photo-shopped onto the body of one of the performers, used condoms, used tampons and a plethora of other disgusting items. She was going to throw the envelope away but then she recognised the writing written in the familiar blue sharpie .

She looked around but didn’t see anyone who looked suspicious or who appeared to be unduly interested in her so she tore the envelope open. She climbed into her car and shook out the contents on the passenger seat. It was a brochure for ‘True Blue’ the Balwyn Police Department disability and pension fund. Written on the back of the pamphlet in the now familiar blue sharpie was: ‘your dad was on the board of True Blue – check it out’.

And she had. Each police officer was tithed five percent of their wages which went into True Blue to pay for their retirement pension, death benefit or invalidity payments. Serving and retired police officers could take out interest free loans from the fund which supplemented their wages to a great extent. The fund’s income from the PD was supplemented by the State on a pro-rata basis. Members had access to the fund’s online financial statement at any time but there was something fishy about the fund. Its equity far exceeded projected earnings. There was a steady stream of income from various benevolent sources; basically donations, but the attributable donors were not actually named.

After four months working at Police Plaza secretly investigating her father’s murder she was no closer to finding a motive or a suspect, but she knew that there were serious anomalies in police procedures, administration, and finances and she suspected that the Balwyn PD was rotten to the core.

Penelope had taken her skerrick of red stone from place to place and had been given alternate theories as to what it might possibly be. On the advice of a geologist she had taken it to a jeweller who advised her that it was a ruby, likely a fragment from a larger stone. This led her to believe that the red velvet bag found at her father’s crime scene had contained a collection of rubies. Why, was the obvious question.

What was her father doing behind Morganson’s Hardware and how was he connected to a bag of rubies? Was his position on True Blue and the stream of anonymous donations somehow related to his death? Was Balwyn City’s low crime rate and high clean-up rate somehow related to that. Was the PD receiving kickbacks from organised crime? More importantly; why was the investigation into her father’s murder so perfunctory and why was it now a cold case?

It seemed to her that the Balwyn PD, by exaggerating her father’s legend status and giving him a huge funeral and equally huge send off, had diverted attention away from a possible cover-up and the ineptitude of the investigation and the reluctance to pursue the inquiry into his death. Or was it even more sinister? Was someone in the Balwyn PD responsible for his death?

“Jesus Bishop!” Molly Harper bellowed when she saw the ‘crime wall’ in Penelope’s apartment.

A whole bunch of notes, statements, pamphlets, pictures, crime reports and articles cut from newspapers and magazines were pinned to the wall, joined together with strings of coloured wool. Some items had post-it notes beside them with Penelope’s observations and thoughts written on them.

“I told you that your daddy was likely hit by members of organised crime and that he was likely on the take and that the investigation had stalled but this… what is this?” Molly tried to follow the lines of coloured string but it hurt her head.

“It’s my own investigation and thoughts on his murder. I don’t have a hypothesis yet but I have a few ideas,” Penelope was proud of her extra-curricula activities.

“So you have time to do all this and fuck my ex-girlfriend?” Holly punched her playfully in the shoulder.

“Do you wanna get a drink?” Holly changed the subject.

“Does your pussycat get nose bleeds?” Penelope joked and Holly punched her harder this time.

Mayor Frank Cannon took a phone call in his office.

“The tranny slit is investigating Charlie’s murder, it’s been asking questions and accessing the case and evidence files,” Police Chief Daniel Balfour hissed.

“Fuck! I knew that freak was going to cause us grief; I was hoping she’d flunk out of the academy,” the Mayor breathed heavily.

“I warned you this would happen when you put her in the evidence room. Get her out of Police Plaza. Put her on the street where she won’t have the time or the resources to keep looking into her father’s death… or anything else that she might uncover,” the Mayor was calm.

“You know anything can happen out there; the streets can be a dangerous place,” Daniel Balfour said sinisterly.

“Don’t you fucking touch her! Things are finally quietening down but if Charlie Bishop’s progeny dies on the job so soon after him, it will spark an investigation we don’t want under any circumstances,” the Mayor growled into the phone.

“You’re getting soft Frank. You called the freak a ‘her’, so unlike you. I’ll just get it out of the fucking evidence room and onto the streets,” the Chief hung up.

Danny paced the room.

Daniel Balfour had a mole working for him keeping an eye on Penelope Bishop and anything to with Charlie Bishop’s murder investigation. It worried him that Penelope was bright and intelligent and that she had a law degree. She wouldn’t go along with the rest of the sheep. He was just thankful that he had that mole otherwise he wouldn’t know that he had the problem to deal with.

Sargent Randolph ‘Randy’ Cody had just turned thirty, he was tall, rangy, fit, tanned and handsome; a real Texan. He worked patrol duties and always had, he hated the administrative part of policework and for that reason he was one of the officers appointed to train rookies in police patrol tactics and procedures. He didn’t mind working with rookies because be treated them like his lackeys. They did all the ‘run-go-fetch’ and paperwork for him but benefited from working with and learning from arguably the best patrol officer in the whole of the Balwyn PD.

“Jesus Christ Loo, you gotta be kidding! What the fuck did I do wrong to get this assignment?” Randy was in with his squad’s Lieutenant.

“Came down from the top Randy, so stop your grinnin’ and drop your linen, you’re riding with the hot tranny,” the Lieutenant smirked at Randy, his feet propped on the desk.

“You gotta stay off those antiquated classic movie sites Loo. By the way, is that dogshit on your shoe?” Randy quipped and turned to leave.

He made his way down to the evidence room and stood back watching Penelope Bishop through the plexiglass for a while, she was standing on a raised platform putting files onto some shelves. She was tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, slim but with curvaceous buttocks and pert breasts, and those legs! They seemed to go on forever and clad in those shimmery-sheer grey pantyhose, they were undoubtedly her best asset. She was very attractive, not ‘pretty’ as such, but even from here he could feel her allure. But… and the big but, was that she was trans. Randolph Bishop was one of the few police officers in the Balwyn PD who was not a bigoted misogynist. But he was in no way an advocate for minorities, he just didn’t care.

Another tenet that he believed in was never to shit where you eat, in other words, he didn’t fuck policewomen. He’d had plenty of offers, especially from some of the young greenhorns who had become infatuated with him while partnering with him, even though he treated them like shit. Penelope finished stacking files and moved back to her desk and Randy moved up to window.

“Hey are you Bishop?” he banged on the plexiglass which woke up Tony Abbot who was asleep at his desk.

Penelope looked up and came around her desk and stood at the counter behind the perspex.

“Yes Sargent?” she looked a little alarmed at someone calling for her by name.

“You gonna keep slacking off in here Bishop, or you gonna do some real policework? Be at rollcall tomorrow and make sure you’re dressed in the correct uniform, the streets ain’t the place for a skirt and those heels,” Randy turned to leave.

Penelope was at once confused and excited.

“Hey, Sargent, can you tell me what this is about?” she called after him.

“See you tomorrow Bishop, don’t be late,” was all he replied over his shoulder.

Penelope was glad to be dressed in her street blues again although she still hadn’t found a tailor who would line her pants so she still wore pantyhose underneath them to stop them itching. She would just have to take them out of town to get them lined or more likely get a couple pairs of pants made for her from scratch.

She arrived at rollcall and was pleasantly surprised to see there were no transphobic drawings, videos, or signs anywhere that she could see. All of the eyes turned to look at her when she walked in and she heard a few of the officers whisper and a couple of the new academy graduates even pointed at her. She realised then that she was already well behind her classmates who were close to being fully-accredited police officers.

“Hey Bishop; when we going on another date?” Brin Longmire cat-called from the front of the room surrounded by his clique.

“You put any meat on that bone yet Longmire? Last time we went out I ended up breaking my dildo after you left, trying to satisfy myself,” Penelope called back.

The squad room chuckled but no one was prepared to laugh outright or carry on the joke.

“Ok, cut that shit out!” the Duty Sargent shouted and held up his hands for silence.

He called the roll and gave a brief on wants and warrants, local crime patterns, and finally issued duty assignments. Every officer got paired up except her again until finally…

“Bishop; squad car 417 with Sargent Cody,” he called.

“Ok boys and girls, asses and elbows, get the fuck out of here and…” he left his final words hanging.

“Be careful out there,” the squad room replied in chorus.

It was an oldie but goodie from the Hill Street Blues TV show, the Duty Sargent loved those old cop shows.

Penelope waited at the back of the room until Sargent Cody made his way back to the door. He didn’t say a word and she followed him out the door and fell in beside him.

“Hey Sargent what…” she never got a chance to finish her sentence.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Bishop? You walk one pace to the side and one pace behind me. Always! Got it?” he sped up so that she dropped back into place.

“What am I? An Asian bride?” Penelope regretted saying it as soon as she had.

They were outside in the parking lot now and Randy turned on Penelope and she backed against the wall.

“Look Bishop. You might think you’re some hot shit now that you’ve been a probie for a few months but you know jack shit!” he leaned into her to make his point.

“There are a few simple rules when we’re out there that will keep us both alive ok?”

Penelope nodded.

“One: you do whatever I tell you to do – no questions.”

“Two: I always drive.”

“Three: you do all the paperwork.”

“Four: you do whatever I tell you to do – no questions.”

“That’s the same as rule one!” Penelope caught herself and immediately apologised.

“Sorry sir, I mean yes sir,” she lowered her head, a little ashamed.

“Don’t call me sir, I work for a living. You call me Sargent ok?” he turned away from her and started striding to their cruiser.

Penelope followed behind him towards the car marked distinctly with the number 417. Randy had clicked the button which opened the driver and front passenger doors. The rear passenger doors remained locked, the officers in front were protected by a metal grille from anyone they arrested and put in the back.

“You remember how to do pre-starts?” he asked passing his tablet to her.

Every car had a tablet assigned to it. A bracket for it was mounted on the dash and it was usually operated by the non-driver. It could send and receive text and data from Police Plaza and was also linked to their PRs. Before the vehicle could leave the yard, pre-start checks had to be conducted to ensure the car was roadworthy, clean and fit for purpose.

“You complete the pre-starts, I’ll get the shotgun out of the trunk and mount it,” Randy pulled the lever to open the trunk and walked around back of the car.

The interactive pre-start checklist was up on the screen and Penelope opened the front passenger door ready to start the procedure when she saw something on the front passenger seat.

It was an evidence bag filled with human faeces with a note attached: ‘Enjoy your first day on patrol’ and a smiley face. Penelope guessed that it was the work of Brin Longmire and had it confirmed when she looked up and saw him wave at her from where he was standing besides his cruiser.

“Asshole!” she said under her breath.

She was used to these childish pranks and at least the bag was still sealed. She held it between her thumb and forefinger as she took it over to the dumpster. When she came back Randy Cody was standing impatiently beside the vehicle.

“Jesus Bishop, we ain’t got all day,” he said, a little exasperated.

“I’ll complete the checklist in the car, let’s rock!” Penelope grinned at him, the practical joke and Randy’s surly attitude were not going to spoil her first day on the beat.

“Don’t you ever say that again Bishop,” Randy shook his head and started the engine.

Penelope was still grinning.

To be continued