The events that transpired at the Eta Lambda Pi frat house caused Felicity Benson to permanently take possession of Francis Benson’s psyche. Francis Benson couldn’t deal with what had happened to Felicity but Felicity had the courage to process what had happened to her and drive the shame and bitterness deep inside her subconscious. Any self-doubt about Felicity Benson’s gender had dissipated. She was and always would be Felicity Benson now and forever.

Felicity presented as female thereafter and after consulting with her doctor and psychiatrist she began the journey of gender transition. Both her doctor and psychiatrist were well aware that Francis Benson was gender dysphoric and were not really surprised when he stated that he wanted to reassign his gender.

Felicity Benson continued to perform as Felicity Goodnite on the campus theatre and began to appear at open-mic nights in comedy clubs and gay bars. She never told a soul about what had happened to her at the Eta Lambda Pi frat house and she deliberately altered her timetable and schedules to avoid the jocks who had assaulted her.

Felicity changed her major to Theatre and Performance and graduated near the top of her class. She was a brilliant performer who could act, sing, dance and had a genuine ability to deliver stand-up comedy. She had undertaken several surgeries to feminise a body that was already effete including breast augmentation but she had stalled when finally offered vaginoplasty. She decided that for now she was happy to present as a transgender woman without the need for a vagina.

Her parents knew that Felicity had struggled with gender dysphoria throughout her childhood and during puberty and were not surprised when she decided to live her life as a woman. They helped with the administrative headaches of getting her identity legally changed to female.

By the time she graduated, Felicity had supressed the memories of that fateful evening and worked hard at eking out an existence as a performer. She did the pageant scene, burlesque shows and worked the clubs and bars, singing, lip-syncing and performing biting stand-up comedy, becoming more confident and proficient as she built up a fan base that followed her online and came to her shows.

She was soon headlining at the Ride em’ Cowgirl nightclub drag show every evening and also appearing at the matinee on weekends. A stint on the television show Drag Race where she ‘sashayed away’ at the end of the ninth episode after failing miserably in the sewing challenge brought her further notoriety and she began touring.

Felicity was smart enough to know that fame can be fleeting and she saved every penny she earned until she had enough money to buy out the owner of Ride em’ Cowgirl which she renovated and turned into a swish venue with eclectic drag themed performances including a weekly beauty pageant on Sundays, a midweek talent show for up and coming drag artists, a burlesque show on Friday nights and variety shows on the other days. She often performed in the shows but her main role was as the MC.

Operating Ride em’ Cowgirl was a full-time job but Felicity still liked to tour now and then so she took on a manager and a producer who also acted as the booking agent. The manager was a man named Mitch Freeman who was an astute businessman, very experienced in operating bar-restaurants and nightclubs. The booking agent was another queen named Panti Down whose legal name was William Russell. Panti booked the performers and produced the shows.

Ten years after the most traumatic night of her life Felicity Benson was living a comfortable lifestyle, moderately famous in the drag scene and financially secure. She had all but forgotten about that fateful evening at the Eta Lambda Pi frat house when Spencer Duvall walked into Ride em’ Cowgirl.

Felicity was sitting at the bar having finished her MC duties. She recognised Spencer Duvall immediately. He was still fit and trim, wearing an expensive suit and the mischievous grin that had melted many a girl’s heart. A grin that hid a mean streak that the girl whose heart he had melted was only likely to find out about later in bed.

He sauntered confidently up to the bar and stood only two barstools away from Felicity. She was frozen in shock, unable to move or speak. She waited for a biting retort or an insult but Spencer seemed not to notice her as he ordered a drink from the bartender. He turned around, leaned his back against the bar and surveyed the nightclub.

“Not sure I’m in the right place,” he said to himself.

Panti Down was on stage dressed in a sequinned evening gown, lip-syncing to a Cher ballad, the waiters moving among the tables tending to the patrons were twinks dressed in black hotpants with red suspenders, white tank-tops and Doc Martin boots. The crowd was mostly young men dressed in gay fashion with a some accompanied by young women who were gay associates or young women out for a girl’s night out. There was also the usual sprinkling of tranny-chasers.

“What is this place?” Spencer turned to face Felicity.

At first she was unable to speak. She was paralysed and mute. But then she realised that he didn’t recognise her. Why should he? It had been over ten years since the incident and from the rumours she had heard, hers had just been one of the countless encounters where Spencer and his frat-buddies had taken their pleasure with female students either willingly, coerced or… best not to think about it.

Felicity just nodded with her chin to the neon sign behind the bar. It was a huge handmade artwork taking up the whole wall. It was a girl in a cowgirl costume consisting of a vest, skirt, bandana and belt and of course she was holding out her cowboy hat. She was straddling something but that part of the artwork was indistinct and left to the imagination of the eye of the beholder. The girl’s skirt had flicked up exposing her panties which appeared to be bulged out at the front.

“Well that leaves a lot to the imagination,” Spencer commented and raised his drink and drank it in one swallow.

“Let me buy you one,” he smiled at Felicity.

Her instinctive reflex was to run away, to leave this man to his own devices, to let him realise that he was in the wrong place and to leave. But the fact that he didn’t recognise her not only made her curious, it infuriated her. How could he not remember defiling her? Was she that worthless? Was she that faceless?

“Sure. I’ll have a Jack Daniel's neat,” Felicity studied Spencer Duvall’s face, waiting for him to make a connection but he didn’t.

He sidled up and took the stool beside her.

“May I?” he asked, giving her that sweet smile.

“Looks like you already have,” Felicity replied knocking back her drink.

How could he not recognise her? Sure she had dyed her hair blonde and had it styled differently, she’d had her nose straightened, her hairline moved to create a smaller forehead, her lips and cheekbones augmented, and her jaw and chin reshaped and resized but she didn’t look that different? Did she?

“So what is this place?” Spencer asked again.

“It’s a bar and nightclub that caters to the LGBTI community but isn’t exclusive to them. We offer entertainment featuring drag artists,” Felicity motioned for the bartender to refill their glasses.

“LGB what?” Spencer grinned stupidly.

He thought he was being funny but he was being insulting.

“I don’t think this place is for you. The drinks are on the house. Sorry you came to the wrong place,” Felicity slipped off the stool and made her way to a table she kept reserved for herself at the back of the club.

She was seething with anger. She remembered how lying under the coverlet in her cheap flat the day after she had been defiled that she had sworn that she would get her revenge. Was now her chance? Was she too cowardly to follow through? Was she really worthless and faceless?

An image materialised out of nowhere. She was bent over the couch in the frat hose and Spencer Duvall was buggering her, holding her down while he slammed his cock in and out of her ass. Three of the other youths were cheering him on, one of them filming it. When Spencer ejaculated inside her he pulled her buttocks hard against him, holding Felicity by her thighs as she too had ejaculated. She was crying when she orgasmed but she still relished the feel of his swollen manhood pressing on her prostrate, the feel of his fingers digging into the delicate flesh of her thighs, tearing her pantyhose.

She shook the image away and picked up the drink that the waiter had delivered unbidden.

Spencer pulled back the seat beside her and instead of railing on him she smiled at him.

“I guess you changed your mind?” she gave him a beatific smile.

The rest had been easy, almost too easy and she was sure that she had made mistakes. She had gone back to her office and found the stash of Viagra she kept hidden. Over the course of the evening she crushed four of them and slipped them into his drinks.

She’d taken the package of holdup stockings with her; her intent was to change into them to make it easier for him to fuck her. As it was they became a convenient murder weapon.

Felicity plied Spencer with alcohol and when he invited her back to his apartment she’d encouraged him to snort his stash of cocaine and to drink even more. Fuelled on cocaine and Viagra he had maintained a rampant erection that wouldn’t go away. By then he knew that she was transgender but far from repulsing him it turned him on. She fellated him on the couch and then led him to the bedroom.

She’d fucked him wearing only her pantyhose and high heels. She had blown her load over him twice, using his rampant erection for her own pleasure. He was sore; he had ejaculated at least three times and the priapism was becoming agonising. He was begging for her to uncuff him. It was his idea to introduce the handcuffs into the game and it was his undoing.

Felicity had taken the stocking from her purse and mounted Spencer again, riding him, using the stocking to cut off the supply of oxygen to his brain and then releasing it.

“Oh my god!” Spencer had screamed as he ejaculated once again.

Felicity came with him, only a few feeble spurts dribbling onto his belly because it was her third orgasm. She was surprised at how powerful she felt. She had Spencer totally under her control, cuffed to the bed, pleading with her for sex until it became too painful for him, torn between the agony of priapism and the ecstasy of ceaseless sexual arousal.

“Do you remember me?” Felicity leaned down so that her face was inches from his.

Spencer shook his head, his face a mask of fear.

“Please stop. Please let me go,” he had begged.

Spencer had never even asked her name, even when he offered to take her home with him.

“Felicity Goodnite… Eta Lambda Pi,” she hissed into his face.

His face became a mask of horror and alarm when he suddenly recognised who was straddling him.

Felicity pulled the stocking as tight as she could, leaning back, straining against the weight of his body. She watched Spencer’s eyes bulge and his tongue swell as he writhed beneath her in his death throes. She thought he might have ejaculated again when he died but there was so much semen inside her already that she didn’t really know.

Felicity climbed off Spencer's corpse and started to clean up. She touched up her lipstick and then she got an idea. She began to write on the wall above the bed with her lipstick.

*****

Penelope Bishop and Silvia Bickle returned to Spencer Duvall’s townhouse and removed the police tape from the door so they could enter. The CSI Team had left behind the usual detritus of used latex gloves, hairnets and fingerprint powder, most of it confined to the bedroom.

Penelope began searching there whilst Silvia searched the rest of the house. They met in the kitchen about an hour later.

“You first,” Silvia said.

Penelope emptied the contents of a cardboard box onto the kitchen table; most of the items were bagged and logged as evidence. There was an assortment of sex toys including dildos, vibrators, a fleshlight, a whip, a cane and assorted panties and other lingerie and two more sets of handcuffs. There was even a strap-on penis.

“Bob told me I’d find this in the bedroom dresser drawers. CSI examined the sex toys with luminol and there is no evidence of recent use so they left them in situ. What did you find?” Penelope asked.

“Over there on the couch. Some fetish clothing but everything else in the house is what you would expect to find in a bachelor apartment. He has two pay-for-view cable pornography subscriptions and subscribes to most of the cable sports channels, the fridge is full of beer, wine and gourmet deli meats and cheeses, he has a home gym set up in one of the spare bedrooms which he used frequently by the look of it,” Silvia summarised what she had found.

“It’s exactly as Cynthia Duvall described it. It’s a man-cave for a rich former jock with a sex addiction,” Penelope sighed and just then her phone pinged.

She read the message and turned to Silvia.

“Alice Leasingham has got into Duvall’s devices. She’ll meet us at Police Plaza after lunch,” Penelope looked up at Silvia.

Silvia nodded and they put the evidence bags back into a cardboard box and took it out to Silvia’s service vehicle. They stopped for lunch downtown.

“You know I kinda miss the Penelope who used to eat a rare burger and steak fries for lunch and wash it all down with a chocolate shake,” Silvia waved a fork at Penelope’s salad and diet coke.

Silvia was eating a Ruben sandwich and drinking an ice tea.

“Yeah but you don’t miss the slug of Jack I used to lace my shakes with,” Penelope countered.

“You workin’ hard on maintaining that fine body bitch; I hope Bradley is treating it with the respect it deserves,” Silvia goaded her friend.

“Speaking of, isn’t that fine specimen of man-flesh due home today?” Silvia raised her brows.

“Brad is driving home this afternoon and taking me out to dinner tonight, hence my light lunch,” Penelope countered.

“I get it. You goin’ to be getting’ the meat tonight so you taking it easy at lunch,” Silvia chuckled.

“You know for a card-carrying lesbian, you certainly display a lot of interest in my love life,” Penelope stirred her fork in her lettuce, secretly dreaming of the rare burger that Silvia had described.

“Hey, I’ve never let a flesh and blood penis get anywhere near my fine cooch but that doesn’t mean I’m not fascinated by the mechanics of it all,” Silvia grinned.

“As you well know, I don’t have a cooch per se so my boyfriend has to use the back door,” Penelope grinned back at Silvia.

“TMI bitch! TMI!” Silvia screwed up her face.

“And another thing… why does your Texas drawl suddenly change to street ghetto when you’re needling me?” Penelope baited her partner.

“Just sounds better that way. Come on Penny let’s go see what Alice has got for us,” Silvia wiped her mouth with her napkin and dropped a tip on the table.

Back at Police Plaza Alice Leasingham was waiting for them. She had plugged Spencer Duvall’s laptop and his mobile phone into a sixty-inch video screen.

“Most of the activity on his laptop is related to sex. His internet favourites are all porn or online dating sites. He has multiple profiles on multiple hook-up sites. I’ve checked the history and there is no record him arranging an encounter for the evening he was killed,” Alice explained.

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t meet up with someone he had been with before,” Silvia commented.

“True, but I’ve checked his phone and there are no text messages arranging a meet on the night in question. There are several texts over the previous days where he had arranged liaisons with women, either from the dating sites or from escort agencies. I’ve emailed you soft copies and printed them out for you,” Alice pointed to a folder on the desk.

“I’ve checked his movements on the night in question by triangulating hits on the cell towers. Before he went home he spent most of the night in the bar and nightclub district of Balwyn. He made no phone calls nor received or sent any texts after six PM,” Alice continued.

“I ran his credit cards. On the night of he used it to pay for dinner at Jimbo’s Steakhouse and then he made a cash withdrawal at an ATM on Spence Street. There are no records of him using his cards to pay for hookers or callgirls so I’m assuming he uses cash so there is no permanent record. A man in his position could be easily blackmailed I guess,” Alice surmised.

“We are going to have interview a lot of people,” Silvia sighed.

“I saved the best till last so to speak, although what I’m about to show you is hardly what any right-minded person would think of as ‘the best’. On a hidden folder in his laptop I found a number of short video clips which I believe were taken with hand held mobile devices, most likely cell phones. I’ll need to check the metadata but I can tell you that some of these clips are years old but a couple are more recent,” Alice clicked a few keys and the screen suddenly filled with video.

Some of the clips were filmed at the Spencer Duvall’s townhouse but most appeared to be filmed in a sleazy hotel room except for one which was taken in the back of a car.

In all of the clips women and girls were being subjected to sex by multiple partners. It appeared to be the same five men although not all five of them appeared together in all of the clips. What was disturbing was that some of the women appeared to be drunk or drugged and some of them appeared to be cooperating under duress. In some of the clips there was more than one woman engaging in the sex.

Alice stopped the video after a minute or two.

“There are twenty four of these edited clips. I went through his photo gallery and used propriety software to identify the men in the clips,” Alice clicked a key and five pictures appeared on the screen.

“Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington and William Turner. They were college buddies, they all played on the football team and they were all pledged to the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity.

“Ties in with what Cynthia Spencer told us,” Silvia commented.

“Great work Alice. I want to see if you can identify the woman in the most recent video and I want you to date it and tell me where it was taken if that’s possible,” Penelope said.

“This is the latest clip chronologically as far as I can tell. It was edited last week. I’ll find out when it was taken and I’ll run the woman’s picture through the system,” Alice pointed to the screen.

A scantily dressed red-headed, pale-skinned, Rubenesque woman was lying on what appeared to be Spencer Duvall’s king-size bed. She was being fucked by a black man who had his back to the camera whilst Spencer Duvall was feeding his penis into her mouth. Another man was kneeling on the bed masturbating, watching the proceedings.

“Remove that image from the screen please,” Silvia Bickle said; her voice cold.

All three women had experience in sex crimes and had seen a lot worse but seeing the woman on the screen being used by the three men in high definition colour was distasteful to say the least.

“Spencer Duvall was a scumbag and his buddies no better but he was murdered and our job is to solve murders. We’re going to need more people on this. The list of possible suspects is going to be huge,” Penelope said to Silvia and Alice.

“If you're putting together a task force I’d like to be on it,” Alice blurted out.

Then she blushed and turned away.

“We’re going to need fulltime forensic expertise on this. I’ll talk to Bob Tanner and see if he’ll second you. I don’t see why he would say no. Welcome to the team,” Penelope gave Alice a wry smile.

*****

Penelope was as excited as a schoolgirl when she heard Bradley Wilson’s car pull into the driveway. She was dressed in a black cocktail dress and heels wearing full makeup, ready for Bradley to take her out to dinner. She had made a booking at their favourite restaurant and envisioned an evening of fine dining, engaging conversation and sexual tension followed by several hours of torrid sex when they got home.

Bradley had other ideas.

He came through the door and dropped his suitcase in the hallway and strode over to where Penelope was mixing him a drink at the breakfast bar. Bradley was tall dark and handsome and wearing his regulation dark suit, white shirt and tie. He took off his jacket and tie and threw them over a chair as he walked purposely to the kitchen.

“Hi honey it’s so great to have you…” Penelope’s greeting was cut off when Bradley closed his lips over hers and drove his tongue into her mouth.

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her so tight that Penelope thought she might pass out. She could feel his erection pressing against her and his hands began to roam around her body.

“Hey watch the dress!” Penelope squealed when he put his hands inside the bodice and freed her breasts from her bra cups.

He lowered his face to her bosom and sucked and nibbled her nipples while his hands squeezed her buttocks. He hiked up her dress and pawed at her panties.

“The dress Bradley!” she gasped.

“Fuck the dress,” he growled and ripped away her tuck and squeezed her penis through her gauzy satin panties.

Penelope was instantly erect.

Bradley took her hand and forced it down his pants and Penelope gasped when she felt the girth of his throbbing cock. Bradley was well endowed but his cock felt like a pulsing python ready to strike. The heat and texture of his swollen phallus excited her, her own cock became harder and began to leak pre-cum.

Bradley moved his face back to Penelope’s and kissed her passionately, he put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her onto the breakfast bar and forced her legs open.

“Bradley! What about dinner?” Penelope squealed.

“Fuck dinner,” Bradley fumbled impatiently with his belt and fly and pushed his pants down to free his rampant member.

“Bradley! At least take me into… Oh my god!” Penelope screamed as Bradley scrunched the gusset of her panties out of the way and slammed his cock into her tight anus.

It was as well that Penelope was prepared and had pre-lubricated in anticipation of a night of passion because Bradley was insatiable. He drove his tongue into her mouth and his cock into her ass. This wasn’t lovemaking this was fucking. This was raw passionate sex.

Penelope consciously relaxed her anus so that Bradley could get all of his delicious cock all the way inside her. The girth of it stretched her sphincter causing ripples of pleasure to radiate from the tight ring and his bulbous glans pressed on her prostate eliciting a deep throbbing surge of sexual delight that began to spread through Penelope’s body. When Bradley squeezed her penis she bit his lip in a throe of unbridled lust.

Bradley could feel Penelope’s ass squeezing and releasing his shaft as he fucked her. She did this when she close to climax so her fucked her harder and squeezed her cock. Penelope had her arms around his shoulders and her stocking-sheathed legs wrapped around his torso. She knew that Bradley loved the feel of nyloned flesh rubbing on his sensitive skin and she rose her ass up off the counter to meet his thrusts feeling his cock begin to quiver inside her.

“I love you!” Bradley gasped and then slammed his lips against Penelope’s mouth.

He felt the scalding splash of Penelope’s seed on his belly as she ejaculated and he milked her throbbing penis as he released a torrent of steaming semen deep in her bowels. Her anus began to spasm, expressing every drop of his spend. He drove his cock into Penelope all the way and just hung onto her as she wriggled and writhed, impaled on his cock, squealing and moaning like a slattern.

When they had both reached the pinnacle of their orgasms and began to come down from the sexual extremis, Bradley lifted Penelope off the bench, his cock still hard and buried in her anus. She clung to him as he carried her to the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed where he began to make love to her all over again.

He took his time, allowing Penelope to get out of her dress but insisting she keep on her stockings and heels. He managed to strip naked before he began to ravage the woman he loved.

They never made dinner and Penelope’s cocktail dress was ruined but neither of them complained.

*****

“How was dinner?” Silvia Bickle gave Penelope a calculated look, peering over the top of her computer screen.

“My ass hurts like a motherfucker,” Penelope hissed as she sat down gingerly across from Silvia.

“TMI bitch! TMI!” Silvia squealed.

Alice Leasingham gave both women a bemused look.

“There’s no secrets here honey, we like to share,” Silvia winked at Alice who blushed and buried her head in the paperwork in front of her.

Alice looked up again when the room was quiet and she fired up the video screen and cued up her laptop. She had Penelope and Silvia’s complete attention.

“The redhead’s name is Gloria Passfield and she met Spencer Duvall on a dating site called Secret Singles. It’s similar to the Ashley Madison online dating service marketed to people who are married or in relationships. Spencer paid his site fees using a third-party payment app linked to his private bank account which is why there are no records on his credit cards,” Alice began.

“I have transcripts of their DMs from the site and they are pretty innocuous although the implication that they will have sex if they are compatible is understood. That’s what the site is all about of course.”

A series of direct messages in text boxes from the Secret Singles site appeared on the screen.

“As you can see Gloria Passfield was new to the site, keen to have her first hook-up but was wary of being seen in public with another man. I’ve checked her background and she holds a doctorate of nursing practice and is head of nursing staff at Balwyn Private Hospital and her husband is a surgeon at the same hospital. They have two children in middle school,” a series of pictures and documents appeared on the screen.

“I can see her need for confidentiality,” Silvia commented.

“The DMs go back and forth, Spencer proposes an out of town meet and Gloria declines because she can’t travel. He proposes a hotel meet and she declines stating that hotel records are not secure and that lobbies have cameras. She is obviously keen to meet as you can see by the escalating sexual fantasy talk they are sharing. When Spencer proposes a clandestine meet at his townhouse she agrees,” Alice pointed to the final text box.

Alice cut to a still of the scantily dressed red-headed mature woman being fucked by a black man while simultaneously fellating Spencer Duvall whilst another man is on the bed watching.

“The metadata embedded in the video concludes that this image was taken at Spencer Duvall’s townhouse two months ago. The other man on the bed is Benjamin Roach. You never get to see the black man’s face but my bet is that it’s Jamaal Washington. Someone was filming it so there were at least four people there with Gloria Passfield,” Alice pointed to the figures on the screen.

“Immediately after this video was filmed Gloria Passfield deleted her Secret Singles account and there is no record of Gloria and Spencer communicating again online or by other means,” Alice removed the image from the screen and replaced it with pictures of the five college buddies.

“Jesus girl, you have been busy!” Silvia stood up and applauded Alice who blushed.

“I worked all night on this. The video clip is disgusting but I watched it repeatedly. Gloria Passfield is obviously a willing participant in the sex, she isn’t struggling or complaining but she appears to be lethargic through most of it. She’s seems more like a sex doll than a woman who is enjoying coitus,” Alice seemed saddened.

“Ok, good work Alice. We need to handle this carefully, this woman’s reputation, career and marriage is on the line. Silvia and I will interview her somewhere discreetly. We need to find out more about how these creeps operate because I’m sure his predatory behaviour is linked to Spencer Duvall’s murder,” Penelope had also stood up.

“You think Gloria Passfield is a suspect?” Alice asked.

“I think every woman who ever came into contact with Spencer Duvall is a suspect,” Penelope said grimly.

*****

Through detective work Penelope and Silvia discovered that Gloria Passfield’s husband was attending a seminar in Fort Worth and that she eschewed the hospital cafeteria and usually ate her lunch at a nearby diner. When Gloria settled into the booth and gave her lunch order to the waitress Penelope slid in one side of the booth and Silvia in the other, sandwiching Gloria between them.

They both put their badges out on the table.

“Don’t panic you’re not in trouble but it’s in your best interest to just behave naturally. Just pretend that you’re having lunch with two old girlfriends,” Penelope said to a shocked Gloria Passfield.

“What’s this about? Is Martin ok? Oh my god… the children!” Gloria began to panic.

“They are all fine. This has nothing to with them,” Silvia said in a soothing tone.

Gloria immediately became suspicious and she folded her arms and stared at the table.

“If this is something to with hospital, some malpractice claim or personal complaint, I know my rights. I want a lawyer,” Gloria huffed.

The waitress returned with Gloria’s burger, fries and a Diet Coke. Penelope and Silvia asked for coffee.

Gloria was a big woman but not fat. She looked like she worked out but judging by her lunch she wasn’t a health fanatic. They knew that she was forty-one but like a lot of big girls she had perfect skin, it was creamy white and with her flaming red hair, full lips, blue eyes and button nose she was uniquely beautiful. She was wearing a white skirt and jacket, white pantyhose and matching heels. Her countenance just screamed nurse.

“You don’t want a lawyer and you don’t want to come down to Police Plaza. You want to sit here and talk to us quietly and confidentially,” Silvia said in a soothing tone.

“I don’t know what this is about but I'm not talking to you without a lawyer,” Gloria reached for her sandwich.

Silvia looked around the diner to check that no one could see them and then she took her phone out of her handbag and cued up the video of Gloria being fucked in Spencer Duvall’s apartment. The sound was muted.

Gloria dropped her burger and although her complexion was naturally pale she turned as white as a sheet.

Silvia stopped the video and put her phone away. There was a pause while the waitress delivered the coffee.

“How did you get that? I read in the paper that he was killed but there were no details,” Gloria’s voice was so quiet they could barely hear her.

But two things were immediately obvious: she was talking about Spencer Duvall and she wasn’t stupid.

“I was so stupid. What I let that man… those men… do to me,” she whispered and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You’re not stupid and you were not the only one. I don’t want to misconstrue anything you have to say to us so I won’t say any more for now. Just tell us in your own words how you came to know Spencer Duvall and what happened when you met him,” Penelope reached for Gloria’s hand and squeezed it gently.

Gloria pushed her plate away, no longer the slightest bit hungry; she took a deep breath and began.

“Martin and I married young and put all our energy into our academia. When he finally had residency and I was made head nurse at Balwyn Private Hospital we decided to have our children,” Gloria played with her paper napkin.

“Our whole life is planned… right down to the T. We planned our career goals, we planned our children, we plan our vacations, we plan when we will visit our parents and we even plan our sex life. Saturday night, missionary, with the lights off and keep it quiet so we don’t wake the kids,” she began to tear the napkin into strips.

“Not that I make any noise, I haven’t had an orgasm with Martin since I was twenty. I have to use my ‘mother’s little helper’ that I keep in my underwear drawer when Martin takes the kids down to the park.”

“I wanted excitement. I wanted spice. I wanted to be fucked into an orgasm,” Gloria blushed.

“I found Secret Singles and then I found Spencer. We exchanged DMs and of course I saw his pictures. He was handsome and all the things he spoke about were what I wanted. Martin has never ever considered cunnilingus,” Gloria’s blush deepened.

“When he offered up his townhouse it was perfect. It was private, it was discreet and it was intriguing. Martin was away with work, as he often is, so I got a sitter and went to Spencer’s house. He was very nice and polite but he was also very sensual and seductive. I was wet before I even left home but when Spencer took me in his arms and kissed me and touched me I creamed my panties,” Gloria had her head down and was talking to the table but her face was flushed.

It wasn’t embarrassment; it was reliving the experience that was making her blush.

“Spencer was very specific about the lingerie he wanted me to wear and I went into his bedroom and changed into it, anticipating what was coming next. I feel so stupid now. Anyway… he was kind and considerate and experienced and he took to me places I’d never been with his lips, his hands, his tongue and his… well… you know. And what really riles me is that I was grateful. I was grateful that a man could do those things to me and make me feel special and fulfilled.”

“Then his friend came out of the walk-in robe holding up his phone. I screamed but Spencer grabbed me and held me down on the bed. His friend showed me the video of me and Spencer fucking and asked if my husband and work colleagues would enjoy looking at it.”

“There ended up being four of them including Spencer. They took turns or they did me together. They kept me there all night. They… they… well you saw what they made me do,” Gloria sighed and then looked up and stared Penelope in the eye.

“You know what the stupid thing is? It’s that if Spencer had just proposed a gangbang I probably would have said yes anyway because I just wanted to live out my sexual fantasies. But they made me feel degraded and dirty. They made me climax a number of times I have to admit but all that did was trigger self-loathing. They filmed most of it,” Gloria began to tear-up again.

“Experiencing an orgasm during non-consensual sex doesn’t mean you weren’t raped,” Silvia took Gloria’s hand in hers.

Gloria took a moment to compose herself.

“They promised that no one else would ever see the video if I kept my mouth shut and that’s what I did. I closed my account at Secret Singles and took down everything I had ever posted online. I never contacted Spencer again and he never contacted me.”

“Martin and I are both on the hospital board! Martin is a Deacon in our church! If that video ever got out my life would be ruined and my family would be shamed forever. I did what I had to, don’t you see? I’m never going to admit this to anyone so don’t even think that I’ll testify if that’s what you want.”

“I shouldn’t say this but I will. When I heard that Spencer had been murdered I was glad. I just hope that it was someone like me who had been deceived by him that did it,” Gloria sat up straight and took a long sip of her Coke.

“You implied there were others. Other women like me,” Gloria cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry but I have to ask this. Where were you on the night that Spencer Duvall was murdered?” Silvia asked gravely.

“Ha! I hope whoever killed him gets away with it but it wasn’t me. My family and I were at a church retreat just across the border in Oklahoma. There has to be at least a hundred witnesses. Are you going to go snooping around? Are you going to talk to Martin?” Gloria’s face was suddenly filled with dread.

“We’re not going to do any of that and that video will never see the light of day if we can help it. I know that you can’t testify but can you do us one favour,” Silvia reached into her purse and bought out a folder and opened it.

She laid out a series of photographs that had been copied into mug shot strips. Silvia and Penelope witnessed Gloria shudder when they arranged the strips on the table.

“Him, him, and him,” she pointed at the pictures of Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, and Jamaal Washington.

She tapped the picture of Jamaal Washington.

“He’s the one who kept making me come. It was a fantasy of mine and it’s true what they say. Am I racist? Am I a bad person? Am I a freak?” Gloria began to blubber again.

“You’re a woman who was taken advantage of. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. We will try not to contact you again unless it’s absolutely necessary and provided your alibi checks out and we will be discreet when we verify it,” Penelope said as she and Silvia packed up their things and got up to leave.

“God punishes the wicked,” Gloria whispered and Penelope could tell that she meant herself.

“If that’s true, Spencer Duvall got what he deserved,” Penelope replied before she turned and walked away.

*****

Felicity Benson kept a low profile after she killed Spencer Duvall working at her club and going straight home after. She knew that killing him had been impulsive and that she had probably left all sorts of evidence at the crime scene. Felicity had seen or read somewhere that killers made multiple mistakes that they didn’t even realise they had. She expected it to be only a matter of days before the police came and arrested her but she felt so vindicated, so empowered, so vengeful!

As time passed she became more confident and thought that maybe she had got away with it. She replayed the evening over and over in her head. She hadn't left any clothing at the scene other than the stocking she had used to strangle Spencer with. There was nothing unique about the garment it was from a three pack of Hanes Silk Reflections thigh highs and readily available at any Walmart. The lipstick was expensive but not exclusive and couldn’t be traced to her.

Other than her bodily fluids she hadn't left anything at the crime scene as far as she could remember. Jill Graham the bartender had seen she and Spencer talking at the bar and some of the waiters would have seen them sitting together at her table but they had left the club separately. At least she had been smart about that. Or had she? Spencer had given her the address of his townhouse and she had driven herself. Had someone seen her car?

If the police had reason to take a sample of her DNA she was fucked but there was nothing she could do about that. The police had not come to Ride em’ Cowgirl so it was likely that they didn’t know Spencer had been in the club.

What Felicity did not know was that Penelope and Silvia had drafted two other detectives to work part time on their task force and that they were systematically combing the bar and nightclub district of Balwyn asking the staff if they had seen Spencer Duvall on the night of his murder.

The very next evening after Penelope thought that she gotten away with murder Detectives Steve Randal and Steve Edwards came into her nightclub. Randal and Edwards had a reputation for playing fast and loose and Penelope had argued with Gary Rasmussen about them being loaned to her for the case. He told her to take it or leave it because he was shorthanded and the detective bureau was overworked as it was.

Grudgingly Penelope took on the two Steves, as they were known, but gave them only grunt work and kept them out of her office and did not share with them any of the evidence that her team had collected except for what she considered to be necessary for them to do their menial tasks. This was to be to Penelope’s detriment because all the two Steves had was a list of bars, restaurants and nightclubs to work through and a picture of Spencer Duvall. They started at Jimbo’s Steakhouse, the last place that Duvall was known to have been where they were comped a steak dinner and a bottle of fine wine and spiralled out from there.

They scammed their way through the list bars, restaurants and nightclubs, dragging it out over three days because it was easy work and they were getting free booze from most of the establishments. Steve Randal even caught a hooker plying her trade in one of the nightclubs and gave her the option of throwing him a freebee or taking a trip down to Police Plaza. He fucked her on the backseat of their unmarked car in the alley behind the club to the disgust of Steve Edwards who might be a misogynist but would never force himself on a woman.

By the time they arrived at Ride ‘em Cowboy both detectives were half in the bag. The club was in full swing, packed with the usual patrons and a gaggle of screaming girls out on a hen’s night.

“Why the fuck do they always come to drag shows?” Felicity said to Jill Graham over the racket.

Felicity saw her burly doorman leading the two detectives towards her and Felicity’s heart flew into her mouth. They were coming for her!

“These two detectives want to ask the staff some questions so I told them that they had better talk to the owner first,” the big bouncer towered over the two detectives.

“I’m Felicity Benson, why don’t we go back to my office where we can talk?” Felicity alighted from her barstool displaying a lot of leg which was not lost on either detective.

They followed her back to her office with their eyes glued to Penelope’s ass, looking up occasionally to look at the two gorgeous women performing burlesque on the stage.

Felicity led the two detectives into her office, closed the door on the din of the nightclub and offered them both a seat. She went over to her small wet bar and poured herself a drink and raised her eyebrows to the two policemen who both nodded. She poured them both a long one and took them over to where they were seated on a two-seater couch. Her fingertips lingered on Steve Edwards’ finger and he looked at Felicity questioningly. She licked her upper lip and withdrew her hand.

She was playing the seductress to see if she could find out what these two drunks knew. She was dressed in a blue sequined evening gown cut low to show off her tits and split to the waist to show off her legs. Felicity was using latex ‘chicken-fillets’ to enhance her breasts and was wearing sheer flesh-toned tights with rhinestoned fishnet pantyhose over them and six-inch heels. Her makeup was heavy and exaggerated and she was wearing a red lace-front wig as part of her ensemble. She was MCing the show tonight and dressed in fishy drag.

Felicity sat on a lounge chair next to the two men and crossed her legs. They gave her the onceover and she did the same. The two detectives were bleary-eyed and ruddy-faced, their ties were askew, their shirtfronts stained and one of them hadn’t closed his fly properly. They both took big gulps of their drinks

Steve Edwards fumbled around in his suit jacket and eventually produced a crumpled photograph of Spencer Duvall.

“Do you know or have you ever seen this man?” Steve put the picture on the table and stabbed at it with his finger.

Felicity knew better than to lie, she would easily be found out.

“He came in a few nights ago, I don’t know exactly when but if I look in my diary I can tell you. Panti Down was headlining the show that night,” Felicity sipped her drink.

“What the fuck is a Panti Down?” Steve Edwards asked.

“It’s the drag name of William Russell my booking agent and a performer here,” Felicity reached for her cigarettes.

“Oh I get it. This is one of those drag bars like that nig… like that old bald black guy on TV,” Steve Randal finally got it into his booze-soaked brain.

“The two chicks on the stage? They’re guys too?” he leaned forward and took a cigarette from Felicity.

“They are drag performers yes,” Felicity corrected him.

“And what about you? You’re way too feminine to be a drag artist or whatever?” Steve lit his cigarette.

“There are no rules in drag. Drag performers can be any gender but no I’m not a man,” Felicity used air quotes when she said man.

Best to keep them guessing.

“But I am a drag performer,” she continued.

“This place full of queers? I saw some women out there,” Steve Randal pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

“My place is LGBTI friendly but it also attracts those who are into the drag aesthetic. You’d be surprised how many straight men and women like to watch drag shows,” Felicity finished her drink and collected glasses.

She went back to her little bar and refilled them.

“So the night that Spencer Duvall, that’s the man’s name in the photograph, came into your club; did you talk to him?” Steve Edwards asked.

“We spoke briefly at the bar. He had come into the club mistakenly. When he found out it was a drag club he decided he was in the wrong place. He came over to my table and apologised for calling the place a ‘fag hangout’ before he left. He was quite drunk if I recall,” Felicity decided that to tell the truth… mostly.

“And you didn’t see him leave? Did he talk to anybody else? Did he pick up a woman here by any chance?” Steve Randal inquired.

“The types of women who come into my bar are not likely to leave with someone like him and I don’t allow hookers in my place,” Felicity sniped.

“So he came in. Had a drink, spoke to you and left. That’s it?” Steve Edwards took over the questioning.

“Sure, ask Jill Graham my head bartender. She’s on tonight and she served him,” Felicity replied.

“I’ll send her in so you can talk to her,” Felicity stood up and made her way to the door.

She went over to the bar and spoke to Jill Graham.

“Those two detectives want to talk to you about the other night when that drunk guy came into the bar and spoke to me at the bar and then followed me to my table,” Felicity said.

Most of the LGBTI community in Balwyn had little time for the police and Jill Graham was no exception.

“Do I have to talk to them?” Jill screwed up her face.

“Just tell them what you saw. He came in. Bought me a drink and insulted me and I went over to my table. He came over to apologise and left,” Felicity smiled at Jill.

“He sat with you a little and had a couple of drinks,” Jill corrected Felicity.

“But he left alone Jill. The guy was murdered. Do you want the police crawling all over our club? You know a lot of the girls like to use recreational narcotics and I know that some of them go home with tranny chasers for money and Valentina is here illegally,” Felicity put her hand on Jill’s upper arm and gazed into her eyes meaningfully.

Jill nodded and began to take off her apron. Theirs wasn’t a closed community but they took care of their own. Some of the girls had had run-ins with law enforcement and their experiences were never pleasant. The police were considered the enemy rather than being there to serve and protect them.

“I’ll tend bar while you’re gone. Don’t take any shit from them; they're both well in the bag and they’re homophobic misogynists,” Felicity sent Jill on her way and watched her walk to her office before turning to tend to the customers and fill orders for the waiters.

Jill came back twenty minutes later.

“Those guys are assholes! One of them tried to hit on me and they are cleaning out your bar,” Jill said with barely suppressed anger.

Felicity gave her a questioning look.

“I told them what I saw. The guy was drunk, he didn’t like the clientele and he insulted you. He apologised for being an asshole and left by himself,” Jill said putting her apron back on.

Felicity found the two detectives had made themselves comfortable in her office. They had drunk all of her scotch and were working their way through a bottle of gin. They had smoked most of her cigarettes.

“So did Mister Duvall say where he was going when he left?” Steve Edwards asked Felicity before she had even closed the door.

“No. Like I said, our conversation was short and far from amicable. I think he was concerned that someone might find out that he been in a gay bar so he couldn’t wait to leave,” Felicity snatched up her cigarettes.

“Do you want to interview any of the waiters who were working that night?” Felicity asked.

“Those little faggots in their short-shorts? They going to tell us anything different?” Steve Randal hiccupped.

“I doubt it,” Felicity replied.

Steve Edwards pulled a card from his jacket and stood up unsteadily and handed the card to Felicity. He used it as an excuse to lean into her and whispered in her ear.

“If you remember anything else give me call. Give me a call anyway,” his lips grazed her cheek and Felicity suppressed a shudder.

Steve Randal was so drunk he could hardly walk and Steve Edwards had to assist him off the couch and out the door.

When he went to bed that night Steve Edwards couldn’t get Felicity Benson out of his mind. She was attractive but it was more than that. There was something about her that fascinated him and he hoped that he got to meet her again under more affable circumstances.

*****

“How are dumb and dumber going with their door to door?” Silvia asked Penelope the next day, referring to the two Steves.

“Neither of them knows how to properly complete a police report but they seem to have done surprisingly well. They traced Spencer Duvall’s movements from the steakhouse where he had dinner to a series of bars and nightclubs. The witness statements verify he was bar-hopping and getting progressively drunker,” Penelope read from her computer screen.

“The last place he was seen was a gay bar which he mistakenly entered, insulted the owner and left alone. I still think our perp is someone he had forced or blackmailed into to having sex with him. The only motive I see here is revenge. That said, maybe he met the wrong person online or a sex worker killed him for some reason. I doubt it was some random person he picked up in a bar,” Penelope speculated.

She didn’t know how right she was but also how wrong she was. Had the two Steves been more diligent and factual when they compiled their report they would have described Ride em’ Cowgirl as a ‘drag venue’ rather than a ‘gay bar’ which might have warranted further investigation. Also had the two Steves been privy to the facts in evidence they too might have been more strenuous in their investigations.

Had they interviewed the waiter who was working Felicity's table that night he might have told them that although Spencer Duvall had left alone, before he left he and Felicity were canoodling at her table in the dark corner at the back of the club.

Through sloppy police work Felicity had dodged a bullet.

That night in her apartment Felicity felt empowered. The two coppers had left her club convinced by half-truths that there was nothing to see.

She turned Steve Edwards’ business card over and over in her fingers and wondered how she was going to take revenge on the remaining four men. She had gotten away with murder once; could she do it again?

To be continued