Synopsis
It's 2003, meet Joe Fortune, a bright and pleasant young man, with a secret life as a drag artist, and an overwhelming desire to be the woman he feels he should be.

Working in a shop he and some friends have set up, he does some photo imaging work for a client, which starts him on a roller-coaster ride, involving hired killers, a corrupt M.P., and the police. He takes the opportunity to pretend to be his twin sister, and become a ski rep for a month to avoid the heat.

With more twists and turns than is good for him, he has a fling with a female to male transsexual, who teaches him how to be a woman, and then, after surgery as Josie, she falls in love with her best friend.

---

Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

---

Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

---

 
The Legal Stuff: When Fortune Smiles!  ©2004 Tanya Allan
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
 
Part 1
 
 
I finished processing the Internet orders, so sat back and stretched. I glanced at the clock and relaxed, for I had another three hours to go. The shop was quiet, as not a single customer had interrupted me, so I was way ahead of schedule. I took out my books and got down to my assignment. With luck I could finish it tonight, giving me two weeks before I needed to do any more work. In fact, with the Easter holidays only three weeks away, I might get away with no more work until next term.

It was chucking it down outside, so for a moment I watched the rain lash at the grey Oxford streets. I noticed my reflection in the window, experiencing that painful feeling in my gut that always hit me when I saw what I was.

I was a short guy, about 5’ 6”, slim, wearing a baggy sweater, a beaten up old tatty brown leather jacket and jeans. I tied my long fair hair back in a ponytail, and wore large clumpy brown boots on my feet. I stared at my reflection, feeling the anguish in my heart at what should have been.

My mobile buzzed at me, it was my sister, so I answered it.

“Hi Jezzy.”

“Joe. Are you busy?”

“What’s up, sis?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m working in the shop. And I have this assignment to do,” I said.

“Can I come round?” she asked.

Shit. She was a real pain at times.

“Yeah, if you want, what's the matter, this time?”

“I need to talk, as I have a little problem.”

“So what else is new?”

“Please?”

Double shit. That’s all I needed, a twin sister with romantic difficulties. It was bad enough being me and living with my problems, let alone having hers dumped on me every time she had a fight.

“Okay, give me an hour. I really need to finish this assignment.”

She muttered and rang off. I was just getting down to the assignment again when the shop phone went.

“Still Life Dot Com,” I said, automatically.

“Joe?” It was Martin, the co-owner of our little business.

“Yeah, how’s Birmingham?” I asked. He was up at a Movie Buff’s convention at the NEC. (National Exhibition Centre)

“Busy. Have we had any orders through?”

“Yeah, I just finished processing them. I think eight or nine were from your stand.”

“Cool. I think we should have a few more than that when I'm done.”

“That’s just as well, because trade in the shop is dead.”

“It always is on a Monday, but we can’t afford to close, just in case.”

“Yeah, but at least I got up to date with the orders. And my assignment is almost done.”

“Great. Okay, I’ll call tomorrow, are you sure you are okay keeping an eye on the shop until the weekend?”

“Yeah. No problems.”

“Great, see you.”

He rang off, so I struggled to get my brain back into assignment mode when the shop bell went. The first customer of the day, just when I didn't want one.

“Shit!”

I went out to see this tall, well-dressed man, in a suit and tie, looking at the prints in the frames. We dealt with stills from movies, digitally enhanced and in any shape, or form, the customer wants - whether you wanted them in glassware, mirrors, pictures, or even on tee shirts or even wallpaper.

It had started as a joke, my friend Stewart and I managed to work out a program that captured and manipulated old film, transferred the cells to digital memory, and it then had a multitude of uses. There were commercial programs and products that did similar, but ours was cheaper and more effective, as far as film was concerned. Then we approached Martin, who was into tee shirts and other souvenir production, and showed him what we could do.

Not having capital was a drag, but he took us in as partners, despite at the time we were both only sixteen. The shop in Oxford was a leftover from his tee shirt days, but the dot Com side was the real money-maker. We even attracted tourists in who wanted some tacky film souvenir, which alone paid the shop lease.

People could drop off, or send us 8mm, 16mm or any other size of film or video, and we produced first class stills from the cells of their choice.

The prints the man was looking at were simply copies of some of our work.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“Are these originals?”

“They're examples of what we can do with your film. The original cells are still on the film, which we put onto DVD or video.”

“Do you enhance film?”

“You mean focus and clarity, or do you want individuals isolated and others removed from shot?”

“You can do that?”

“Yeah. We’ve got better stuff that the local police, they even use us to capture number plates when their machines can’t.”

He pulled out a small can of Super 8.

“I need to identify someone on this. It's quite old, but it has only recently come into my possession. The shot is over a distance, could you do it?”

I shrugged.

“I’d have to see it first.”

“Oh, how long would that take?” he asked, looking at his watch.

“Two minutes to set up, and then as long as the film is to run. Do you want it on DVD or CD Rom?”

“You can do that now?”

“Yeah, that leaflet sets out the charges,” I said pointing to the display box.

He passed over the film.

“May I watch?”

“If you want me to isolate your friend, you’ll have to,” I said, and went to the small lab off to one side. I expertly threaded the film through the projector, and switched on the PC.

Once the screen was on, he was standing behind me.

I started the system and a very shaky and grainy film started. It appeared to have been shot out of a stationary car window, but all I could see was a cottage. No clues as to where it was, except England, somewhere. Nothing happened for a while, and a couple of cars passed in each direction. Judging by the cars, it was in the 1970s.

Then a person came out of the cottage, a man. He opened the gate, stepping into shot.

“Him!” said the customer.

We watched the film of the man as he walked across the road, slightly towards the camera, but then disappeared out of shot. He gave no indication that he was aware of the camera. There was about seven seconds of useful footage.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Yes, can you do anything?”

I stopped the projector, rewound the film and gave it to him back.

I then started the program and selected the short piece of footage. I removed some of the graininess and cut so I just had the man. I worked my way forwards until I had the best frontal shot of the man’s features.

I enhanced the dpi, increased the resolution and dithering.

After a few minutes, he was a lot clearer and looked almost recognisable.

I saved and printed the best still I could get. It came out on A4 photographic paper.

I let it dry and then handed it over in one of our card folders.

He looked at it for a while. His eyes narrowed.

“George Lambert. I’ve got you now, you bastard!” he muttered.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“Nothing. This is really very good. What happens to the footage in your computer?”

“Nothing, I never save the footage, only the still, if you wanted a second, for example.”

“I don’t, and I would be obliged if you would eradicate any of this from your computer memory. Could I get a copy on floppy?”

I chuckled.

“Floppy? No one uses floppies these days, as the memory is just too small for graphic files. I can do a CD or DVD if you want?”

“Whatever you think is best.”

“No problem!” I said, and saved the enhanced footage to a DVD.

“DVD is better as it'll work on any domestic machine,” I said.

I then deleted all records from the C drive, he watched me closely as I hit the ‘Delete’ key.

“How much?”

I made a rough calculation, and added a bit for buggering me about.

“Sixty pounds,” I said.

He paid with three crisp new twenty pound notes, took the DVD and left the shop declining a receipt.

Not bad, for ten minutes work.

I smiled, putting the cash into my pocket. Then I recovered the footage and stills from the computer’s recycle bin, captured the shop’s CCTV footage of my customer and burned them both onto a DVD, which I put in my bag.

After wiping the CCTV video, I then cleared the PC’s memory of the whole incident, and returned to my assignment.

I just finished my conclusion and Bibliography, when my darling sister arrived looking worried.
 
 
I suppose I had better explain.
 
 
My sister was a very good-looking girl, some would even say beautiful.

However, she was about as stupid as they come. All the blonde jokes, well, they could all refer to Jessica. She had left school at sixteen, having managed a couple of scraped passes at GCSE.

Whereas I was now at Sixth Form College, she was working as a rep for a travel firm. She spent most of her time out in exotic places looking after morons in Newcastle or Liverpool football shirts. I had to admit that she worked hard, however, she also kept falling in love with the wrong blokes. Countless times I had to try to help her see the truth even when it was so blatant that a cod with an IQ of 0.3 could see it!

I, on the other hand, was not a good-looking girl - more's the pity! Instead, I was a boy who had always wanted to be a girl, as long as I could remember. Our darling mother, already having two boys, gave birth to the pair of us, (me first by half an hour) and insisted on presenting us wearing similar clothes for all our formative years.

We weren’t identical, apart from not being possible as different gender twins, but we were very similar. Apparently, I had screamed when my father, a rather lofty professor of archaeological studies at Oxford, decreed that enough was enough, and at four, I should start wearing boy’s clothes.

Although I don’t remember the incident, I can certainly relate to it.

When I was thirteen, Jezzy caught me at home wearing her clothes, and had held it over my head as a blackmail lever ever since. She wasn’t too dumb not to realise a good thing when she saw one.

She then added salt into the wound by actually encouraging me in my little vice. Whenever our parents and older brothers were away, which was quite frequently, (as Mark and Jeremy were in their twenties before we reached fifteen) she would dress me up and practice with her make up on me. Then she taught me how to apply make up, walk, talk and move, so we would go on bus trips to unfamiliar towns and shop for clothes and make up for me.

We ended up more like sisters than anyone imagined. At first she thought I just got a kick from it, but then, as we became more aware of my condition, we both realised that I wasn’t just a transvestite, I simply wanted to be the girl I should have been born as.

I grew my hair long, but kept it in a ponytail for most of the time. Whenever I became Josie, it would be brushed out and allowed to hang down to my shoulders. Jessica had the same long fair hair, but when I was en femme, we were frequently taken for twin sisters, albeit not quite identical.

It got to the point at sixteen that I was Josie whenever I could, and started taking low doses of female hormones, just to keep me from becoming more masculine. Jezzy had a boyfriend at the time who was sort of in the pharmaceutical industry, or to put it another way, he dealt in all kinds of controlled drugs - mostly illegally!

My dream was simply to be a girl, but I had no idea how or when it would become a reality.

I was, as I explained, a gawky bloke, but made up and dressed up, I was the nearest thing to my sister’s identical twin as I could manage. My figure was slim, and with a little devious dressing and some padding (less these days thanks to the pills), I was more than passable.

I had never had a girlfriend, nor a boyfriend either, if it came to it. I suppose, if I had to be honest, I wasn’t after a girlfriend, but if I found the right bloke, who could love me as a girl, then… ah well, one can but dream!

But as I was, the very thought of a homosexual relationship revolted me slightly, only because I was so afraid of everything to do with sexuality. I had a gender identity problem, so I wasn’t that bothered about sex. But when I was Josie, I fantasised about being a complete woman, and eagerly submitted to sex with an imaginary man.

Needless to say, this increased the lever she had against me, and I found myself forever doing her favours.

Much to our father’s disgust, Jezzy was not at all academic, being more like our mother. Mum was one of the gentlest and kindest persons I knew, but she was about the most naíve person in the world. My parents were very ill-matched. Dad was very tall and thin, with great dignity in his bearing, and was able to trace his forebears back to before William the Conqueror’s outing to Kent all those years ago.

Mum had been the daughter of a farmer from Shropshire. Dad had been a young man doing post-graduate studies at Oxford, when, once on a dig in rural Shropshire, he was put up in the farm on which the dig was located.

There was this little local lass, who was small and cherubic, with a lovely smile, who fell in love with the tall and rather gauche student. He in turn had never felt comfortable with the very forward, liberated female fellow students, was suddenly at his ease with this girl who thought he was like a god. He lost his heart to her, so just after he qualified, they married.

Everyone said it wouldn’t last, but they were all proved wrong. They celebrated their thirty-second wedding anniversary last year.

But, back to me.

I knew what I was, and so did Jezzy (I think), but to announce to my parents that I was a transsexual and was considering a sex change, was one task I could not bring myself to do.

So, I was now eighteen, still studying at sixth-form college (as I did have some brains), was living a lie, and I was basically bloody miserable. Financially, I was a lot better off than most eighteen year olds. The company was nearly two years old, and last year made a net profit of ninety thousand pounds. However, that was split three ways, but we had then to pay for the new machinery and computers, the shop’s lease and the bills. I had a nice little bit put away, none the less.

I did not tell my family, as my father was opposed to the whole computer generation, and my mother simply wouldn’t understand. They just thought I helped out in Martin’s shop to supplement my meagre income.
 
 
“Hi Jezzy. What's happened now?”

She came in and immediately put the kettle on. She was wearing a pair of jeans that looked as if they had been sprayed on, and a tight top, which left nothing to the imagination. Her leather bomber style jacket was undone, and her scarf was so long that it almost touched the floor. I looked at her boots, which went up to her knees and had 4” heels. She looked absolutely gorgeous.

I ached with jealousy. I so wanted to have a body like hers.

“Oh Joe. I don’t know what to do.”

This did not give me much of a clue. It could be a simple choice between a green dress and a blue one, or it could be the Turk or the Greek.

“Tell me about it,” I said, and made us a couple of coffees.
 
 
She started to talk and the tale took about half an hour, but I still was none the wiser. She went off on so many tangents and mentioned so many first names that I was completely confused. But I nodded and grunted at appropriate intervals, so she seemed to take some comfort from me.

I think she was saying that she had an offer of a holiday with a wealthy American boyfriend in the Caribbean, at the same time she had the offer of a month or so as a rep in some ski resort or other over the Easter period.

Basically, the company wanted her to do one, but she wanted to do the other.

“Why not tell the company to go stuff themselves? There will be other jobs.”

“But I want to get on with the company, and if I don’t do this, they will be less inclined to give me the good jobs in the summer,” she said, looking at me with those scheming eyes. Ahah, the penny dropped, as I recognised that look.

“Are you suggesting that I pretend to be you for four weeks?”

“Five.”

“Four, five, who give a fuck? Jezzy, you must be mad.”

“Why not? You look brilliant, and you fooled everyone at that party last Christmas.”

“That was in poor lights, for a few hours, and most people were so pissed they would have had a hard job recognising themselves in a mirror.”

“You know you’d like to.”

“Jezzy, there’s a difference between fantasy and reality.”

“Only in opportunity,” she said.

“Oh, come on, don’t be ridiculous. You may be able to pressurise me into some things, but this? No way, besides, how the hell will I get a month off college over Easter? I have ‘A’ levels just after I get back in the summer.”

“Look, it’s not as if you need to put a swimsuit on, or anything. You look enough like me to pass for me, your languages are better, and you ski. What more could you want?”

“Jezzy, don’t you listen? I'm at college.”

“I’ll get you some more pills,” she said, with a devious tone in her voice.

“Look, I appreciate you getting me the hormones, but I told you, you don’t have to. I could go to the doctor.”

“Yeah, you could, but you won’t,” she said, knowing she was right.

“What about college?” I asked.

She looked around.

“So, which classroom is yours then?” she asked.

“Look, I have time off for my assignments,” I explained.

“Well, I have to have an answer by Friday, the plane leaves on Monday. You would be back before the start of next term,”

I was running out of objections.

“What about passport, as mine clearly states I am a boy?”

She pulled out her passport from her bag.

“You can have my spare,” she said.

“Spare? Don’t be silly, you can’t have a spare.”

“I do. I thought I lost this one, so they sent me a new one, but then it turned up. See, they’re the same.”

“Jezzy, that's illegal!” I said.

“I've used both since then, and no one seems to mind,” she said quite innocently, so I banged my forehead with my fist.

See - I told you she was dumb.

“No, Jezzy, not this time. It's too bloody complicated. Too many things could go wrong.”

“Ah, well, you don’t need to decide now, let me know by four o’clock Friday.”

She finished her coffee and walked out as I shouted, “What bit of NO don’t you understand?”

“Fuck!” I said, to the empty shop.
 
 
I logged on to Sapphire’s Place and Big Closet on the Internet, and read some wonderful transgender stories. It was so nice to know that I was not alone, and it helped to read the fantasies of others. I took another couple of calls, and there were three more orders on our website, when I checked it.

I dealt with them, and as the machine had finished processing the previous orders by now, I finished off the new orders and packed up the finished products. I looked at the clock. With luck, I could just make the post box before the last post, so have nothing to do tomorrow morning.

I slung my bags over my shoulder and switched everything off. I set the alarm and locked up, pulling the grills down and locking them in place.

I managed to post the parcels before the last post, and then caught the bus home.

We lived in a large mausoleum of a house on the north side of the city. The top floor had bats in it, I was positive.

Mum was cooking and was perpetually cheerful. Dad was in yet another meeting and would be late. I was the last of the offspring to leave home, as Jezzy now had her own flat near Heathrow.

She was rarely there, as she was abroad or here with us. But she had decided that she needed a place of her own, and Dad had dutifully bought her a two bedroom flat in Staines. It was worth about  £10,000 more in the year she had been in it.

“Hello darling, good day at school?” she asked.

I didn’t bother correcting her.

“Fine Mum, fine. That smells nice. What time is supper?”

“Eight, as always. Your father may be late. He has a meeting. Is your sister coming home?”

“I have no idea, I saw her at about four, but she didn’t mention it,” I said, going up stairs to my room.

Since the others had moved out, I had annexed two rooms at the back of the house. One was my computer room/study and the other was my bedroom. I had a double bed and a large wardrobe. The dressing table seemed innocuous in a boy’s room, but then I wasn’t a normal boy.

I kept my wardrobe locked, as I had more girls’ clothes than boys’.

I stripped off and went for a shower. I washed my hair and checked for body hair. I regularly waxed, using immac on my legs. My beard had never started, so I was completely bereft of body hair, except for my trimmed pubic hair.

I washed my hair and rinsed it off. I stepped out, regarding my reflection in the mirror.

My figure was definitely more feminine than masculine. I had a narrow waist, slightly wider in the hips and the beginnings of breasts. My legs were brilliant, and my arms were slender, as were my hands and fingers.

I dried my hair and slipped on a black silk wrap. I adored the feel of the material next to my skin, so I tucked my hated genitals between my legs.

I was probably capable of a partial erection still, but thanks to the pills and a singular lack of opportunities it rarely happened these days. I pulled on a pair of seamed stockings and fastened the suspender belt around my waist. I dug out a matching bra and panties in black lace, and put them on. I slipped the breast enhancers over my existing flesh in the bra and looked at my reflection. I dried my hair, brushing it out. It looked gorgeous - full of shine and body.

Dumb blonde? Not me!

Blonde maybe, but dumb? - Never!

I slipped on a black slip with lacy straps. I put on some make up and a pair of earrings. I then felt my penis twitch, so simply sat and waited for it to go down. I felt irritated, as this wasn’t a sexual thing. I was not into dressing for kicks, as I just wanted to be like this always.

After I slipped on a pair of strappy heels, I went into my study and logged on to the Internet.

My Emails as Josie_36_24_36 were frequent and varied. I occasionally logged on under various alias profiles and went to Transgender chat rooms. But I found them rather silly most of the time. When I chatted, I liked to pretend I was a real girl, as my web cam told everyone how I looked.

I answered my Emails and then slipped into chat mode for a laugh.

I didn’t need to log into a room, as my ‘friends’ saw as soon as I went on-line, and within seconds had several men lusting after me. I was left with six open IM boxes to deal with. All could see me if they logged on to my cam, so to them there was no doubt that I was a girl.

They were all known to me, in that we had chatted before, and all thought I was a girl. I had fun with them for a while, teasing them by taking my slip off and showing them my barely clad upper torso, and then stood so they could see my stockings.

I heard Dad arrive home, so I shut down and took my make up off.

I slipped a baggy sweater over my bra, and pulled on a pair of jeans. My boots covered my stockings, and I went and greeted the old man.

“Hi Dad.”

“Joseph. Good day?”

“Yes thanks, you?”

“So-so, bloody meetings. It is so degrading to keep grovelling for funding.”

He wandered off mumbling about petty minded bureaucrats and helped himself to a strong whisky.

I laid the table and helped mother dish up. Jessica did not show.

Dinner was very quiet, as usual. Father was distracted by work and mother just sat and smiled at us both. Conversation was never exactly free flowing, so often I yearned for people just to be silly with.

I helped clear the dishes and returned to my room. It was nine o’ clock. I collected a small holdall and went downstairs again.

“I’m popping out for a bit. I have a key,” I shouted, but Dad was watching the news, but mum just smiled and waved.

I went out to my old Mini, unlocking the driver's door. I got in and drove out and off to the ring road. I arrived at the club at twenty past, which left me ten minutes.

I dashed in the back, into a small cupboard of a room. I took off my jeans and pullover, and opened my bag. I pulled on the very short black sequinned dress, and hastily did my nails and make up. I brushed out my hair and slipped onto my high-heeled boots. I was using the curler to put some ringlets in my hair when a head popped round the door.

“Hi Babe. Thought you might not make it.”

“Hi Mike. No, I’m here. Many in tonight?”

“The usual, but several are only here for you.”

I laughed, but just had a final check of my make up in the mirror.

“You look hot. If I didn’t know, I’d swear you were a girl,” he said, and grinned lewdly at me.

“I am a girl, Mike, in my heart!”

“Yeah, you know it and I know it. Any time you want some action, let me know.”

“Thanks, but I’m off luxuries this week,” I said, to which he laughed.
 
 
The club, Sister Act, was one of a few genuine TG/TS clubs in this part of the world. I had found it on the Internet by accident, and it took me a long time to summon up the courage to go.

I had gone in normal clothes the first time, just to see what it was like. I had taken a holdall with me, as changing facilities were advertised on the website.

Suddenly, I was no longer alone, despite being out-numbered by transvestites and gays, there were several Transsexuals, with whom I was able to relax and discuss our common problems. It was a huge relief to me to be with people who knew what I was going through.

I took to arriving, availing myself of the changing facilities and then just hung about and chatted with the friends I made there. It was odd, as the mix was a peculiar blend of types. We even had curious ‘straights’, who came to gawp as if it was a freak show. Many predatory gay men came to try to pick up a ‘girl’. And I found myself turning down a heck of a lot of propositions, and a surprising amount from straight men who really thought I was a girl.

I would always dance with anyone, gay, TS, TV, straight, male, female or somewhere in the confused grey area in between. In fact, I had several rather severe lesbians come on to me, believing I was one of them.

The revues and acts were pretty dire, and one day I just turned up and asked if they needed a new act.

“What do you do, kid?” Mike, the manager, had asked.

“I do a cool Britney Spears and Kylie Minogue impressions,” I said.

“Show me.”

I then went and changed into a mini skirt and make up, and went through a routine I had practised in front of my sister and the mirror for months.

He and his partner, a very tall glamorous girl called Celleste, who had been a Colin many years ago, had watched me grind my stuff.

“When can you start?” she asked, so I grinned.

“When would you like me to?”

I had been performing three evenings a week for six months, with the occasional breaks when I had to be elsewhere. The money was good, it all added to my savings.
 
 
Stepping onto the small stage, I performed three numbers as usual, to be whistled at by the small but incredibly loyal crowd, to whom I blew some kisses as I finished. There were about fifty people in, and half were dressed as girls. It was sometimes difficult to tell who was male, who was female, and who was half way between.

I stayed for a drink with a couple of acquaintances, as Kylie, of course. I sat at the bar, and perched on a stool, showing my legs off in all their glory. A stocky guy in denim approached me. I had never seen him here before.

Here we go again. I said to myself.

“That was very impressive. Even your own voice,” he said, I caught a north American accent in his voice.

“Thanks. But hardly Stars in their Eyes.”

“Don’t do yourself down, have you ever considered doing the London scene?”

“Not really. Maybe later, but hopefully I won’t need to go to TG clubs then.”

“Planning SRS?”

“Dreaming, more like, but eventually - yes. But life is too complicated to say when.”

“You look tremendous. How much is padding?”

“Not that much actually. I’ve been on hormones for months.”

“You even look a lot like Kylie.”

“Thanks. But I know I'm far too tall.” I said, aware that in my heels I was about 5’10”.

“Yeah, that’s true, she is really small. I saw her perform live once, and couldn’t believe she was so short.”

I smiled, taking the opportunity to look at him more closely. He was mid twenties, about my height, perhaps a little taller but certainly broader. He had thick dark hair, cut short, and looked remarkably ‘straight’, so I wondered what the hell he was doing here.

He smiled at me.

“My name’s Paul,” he said, holding out his hand in a strangely formal gesture that seemed out of place here. “I can't call you Kylie all evening.”

I shook it, saying “I’m Josie.”

“Nice to meet you Josie!”

He had quite a small hand, I noticed that it was about the same size as mine, and I had very small hands, for a bloke at any rate. I suddenly twigged, so smiled at him.

“You guessed?” he asked.

I nodded. “Because I’m one too. If it's any consolation, if it had been anywhere else but here, I'd never even have considered it. How long?” I asked.

“I had my final surgery about twelve weeks ago, but I've been living as a man for over eighteen months.”

“You look brilliant. Though why you want to be a bloke beats me,” I said, and he grinned.

“I could say similar to you.”

We smiled together at the ridiculous nature of our weird condition.

“Any regrets?” I asked him.

He shook his head, finishing his drink.

“None at all. Even though my family have disowned me, and I've literally had to start a completely new life thousands of miles away from home.”

“You're American?”

“By birth I'm British, but my folks moved to Canada in the 80s, so I was brought up there. All my family are still there. I came home to change, so to speak.”

“I like the accent, it's cool.”

“Thanks. Look, do you want another drink?”

I looked into my empty glass and nodded.

“The last one was tonic, perhaps a little gin with it this time?” I asked.

He smiled and ordered for us. I couldn’t help but notice he kept glancing at my legs.

“So, why come here? Surely you could find action in any ordinary singles club or bar?” I asked.

Paul smiled, taking a swig of his pint. He really did look relaxed and very much the part.

“I still have a confidence thing. I mean, look at you, you could go to any bar and come away with any straight guy, and he’d be none the wiser. Why don’t you?”

I smiled, looking down into my glass, as I thought about my answer.

“I suppose it comes down to what happens when I leave the bar. How far do I let him go before telling him, and what will the reaction be?”

“So, it's the same with me. Even with the surgery, I'm still not quite all there, so to speak. I know that here I’ll be accepted for what I am.”

“Sad aren’t we?” I said, and he smiled.

“It certainly sorts out the tough nuts from the wimps.”

“Yeah. That’s true.”

“So how long have you been taking the hormones?”

“Since I was sixteen. They’re not prescribed, but only low dosage.”

“Not prescribed? You mean that you haven’t gone to a doctor about this?”

I shook my head. My large hoop earrings banged against my neck.

“Not yet, it’s a little tricky.”

“Tricky or not, you could be doing yourself an injury. I read of one guy who didn’t go through a doctor, and he ended up with serious cancer problems.”

I had read that too, but chose to ignore it.

“Maybe this week,” I said.

“Please do. I’d hate to see you suffer because of something avoidable like this.”

I stared at him. He sounded as if he cared, and that surprised me. The one thing about our complaint, it made one very self-centred and selfish. One became rather introverted and insular. It surprised me that he cared.

He looked embarrassed and looked down at his drink.

“Okay, I will,” I said.

He looked at me.

“Promise?”

I grinned and nodded.

“Great. So, what are you in real life?”

“Student, doing French, I.T. and Design and Technology for A level.”

“A level? How old are you?”

“Eighteen, why?”

“You look way older than eighteen. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve had a hard life,” I said, secretly pleased.

“I know what you mean.”

“What do you do?”

“I write travel features and books.”

“Cool, does that mean you get to go to all the nice places?”

“Yes, it's a great job for a loner.”

“Did you do that before?”

“Yes, it's quite amazing the change in attitude of people now.”

“In what way?”

“They treat me so much differently as a man. I never looked as sexy as you, so I suppose that makes a big difference, but as an ordinary girl, I found it tough to get on. Whereas as an ordinary guy, life is so much easier.”

We chatted for ages, and I actually found myself forgetting what I was for the first time in my life. I was a girl, and he treated me as one. It was wonderful.

He asked me to dance, so for the first time ever, I stayed for the slow ones. He held me close without crushing me, while I just enjoyed being held. He was nice.

I looked at my watch.

“Shit! I have to go.”

Paul looked embarrassed. “Are you supposed to be somewhere?” he asked.

“I have to get home, and then open the shop tomorrow.”

“Shop?”

“I've an interest in a little business in Oxford. My boss is in Birmingham and so I'm looking after the shop.”

“What about college?”

“It's all coursework, and I’ve done my current assignment, so I'll hand it in sometime over the next day or so.”

He was looking really quite uncomfortable, and I felt he wanted to proposition me.

“You still live at home?” he asked.

“Yes, but my parents go to bed at ten, so I always leave before they get up. I always keep a change of clothes in the car, so I sometimes stay out with friends.”

“Have you anyone special, a boy, that is? Or are you into girls?”

“No. I have no one, boy or girl. Given a choice, I think I’d go for a bloke. But, I am afraid that most boys I like will be disappointed with what secrets I have. I tend to chicken out before I get to that stage. Bummer, but it saves on getting the shit kicked out of me,” I said, and he chuckled.

“Where do you live?”

“Oxford, you?”

“Just up the road. Look, would you like to come back for a coffee or something?”

I looked at him, and he dropped his gaze, reddening a little.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“If you want.”

“How many girls have you picked up using that line?” I asked, and to my relief he laughed.

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you accept.”

“And, if I were to?”

“Then it will bring my grand total to one.”

I laughed and nodded.

“Okay, let me get my stuff. I have my car here, so I'll follow you home.”

He looked surprised when I accepted, and smiled at me.

“Oh, Josie?”

“Yes?”

“Stay as you are, please?”

I smiled and stood up. I kissed his cheek, and said, “Okay.” His cheek was slightly bristly.

I followed him the couple of miles that was ‘just down the road’.

He lived in a picturesque little cottage with a thatched roof. I parked next to his car, so together we went into the cottage. It was warm and very snug. All the furnishings were in keeping with the old feel of the place.

“This is lovely,” I said.

“Thanks. I used a little inheritance to buy and renovate it, I like it.”

“It’s gorgeous!” I said, and he looked pleased.

I had repaired my make up before leaving the club, but needed the loo.

He showed me where it was, so I went and did what I had to do. I looked at myself in the mirror, and thought I looked like a tart. But maybe that was what he wanted.

I was quite curious to find out what was going to happen, as he had been a she, so it was all very peculiar. I had never had relationship with anyone, which went beyond mere friendship. I was not really into sex, as my main concern was to get my head round my gender. Having a girl’s mind and spirit in a bloke’s body was not the best recipe for a successful relationship.

The hormones I had been taking must have reduced my libido, for sex just wasn’t something I thought about.

I came out and he asked if I wanted milk and sugar.

“Milk and one sugar please,” I said, sitting on the sofa.

He passed me a mug, as he sat beside me.

We chatted for a while, and I found that as Pauline, she had been aware of her transsexuality from an early age. But her home background was as stilted as mine, so she was unable to realise her dreams while still staying with her parents.

She went off to college in Guelph, and drifted into a series of lesbian relationships, simply because she was attracted to girls and not boys. However, she wanted to be a man, and not a lesbian female.

She became a travel journalist and then, after a few years her parents found out that she was a lesbian, and virtually disowned her at that point. This proved that she had nothing more to lose, so taking her inheritance from her grandmother, she returned to England, and at twenty-five went for the sex change.

“You poor thing. It's so awful knowing that parents won’t accept you,” I said.

He looked at me.

“You’re the same?”

I nodded, “I suppose so, but I haven't even had the balls to tell them. I think it would destroy what little we have.” Despite myself, I felt a tear form in my eye. It was partly my frustration, but also partly the way life had treated Paul. I said so, and before I knew what was happening we were kissing.

It started as a sort of cuddle and make-you-better type kiss. But as his hands caressed me, we became more and more turned on, and the kiss became vacuum-packed.

I had never kissed or been kissed like this in my short life, and I felt things that I had never experienced before. Strange feelings coursed through my body, and I found myself wanting more.

The coffee half drunk, we spent the next ten minutes kissing, and I loved it. Here was someone who treated me like a girl. He appeared to be a man, and knew and didn’t care what was between my legs.

We moved to the bedroom, partially undressing each other. I kept my padded bra and knickers, as I had never been naked with another person like this in my life. He turned the lights down low, so we just lay cuddling and caressing each other under the huge duvet.

I caressed his slightly scarred chest, now covered in quite a thick layer of hair. His double mastectomy was a hell of a price to pay to feel part of the human race again.

“You poor soul. Why couldn’t we have just swapped?” I said.

He smiled, holding my hand against his chest.

“You'll experience more than your fair share of pain before you're through. It's so unfair.”

Sexually, neither of us had the equipment necessary to really provide the gratification that the other really wanted, but we had a really good go. I caressed him letting my fingers slowly make their way towards his crotch, not really knowing what to expect. He had taken his boxers off, so I was pleasantly surprised at what my questing hand found.

He undressed me completely, kissing and licking my small but very sensitive breasts. It drove me wild and I allowed him to do things to me that I would have never even considered before, and I did things to him that gave him pleasure. As we lay in a close embrace, smiling at the silliness of it all, I felt the nearest thing to being a woman I had ever felt in my life.

“Thanks,” I said, kissing him.

“Ditto, I was wondering what we could do, between the pair of us.”

I laughed.

“Well, I have to admit to have not thought about sex very often. I think I'm more concerned with becoming what I want to be rather that what I want to do. Right now, all I really want now is the right equipment. Because if that was as nice as it was, then to actually have a man inside me must be so much better,” I said, and he stroked my bottom again.

“I’m not as big as some men,” he said, almost apologetically.

“I’m hardly equipped to accommodate you.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t consider using what you do have?”

“Quite sure! As I said, sex isn't important to me, as I just want to be loved. I think it must be something to do with the hormones.”

“I have to admit that I never used to think about sex until I started on testosterone. Now I think of it all the time,” he said chuckling, and looking at his penis.

I held it, and it seemed fine to me, sort of semi rigid, and of a reasonable size.

“I like you touching me,” he said.

I moved round, and rubbed my bum against him, he slid his member between the cheeks of my bum, and just rubbed against me. He didn’t penetrate me, but I loved it. It made me feel so, I don’t know, desirable.
 
 
I awoke at seven, and for a moment forgot where I was. I was still in his bed, and one of his arms was pinning me down. I moved and he opened an eye.

“Hi!”

I kissed him, and we played with each other for a little while.

“Sorry. Loo!” I said, and went to the bathroom. I sat on the loo, and peed. I wanted to be a girl all the time so badly, it hurt!

He came in and kissed me. I was naked and so was he, so together we represented that grey area between the genders. We showered together, and than, after drying off, I dressed in my jeans and tee shirt. I kept my bra on, and wore my high heel boots. I put make up on, and figured - what the hell, I only have to open the shop. I could change later!

We had breakfast together, and it was surreally domesticated. I was the female and he the male, and we seemed so normal. Just as I got my stuff together, there was a knock on the door.

A small middle-aged woman stood there, so Paul let her in. She was the daily help.

“This is my friend Josie, Mrs Hawkins. She stayed the night,” Paul said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Hello,” I said, smiling at the woman.

“Oh, right Mr Gardner, will the spare bed need changing?”

“No, it didn’t get used,” Paul said, and I escaped before I got the giggles. He followed me out and kissed me goodbye.

“My reputation is now secure,” he said, with a grin. “I think she thought I was gay.”

I slung my stuff into the car.

“Josie, will I see you again?”

“I don’t see why not. After all, you're my first one-night stand, ever. I’d like to think I was capable of more than one night.”

He looked embarrassed again.

“Well, you're my first since the operation.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t the real thing for you,” I said, meaning it.

“You're more the real thing than many girls born that way. I’d really like to see you again,”

I gave him a card with my mobile and the shop number on it.

“Ring me. Or, if you want a coffee, drop in any time,” I said, and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for making me feel like the person I want to be,” I said, leaving him watching me drive away.
 
 
Part 2
 
 
I drove carefully, as I didn’t want to have to produce my boy's driving licence to a police officer while dressed as a girl. I parked near the shop and went to opened it up. I was still dressed en-femme, and I just checked the mail, taking my bag to the back, intending to change.

The shop bell went, and I swore. I went back out and two men were standing there.

“Hi, can I help you?” I said.

“Yes love, is the man who was working here last evening, in?”

Shit! What could I say?

“Not today, he’s tied up. Is there anything wrong?”

“It's something only he could help us with,” said the taller one. The other one said something to him.

“Well, maybe. He did a job for a colleague of ours last night. We just wanted to know whether he saved anything of that job on the computer.”

My heart raced, these were to do with the man and his short bit of film - the one that I took a CD copy.

“Okay, it's unlikely, as hard drive space is very precious, so we don't save stuff as a rule. What time was it, yesterday?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, after three, I think,” said the tall one, looking at his colleague who nodded.

“Okay. Let's have a look,” I said, and opened up the PC files. The men were standing behind me.

“He did a film to still job, and he has erased all records. This shows a job at about four o’clock, and that he made no copies. Oh yes he did, he made a DVD copy, obviously the picture was too big for a straight save to an old floppy disc. The copy was given to the client, who paid cash. He invoiced the man, but he didn’t take it.

“He sent all items to the recycle bin, which is empty. No other copies were made,” I said.

The men looked at me suspiciously.

“Could he have made a copy but the computer wouldn’t show it?”

“It's possible, but highly unlikely. As I said, we get hundreds of jobs in every week, and if we kept copies of everything, we’d run out of storage room very fast. Have you any idea how much drive space graphic files take up?” I asked.

“When is he due in?” the shorter man asked, ignoring my question.

“I don’t know. He only fills in occasionally, he's a college kid, so comes when we're short,” I said, my heart thumping.

“What's his name?”

“Joe, something. I don’t know his last name. He's just one of the many nerdy school kids who like to help out.”

“Do you work here full time?”

I smiled, and tried to look like a dumb blonde.

“No, I’m another geek who helps out.”

“So, no copies, and nothing on the computer?”

“No, but if it's important, I can see if I can get him to call you.”

“No it isn’t important, as long as you're sure.”

“I'm as sure as I can be. But I think it highly unlikely.”

“Thank you, Miss. If he calls in, could you just make sure that no copies exist. If any do, give me a call on this mobile number.”

I looked at the card.

Global Technics Ltd. Based in Hounslow, near Heathrow Airport.

“Okay. Is there anything else?” I asked.

“No, thanks for your help, love.”

Then they were gone.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and went and made myself a coffee. I sat and read the emails, processing the few orders that had come in over night.

I switched on the TV and watched the news.

I saw another murder had been reported. Some bloke was found shot near a petrol station in Headington. Then they produced a photograph, and I almost died. It was the customer who came in for the print.

They said his name was William Henderson, and he was a civil servant. It was not known what the motive was.

I didn’t know the facts, but I knew why he was killed, and I was positive it was because of the man in the film, someone called George Lambert.

I quickly ran an Internet search and found several men with than name, but only one was now a junior Home Office minister for industry. I got his picture up, and froze, as there was little doubt, it was the same man. Looking older and respectable, but still the same man.

“Shit!” I said.

Two more customers came in, so it was lunchtime before I realised that I had been dressed as a girl all morning. I hadn't thought about it at all.

I shrugged, if the cap fits, wear it.

I shut the shop for an hour and went over to the sandwich bar and bought some lunch, I thought that if I could I would hand in my assignment before Friday.

I was weeks ahead of everyone else, so I was now free until next term. I had a thought; I could bugger off to Europe for Jezzy, and that way would be out of harm's way for several weeks.

I was walking back to the shop when my mobile went.

“Hi?” I said.

“Josie? It’s Paul.”

My heart had a little flutter as soon as I recognised his voice.

“Hi, thanks for remembering me.”

“Are you free for lunch?”

I experienced feelings that were completely alien to me, and found myself grinning like a fool. I stared at the bag in my hand, containing a crusty baguette with coronation chicken.

“Yeah, if you like,” I said.

“How about the Three Feathers, in ten minutes?”

I smiled as it was literally two minutes away from the shop.

“Where are you now?” I asked.

“Outside a shop saying closed for lunch.”

I walked round the corner, to see him standing facing the shop.

“How about fifteen seconds?” I said.

“Where are you?”

“Standing right behind you.”

He turned round and saw me still dressed as a girl.

He put the phone away, and walked over to me.

“Hi,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“Hi yourself.”

He looked at my baguette.

“If I got one too, we could eat it in the shop and save the cost of the drink.”

I smiled. “I’ll put the kettle on, the sandwich shop is just down there on the left.”

I went back in and found I was shaking like a girl on her first date. Well, I was, sort of.

I put the kettle on, and he was back by the time it boiled.

We chatted for a while about the business, but then he surprised the hell out of me.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, thus rendering me speechless. “You look wonderful. Why don’t you always dress like a girl?”

“I’d love to, but it would kill my parents.”

“Well, you look the part. You really are very attractive.”

I blushed, as I was unused to such comments.

“Have you made an appointment with the doctor yet?”

“No. Too chicken,” I admitted.

He came over and took my hand.

“Look, I’ve been through it. It may have been the other way, but I know exactly what you're feeling, and you need to see the doctor. Believe me, this has to be done properly.”

I was silent. He picked up my mobile and keyed through to the names. He found ‘doctor’, and rang it. I opened my mouth, but he put his hand up.

“Hello, I’d like to make an appointment for….?”

“Joe Fortune, I’m with Dr Simpson,” I said.

“J. Fortune, for Dr Simpson.”

“In an hour, a cancellation, that’ll be fine, thanks.”

He hung up.

“There!”

“Bastard,” I said, and he smiled.

“Do you mean that?”

“No, yes, hell, I don’t know. Maybe.”

The shop phone went. It was Martin.

“Hi Martin, how’s it going?”

“Brilliant. Stewart is here.”

“Yeah, he said he would try to get up.”

“Look, he’s taken loads of orders, so will be back to the shop tomorrow, will you be in?”

“I was going to be, why?”

“I was going to say, as he will be there, you can take the rest of the week off. Unless you fancy coming up here?”

I didn’t.

“No, look that’s great, I need more time for my assignment, so I’ll take a break,” I said.

“Okay, how’s business?”

“Very quiet, I have processed all the orders so far, and I’ve had a couple off the street.”

“Great. Look I’ll be back on Monday, will you be in?”

“Ah, maybe not. I’ve got a chance of going on a little break.”

“You lucky dog you, anyone I know?”

I looked at Paul.

“I very much doubt it,” I said, and hung up.

We ate lunch, but then I had to open up at two.

I took a couple of calls, and dealt with some orders on the site. I called Jezzy.

“Jezzy, it’s me. Can you pop round?”

“Not right now, why?”

“I might do that job of yours.”

“I’ll be round in ten.”

Paul was looking at me.

“Little break?”

“My sister wants me to take on her travel rep’s job for a few weeks, so she can bugger off to the Caribbean with a new boyfriend.”

“As a girl?”

I nodded.

“That’s a bit complicated, isn’t it?”

“Well, I want to fuck off out of the country for a bit, let the heat die down. This way I will be able to vanish.”

“Heat?”

I explained everything to him, so he looked worried.

“Call the police, tell them.”

“I don’t know, if there's a Minister involved, whom do I trust?”

“You’ve a point, where is the CD?”

I held it up.

“I still think you should tell the police. But if you don’t want to, then send it to a solicitor, and ask them to forward it to the police in the event of you not contacting them in, say, six weeks time. And make a copy and put it in a safe deposit box in a bank.”

“What do you think it means?”

“If a man has died, and it implicates George Lambert, then it stinks. Somehow the photograph proves he was up to no good. But what?”

I put it in the PC and we watched it. The only other feature was a cottage.

“Where is that?” I asked, and he shrugged.

“Maybe it is the scene of a crime, and he was filmed coming away from it,” I suggested facetiously.

He looked at me.

“That’s it. That has got to be it.”

We looked at it again, and I managed to just zoom in on a parked car in the distance. All I could see were the first three letters on the number plate, FUD.

“It's an Oxfordshire plate,” I said.

“How do you know that?”

“I’m a geek, I know such crappy things. UD was always used by the Oxford licensing authority.”

“Josie, tell the police.”

“Okay, I will tomorrow,” I said.

I made another copy and typed up a letter to the family solicitor. I put one in a Jiffy bag with the letter and the other into my bag. Then Jezzy arrived.

She took one look at me and her jaw hit the floor. I may have been wearing jeans, but what with my nail varnish, make up, and 36C chest, I was looking more like her than she was!

“Shit! Look at you. Joe, what the fuck are you doing?” she said, and then saw Paul.

“Hi Jezzy, this is my friend Paul. Paul, my dumb twin, Jessica.”

Paul pretended to play stupid.

He frowned. “Jo? You said your name was Josie?”

“Oh, it is, I just tease her and call her Jo!” said Jezzy, looking really concerned at me.

Paul grinned and Jezzy realised she was having her leg pulled.

“So, what the hell is going on?” she asked.

“I’ll do that job for you, but I’ll need that passport and other ID. I can’t go as me. And you have to tell me what will be expected of me.” I said.

“Well, you could have my Barclaycard, I don’t use it much, but please don’t put too much on it. I’ll pop back later with the passport and all the paperwork, where will you be?”

I looked at Paul and he nodded.

“She'll be at my place,” he said, and Jezzy looked astounded, both at the word ‘she’, and the fact that I was going to be staying with Paul.

He wrote down the address for her, and then she rushed out again, telling me that I was the greatest and she would be there by eight.

“You, doctor, now,” Paul said firmly to me.

“I’ll change.”

“No, you will make more of an impact like this.”

“I can’t, the doctor is a friend of the family.”

“Oh, and I suppose telling him is different to showing him?”

“What about my voice?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, you sound more female than I do.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be hard!” I teased, and he tried to tickle me.
 
 
Twenty minutes later, with one of my hands firmly grasped in his, we walked into the surgery. Paul was not letting me chicken out. I was still dressed as a girl. I had shut the shop up, and had lowered the shutters down, as I wasn’t going back there tonight.

“J. Fortune for Doctor Simpson,” I said to the receptionist.

“Take a seat, dear.” The lady said without looking up, simply ticking me off the list.

We sat, and I was physically shaking.

“You’ll be fine.”

“Shut up!”

“J. Fortune?”

I stood.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Paul asked.

I shook my head, and went to the doctor’s door. I swallowed and went in. The doctor was typing on his PC.

“Young Joe, what can I do……..” He looked up, frowned and then looked at the notes on his desk.

“There has been a mistake, Jessica, I’m so sorry, the receptionist said it was a male who called. I have the wrong name on my list.”

“It's me, Doctor, I am, no, was, hell, I suppose I still am Joe.”

Robin Simpson knew me quite well; after all, he had been my doctor all my life.

He sat back, looking me up and down.

“Well! This explains a few things, but I hope you will enlighten me further?”
 
 
Twenty minutes later, after explaining things to him and allowing him to examine me, I was dressed and sitting in the chair again.

“What can I say, Jo, or Josie, is it?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“You've been very irresponsible with the pills. How did you come by them?”

“I’d rather not say. Have I done harm?”

“Probably, but I don’t know how much, why did you come to me only now?”

“My friend made me. I haven’t come before in case my parents found out.”

“So, someone else knows?”

“Jessica, and my friend.”

“Well, your friend has probably saved your life. Is she with you?”

“He is, he’s outside in the waiting room.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, Josie, this is getting complicated.”

“No more than the rest of my life,” I said, sighing.

“I suppose so, but those pills stop now, okay?”

“Only if you start me on the proper stuff,” I said, obstinately.

He smiled, but with little humour.

“The pills you've been taking have certainly arrested your male development, so much so, that I doubt whether you could ever revert. You do seem to be developing a distinctly feminine shape. Are you sure this is the road you want to travel?”

I nodded. “Oh yes.”

“Then, as you are eighteen, I have to take you seriously. I'll refer you to a psychiatrist who will assess you through the process, and her final assessment will determine the course we follow. Do you understand?”

I nodded, and he looked at me closely.

“You really look very like your sister. It’s quite uncanny. Look, on a personal note, and this is me talking, not your doctor, I think you are probably doing the right thing, as you are far too beautiful and feminine to be a boy. I think you probably always have, but I would have been out of line to mention it.”

I looked at him sharply and smiled.

“As I said, this explains a few things. What about your parents?”

“Don’t!” I said, reeling inside.

“They have to be told.”

“I can’t.”

“I think your mother has guessed.”

I looked at him and frowned.

“Mum? Never!”

“Don’t judge a book by its covers. Your Mum may not be an academic, but she knows her children.”

“You reckon?”

He nodded. “Your father won’t have a clue, but if I know him as well as I think I do, he won’t mind too much, as long as you're honest.”

“He’ll kill me.”

Dr Simpson smiled again. “No, he loves you, he may not like it, but he will accept it.”

“How do I tell them?”

“That’s up to you, but if you walk in looking like that, it may be a bit of a shock, but at least they will be able to see things more clearly.”

The whole thing got too much, so I felt the tears build up. He handed me a tissue, leaving me alone for a minute. I felt a strong arm on my shoulders, and looked up to find Paul there. The doctor had fetched him.

I lost it then, and sobbed my heart out into his shoulder. He just held me as I cried.

The doctor came back and Paul held my hand.

“Everyone needs someone, and I am so pleased Josie has someone,” the doctor said to Paul. This made me smile.

He then wrote a prescription for my hormones.

“Look, Josie. The pills you have been taken have done a good job, in that you have chemically castrated yourself. Do you ever experience an erection?”

I shook my head, as I was embarrassed now.

“I used to, occasionally and partially. But not recently and I haven’t ejaculated in ages.”

“I think we will have to remove the testicles. They've shrunk to a fraction of their original size and I suppose they are surplus to requirements, and there is a possibility they could become cancerous.”

Paul looked at me with that ‘I told you so’ expression.

“When?”

He looked at his watch.

“It's a short job, so I could do it this evening under a local. Can you pop back at five?”

“That soon?” I asked, surprised.

“As I said, if I don’t you could regret it, and it is just a quick snip and a couple of stitches.”

I looked at Paul.

He looked at the doctor.

“We’ll be back at five,” he said.

“Good. Then that gives you time to go to the chemist, and grab a cup of tea. Really, in your current condition, this is no worse than a vasectomy.”

I immediately started worrying about the stitches.

“Um, doctor, these stitches, do they need taking out?”

“No, they self-dissolve in a few days! Just no rugby,” he said, laughing at his little joke.

We left and Paul drove me to the nearest chemist. I handed over the prescription, and we popped into a small café for a tea while we waited.

“Thanks for coming with me, you didn’t have to,” I said.

“I did, you’d have never gone through with it.”

I laughed.

“I suppose you're right. Paul, you only met me yesterday, why are you doing this?”

He took my hand.

“Look, Josie, I don’t know where we are going with this, but for some reason our paths crossed, and you met a need of mine last night. You make me feel like the man I have always wanted to be, and you need me. I want you to be the girl that you so obviously are, and if we have a future as a couple, then fine, but if not, we can at least be there for each other for a while.

“I have no expectations and make no demands of you. I find I have strong feelings for you, and I want you to be happy. I know I can help you through this time and, as I said, you make me feel good about myself,” he said.

He made me want to cry again, so I kissed him.

“Thanks, I do need you, and I have feelings for you too. I think I have been so wrapped up in myself for so long, I'm not very good at sharing feelings, so please forgive me.”

“Tell me about it. I know exactly what you're going through,” he said.

I collected my medication and then we had a walk in the park.

I felt completely at ease with my arm looped through his. I realised that I had been living as a girl in public for the longest period in my life, and I loved it. It came completely naturally to me.

We chatted about all kinds of things, so he steered the conversation to my parents.

“You will have to tell them,” he said.

“I know,” I said, rather crossly.

He chuckled. “After the surgery tonight.”

“No way!” I said, shocked.

“Why not? You'll have taken the first, irrevocable step, so you can he honest and open.”

“Oh God! Paul, I can’t,” I wailed.

“Okay, we'll talk about it later. Time to go.”
 
 
An hour later, I was still numb between the legs. It was six o’clock, and the doctor had been right, as it had only taken him a few minutes. It actually took him longer to sew me up than to remove what was left of my testicles.

They were both shrivelled up and useless.

I had watched, fascinated, as he did it, and he explained it all for me as he went through it.

I had no feelings of attachment or loss as he removed them; rather, I felt this was one big step towards my goal.

“Look, I can just do something for you, as a temporary cosmetic thing, if you like?” the doctor asked.

“What?”

“Well, if I tuck your small penis back here, and fold over the skin of the empty sac like this, and stitch here, here and here. It gives the appearance of female genitalia. It looks like a vaginal opening, and would pass cursory glance. You can wear normal clothes, go swimming and all that sort of stuff. You obviously can’t have sex, and you must wash thoroughly. You will have to pee sitting down, obviously.”

“I have been for the last year, anyway.”

He did what he showed me, and it looked brilliant.

I grinned at him, and he tidied up and told me to get dressed. I took a denim skirt out of my bag, as the jeans were too damn tight in the crotch.

He sat there and looked at my legs.

“I find it hard to believe you are a boy,” he said.

“I’m not, really, now am I?”

“No, I suppose you aren’t. Look, Josie, you really must tell your parents. If you want me to be there when you do, I may be able to help explain things to them.”

“Thanks, but I must try and do this myself. I have been putting it off for so long, but I don’t think I can put it off any longer.”

“Well, you know my number if you or they need to talk.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“You know, and this is me talking again, not your doctor, I actually thought you might be having such difficulties some time ago, but couldn’t broach the subject, for obvious reasons. I really believe you're doing the right thing, and I know you certainly look like a very pretty girl. If you do now, then you should get through this with fewer problems than most. I must warn you, the path you have chosen is not an easy one, as you'll have a very tough time ahead, physically, mentally and emotionally. You're very lucky to have a boyfriend who seems to understand.”

“Yes, I know, and he really does understand. He’s great.”

I left the office and found Paul in the waiting room.

He laughed as I walked over to him.

“What?”

“You’re walking like John Wayne in a skirt.”

I hit him and he laughed.

“Sorted?” he asked.

“Yes, one step closer.”

He took my hand and we left the medical centre.

“You drive,” I said, giving him the Mini keys. He opened the passenger door and I got in, gingerly. I was still numb, but it was beginning to wear off.

“Where to?” he asked.

“I suppose I have to tell the folks.”

He looked at me.

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t hide the truth any more, can I?”

“Not really. Do you want me to come in with you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

He drove in silence for a while.

“You ought to repair your make up, you’ve been crying,” he suggested.

“Oh fuck, I forgot. I’m sort of new at this shit,” I said, and he chuckled!

I looked at him. Nothing in his appearance and demeanour suggested he had ever been anything other than a male. I told him and he smiled.

“Thanks, I always need to hear that,” he said.

I put the interior light on and repaired my make up. I put on a little more than usual, as I think I thought it would help. God, I was screwed up.

He pulled up into the driveway.

“My God, what a house! Your parents must be pretty damn well off, then?”

“Maybe, I think it has been in the family a while. Dad is a senior lecturer at the University, he’s not really into material things, but we are reasonably well off, I suppose.”

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m fucking not. I can’t do this, Paul.”

“Yes you can.”

“I can’t.”

“I did it, and they didn’t take it well, I knew they wouldn’t, and I still did it. It’s positive only in that once done, you never need worry about it any more.”

“Fuck!” I said.

“Josie, you have to do it.”

“I know. Fuck it.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Paul?”

“What?”

“Can you come in with me? I really don’t think I can do it by myself.”

“If you want me to.”

“I want!”

He got out of the car and it started to snow.

He opened my door, so I got out, shivering.

“How are your bits?” he asked.

“Tender. The feeling is coming back.” I said.

I stared at the front door.

Paul was just waiting for me.

“Okay, let's get this over with,” I said and went for the door. I felt physically sick.

I opened the door and we went in.

“Joe, is that you?” said my mother from the kitchen.

“Yes, Mum. It's me, and a friend,” I said.

She came out wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at me and went very pale.

“Oh, dear God, Joe?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Yes, Mum. Look, this is Paul. I need to explain a few things.”

“Joe, why are you dressed like your sister?”

“Is Dad home?”

“Yes, he's in his study,” she said, looking at Paul for help.

“Then I think I need to speak to you both,” I said.

“Oh Joe, you look like a pretty girl,” she said.

“I know. That’s what I must talk to you about.”

She was on the verge of tears, and so was I. I was about to crack up, so Paul took my hand.

“You are doing fine. Hang in there, you can break down afterwards,” he said to me.

“I’ll get your father,” she said.

I went into the drawing room and stood by the window, watching the snow fall onto the lawn.

“Good God, Joseph, what the hell is this?” father asked, as he came into the room. Mum was behind him, wringing her hands in worry.

“Mr and Mrs Fortune. My name is Paul Gardner, I'm a friend of Josie’s, and this is something which needs to be explained, so I would ask you to be very understanding so she can tell you.”

“She? Josie? Joseph, what is this?”

“Dad, please just shut up and let me explain. Look, this isn’t about you, or anything that you have done or not done. I'm one of those people born into the wrong body. I've known since I was four that I should have been a girl like Jessica. Well, I can’t live a lie any more, so I'm going to have to live as the person I've always known I should have been.

“I know this is tough for you to understand, but it's even tougher for me to actually experience. Honestly, I've tried to be a son to you, but I can’t do it any longer. If you never want to see me again, I'll understand, but I am telling you that you're going to have another daughter, and that I still love you.

“I'd love to go through this with your love and support, but I do understand that you may be ashamed of me and want nothing to do with me. This is the hardest thing I have done in my life, so I need to tell you the truth.

“I have been living part of the time as a girl for a few years, and have been on medication to arrest any male development. I've seen Doctor Simpson and he’s prescribed hormone treatment for to so I can develop fully as a woman. I anticipate further surgery to make me as near a woman as they can make me.”

I paused for breath.

My dad was just standing there, whisky glass in hand. The grandfather clock’s tick sounded very loud in the corner.

“You said - further surgery?” Dad said, his voice unnaturally quiet.

“Yes, I have already had cosmetic surgery on my genitalia. I was castrated, and the appearance of a vagina was created,” I said, sounding very apologetic, my voice was on the edge of breaking.

Dad walked over to the drinks cabinet, pouring himself another large whisky.

He turned and faced me.

“What do we call you? I would feel somewhat foolish calling you Joseph,” he asked, not unkindly.

“Josie. It is short for Josephine.”

He nodded and took a large mouthful of whisky. He looked at Paul.

“I’m sorry, young man, my manners have evaporated, whisky?”

“No, thank you, sir.”

He nodded. “This is a rum do,” he said, and looked at my mother who was sitting on the sofa with tears sliding down her cheeks. I was almost there as well.

Dad went and sat next to his wife, putting his arm around her shoulders.

He looked up at me.

“Come here girl,” he said, and I ran over and soon he was cuddling the two of us, both with tears streaming down our faces.

Paul turned to go.

“Young man, don’t go. If my daughter wanted you to be here, then you’d better stay.”

Paul smiled and sat in the easy chair, looking as if he was about to cry too.

I don’t know how long we sat there, but eventually Dad broke the spell.

“Well, I have been prepared for the announcement that you were gay for a long time. I suppose this is better, in a way” he said, and I was taken over by the giggles.

“Better?” I asked.

“Well, maybe not better, just different.”

“I think I have always known,” Mum muttered. “I just hoped you’d grow out of it.”

“I think, I’d like that whisky, if that’s all right,” Paul said.

Dad got up and went to the cabinet.

“Anyone else?”

I shook my head, as Mum moved across and put her arm around me. She looked at my breasts.

“Are they, um, you?”

“Some, but not all. Soon it should be,” I said.

Dad handed Paul his glass, and turned and looked at me.

“You look a damned sight better as a girl as you did as a boy,” he said, and I smiled weakly.

“Thanks, I think.”

“So, there is no way back?”

I shook my head. “Even if there was, I wouldn’t go.”

He nodded. “It’s funny, as one reads about these things, but never appreciates that it could happen in one’s own family,” Dad said.

I just looked guilty.

We sat in silence for a moment. The clock was making the only sound.

“This is all very hard for you. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Dad asked.

I looked at Paul, who smiled.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought I could deal with it, but it just took over too quickly.”

“You're a fool, Josie. If you ever thought we would disown you, or stop loving you, then you don’t know us very well. We might find it hard to come to terms with, but looking at you, there is no doubt that we have another daughter, so welcome to our family, Josephine.”

I burst into tears again and gave them both a hug.

“Does your sister know?” Mother said.

“Yes, she has known for years. I think she has known since we were very young, but certainly since she caught me dressing in her clothes when I was about twelve.”

“Oh. How difficult this must be for you.”

Dad looked at Paul.

“So, young man. I'm sorry, with all this fuss, I seem to have forgotten your name?”

“Paul Gardner, sir.”

“Where do you fit in to this, Paul?”

“Josie and I are friends. She needed moral support, so I gave it to her. She helped me, and that’s what friends do.”

“Thank you for being there for her. I can appreciate that this must have seemed like a very tough thing to do.”

“For some, the reaction can be very hostile and negative, so I understand,” Paul said, looking at me. Tears were in his eyes, and my heart went out to him. I left my mother and went over to him and gave him a hug.

“Have we enough for dinner?” Dad asked.

“Yes, I think so,” mother said.

“Good, then, Paul you will stay, won’t you?”

“Thank you, but I should get my car. I left it by the shop.”

“I’ll drive you to get it,” I said.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at my groin.

I nodded. “I’m fine, and it'll give them a chance to talk about me behind my back,” I said, and Dad smiled.

We went out and I drove back to the shop.

“Your parents were lovely. You're so lucky.”

“I know, but my heart went out to you, knowing how your family behaved.”

“How do you feel now?”

“So much better, thanks for making me do it,” I said.

“No problem. It was a privilege to be part of it.”

We arrived back at the shop and he collected his car. I called Jezzy and told her to meet us at home. She was intending to drop in anyway.
 
 
I arrived home, to find Dad had withdrawn to his study, and mum was in the kitchen. I went and helped her. She kept giving me little looks.

“Mum, are you okay with this, or do you want me to change?” I asked, aware that my appearance was probably the cause.

“No dear. I just can’t believe someone as pretty as you could ever have been that little boy. I feel so guilty for dressing you in the same clothes as your sister when you were babies.”

“It isn’t that, it's something I was born with. It isn’t anything you did, or didn’t do,” I said.

Paul helped and explained it a little more scientifically, although I didn’t think Mum would be able to understand it.

Jessica arrived and walked in, stopping dead when she saw me in a skirt and make up.

“Oh-my-God! You told them?”

“Yes, I told them.”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“In his study.”

She came over to me and hugged me.

“It must have been so hard for you.”

“It was, but it’s out now,” I said.

“I’ll go check on Dad. How did he take it?”

“Quite well, considering,” I said, and she went out again.
 
 
Dinner was remarkably normal, with all things considered. Dad tried in vain to act as if nothing had happened; yet he never failed to refer to me as Josie or use the female pronouns. Mum was a little unsure, and kept staring at me.

Jezzy was great, and was so relaxed that it made things even easier, while Paul was just lovely. God know what he must have been feeling, but he just sat there and made small talk with my parents as if everything was fine.

After dinner, I helped clear up, and it was as if I had always been a girl. Dad asked me to go to his study, where we had a serious chat about what was going to happen regarding the surgery, and how it would affect my education and such like.

“This young man, Paul. He's a good deal older than you?”

“He's twenty-seven next birthday.”

“So, why is he interested in someone like you, is he gay?”

“No Dad, he likes girls, but he likes me, and so we are just good friends. He has had some experience of my sort of problems, so is able to help.”

“Well, I am grateful for that. Just find it odd he, um, ah, he, ah…”

“He goes for a girl with a dick?” I interrupted.

“Josie, that's crude and unnecessary,” he said, frowning with embarrassment.

“But it is what you wanted to say,” I insisted.

He smiled a little sadly, I thought.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he admitted.

“Well, he's not interested in my dick, particularly as I may as well not have one. You can’t see it anyway.”

He frowned, and I felt so sorry for him.

“Look Dad, the best way to deal with this, is to let it just flow over you. Paul is a friend, nothing more, but he does understand, regardless of how much older he is, he is able to help me, so be grateful for that. I don’t know what is in the future, but I promise to do nothing to embarrass you and the family. I want to live a normal life as a girl. The only thing I won’t be able to do is have a baby.”

He looked at me.

“A normal life?”

“As possible.”

He nodded. “Do you need money, for the operation, or whatever?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps you could speak to Dr Simpson. If it's done privately, then it may be easier. I can’t see the national health being that eager to foot the bills.”

“I will. He might answer some questions I have. So, you have really made your choice?”

I nodded.

“Yes Dad. There is no turning back now.”

“What about your A levels?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t see a problem. I can do most of it by assignment and in the workshop. I can dress suitably ambiguously so as not to draw attention to myself. As long as the college principal is aware, I should be able to finish the one last term. Not even that, as I should be finished the exams by the end of May, beginning of June.”

He nodded.

“I had visions of you coming here, to Oxford.”

“I know Dad, and I may still. We’ll have to see how things pan out.”

“What are you going to do over the next few weeks?”

“I have an offer of a break. So I will be out of your hair for a while.”

“Anything to do with Paul?”

“No. He has his job. This is something else.”

“What does he do?”

“He is a travel journalist. He writes books and features on all kinds of travel related matters.”

Dad kissed the top of my head.

“All right. Just be careful.”

I smiled and left him alone.

Jezzy and Paul were getting on well in the dining room. The way they spoke, I guessed that Paul had confided in her about her past. Jezzy was so cool about it and she thought it was really sweet. Mum was in front of the TV, so then Jezzy pulled out a wad of papers.

Two hours later, having received a crash course as to how to be a holiday rep, she gave me a holdall.

“Right, in there is my ski stuff, my uniforms and everything else I was given. The posh one is the one with the skirt, blouse and jacket, and my less formal one with tee shirt and jumper. Your passport, and company ID, and here is my Barclaycard. If you over-spend, I will go ballistic.”

“Jezzy, get stuffed! If I do this favour for you, you accept your lumps with grace.”

We adjourned to my room, and I showed them both my real wardrobe. I actually had about the same amount of clothes as my sister, so she was utterly amazed.

She looked through them, and was staggered that our tastes were so similar.

They persuaded me to try on the Lynx Ski Holidays uniforms, and we had a hoot. They actually fitted well, apart from a shortfall in the boob department. That was the only part that we did not match — yet!

Paul was quiet, and eventually he told me he’d better go.

“Stay if you want?” I said.

He looked at me, and then at my sister.

“I think it best that I go. Your Dad is concerned enough about me.”

“Dad and mum are in bed. Stay, don’t worry about it,” said Jezzy.

I could tell he was tempted, but in the end, he kissed me and said he was going.

“I have to get up early, as I have to be in London for eight.”

Jessica left at the same time.

I was sad to see him go, but I was also very tender in the nether regions, so it was perhaps for the best.
 
 
Part 3
 
 
I had nothing to get up for the next morning, so I stayed in bed, and dozed, luxuriating in my silk nightdress. It had snowed heavily during the night, and the view from my window was like a Christmas card, but in late February.

I got a call from Stewart at ten to say there had been a break-in at the shop. Nothing was taken, but it looked like someone tampered with the hard drive of the main PC. I immediately knew who it was, Global Technics Ltd.

There was a need for me to attend, as I had to make a statement that I had locked up, but I was now worried. Would they try to find me?

I asked Stewart to meet me in the café round the corner first. Then I set off. I was in jeans and an old sweater, but was still wearing the breast enhancers in my bra, and was en femme again.

I met him and he saw that I was wearing a little make up, and my hair was flowing freely. He also saw my red-varnished nails and earrings. I saw him frown, but he said nothing.

He was about my height, with very short fair hair, in a crew cut. He was very lazy, so having his hair this short saved at least three minutes each morning. Like me he was slim, but he had more muscle, although more lithe than chunky. He was quick and quite strong, and he had a great sense of humour.
 
 
“Stewart. Look, you’ve been a mate for a long time. I have to tell you something,” I said.

“Yeah, like I don’t know what’s coming?”

I looked at him.

“Look, you are the most camp bloke I've ever met. You're gay, aren’t you?”

I shook my head.

“No, I’m a transsexual, and I'm going for a sex change. I had the first little operation yesterday. I'm called Josie now.”

Stewart did a wonderful goldfish impression.

“You're going to be a girl?”

“No Stewart. I am a girl, I always have been, inside. I just need some corrective surgery to finish the job.”

He stared at me, and slowly nodded.

“You certainly look the part. I’m amazed I never noticed before. Are those your boobs or what?”

“Some is me, and some is padding. Soon it will be all me.”

“Wicked! You look fucking awesome. Man, this is weird. Do your folks know?”

“I told them yesterday.”

“Shit! I told the cops that you were a bloke.”

“Okay, stay here,” I said. The café had only one unisex loo, so I simply removed all the feminine stuff, and appeared a few minutes later as Joe again.

We returned to the shop, and a bored policeman filled out a pre-printed statement form saying I had locked the premises up, and given no one permission to enter over night.

I made a decision. I told him about the strange visitors, and gave him the spare DVD that I was going to give to the solicitor and the business card. I explained about the man that had been shot, and that I was intending to tell the police later in the day. I did not mention about the other DVD. I wasn’t prepared to hang onto this any longer. If it would help, then I was happy to let the Police figure it all out.

The police left after making me do another statement exhibiting the card and the DVD. I immediately went into the back and became Josie again. I hated being Joe so much.

This time I put on a pair of warm tights and my denim skirt. I had warm knee length boots on, and when I reappeared, Stewart whistled.

“Shit, this is so weird. My mate is a babe!”

I smiled and blew him a kiss.

My mobile rang; it was Paul.

“Hi babe,” he said, and I giggled.

“Hi.”

“What’s so funny?”

“My mate Stewart has just called me a babe, and now you have too.”

“Well, you are.”

“Thanks, Honey,” I said, in an American accent.

“Can I come over?”

I explained about the break-in, and that I had given the DVD to the police.

“Well done. It has to be for the best.”

He arrived half an hour later, and walked straight up and gave me a hug and a kiss. The kiss went on a while, and made my legs go weak. Stewart’s eyes popped out, and I started to giggle.

We broke off for air, and Stewart was looking at me in a weird way.

“Stewart, this is my friend Paul, Paul, my old mate Stewart.”

“Hi Stewart. Are you okay?” Paul said. He pronounced his name as ‘Stoo-art’, and it sounded strange.

“Ah, not really. This is totally odd. I mean, a couple of days ago, my mate Joe was a bloke, and now she’s a girl, who has a boyfriend an all. I can’t take this.”

“I’ve bought you something,” Paul said, and passed me a box.

It contained realistic silicone breast forms, which even had large nipples and aureoles. There was a bottle of fixative, and removal resin.

“They actually stick to you, and look like the real thing,” he explained.

I rushed out the back and within a few minutes had a lovely pair of breasts.

They felt brilliant, so realistic and the shape was perfect. I gave him a huge hug.

“Mind you, you shouldn’t need them for that long.”

Stewart was shaking his head and muttering. The security fitters arrived and repaired the grill. The burglars had only damaged the locks, and they were easily replaced.

Paul had to leave, and promised to call later. We kissed again, which caused Stewart some more distress.

“Look, I need to hand in my D&T assignment. Could you come with me, and I’ll get it out the way?” I said to Stewart.

“You're going to college looking like that?” Stewart squeaked at me.

“Why not? It's who I am from now on.”

“This I have to see,” he said, so we set off together.

We arrived just before the lunch break, so it was quite quiet. But the few people about stared at me a little. I felt very vulnerable and self-conscious, believing that everyone would see through me instantly.

“They're looking at me,” I said.

“Only because you're a very attractive girl.”

We went up to Mr Cooper’s room, and I knocked.

“Come.”

I entered and he looked up from his desk.

“Yes?”

“Assignment, sir.”

“Put it down there,” he said, pointing to an empty space on a table by the door.

He was frowning.

“Remind me, who are you?”

“Jo Fortune, Design and Technology, upper sixth.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, still frowning.

I went to leave and he called me back.

“I don’t have any girls in upper sixth. I should certainly remember one as pretty as you.”

“Yes, you do, just me sir.”

He frowned and I escaped.
 
 
We walked rapidly away, and rounded a corner. Coming towards us was a group of guys in my IT class.

“Shit!” I muttered.

“Stay cool,” said Stewart.

“Hey Stewie! Wow, who’s your friend?” said Craig, the tallest geek with the silly woolly hat.

Stewart gave him one finger.

“She’s called Josie, and she is spoken for.”

“Not by you, you little runt?” Craig asked.

“No, not that it's any business of yours,” said Stewart.

“Hello, Josie. You aren’t a student here, by any chance?”

“Hello Craig, I see your charm is no better,” I said, and the others sniggered.

“Do I know you?” he asked, frowning.

“Not intimately, but let's say our paths have crossed. Bye-bye boys!” I said, and we walked off. They stood staring after us.

“Next term is going to be very interesting,” said Stewart, ruefully.
 
 
We went back to the shop. Stewart checked over the computers, to see if any lasting damage had been done. He decided that we needed some new bits, so he disappeared to see his geeky computer-fixer friend. I went into the back room and practised doing my make up like my sister. She called and told me she had accepted the job for me, and was flying out early in the morning.

“Right, you owe me big time now sis.”

“Okay, Sis, I’ll make it up to you when I get back. You never know, I may be an engaged lady by then.”

It seems that the rich American was very interested in her, and my dumb sister was intelligent enough to recognise a good thing when she saw one. She also had the sexual appetite of a rampant rabbit.
 
 
Stewart returned with a new hard drive and some other bits and pieces, so I left Stewart at the shop, surrounded by a dismantled computer, and went home early. I found Mum alone, so we had a real heart-to-heart chat. She was slowly coming to terms with me, and the implications of my change in gender. I told her I was going out and was staying with Paul for a bit.

She was concerned for me, so I jokingly told her I was a big girl, and that at least I couldn’t get in the family way. She almost smiled, but I felt awful.

I drove round to Paul’s and he opened the door.

He kissed me, so I felt wanted again.

I called Mike at the club, to tell him that I was going to be away for a while. He was good about it and asked whether I was going for SRS.

“Not this time, but soon,” I said.

“We’ll miss you.”

“Maybe, but there will always be someone else.”
 
 
Paul took me out to the local pub for supper.

“I’ve been here a couple of times, it's quiet, but they seem a decent bunch,” he told me.

We sat at a small table by a roaring fire, where we ate had a very nice, simple meal. No one gave us a second glance, as we were just a very ordinary couple, enjoying a meal together.

“You have no idea how good this makes me feel,” he said.

“What, being normal?” I asked.

“Yes, just fitting in. All my life I've felt different, and odd. For the first time, I feel like I belong, and that you belong with me.”

“Is that a proposal?” I joked.

“If you want it to be?” he said, rather too seriously.

“I didn’t think we could marry,” I said.

“There was a case at the European Court of Human Rights, which says we can, but if you think about it, we could. You would be legally a male, and I would be legally female. Legally we could marry.”

“Cool!” I said, and grinned.

I saw he looked serious again.

“Hey, don’t look so serious. I never said no.”

He smiled.

“A bit early, eh?

“A bit. I’m only two days old.”

He laughed.

“Happy birthday,” he said, and we chinked glasses.

I noticed he frowned slightly. I took his hand.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, and smiled.

“Liar,” I said. And he smiled again.

“Maybe you're right, and we're going too quick. I just find things so nice with you.”

“But?” I added.

“But, I’m not sure I’m the right person for you.”

“Or I’m the right person for you.”

He nodded.

“So, what do you say we just see where we get to?”

“That suits me,” he said, and the frown had gone.
 
 
We returned to his little cottage and snuggled together in bed. I was still tender down below, so he didn’t try anything, but we both enjoyed just being held.

I woke early, and had a warm bath, letting Paul sleep. I was amazed at the job the doctor had done, it really looked the thing. I tried to make my breasts look bigger by squashing the flesh together. They were definitely bigger, and certainly sensitive, for after I had played with them a bit, they hurt.

I was just getting out when Paul came in.

“You should have woken me,” he said.

“Why? You looked so peaceful,” I said, and he noticed my crotch.

“Jeez. That looks the part.”

“It does, doesn’t it? But it's for show only,” I said.

“You look so lovely. So soft and feminine,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I could do with a bit more boob.”

“You’ll get there.”

He helped me stick on my breast forms, and we ended up kissing and rolling on the bed. I made a decision then, and as he promised not to hurt me, it ended up with him sliding into my lubed up ass, doggie style, and I adored feeling him inside me. He was sufficiently small for it not to be painful, yet big enough to give me pleasure. Neither of us could really achieve orgasm, but the visual impact in the mirrors and what we could feel and see, seemed to bring us very close. For both of us the psychological aspects of ‘being’ the genders we so wanted to be, was ultimately more important than the achievement of an orgasm.

He was so gentle, and didn’t touch the sensitive parts, and I just liked feeling him slide in and out of me. I watched him in the mirror, and it made me feel like the woman I looked like. I felt a build up of sensations and a burst of pleasure that I had never experienced before, and screamed out and ground myself against him. He grinned and screwed me faster, and I went wild.

We then showered again together, and I washed his genitals. I was fascinated, as he had a penis, and two spheroids in a sac. It felt almost like the real thing.

“I wish you could come inside me,” I said.

“I do too. But it's enough just to be inside you at all.”

“I never thought I’d let anyone bugger me.”

“I’m not buggering you, I’m making love to you.”

“I just love having you inside me. It would be so cool to have a baby.”

“Well, this is one couple destined to be childless.”

“We could adopt,” I said.

He went quiet.

“I’d love to be a Dad,” he said, his voice quietly serious.

“You’d be so good,” I said.

“Let's see what happens, we may not be together in a few weeks.”

I smiled and kissed him. I didn’t care, we were together now, and that was all that mattered.

After breakfast, he kissed me and logged on to write his latest article. I went out to do a bit of shopping for my forthcoming trip. I was looking forward in one respect, but I didn’t want to leave Paul behind. It was nice having someone, and I didn’t want to be alone again quite so soon. He gave me a confidence that I knew wouldn't be there if I was alone.

The weekend went quickly, and we spent a lot of the time in bed, finding out about each other. I didn’t think of Paul as anything other than a normal guy and he treated me as a normal girl. I was the happiest I had even been.

Monday came, so I dressed in my Lynx Ski rep gear, the cool looking sweater and tight pants. I wore my long winter boots, just to show off. The plan was that I had to meet a group of clients at Gatwick, and see them through to the plane, and then on to Grenoble. We were then coaching it to various destinations, and I was heading for Risoul in the French Alps.

I had been skiing since I was about six. My father had passed on to all four of his children his one passion. It was also one sport at which I excelled. I was the best of the four of us children.

Paul had a silly smile on his face, which annoyed me intensely, as I was leaving him for five weeks, and he didn’t seem to care.

“You look very smart, Jessica,” he said, and I smiled at his use of my temporary name.

“I wish you were coming. It won’t be the same sleeping alone.”

“You will have a big blonde ski instructor very soon.”

“Yeah, I wish,” I said.

He drove me to Gatwick, and I was very quiet. He was inordinately cheerful, and I even wondered whether he had lined up another woman.

He dropped me off, and I kissed him. I watched as he drove off, and lugged my huge suitcase on wheels into the concourse. The Lynx supervisor was there, so I reported to her. She was a tall, good-looking woman in her thirties.

“Hi, I’m Jessica Fortune.”

“Hello Jessica. I’m Miranda Scott. You're nice and early.”

“Well, with the M25, it's better to be safe than sorry.”

“Quite. Have you worked with us before?”

“Not on the Winter Holiday side,” I said, quite truthfully.

She went through everything that Jezzy had, and I was able to ask the right questions.

“Okay, if you can gather your Risoul customers together this end, it will save time at the other end. The first thing is to make sure everyone has a passport. It's quite amazing how many forget theirs, or fail to notice it’s out of date.”

She gave me a list and several brown envelopes containing facts for each individual, family or group.

I checked in my stuff first, and then I stood there, by the check in, and waited.

I looked down the list, and saw I had about forty people to deal with. There would be another rep in Risoul to meet the plane, with probably another one was flying home, which was why I was here.

One by one the holiday makers arrived and checked in with me. I checked them off the list, giving them their envelopes, checked they had passports and tickets, and directed them to the check in.

“Excuse me, Miss, is this the line for Risoul?” said a familiar North American twang.

I turned round. It was Paul, grinning inanely at me.

There were several other clients also queuing behind him, so I couldn’t hit him.

“Yes sir. Do you have your passport?” I said, through clenched teeth. There was so much I wanted to say to him.

He waved it at me.

“And your name, this time?” I asked.

“Paul Gardner. Without the E in the middle.”

I found his name on the list. P Gardener. That was why I hadn’t twigged.

“You look so fuckable in that uniform,” he said in my ear. It sent shivers of expectant pleasure down my spine.

“Here is your envelope, please go and check-in your luggage.”

He took the envelope, and kissed me on the cheek.

“I love you, Jessica,” he whispered, and I grinned, I couldn’t stay angry for long.

Eventually, all the passengers were checked in, with none missing, and all had valid passports. I said goodbye to Miranda, and went through to wait for the plane. I felt I was walking on air. Paul was sitting by himself, so I sat next to him.

“So, when did you arrange this?” I asked.

“As soon as I found out what you were doing. I was planning to do a piece on a ski resort in any case, so you simply helped out where and when.”

“You're an utter bastard. You knew how miserable I was at leaving you behind.”

“Yeah, but think how happy you are now. Wasn’t it worth it?”

I just smiled. One of my clients, Mr Hoskins, came over to me.

“Excuse me, Miss, but can I ask you some questions?”

“Yes, Mr Hoskins, and please call me Jessica.”

He then went off about ski school, ski passes, coach trips and child minding facilities. I answered him as best I could, and he wandered off apparently satisfied.

Just before the flight was called, my mobile rang. It was Stewart.

“Josie, I’ve had the police here. They want to speak to you.”

“What about?”

“I don’t know. It was a detective chief something, from special branch.”

“Shit! What did you tell them?”

“I didn’t know where the hell you were.”

“Good, let's keep it that way!”

“What happens if they come back?”

“Then you still don’t know where I am.”

“But I don’t!”

“All the better for you,” I said, and switched the phone off.

There was a full flight, as other tour operators were also heading the same way. I had a chat with the Thomson reps, and found that all were very similar.

The flight wasn’t that long, so I managed to get everyone there without losing anyone. Paul and I couldn’t sit together, which perhaps was a good thing. No good getting the tongues wagging this early.

There was another rep waiting as planned, he was called Miles, and he was a nice boy, but as gay as they come. We gathered our coach load together and boarded our coach.

Once everyone was in their seats and the driver had closed the luggage compartments, Miles took the microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to Grenoble, the coach trip will take nearly three hours, but there is some wonderful scenery on the way. My name is Miles, and together with the delectable Jessica, whom you already know, we will be your reps for your Lynx holiday.

“Jessica has already given you your information booklet and details of extra activities, and I’m sure you will have an opportunity to read them before the welcome meeting this evening. We will be having a pit stop in about an hour and a half, so you can stretch your legs and get some fresh air then. We have a DVD in the coach, and we hope you enjoy the show.”

I stowed my Lynx ski jacket in the overhead rack, and sat next to Miles.

“So, Jessica, ever been skiing before?” Miles asked.

“Yes. Quite a bit, actually.”

“Oh, what standard?”

“Advanced.”

“Really, ooh, lucky you, there are some real hunky advanced ski instructors.”

“I won’t need any instruction, thanks.”

“How’s your French?”

“Almost fluent, how’s yours?”

“Oh, well, pardon me for breathing. They said you were new.”

“New to Lynx, but not to skiing or France,” I said.

He grinned.

“Then we should have fun. Thank God I don’t have to teach you everything. I was dreading having a real new-bod on my hands.”

I sat back and relaxed.

“Miles, I may need some help, but not much.”

The scenery was spectacular, and as we climbed into the Alps, the snow was there in abundance.

“What's the reps’ accommodation like?” I asked.

“Okay. You're in the apartments by the main tow, I think. You will be sharing with Debbie.”

“What’s she like?”

“You won’t see much of her, she spends most nights with her boyfriend, Jean-Claude.”

“Oh yes, a ski instructor?”

“Of course.”

“How about you Miles, have you got lucky?”

He grinned, flushing slightly. “Oh yes, let's say, there is something for everyone.”

“Is he nice?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked.

“Miles, it couldn’t be more obvious even if you had a placard around your neck.”

He smiled, and made an effeminate wrist movement just to prove the point.

We climbed slowly up into the mountains, the twisty roads sometimes on the edge of sheer drops. The scenery simply went from wonderful to superb.

Finally, we arrived in the small purpose built resort of Risoul. With its circular shape, the chair lifts and tows that came right into the centre of the resort, a large car park slap bang in the middle, displayed how it was equally accessible to the day visitor, as much as the resident guests. All the architecture was wooden and with the typical Alpine roofs. I loved the whole atmosphere, so smiled as I looked out on my new home.

The punters were dropped off at their hotels or apartments. Surprise, surprise, Paul was in the same block as me. Only he had taken a luxury apartment, whereas I had to share a basic one. There was a welcoming meeting for all Lynx clients in a central restaurant at 8 pm, and as it was 6 pm now, it gave me enough time to find my apartment and find Paul.

Debbie was in, stark naked, but in. She waved at me, and started to get dressed.

“Hi, you must be Jessica, I’m Debbie. I’m just out, don’t worry about me, I’ve a friend I stay with.”

“You mean Jean-Claude?”

“That bastard Miles. He can be such a bitch,” she said, and I laughed.

“As it happens, I may not be here a lot, either,” I said.

“Already? Shit, that was bloody quick!” There was a hint of admiration in her voice.

I just smiled.

“Look we have to be at the bloody meeting at eight. I may be late, if I am, don’t let Miles fob you off with anything extra.”

“Okay.”

She was like a whirlwind, and before my eyes, was dressed, made up and gone in a flash.

I dumped my case and went looking for Paul.

He answered his door very quickly.

“Hello you,” he said, kissing me.

“Mm, that was nice.”

I looked round his apartment. Compared to mine it was huge.

“Well, are you moving up?”

Ten minutes later, my case was in ‘our’ room, and I was hanging my stuff up in the wardrobe. He watched me with a smile on his face.

“You're so much a girl. I mean, look at the amount of clothes you’ve brought. I never owned a quarter of what you have, in my life.”

“And what do you do to girls?” I asked.

He kissed me and slipped my pants down.

I pushed him onto the bed and stripped his trousers and boxers off.

I stripped off, and knelt astride him. We had a fondling session, and I felt him rubbing some KY up my ass. I grinned.

What do you want?” I asked.

“You.”

Then I felt him slip up into my tight little ass.

“Mmm, I have wanted you inside me all day,” I said, as his dick hit my G spot, and I was away.
 
 
The meeting was very dull, but it gave me an insight as to what was expected of me. I had to help with the boots, skis and passes, and then to assist with ski school allocation. Then I had days when I had to be available in the Lynx office, and specific times to be in various apartment blocks or hotels.

For the more advanced skiers, we had days for ski trips across the pass to the neighbouring resort. Andy, one of our better skiers was the ‘Ranger’ for this. I thought I’d be up to help on that one.

There were six reps in the resort, and we managed to spread the load evenly. Apart from Debbie and Miles, there was Andy, the randy Scotsman, who fancied himself rotten, but always ended up bedding sixteen year olds. And finally, there was Cathy and Sue, whom I was almost positive were lesbians. They did everything together, even their duty time. They didn’t ski, so as I came to know them, I realised my early assessment was entirely correct.

The next morning, I was up early, and dressed in my very sexy ski suit, with the Lynx logo.

Paul and I had breakfast together, but then I went off to sort out the idiots.

By ten they were all sorted, my French was a little rusty, but after a while it came flooding back, and I was almost fluent again. Miles looked rather jealous at me, as I was free for the rest of the day. As a new-bod, I was to observe for the first week, and just shadow the others, Miles in particular, as he was my buddy, and the guy I would work with the most.

I met Paul at the bottom of the chair lift.

“Hi, you look very professional,” I said.

He grinned.

“Look is all. I've been skiing once before, and that was years ago, in my previous life.”

“Why not join a ski school?”

“I’d rather ski with you?”

“You're hopeless. Come on, let’s try you on the nursery slopes first.”

We spent a hilarious morning, with him on his bum more than upright.

He got steadily better, and so after a quick lunch, we headed up the first tow.

By the end of the day, he managed to slip and snowplough his way down a blue run. It was fun, as I didn’t want to leap straight into the red and black runs on my first day anyway.

As the days progressed, I got fitter and more tanned, while Paul got better at skiing. Nearly all the ski instructors, and a lot of the single blokes, made passes at me, but I smiled as I turned them all down. I discovered that Paul was booked in for the duration, and after the first week, it became well known that we were a couple.

In the end, I forced him to join a ski school, so he could write about it in his piece, if nothing else. I took the opportunity to join the ski tour, and took up the rear as our party made its way across the Alps.

I was able to ski at my pace and at a level I felt was challenging me. As I swished down a red run to the small café in the middle section, Andy was waiting at the bottom. The punters had all gone for a break.

“You really ski well,” he said, perfect white teeth flashing.

“Thanks, you manage pretty good yourself,” I said, as I kicked myself out of the bindings.

“This guy you're seeing. How serious is it?” he asked.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Andy was very good looking, a dream skier and probably wonderful in bed, and to cap it all I was flattered that he was interested in me. However, he wasn’t my type. I wasn’t sure what was, as Paul and I were a couple of misfits who got together because of loneliness and circumstances. I think deep down we cared deeply about each other, while all Andy was after was a quick fuck and another notch on his gun, so to speak.

“Put it this way, we have discussed children,” I said, quite truthfully.

“Oh, so no chance of a quick, je ne sais quoi?”

“Absolument pas, you over-sexed Scotsman you,” I said, and he grinned good naturedly.

“Ah well, one can but ask,” he said, buying me a mulled wine instead.

Life was really good. I enjoyed the job, and was pretty good at it. My personality as Josie, or in this place, Jessica, was totally different to what I had been like as Joe.

I found I had time for people, and patience with their problems. Miles was okay, but he had no time for people. In the end I was given more work, as people would deliberately wait for my duty time to come with their problems.

Occasionally, we six would have little meetings to discuss tactics, and as each week ended, we would take it in turns to take the three hour coach trip to the airport, to bring the new lot back, on the three hour coach trip.

Debbie definitely did not pull her weight, and Miles was very frustrated with her. Miles was supposed to be the supervisor, but he was pretty useless. He was too weak, so everyone walked all over him. He tried pushing me about, and I too found him easy to bully. I took him aside and had a long talk with him.

As with lots of travel companies, the staff were not well trained, and we all were dumped into the deep end and allowed to struggle on. I offered my help to Miles, so that we would get organised a bit better. I devised proper paper schedules, which were given to everyone so they knew what was expected of them in advance. If they wanted to swap, that was up to them. Debbie tried to buck the system, and failed, as everyone was fed up with her doing bugger all.

After three weeks, Debbie and Miles were due to fly home, and that left Cathy, Sue, Andy and me left. I went with the coach, along with Debbie and Miles, who were not even speaking to each other at this stage.

It was a gruesome journey, as it started snowing as soon as we left, and Miles was in a hump as he was leaving his new boyfriend.

We arrived at Grenoble to find the incoming plane was delayed by fog at Gatwick, so was going to be at least two hours late. That meant that I would not be back for supper. I called Paul and told him the good news.

As I sat and waited, trying to calm the passengers down, I reflected on my life to date.

Here I was, for the first time ever, totally at ease with who I was. I was in loving relationship with a lovely man, and we gave each other what we both needed at the moment. Whether this was to last, time would tell, but I wasn’t really bothered.

The passengers were all checked in, so I said goodbye to Miles and Debbie, and was by myself again. I went out into the town and found a little café. I sat in the warmth and ordered a hot chocolate.

It was snowing quite hard, so I prayed the plane could land, and if it did, we'd be able to get back to the resort.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” someone asked in French

I looked up, and found myself looking at a very dishy French bloke, nearer my age.

I waved vaguely at the seat he wanted, so he smiled and sat down.

“You are English?” he asked, in English.

“Oui, je suis anglaise.”

“You speak good French.”

“You speak good English.”

“My name is Thierry.”

“Jessica.”

We shook hands, very Gallic.

“You work for the ski company, yes?”

I smiled, as I was in the uniform.

“Funny you should guess that,” I said and he laughed.

“So, you always do this?”

“I’m a student, but need some cash.”

“Same as me. I’m studying architecture.”

“Cool, I’m doing IT, design and technology.”

“That is unusual for a pretty girl.”

“I'm an unusual girl,” I said.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, do you?”

He laughed at this.

“No, and I have no girlfriend at the moment. Is your boy in England?”

I smiled, boy, was he transparent or what?

“No, he's in France with me.”

“In Grenoble?”

“No, in Risoul.”

“So, you are alone for the moment.”

“For the moment.”

He smiled. “I buy you another chocolate?”

“If you insist,”

Grinning, he waved at the waitress, and she came over with another chocolate and a coffee for him.

“Do you live in Grenoble?” I asked.

“Yes. It is nice. Yes?”

“I don’t know, as I’ve only seen the airport and this café.”

“You wait for more tourists?”

“Yes, but the plane is late. It won’t land for another two hours.”

“Then I show you my town.”

I shrugged, as it was the best offer I had had so far.

“Okay.”

Thierry was a nice lad, and he took me straight home to show me off to his younger sister and brother. His mother was a wan creature, who looked tired, and seemed vaguely pleased to see me. I wondered how many stray English girls he had brought home.

We walked through the old town, and it was very pretty.

He bought me some pastries at a little shop, and then we threw snowballs at each other in a small square.

Eventually, the two hours gone he returned me to the airport as the plane landed.

He shook my hand very solemnly.

“Thank you for a nice day. You are very nice, it is a pity you have a boyfriend,” he said, and I had to laugh.

I kissed his cheek.

“Bye Thierry, thanks for showing me your home town.”

“De rien.”

I walked into airport, and he was just standing there. I was actually very pleased that I managed that all by myself. It was funny how little everyday things gave me such a buzz.

I met the off loading passengers, all looking weary and fed up. I tried to be cheerful, but was secretly worried that the roads would be impassable.

Suddenly there was Miranda Scott, my boss.

“Jessica, how are you getting along?”

“Fine thanks,” I said.

“I’ve just had a word with Miles, he was full of your praises. It seems you're a natural.”

“That was nice of him.”

Further discussion was hampered by the arrival of passengers and their luggage.

Another girl, Kelly, appeared, and Miranda introduced us.

“Kelly has just started with us, so look after her.”

I gathered all the folk onto the coach, and gave them my welcome spiel.

I was keen to get started as soon as possible.

Georges, the driver, was as worried as I was about the weather, so, once we set off, he really raced along the clear roads on the flat. As we started climbing, it was apparent that the snowploughs had been out, so the roads were not too bad, but it was getting late and we were not yet half way.

As it happened, it was the last half-mile which was the worst, but we managed it, just. It was after 9 pm, and everyone was tired and fed up. Poor old Georges had a decision to make, to try to get home, which was a good hour's drive, or spend the night in his coach and head off in the morning.

We dropped everyone off, and postponed the welcome talk to 08:00 the following morning. George muttered about getting a drink, so I guessed he was staying in his coach. I went home to find that Paul had bought some lovely pizzas, and had some red wine open and ready for me. With Debbie gone, Kelly was supposed to be sharing with me, so she found herself in an apartment on her own. I invited her round to share the pizza and wine. Paul was fine, as he had ordered too much as usual.

With Miranda here for two weeks, all slack practices went by the board, and we worked properly for a change. I for one appreciated it, and actually liked working in a team that worked well together.

Miranda noticed that I did not stay in my apartment, and drew me aside. When she realised that my boyfriend was a travel journalist doing a piece on the ski business, she got a shrewd look in her eyes.

“He has promised to give us a terrific plug,” I said, cashing in on my advantage.

“Okay, but keep this as discreet as possible,” she had said, and that was the end of the matter.

Cathy and Sue, however, came in for a really hard time after she caught them snogging in a hotel reception area. It was only that we were short handed anyway that prevented her from sacking them on the spot. But they were left in no doubt as to what was expected of them in the future.

Miranda took two days to find a slightly more mature member of the ski patrol called Robert, and Paul and I ended up going out with them as two couples for most evenings. Paul’s French was very good, with his Canadian accent, everyone thought he was French Canadian, which he found even slightly less insulting than being thought of as an American.

As my time in Risoul was drawing to a close, I felt really sad, particularly as Miranda tried to persuade me to stay on as supervisor. She wrote some glowing reports about me, that I was acutely embarrassed. In fact as she went on and on about how wonderful I was, I had a word with Paul, and he told me to be open and honest with her.

On our last evening, we four returned to Paul’s apartment for nightcaps, and I took Miranda aside.

“Look, Miranda, I have to be honest with you. I’m not Jessica Fortune. She is my twin sister. I’m Josie. But she really needed to be somewhere else, and she asked me to fill in for her. I didn’t want her to lose out, but equally, you need to know the truth. And I am not prepared to be dishonest about what I’ve done.”

I waited for the explosion, but it never came.

I frowned, and saw she was smiling at me.

“I knew you weren’t Jessica. I worked with her once in Greece, and found her a fun, but not a desperately imaginative girl. In fact, you're so like her, that when you first came up to me I thought you were she, but when you didn’t recognise me, I knew you were pulling a flanker, but I couldn’t work out what. I was determined to leave it to see how you got on, and I have to be honest, you’re ten times better at this than your sister, even though she is good.

“So, I waited, and if you managed to get back to Britain without saying anything, I would instigate an investigation, but as you have been honest, I will be honest with you. I like you, Josie, is it? I think you have everything it takes to get on in this business. And I would love it if you came to work with me full time.”

I was stunned. It's not often I'm ever lost for words, but this time I was.

“What can I say?” was all I could manage.

“Say yes, and stay on. I’d like you to think about it seriously, as I think you’d make a very good supervisor.”

“I can’t. I have commitments. I have studies and a business I'm involved in.”

“You are a complicated girl. If I recall, your sister is rather more basic.”

“Jezzy is your average dumb blonde,” I said, and we both grinned.

“And you're not?”

“Most definitely not,” I said.

“Look, I understand, and I admire loyalty. I also admire honesty and you have bags of both. Finish your studies, wind up your business and then call me. I really want you as one of my supervisors. You speak good French, you handle people wonderfully, and you ski like a dream. Please Josie, I really mean this.”

“I’d like to. Really, I would, as I've so enjoyed my time here. Can I call you in the summer?”

“Please do. I'll wait twelve months. Think about it, you could take a year out before university, and work for me for as much of it as you like. Then, if you decide against further education, stay on. I can promise you a fun career.”

“Thanks, and I'm so sorry about not being my sister.”

“Listen, you've made a real impact on the clients, as I have so many glowing letters about you, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Will Jessica get into trouble?”

“She and I will have a little talk. But no, she won’t. In her way she is as good, but not so dynamic as her sister.”
 
 
Later I told Paul about our conversation, and he chuckled.

“Just as well you weren’t completely honest.”

I frowned.

“What about?”

“About being a boy, and all the rest.”

For a very short time, I had genuinely forgotten, and it all came back in a rush.

“Bloody hell. I’d got so into role, I had almost completely forgotten.” I said.

“Are you serious?” he asked, aghast.

“Mmm. Seriously, I had forgotten. Isn’t that weird?”

“So, what happens when you get back?” he asked.

“I don’t know. One thing at a time.”

“What about us?”

“What about us?”

“Now you have stretched your wings, have we a future?”

I looked at this kind and gentle man, without whom I would still be stuck in a very uncertain rut.

“You have to ask?” I asked.

“I need to ask. I have watched a butterfly appear, and I feel very uncertain which way she may fly.”

I stroked his head. I had grown to love him, in a real way. He was my rock, and I couldn’t imagine how my life up to now would have been without him.

“Paul, I love you, and you’ve made all the difference for me so far. Does that answer your question?”

To my surprise he started to cry, and we simply held each other all night.
 
 
Part 4
 
 
It was raining at Gatwick, and once I had said goodbye to all the clients and Miranda, Paul and I drove home. To his home that is. I called my parents to let them know I was back in the country.

My mother was very worried, as lots of strange men had been looking for me. Or, rather, they had been looking for Joseph.

My mother had no idea where I was, and had started to panic. Jessica, in the Caribbean, was unaware of everything, so had simply told her that I was fine, and that I was getting away from the hassle of my condition, so I was probably on a beach somewhere.

Dad had found my passport, so that story went out the window.

He contacted Martin, who spoke to Stewart, who started to panic, and I suddenly received hundreds of texts as soon I was back with my mobile on.

It was late, so we simply went to bed after a light supper.

We snuggled together, and he started to caress my nipples. They had grown some since I started my new prescription, and even the breasts had swollen. I still used the breast forms, but could see that I would no longer need to if they continued at this rate.

“You are so lovely,” he said, as we made love. He made me feel so much the woman, and I adored being that for him. In fact, we each took our pleasure from pleasing the other, and it was superb.

The next morning, Monday, Paul had to submit his first part of his article, and dashed off to London. I went home, and walked in to find a strange man in the kitchen with my mother.

I simply kissed mother, and looked at him. She was clearly flustered.

“Hello, I’m Josie. Who are you?” I said.

I was dressed in a dark grey skirt and roll-neck matching sweater, with black high heel boots on. I had a string of pearls on the outside of the sweater, and a gold chain link belt loosely round my waist. My sun-bleached blonde hair was the longest it had ever been, and I knew my make up was very good.

“My name is Detective Superintendent Michael Hutchings. I'm with the Metropolitan Police Special Branch, and I'm in charge of an investigation that appears to implicate a senior government figure. I was hoping to find Joseph Fortune. Now, you are his sister?”

The man was confused, and mother was wringing her hands again. Not a good sign. I turned to her.

“I’ll sort this out, mother. Let me speak to him alone. Superintendent, please come with me, we'll be more private in the sitting room.”

I took him through to the sitting room, and he sat down, looking unsure and a little nervous.

“Now this is to do with the man that was shot, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Miss Fortune. I understand your brother may have somehow dealt with the deceased somewhere along the line?”

“May I see your identification? I’ve always wanted to ask that.”

He smiled and produced a black leather wallet, and opened it up, showing me an enamelled badge and a plastic card with his photograph.

“I’m sorry, even I could make a card like that on my computer. Which office do you work from?”

“Special Branch, New Scotland Yard.”

I went to the phone, and dialled directory enquiries, and asked for Special Branch. Once through I asked about the man I had with me, and a detective chief inspector seemed to think it was hilarious.

Once I was satisfied I had the right man, I gave him the card back, and sat down.

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

“You don’t understand. I need to talk to Joseph Fortune.”

“Superintendent, you don’t understand. I am Jo Fortune. Josephine Fortune. I was the person who the dead man came to get the photograph of George Lambert.”

His confusion was complete, and his expression was so wonderful, that I wished I had a camera. I had to smile.

“Let me be honest with you. I was born a boy, but am in transition to what I obviously should be. Legally, I suppose I'm still male, but I hope you'll forgive me if I don’t actually think of myself as a boy.”

Once he got over his embarrassment, we had a full and frank discussion. He even had the DVD that I had given to the police. I took him upstairs, where, on my computer, I managed to use the DVD to show him the short film I had worked with.

“All I can tell you is that it is somewhere in Oxfordshire, and it's in the 1970’s.”

“How do you know?”

I enhanced the number plate again, showing FUD.

“See, an Oxford plate.”

“Yes, I accept that, but the date?”

I showed the film slowed down, and a Hillman Hunter and a Mark One Ford Cortina drove past.

“See, that makes it early 1970s. Unless there is a classic car show on nearby.”

He nodded.

“Is there any way to find out where that cottage is?”

“Short of searching through newspaper records of suspicious deaths, and working that angle, not really.”

I frowned.

“Wait a minute,” I said.

I played the piece again, and there was a very distinctive tall chimney on the cottage. I had seen it recently.

“One of the Courtneys.” I said.

“What?”

“Either Sutton Courtney or Nuneham Courtney. They have cottages like that. I came past one this morning.”

“Can you show me?”

“If you want, but I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour or so.”

“How long will it take?”

“Not long, twenty minutes, maybe,” I said.

He had a Ford Mondeo, so we drove to Nuneham Courtney. The chimneys were similar, but none were as close to the road as in the film. We then went to Sutton Courtney, and there, still looking remarkably similar, was the cottage in question.

We parked the car near where the film was shot, and the scene was still the same. There were larger kerb stones and modern road markings now, but essentially, it was recognisable.

I felt very pleased with myself.

The Superintendent drove back in silence. He parked outside my parent’s home, and looked solemn.

“You have been exceptionally helpful, particularly when one considers your rather difficult personal circumstances. I must warn you that you may be in danger. There are parties who would seek to frustrate this investigation. It seems that considerable business interests are dependant upon certain individuals, and these parties would like to see the status quo maintained.”

“You mean Global Technics Ltd?”

“That's a false company, but I'm sure they're representatives of the people concerned, yes.”

“How much danger?”

“Anyone with knowledge is a threat to them, and you have knowledge.”

“They think I'm a boy, don’t they?”

He smiled, “Yes, and so do we, or rather, we did.”

“Then who’s to know? You don’t need to tell them what I am now, you could just say you saw Joe, and he was helpful. You needn’t tell anyone I'm a girl, it would be safer for both of us that way.”

He nodded. He handed me a card with a mobile number on it. I was to call it if ever I felt threatened.

“Boy or girl, you're very astute and brave, but, if it's any consolation, I'm in no doubt that you are a girl. If I was twenty years younger, I should ask you out.”

“If I was ten years older, I’d accept,” I said, and he laughed.

“Good luck, Josephine.”

I got out of the car.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see if I can get someone to watch your back,” he said.

“Only if he's hunky.”

He laughed and drove off.

I went in and managed to bring mother down from 50,000 feet. Once she was back on planet Earth, I went off for my first appointment with the psychiatrist.
 
 
I wandered into the hospital, and made my way to the reception.

“Hi, I’m Josie Fortune for Doctor Ruth Carradine.”

The receptionist did a double take, and smiled nervously.

“If you’d like to take a seat, Miss. I’ll let her know that you're here.”

I sat down and opened a copy of Cosmopolitan. I was reading a stunning article of erogenous zones when I was called for. I left rather reluctantly.

Ruth was a tall woman, of indeterminate years, at a guess I’d have to say forty-six to fifty. She was rather severe in appearance, by virtue of her grey short hair.

She looked at me and smiled, I noticed her eyes widen in surprise.

“Hello, Josie, is it?”

“Yup, Jo, Josie, Josephine, or hey you,” I said.

“Come in, and please sit,” she said, shaking my hand. She took in my slender hands and well manicured varnished nails.

I sat, and put my knees together.

She looked at her notes, and then at me.

“Well, I have to admit, your appearance surprises me a little. I was expecting someone a little less convincing.”

“Thanks, I try.”

“You succeed. How long have you been living as a female?”

“All my life, but openly for a few months.”

“I take it you're on hormones, how long for?”

“Illegally, since I was sixteen, so two and a half years. Legally, just three months. Since I saw Dr Simpson.”

“Illegally?”

“I acquired some hormones, when I knew I would never get them through the doctor at my age.”

“That was very risky.”

“Perhaps, but I'm now almost where I want to be.”

“And where is that?”

“Look, you're the psychiatrist. I've to come and see you, and that pisses me off, because all I've ever wanted to be is a girl. I know I'm a girl, and so it's relatively straightforward to make the physiology match the psychology and the emotional. You need to be sure that I'm well adjusted enough to cope, and I ask you, are you well adjusted to cope with your life?”

She stared at me, blinking and saying nothing.

“Why do you want to be a girl?”

“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want to be a girl any more. I am a girl, I've always been a girl, inside that is, it's just that my body is a little slow in catching up.”

“Why do you think that you're a girl, as opposed to a boy with female traits?”

“Where would you like me to start? The physical, the emotional, the psychological or the simple feeling of where I belong?”

“Tell me about your childhood?”

So, we were off, and as pointless as I thought it was, I played her game. I didn’t make it easy for her, so when she tried to deliberately upset me, I laughed at her, and took the piss. She didn’t like that, but couldn’t say anything.

“If you could become a genetically perfect woman, what would you do?”

“Go to the medical profession, and make a fortune out of the miracle. But, as it's a hypothetical question, I would offer a private thanks to whatever power was responsible, and get on and live my life.”

“Do you believe in God?”

“Someone or something has to exist with a sense of humour to have created us.”

“What about evolution?”

“Sorry, more far fetched than creation, particularly as there is no evidence of any of the evolutionary links for any species, either extinct or in existence.”

She frowned, I don't think she she was prepared for that one from one so young.

“Why were you made as you are?”

“The same reason you are you, and Tony Blair is a complete dick,” I said, and she stifled a smile.

“Which is?”

“The lottery of life. Once those little cells start to form, it's all in the making, some connections are fine, and some aren’t. Take me, I like to think that I'm bright and relatively intelligent. I make a good-looking girl, yet was a real geek as a bloke. My sister is a real cracker. She is a seriously good-looking girl. However, sometimes, she has the brains of a rocking horse, and the sexual appetite of a rodent.

“Why? Who knows, just someone somewhere has a really wicked sense of humour. We are dealt a hand of cards at birth, and occasionally we get to throw one card and pick another. Some are good and many aren’t. The trick is to get a peek at the next card, and deal a few from the bottom of the pack when no one is looking.”

“So, are you a product of genetics or your environment and upbringing?”

“The total ‘me’ is a product of my life to date, including my genetics. The transsexual element is wholly in my genetic make up, aggravated by circumstances possibly. But as my parents manage to love me as much now as when I was in the male form, I know it was nothing they did or didn’t do to or for me.”

“Do you feel bitter?”

“What about?”

“What you are?”

“Why should I be?”

“Well, you could have been born without the urge to change physical gender.”

“I could also have been autistic or downs syndrome. Instead I am reasonably presentable, intelligent, have some wonderful parents and a smashing patient loving partner. Why the hell should I be bitter? The only thing that could make me bitter would be if some egotistical medic decides to get difficult and prevent me following through with what I feel is right.”

“Is that a reference to me?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

She smiled. “You're very determined and angry, aren’t you?”

“Determination is a word. It denotes a frame of mind, and a set goal. Angry is a feeling that comes and goes. No, I'm not angry, frustrated maybe, but then I do appreciate that there have to be set procedures and safeguards to prevent mistakes from happening. So in a way, yes, I am determined, but don’t forget that I also have patience and a degree of forbearance.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, if I get no further than this point, then for whatever reason, I will make the best of it. But if I can continue, my best will be better.”

She smiled again.

“What about sex?”

“What about it?”

“Can you see yourself having sex with a man?”

“Only if the mirror is in the right place.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been having sex with a man for some weeks now, and it can only see SRS as an improvement in the equipment stakes.”

“So, is your partner a gay man?”

“No, as far as he’s concerned, I'm a girl who needs some extra surgery.”

“How certain are you that he isn’t gay?”

I smiled. “I'm very certain,” I said.

“How can you be so certain?”

“If I was more masculine, with a set of balls and a big dick, he'd run a mile. He likes me for the female side.”

This confused her, so I showed her what had been done, down there, I mean.

“What's your dream?” she asked, changing the subject rapidly, after having made copious notes.

“I have many.”

“Your favourite, then?”

“My favourite. That will be the one where I can conceive and bear a child of my own.”

“Would you like to be a mother?”

“Of course, wouldn’t you?”

She flushed at this, and seemed put off.

“I apologise, but seriously, surely one of the core functions of being female is the miracle of conception and birth?” I said.

“Isn’t that a matter of choice?”

“Forget personal fears and preferences, think about genetic and organic functions. As a woman, your potential was always to be a mother. Sometimes it isn’t physically possible, so that's fate, and other times the individual refuses to accept that destiny. That's choice. What is your excuse?”

“I’m not in that chair.”

“No, but I’m still interested, otherwise, what credibility does that piece of paper you have stuck on the wall have?”

She turned and looked at her qualifications.

“With me it was personal choice.”

“Which you now bitterly regret.” I said.

She almost smiled.

“I made my decisions for the best of reasons at the time.”

“Which you now bitterly regret.”

This time she did smile.

“Do you always turn the tables?” she asked.

“Only when I know where you're going.”

“And where is that?”

“Round in circles. You want me to jump through hoops, but you are beginning to realise that I won’t play by the rules. So we will end this session, and you will attempt to start afresh next time, but find that strategy will fail also.”

“What am I trying to do?”

“If you don’t know, then you're collecting your salary by deception,” I told her.

This time the smile broke through properly.

“Josie, you should be a psychiatrist. You're amazingly quick. But it doesn’t tell me what I want to know.”

“You want to know whether I am really a girl, or just another screwed up kid with a gender identity problem. Well, what do you really think?”

She smiled. “There, you've done it again.”

“What do you think?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You don’t have a gender identity problem, your female identity is actually very fixed; it's your physical body which needs adjusting to bring it in line.”

“You took an hour to get that? I told you that in the first four minutes.”

“There is a difference in telling it and meaning it.”

“True, but now you know, I always mean what I say, otherwise it's just a waste of words.”

She looked at her note pad. There was only a little about my lack of genitalia on it, apart from my name.

She asked me a few more questions, but I felt her heart wasn’t in it any more.

“So doctor, do we do this again, or what?”

She looked at me, her half smile fixed in place, then she wrote a few lines on her headed note paper.

“I am duty bound to regularly hold these meetings, however, I will be recommending full SRS for you at the earliest opportunity. The sooner we get you sorted, the sooner the medical profession can deal with people who actually need our help.”

I grinned and she shook her head.

“Good luck, Josie. Somehow I think you'll make your own.”

“Thanks doc. If I offended you, I apologise. I still think your life would have been better if you’d had kids.”

She nodded. “Perhaps, you could be right, why weren’t you around when I made the decision?” she asked.

“Would you have listened?”

“Probably not.”

“Then make the best of what you have. That’s what I do.”

We shook hands, and I left.
 
 
The next day, Tuesday, I went back to my GP who read the recommendation from the psychiatrist. He was a bit surprised, as normally it took several months to get to that point.

“Well, I'll now send you to the specialist. Your father has contacted me, and we are going privately from now on. Mr Boyle is the best, and I have made an appointment for you on Friday. He has a clinic near Brighton, and will see you there at 2 p.m.”

He also completed several official letters that I was to use for the applications to change my name and gender on my passport, drivers licence, National Insurance, Inland Revenue, College and for the bank.

I was really excited, and went home to find Dad looking glum.

“What’s up Daddy?” I asked, and he looked sharply at me. Of course. Jezzy was the only one to call him that. Not any more.

“It's your sister. She's staying in America a bit longer. It seems she has got herself engaged.”

I grinned.

“So why the long face?”

“To an American.”

“Paul is Canadian.”

“You're not engaged.”

“Not yet.”

He looked at me.

“There are legal ramifications,” he muttered.

“Oh, we can get round them,” I said.

Mother came in, at least she was happy with the news.

“Have you heard about your sister, dear?”

“Yes, and I understand he is a multi-millionaire.”

“He’s a what?” asked Dad.

“He's a Texan, and into oil in a big way. Jezzy said that Max was worth several billion dollars.”

The frown deepened, so I had to walk out, otherwise my laughter would offend.

I rang Paul. He was still in London, having found a taker for his article on the ski resort. He also had a possible contract to do a series on various hotels up and down the country. Anyway he was in a brilliant mood, which got better when I told him my news.

“Do you want me to take you?”

“Only if you're free. It's not as if I'm going in yet.”

“No, I’d like to come with you.”

“Fine.”

He said he would be back tomorrow, and I missed him awfully.

I drove to the shop and walked in.

Martin was in the front talking to a client, and I saw Stewart in the back, working on the PC.

“I won’t be a moment, Miss,” said Martin, glancing my way.

Stewart popped his head round the door, looked at me and almost fell off his stool. He was grinning for all he was worth, but he was in the middle of a job and couldn’t leave the process.

Martin finished with the customer, and turned to me.

“Yes Miss, what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you would consider giving me twenty thousand pounds?”

He stared at me, and blinked a couple of times.

“I’m sorry?”

“Martin, it’s me, Jo. Remember, Jo Fortune.”

He shook his head and a light bulb went on somewhere between his ears.

“Joe? Why the fuck are you dressed like that?”

“Because Martin, I'm a girl, and us girls dress like this.”

His brain had difficulty taking it in.

He looked at my breasts, and then my legs and then at my face again. His eyes kept dipping to my breasts.

“Ask yourself, does Jo look like a boy or a girl?”

“Huh?”

“Martin. I need out, and I figure for twenty grand, you can have my share.”

“Why?”

“Because I have other things to do with my life, and this shop is not one of them.”

“I don’t have twenty grand right now. I've invested in a new machine. It comes next week.”

“Then, I’ll take my twenty percent when it comes free. But I reckon you missed out on the cheapest chance. If things go well, it could be a hundred grand this time next year.”

“Or it could be twenty per cent of nothing,” said Stewart.

“Hello tosspot,” I said.

“Hi, Barbie doll.”

“You two, cut it out, and will someone please tell me why Joe is dressed as a girl?”

“Jo is a girl, Martin. Didn’t you know?” Stewart said.

“Jo was not a girl. But she, no he, no she, oh shit. What the fuck happened?”

“Martin, I've always been a girl, but my body said otherwise. Now it's almost there.”

“Almost?”

“One little bit of excess flesh to go, and I will be all woman.”

“You're having a sex change?” I swear his voice went up a couple of octaves.

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“Two for one at Tescos,” I said, and Stewart chuckled.

“What?”

“Duh. Because I'm a transsexual, and want to be a girl.”

“You never told me.”

“I never told anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is not the best way of starting a conversation.”

“I never even guessed.”

“Good, neither did my parents. It shows that at least I'm discreet.”

“She’s even got a boyfriend,” said Stewart.

“Shut up, tosspot.”

“Bugger off, Barbie doll.”

We grinned at each other, and Martin looked completely confused.

At that moment two men walked in. They were not the same as the last two, but they looked much rougher. They stood behind me, and waited for me to go.

“Look, I have to go. I’ll pick up the order after I’ve had my hair done. If you need me, you have my mobile, just ask for Jessica,” I said.

Stewart, bless him, was more switched on than Martin.

“Okay Miss Carter, do you want them in the usual format?”

“That would be fine. I’ll see you later,” I turned and walked out. I saw Stewart drag Martin into the back room.

I dug out my mobile and rang the Superintendent’s number.

“Two men at the shop now. I have a bad feeling about them. I am outside, in an alleyway opposite.”

“Good, stay there. If they come out and get into a car, then give me the number.”

“Do you want me to follow them?”

“Do you have your car with you?”

“Yes. Just along the street.”

“They might have your car number and registered details. Is it registered to Joseph Fortune?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t go near it.”

At that moment a cab came along the road, and I waved it to stop.

“Yes luv?”

“Hang on, I want to play a surprise on a friend.”

“It’s your cash, darling, the meter is running.”

The two men came out of the shop and looked up and down the street. Then they walked to my car and peered into it. I loved that mini.

The got into a Vauxhall Vectra and took off quite fast.

“Follow the Vauxhall.”

“For real?” he asked.

“For real.”

“Fucking hell. I never thought it really happened.”

I was on the phone to the Superintendent, and gave a commentary to him.

The car was not keeping to the speed limit, but equally, those inside seemed unaware we were following. I was worried that if they were nasty men, they would become aware of the cab quickly.

“Don’t get too close,” I said.

“I may have to, these lights are bloody quick,” said the driver.

We just made it on the amber, and we dropped back a bit.

“How long for, luv?”

“Until the blue lights arrive.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Fuck me. They’ll never believe this in the pub.”

We left Oxford, and were soon heading towards Wallingford and Henley on Thames. I asked him to drop back so as to put a bit of distance between us. The Superintendent was still on the other end of the phone, and he had alerted the local police. Because it was a different force area, there was a problem in communications.

Great. I thought.

At Nuneham Courtney, the Vauxhall suddenly stopped, and reversed rapidly up the road towards us.

“Fuck. Back up, quick!” I shouted, but the cabbie had already stuck it in reverse, and so the pair of cars were going backwards really fast. A truck came over the hill behind us and cut off our retreat.

“Now what?” he asked, and I froze. It was a very good question, and I had to admit the answer was not immediately forthcoming.

At that moment two Police Vauxhall Omega estate cars, with florescent stripes and blacked out windows overtook us and flanked the Vectra. Blue lights and sirens going. Two armed officers deployed and pointed their MP5 carbines at the occupants of the car.

It was over.

The two men were carefully extracted from the car, and I watched two handguns being taken from them. I stayed in the cab, simply watching as they were each handcuffed and placed into two more police cars, which had since arrived.

“Bloody hell, them’s shooters!” said my driver.

“Yes, I rather think they are,” I said, sounding a lot calmer than I felt.

“Are you a copper?” he asked.

“No. Secret service. My name is Bond, Jane Bond.”

I got out of the cab, as a plain car pulled up. A young fit guy in a suit got out and approached me.

“Miss Fortune?” he asked, smiling at the name.

“Yes?”

“I’m Detective Sergeant Gillett. Mr Hutchings sends his regards, I’m to take you home,” he said.

“Could someone pay the cabbie?” I asked, and someone did, much to the cabbie’s relief. Still, he had a tale for the pub that no one would ever believe.
 
 
Pete Gillett was a Sergeant in the Thames Valley Police’s Special Branch. He had received the call through the Headquarters, and hotfooted it out to my location. He took a quick statement from me about the incident, and went to speak to one of the uniform officers supervising the recovery of the Vectra.

“Does anyone know what the hell is going on?” I asked, as he started to drive me home.

“I don’t, I just got a call to go and pick you up. It seems that you may have upset some very influential people.”

“Lucky me,” I said, and he smiled.

“Seriously, all I was told was you assisted the Met’s SB into identifying a highly placed individual with a possible crime scene. And, that it relates to a drive by shooting which occurred in Headington a few weeks ago.”

He looked at me for reaction and confirmation. I gave neither.

“Oh,” I said, and he grinned.

As we turned into my road, I saw a Mondeo parked outside my parents’ home. It was the Superintendent.

He thanked the Sergeant, who handed over my statement, and we watched him leave.

“So, how did you recognise them?” he asked.

“I didn’t. Not as such. They just didn’t look like normal shop customers.”

“How did you get past them?”

“Ah, they didn’t recognise me. In my masterful disguise as a female spy, I was able to pretend to be a customer and walk out. I waited for them up the alley opposite, called you, and then jumped into a cab. It was all rather exciting really. The cabbie will dine out on it forever. He nearly wet himself when all the guns appeared.”

He smiled, and gave me a funny look.

“You're a remarkable girl.”

“I have to confess to being somewhat unique.”

He laughed. “Look, they probably know they are dealing with a girl now, so I have arranged for you to be protected. A team will be allocated to you for the foreseeable future. They will be covert, as I am afraid we want to use you as a sacrificial goat.”

“Thanks a bunch,” I said.

“If you think it's too dangerous, then we won’t,” he said, believing that I was afraid.

“I’m not bothered about that, I object to being called a goat. I’ll have you know I take a hell of a lot of trouble on my appearance.”

He chuckled again.

“Now, do you live permanently with your parents, or somewhere else?”

“I live here, but sometimes I stay with my friend in his cottage.”

“Okay, now, you are going back to college next week, yes?”

“I suppose so, but that might be awkward.”

“How?”

I opened my arms up, to show off my obvious female appearance.

“The last they knew I was a bloke.”

“Hmm, we might be able to assist there. The last thing we want is you in an open college every day. You would be particularly vulnerable. What does your college attendance amount to?”

“Not a lot. I have ‘A’ levels soon, and some course work to complete. I am ahead by a long way, so really I could get by with just attending the exams.”

He took out a notebook and started to write down some notes.

“I will contact the college and arrange for you to be kept out. Any course work will delivered to you, and for the duration of the exams, we could have one of the team nearby. Will that help?”

I just smiled and nodded.

“I did a little digging. That cottage you showed me was the scene of an unsolved murder in 1974. A prominent homosexual banker was found dead, at first they thought it was natural causes, but a single syringe mark was found, and it was shown that a large bubble of air was injected into a vein, and it triggered an aneurysm and a heart attack.

“There was no apparent motive, as no property was missing, and no suspects were ever found,” he told me.

“So this Lambert, who is he?”

“Now, he is a respectable man. Married, and an MP, he is a junior Minister for Industry. Has a bit to do with appointing contracts.”

“Gay lover’s tiff?”

“We’ve been through all the options, but I think it all comes down to power. George was a young man of no special background. He worked as a clerk in a city financial house, but soon after the murder, he started his own company. Did very well, and sold it for a small fortune. Then he was a consultant for various banks and financial institutions, and at thirty-eight, became an MP in Bedfordshire. Luton, or somewhere like that.

“Anyway, his business dealings always seemed straight, and he has a good track record in the house. Somewhat conservative in outlook, but a real New Labour man, he has risen along with the ex-public schoolboy Blair, to his current ministerial position.

“The one question mark hangs over his sudden ability to start his own business in 1976. He was only twenty-six, and although well paid, he was not really in a position to get his hands on the capital required for an undertaking of that magnitude. So, did he get a loan? It seems not, as his company showed pre-tax profits after the first year of fifteen million. So, I am looking into his possible relationship, business or otherwise, with the dead man.”

“Why the heavy mob?”

“I honestly don’t know. My guess would be that Mr Lambert has allies in the darker side of the financial world, and his placement is vital for certain interested parties and their shareholders. If Lambert’s department is responsible for allocating government contracts, then who knows what shady deals are lurking under the surface? An awful lot of people could have an awful lot to lose if Lambert falls.

“But the key is the link to Norman Spooner, the dead banker.”

“So, who actually benefited from the banker’s death?”

“His partners in the bank. He had no family to speak of, and no partner.”

“Could he have simply been a highly specialised hit man, paid for by the partners, and his reward was the capital to start his own company, and in return, his influence is now very useful to these people?” I asked.

He stared at me, and smiled.

“It shows that you don’t need years of training to be able to think. It was one aspect we hadn’t even considered.”

“Really?” I asked, somewhat surprised.

He chuckled. “You see we came up with highly complex conspiracy theories. Weird and wonderful sexual motives. It took a fresh young mind to see the potentially obvious,” he said.

“Look, I hate to be rude, but I'm getting chilly, do you want to continue this inside?” I asked.

He looked at his watch.

“The team will be here in half an hour, so if I could come in for a while.”

I went in and found mum entertaining two ladies in the sitting room. I waved and she looked embarrassed. I took the Superintendent into the kitchen, and put the kettle on. I made some tea, giving him a mug.

“I suppose I should pop in and tell my mother what is happening,” I told him, and he nodded.

I went into the sitting room, and recognised the women as old friends of mum’s. One was Jean Jackson, who used to teach English at the girl’s school down the road, and the other was Hazel McKay, the wife of one of the other Dons.

“Jessica. I haven’t seen you for ages,” said Jean.

I kissed her cheek, and smiled.

“Actually, I’m Josie. Jessica is in America,” I said, and both women frowned.

“Mum probably didn’t tell you, but I had a genetic problem, and looked rather boyish. But as you can see, I'm alright now.”

The women stared at me, and I was well aware of what I looked like.

Hazel recovered first.

“So, all that time, you were really a girl?”

“Not entirely, but I am getting the plumbing fixed soon. I'm one of those unfortunate people who wasn’t put together properly, but now I am almost who I want to be.”

“Well, you look very well. Doesn’t she, Anne?” Hazel asked my mother.

My mother smiled.

“She looks lovely. We are so proud of her,” she said, and I almost burst into tears.

“What's your sister doing in America?” Jean asked.

I wanted to say — shagging, but decided not to.

“Getting to know her fiancé’s family. She went and got herself engaged a couple of weeks ago,” I said.

This started a conversation about marriage and living in sin.

“Have you a young man?” asked Jean.

“Yes, he's called Paul,” I said, and this caused some eyebrows to be lifted.

“Gosh, you young girls today, you seem far more liberated than we were.”

“I don’t know,” said the busty Hazel, “I rather enjoyed my youth.”

“What was his name?” I asked, and after a second or two for the penny to drop, there was much laughter.

“Mum, that detective is here again about the business with the shop. I have given him a cup of tea, and I ought to just speak to him. So, ladies, it was lovely to see you again, if you will excuse me, I'll leave you to it.”

I left the women to it, secure in the knowledge that my current condition would be circulated everywhere that mattered within a very short space of time.

I went back to the kitchen, and found that another police officer had arrived. He had been very quiet about it.

He was about twenty-five, tall and fair. He looked lean and very fit, and was wearing a black polo shirt, and black trousers, that were pulled in at the boots. He looked very paramilitary.

“Josie, this is Ed Ryan. He is a sergeant on one of our specialised firearms teams. He and his team will be watching your back for the next few days, or weeks, depending how long it takes to get sorted. You won’t see them, but just trust them to be there. I will leave it for you two to sort out communications, and let's hope we get an early result on this.”

I shook Ed’s hand, and he grinned at me.

I went out with the Superintendent.

“By the way, I haven’t told him about you. As far as he is concerned, you are just what you appear. A very pretty girl,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“No, thank you. You're a very brave and sensible girl, and you don’t deserve this shit.”

“Actually, it's quite fun. It takes away the stress of my forthcoming surgery.”

“When is it?”

“I don’t know yet. But it can’t come soon enough.”

“Well good luck. I have little knowledge about such things, but from where I am standing, there is no doubt you are what you appear.”

“Bye.”

He drove off, and I returned to the kitchen. Mother was frowning at the strange man in her kitchen, so I extricated Ed as quickly as I could.

We went to the study, where I closed the door.

“Your mum is very protective.”

“She has reasons to be. My sister is a nymphomaniac, so all men are potential victims.”

“Really?” he asked, looking worried.

“No, but your face was a picture.”

He relaxed.

“Okay. I need to go over your movements and routines.”

“I don’t have any routines. I have an appointment with my surgeon on Friday at two, and that is near Brighton. Then, I'm supposed to be going back to college on Monday, but I think the Superintendent is sorting that. I have my boyfriend I visit every now and again. He is in London at the moment, but will be back tomorrow, and will give me a lift to the clinic. I am due to have some surgery soon, but no date is set for that. So I will be hanging around here or the cottage most of the time.”

“Surgery?”

“Women’s problems.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, and then there's the shop. I guess I've given in my notice, but my car is still there. You wouldn’t like to give me a lift to go and pick it up?”

“Sure.”

He took me out to a blacked out Range Rover, and I jumped in the back, as there was another officer in the front.

“Mike Howard, meet our principal. Josie Fortune, this is PC Howard, my marksman.”

“Hi Mike.”

“Josie.”

He drove well and fast. There was a blue light in a shielded box on the front dash, and several radios were all going at once. I saw that Mike was wearing a side arm in a holster on his belt.

We were there in no time, and he drove up and down the street first. Then he insisted on unlocking the car and checking it over, before letting me drive it home.

Once home, they disappeared, and I went indoors again.

Mother was in the kitchen, and I went and made myself a mug of tea.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asked.

“Fine, Mum, why?”

“You seem to be rushing about so much. It isn’t like you.”

“What am I like, Mum?”

She smiled.

“I don’t know you any more. You are so different. Jean and Hazel seemed to think you have always been a girl, and had a minor problem, you know, down below.”

“Then they're absolutely right. Because that is exactly how I look at it.”

“This is all very hard,” she said.

I went and gave her a hug.

“Look, I’m still me. I'm just your daughter now, instead of a son. The only difference is that I'm really happy.”

“Then I'm glad for you. But I still find it all very odd.”

“In time, you’ll forget I was ever a boy.”

“I doubt it. But maybe so.”

---

 
To Be Continued...

Synopsis
It's 2003, meet Joe Fortune, a bright and pleasant young man, with a secret life as a drag artist, and an overwhelming desire to be the woman he feels he should be.

Working in a shop he and some friends have set up, he does some photo imaging work for a client, which starts him on a roller-coaster ride, involving hired killers, a corrupt M.P., and the police. He takes the opportunity to pretend to be his twin sister, and become a ski rep for a month to avoid the heat.

With more twists and turns than is good for him, he has a fling with a female to male transsexual, who teaches him how to be a woman, and then, after surgery as Josie, she falls in love with her best friend.

---

Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

---

Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

---

 
The Legal Stuff: When Fortune Smiles!  ©2004 Tanya Allan
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
 
Part 5
 
 
“Okay, Josie, just slip your clothes back on, I've seen everything I need to,” Dr Boyle said.

I went behind the screen; I mean how stupid was this? He had just seen me stark naked, and now I had to put my clothes on behind a screen.

I dressed, conscious now that I was almost filling my bra by myself. I still padded myself out, but hoped it wouldn’t be long now. I was wearing a dress, which I guessed would be easier to slip on and off.

I came out from behind the silly screen and smiled as I sat down in front of his desk. The doctor was writing on my file.

He looked up and noticed my smile. He smiled as well.

“I know, but sometimes people get embarrassed by dressing in front of me.”

“Oh.”

“Well, I’ve seen Dr Simpson’s letter, and the note from the psychiatrist. And now I have had an opportunity to examine you myself, I suppose the only thing left to do is discuss surgical options and then dates.”

“Options?”

“Yes. Not everyone who comes to us wants the whole works. For some the actual key is the outward appearance, and the construction of female genitalia is secondary and sometimes unnecessary. However, your outward appearance does not seem to be in any doubt. I take it that you wish to be fully functioning as a female, sexually, that is?”

I blushed and nodded.

He came round the desk and took my head in his hands, looking at my nose, lips, jaw line, and throat.

“Your Adam’s apple is slightly prominent, but only if you tilt your head back. I’d like to just take a little from your nose, and add a little to the lips. Your jaw line is fine, not at all masculine.

“Your breasts are developing well, and it is up to you if you want me to enhance you in that department. My guess would be that you would end up with a 36B at least, without my help. In that area, you are slightly more developed than most in your position, probably due to the prolonged period you have been taking hormones. I would hesitate to recommend enhancement, purely as I am uncertain as to how large you will get. You are a slender girl, and large breasts may be visually exciting, but practically a bloody nuisance. So what do you want?”

I looked at my breasts, with breast forms now covered over.

“How big am I at the moment?”

“36C, at a guess.”

“I don’t want to be any bigger, I don’t think.”

“You don’t need to make your mind up now. I am pencilling you in for the SRS on the fifteenth of July. It's April now, so if over the next three months you stop growing, or decide to have 36DD, then let me know with about a week’s notice.”

“This July, 2002?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I imagined it would be later. That’s all.”

“No, your development and hormone levels are just about right. I propose to create an artificial vaginal channel, labia, clitoris and everything else by utilising what you have left. I may have to use some tissue from your colon, but that depends on what I have to work with. Once completed, then you are looking at a recovery period of around twelve weeks.”

“That long?”

“Actually, you will be up and living a normal life after a few days, but, you won’t be using the new equipment for at least twelve weeks. And there are exercises that must be done.”

“I heard, the dilators?”

He smiled.

“Yes, the dreaded dilators.”

“Right, so what do I do now?”

“Well, I can arrange for the facial surgery to be done at the same time, or earlier, as you want?”

“Is the facial stuff really necessary?”

“We're talking about the rest of your life. You're only eighteen, and your face is growing a little. This will feminise your face and give you a softer appearance. Not essential, but I think psychologically important. Also, you do not really want to keep going through surgery, so if you have everything done at once, then you may feel as if you have been in the ring with Tyson, but it will only be the once.”

I thought about it and got up and looked in the mirror. I hadn’t really looked properly before, but now he mentioned it these ‘little’ things suddenly seemed huge.

“Okay. Do it,” I said, and he simply smiled and wrote on his notes.

“Ah, how much will all this cost?” I asked, suddenly worried.

He looked at me.

“It isn’t cheap.”

“I am well aware of that. It is not as if I don’t keep up with what is going on. How much?”

“With everything, including the hormones over the first year, about  £35,000.”

“Shit,” I said. I had been prepared for  £20,000. This would clear me out completely. I needed a job, or my share in the business.

“I have a letter from your GP, and in it he states that your parents have promised to foot the bill.”

“My parents? I can’t ask them to do that.”

“It seems they want to. Look.” he said handing me Dr Simpson’s letter. There was a short paragraph in which he assured Mr Boyle that all funding was coming from my parents.

“I can’t let them do this,” I said, feeling terrible.

“Look, that is for you to sort out. I will proceed as planned, so I will see you again on the 14th July, and by the end of the 15th, you will be able to start a new life.”

I smiled, but still felt awful about the funding issue.

I left him and found Paul chatting up the receptionist.

He saw me and immediately realised that I was not entirely happy. He came over, and took my hand.

“Well, how’d it go?”

“Oh, Paul, fine, I’ve been booked in for the fifteenth of July, but my parents have said they’d pay. I can’t let them do that,” I said.

“Look, the important thing is the operation, is there a problem?”

“No, he will do all my bits and a little cosmetic on my face.”

“Face, what’s the matter with it, you are gorgeous.”

“He says I have a slightly prominent Adam’s apple, and my nose needs a little taking off. Also, he’d like to make my lips a little fuller.”

He looked at me, and squinted as if trying to picture what I’d look like with these changes.

“Hmm, I guess, but to be honest, I still think you are very feminine and gorgeous.”

I hugged him.

“That’s why I love you,” I said.

“You what?”

“I love you Paul. Over the last few weeks, I have come to realise that you make me complete. So thanks for being there for me.”

“Oh you silly girl, I have loved you since that first night. But daren’t get too heavy, in case.”

“In case of what?”

“I don’t know. Just in case. I might appear in control and secure in myself, but I’m not. Every day I get up and wonder if I did the right thing, and then look at you and know for certain that I have. But I am terrified that I might lose you.”

“Why should you?”

“The daft thing, I keep thinking you will want a real man.”

I looked at him.

“You are more of a man than anyone I have ever met. The measure of a man is not in the trouser department, but in his heart and soul. So don’t be silly,” I said, and he kissed me.

“Come on, let's go home,” he said, and we went out into the car park. The police officer was in his vehicle, and he nodded as we got into our car. So, with our protector behind us, we headed back home.
 
 
The Superintendent was as good as his word, but I had to go to see the principal of the college. I dressed smartly in a dark knee length skirt, a pale blue blouse, and a dark jacket. I deliberately wore tights and smart shoes with mid length heels.

Mother fussed with the invisible fluff on my shoulders and said that I looked too mature to be a schoolgirl.

I asked my protectors to give me a lift, and got Pete Searle, a powerful looking ex-Royal Marine. He was dressed casually, but I knew he had a gun on his belt.

He walked with me through the college, and I was aware that many people were looking at me.

He waited outside Mr Chamber’s office when I went in.

Mr Chambers was a friend of my father’s and was now aware of my medical problems as well as the potential threat on my life. He was actually a very nice man and good at his job.

“Jo, sit down. My goodness, you have changed!”

I sat down, crossing my legs in a feminine manner. He stared at my legs, and I saw his eyes travel up to the swell of my breasts and then finally he met my eyes.

“What a thing. How are you?”

“I’m actually great, but obviously, this makes things difficult for me. So that is why I need space to finish my assignments.”

He was unaware what ‘this’ referred to, and frowned.

“Um, do you mean….?”

“The police protection and the possible threat against me. My gender transition is not a problem for me, but may be for some small minded people who are too insecure in themselves to understand.”

“So, how can I help?” he asked.

“I need access to the library, and the college intranet. Most of the assignments I can do at home, but I will have to get notes from the teachers. If they could be Emailed to me, I can Email assignments directly back either to them or to the college secretary. I don’t really want to wander about the campus, as I'm more vulnerable and the last thing you want is an incident involving armed police on campus.”

“Quite,” he said, still frowning. I smiled, as I could see that this part of the equation had not really been an issue, but my gender change had.

“Look, Mr Chambers. I'm a girl, and I am not going to embarrass myself, or the college. I'm sensitive to the potential ruckus that my presence, like this, may cause, so I will keep away as much as I can. But I have to be here for the exams, and neither of us can avoid that.”

He smiled.

“Jo, I have known you for most of your life, and well for the last couple of years, as your father and I have been friends for thirty years. Looking at you now, I am so astounded at how utterly convincing you are, and the drastic change in you, that I am so surprised that you managed to hide it so well.”

“It came to the point that I couldn’t live a lie any more.”

“Well, if you see Mark Brady in the IT department, I am sure he can arrange to include your home PC in the network. As for the campus, you are a student here, so make use of whatever facilities as you will. Would you like me to make any form of announcement about you?”

“I’ll leave that up to you. I'm a bit reluctant to get too involved with the others just yet. I may look confident and in control, but underneath I am very nervous about everything.”

He looked at me, his expression gentle and genuinely caring.

“Jo, look, I have had an awful lot of people from your different groups come and ask after you. Rumours are flying, and to be honest, not all are nice ones. I think, as you're out in the open, so to speak, it would be best to come right out and confront them.”

“What do you suggest?”

“An informal meeting in each classroom, I can have a few words my way of introduction to them, and then you can come in and just be there for a while. Get back to normal.”

I only had three groups, The IT group, French, and the Design and Technology group.

“Okay. If I must. What about PC Searle?”

“Who?”

“My protection officer. He’s outside.”

“Then he can come and sort of lurk,” he said, with a smile.

I looked at my hands, and the redness of my nail varnish seemed to accentuate the changes I had gone through.

“Okay, if I must.”

“Good girl. Then let's get it over with.”

We looked at the schedule, and saw that my French set was on as we spoke, and the others were later in the day, all before lunch.

We walked to the French room, and I explained to the officer that my situation was going to be explained to the groups.

“Makes sense,” he muttered, and stood outside as we went in.

There was an immediate silence as we entered, and I felt very nervous.

The French teacher, Sabrina Downs, looked at me with a frown, as if she recognised me, but couldn’t remember where from.

I saw a couple of people nudge each other, and knew they were aware who I was.

“Sorry to interrupt, Sabrina. Okay, ladies and gents, if I could have your attention please.”

Silence fell.

I just wanted the ground to open up.

“I am aware various rumours have been circulating, so I am here with Josie Fortune to put an end of those rumours. Josie, whom you all knew as Joe, is as you can see not exactly the same as you last saw her. She has suffered from a gender disorder, which is now on the road to being rectified. All her life she has struggled with her masculine appearance, and is relieved to be able to appear as she should always been. This might seem weird to some of you, but she is brave enough to come here today to face you all as the person she intends to be for the rest of her life.

“Also, if this isn’t enough for the poor girl, she is under police protection because of an on-going investigation, in which she is a key witness. For this last reason, she will not be in some of the classes you regularly take, as her presence on campus increases her vulnerability, and is a potential liability for us.

“I ask of you two things. One, be kind to her, she is going through a tough time, and two, if you can support her, then I am sure your friendship will be invaluable to her. The college is supporting her in every way we can, and I really do expect the immature and downright nasty rumours to cease as from today.”

He looked at me, and smiled. I tried to return the smile, but I was just shaking too much.

He left, and Sabrina came over to me and put her arm around my shoulders. I tried really hard not to cry, and she sat me down at a desk in the front.

“I never knew,” she said, apologetically.

“No one did,” I said.

There was a buzz of conversation, and one by one my classmates came and gave me a hug. I couldn’t help myself, and I openly wept.

Not a lot of work was done, as I was asked if I wanted to explain the situation myself.

I stood at the front, and looked at everyone. There were a few confused frowns, but no hostile looks.

“I’m one of those unfortunate people who was born into the wrong body. All my life I have known I should have been a girl, but convention and peer pressure had prevented me from expressing or attempting to realise that desire.

“I lived a lie, and for that I apologise to each of you. Now I find I can’t lie any longer, and I have had to do something about it. In a few months, I will have completed all the necessary operations required to complete my transition, and I ask for your understanding. I accept that I will probably offend some, but it is not my intention. If anyone wants to talk to me about anything, then I would ask that you come to me and I will try to explain. Just, just please do me the decency of not spreading any nasty things about me. I just want to live my life.”

I sat down again, and there was a moment of silence.

“Hey Josie, are you free Friday evening?” shouted out Tim Ross, the tall class joker at the back.

I smiled.

“What do you have in mind?” I shouted back.

He grinned. “I’m not bothered, I just want you to know, you look good, girl.” he said, and there was a murmur of agreement.
 
 
I went through that another two times with my other classes, and by lunchtime I was an emotional wreck. By the third one, some of the class had been with me in one or both of the others, so knew what to expect.

In the technology class, Mr Cooper stared at me, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had seen me before when I had handed my assignment in. He grinned, and told me that he had thought and thought about who I was, and it never dawned on him who I really was.

He went over my assignments and was very pleased with what I had submitted so far. My actual project related to a skate/ski board simulator, attached to a computer. The four hydraulic rams attached to the base of the board caused it to move in a realistic fashion, and the visual screen showed a variety of virtual reality scenes to select. The board/scenes changed from snow to urban, and the snowboard even had bindings and was very realistic.

I had completed the manufacture of the prototype, and was trying to iron out a few of the computer glitches. Some of the commands to the rams were a little disjointed and lacked the smooth feel that I was really after. The hardware was fine, but I needed to work on the program side.

This I could do at home, and he was more than happy for me to do that there.

French was a little more difficult to do by myself, and I agreed to attend two classes a week, for the conversational/oral side of the subject.

I.T. was the easiest. I was actually more advanced than the teacher, and everything could be done at home. So, the reality was I only had to attend two French lessons every week, and the occasional lab work for I.T..

As the bell went for lunch, I expected to alone so I could escape. However, far from it, I was immediately surrounded by my classmates and whisked to the food hall. PC Searle waited outside again. As we entered, as silence fell, and I tried to run, but Tim Ross was holding my arm.

“You’ll be fine,” he said.

Then, to my embarrassment and surprise, everyone started clapping, and that was enough. I burst into tears.

Debbie and Caroline took me to the ladies, and allowed me the space to gather myself. Then I realised I was in the ladies for the first time and got the giggles.

They were frowning at me.

“What’s up?”

This made it worse, and tears were rolling down my cheeks, I was laughing so hard.

Eventually, I stopped, and managed to tell them why I was laughing. That started them off, and I started again. I did manage to control myself, and went to one of the cubicles and relieved myself.

They stayed with me as I repaired my make up.

“Shit, Josie, I’d never ever have even thought you could have been a bloke,” Debbie said.

“Particularly that real nerd, Joe,” said Caroline, and then realised what she had said.

“Fuck. Sorry. It's just you are just so bloody different.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“No, I really mean it. You look great,” she said, giving me a hug.

We went out and I suddenly found myself the centre of attention, and everyone wanted to sit with me. I queued up for my salad, and sat with the two girls, and gradually the table filled up with the others.

Stewart came in, looked round and saw me. He grinned and came over.

“Hi Barbie doll. You are looking good,.” he said, and surprised me, and everyone else, by kissing my cheek.

“Hi Tosspot. Thanks.”

He grinned, and went and got some food. He came back and dragged a chair over so he was close to me.

All my fears and reservations disappeared, and I found myself surrounded by friends. There were a few who declined to join my fan club, and I was okay with that. But most of the people I had got to know over the last two years still wanted to remain my friends.

I now wished I had done this, years ago.

Isn’t hindsight a wonderful thing?
 
 
Pete Searle was chatting up one of the pretty admin girls in the main reception, and I grinned as I recalled Paul chatting up the receptionist in the hospital. Men!

“Okay, I’m done,” I said.

“Where now?”

“Home, I suppose. Unless you want to do anything or go anywhere,” I said.

“Um, any chance we could pop into a sports shop. I need some new trainers,” he said.

“No problem, just don’t let me go anywhere near a clothes shop. I have too many clothes as it is,” I said.

I directed him to the ring road, as I remembered a large shoe outlet on a retail estate just near the old Rover works at Cowley. It was now involved in making the new Minis for BMW.

He bought a couple of pairs of shoes, and I bought four pairs. Two smart shoes, a gorgeous pair of suede boots and a pair of slip-on trainer type shoes.

I shrugged as he looked at my bags.

“Never let a girl near clothes or shoes. We have an inbuilt urge to spend money,” I said, and he laughed.

He drove me home, so I went up to my room. Mother was out, and Dad wasn’t due back for four hours yet.

I logged onto my PC, and managed to get on line with the college. I was in the network.

I did a little programming, but still couldn’t solve my command problems. It was just one aspect, whereby the information was not getting through quick enough, and I called up Stewart.

“Hi Stoo, its Josie.”

“Hi, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That was a pretty heavy thing to do.”

“I’m fine. Everyone was brilliant.”

“Yeah, the amount of people who have come up to me and asked me what bits you have or haven’t got. Do you remember Craig, and meeting him that time with your assignment?”

“I’m not likely to forget.”

“Well, he was asking whether you are dating yet.”

“No?”

“Yeah. He says that you screwed with his brain ever since that day, and he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind. He thinks you look awesome.”

“Bloody hell. He never came up to me.”

“I think he was embarrassed, he got me on my own and made me swear not to tell you.”

I laughed. “Which you would never do.”

“Of course. I am but a man of my word.”

“You sod,” I said, laughing.

“Seriously, Josie, you did a good thing today.”

“I hope so. It was bloody hard.”

“I’ll bet. Look, can I come round? I need to talk to you about the shop in any case?”

“Sure. Ten minutes?”

“Yeah, bye.”
 
 
Fifteen minutes later, I heard his motorcycle on the drive. A short while later he arrived at my door, panting.

“Shit, I just got the fright of my life,” he said.

“Why?”

“A fucking great copper jumps out the bushes and demands to know what I'm up to. You could have warned them, Josie.”

“Shit. I forgot. Sorry.”

We sat and chatted about the shop. Martin was worried I was going to get awkward about my share, and I told Stewart to tell him not to worry. Then we spent a couple of hours working on my programming problem.

I had taken my smart suit off and was wearing a denim skirt and a tee shirt.

Stewart was busy typing, and I was leaning over him watching the screen.

“Josie, don’t do that?” he said.

“What?” I said.

“Push your tits against my neck. I’m getting a boner with you this close.”

I was genuinely shocked.

“Stewart!”

“What do you expect? Have you looked at yourself recently?” he said.

I looked in the mirror, and I couldn’t see anything unusual.

“What?” I asked.

“Josie, you are a seriously sexy girl. Now I know what you were, I have known you for long enough, and I think I know what you have in your tight panties, but I still find you very distracting.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I fucking well do, so just remember that you are not the same as you used to be, okay?”

I was a little hurt, and he could sense it.

“Look, we've been mates a long time. But you've changed, so it's to be expected that our relationship may change too. You're fucking stunning, and my gonads are not that bright. If you keep rubbing against me, it's natural that my testosterone is going to react. Besides you have Paul, so just remember, you're a girl, and I'm a boy. I don’t have a girl friend, and if you keep rubbing your boobs against me, we are both going to regret what might happen.”

I was speechless. It had never occurred to me that he would see me any differently.

“Hey, I have an idea,” he said, and returned to the task at hand. I was careful to keep further away.

I heard mother come home, and she had obviously seen the motorcycle in the drive, because she came up to say hello to Stewart.

“Hi, Mrs Fortune,” he said.

“Hello Stewart. How are you?”

“I’m okay, thanks. So how do you like your new daughter?” he asked.

“Stewart!” I said, going red.

Mum laughed.

“She’s lovely, but it is taking a little while to get used to.”

“She’s gorgeous. No wonder you have armed police in the bushes to guard her,” he said, and nudged me in the ribs with his elbow.

Mum didn’t know what to say to that, and just smiled at me.

“Are you staying for supper?” she asked him.

“No, but thanks. I have to get back,” he said, looking at his watch.

Mother walked off, so we returned to the computer. He had managed to iron one or two kinks out, but we had a way to go. It had given me some ideas though.

“I’d better go. Do you fancy going out for a drink later?” he asked me.

I thought for a moment. Paul was in Bournemouth, starting his article on hotels.

“Okay, when and where?”

“You will? Cool. Some of the crowd are going to the Feathers. Do you want to pick me up, I can’t see you riding pillion?”

“Okay, what time?”

“Nine?”

“Fine.”

“Oh, and Josie?”

“What?”

“Wear something sexy.”

“Why?”

“Because you can,” he said, and ran quickly out before I could throw anything at him.
 
 
The atmosphere at dinner was a little strained, as I brought up the subject of my operation and the funding issue.

“Dad, I can’t allow you to pay for my operation. It isn’t fair,” I said.

He put down his fork, and looked at me.

“Josephine. My responsibility as a parent is to do the best for you. Now I am aware that you have a little money saved up, and even might have enough to cover some of the costs. However, there is no point losing all your capital at this point in your life. This is not a matter for discussion.”

“But, Dad….”

“Jo, enough. When I am old and senile, your responsibility as one of my children will be to ensure that I am looked after. Then you may make decisions over my welfare, but as for now, I am capable of making decisions about my daughter who needs help.”

Mother just looked at me and smiled.

“Thanks, but it isn’t fair on the others.”

“Since when has life ever been fair?” he asked me.

“It’s not,” I said.

“Besides, when one of the others has needed help, I have given it. Your sister has a bloody nice flat, and that cost a hell of a lot more than this will. I didn’t hear either of you bleat about fairness then.”

I stayed silent, and he continued, with a very gentle tone.

“Josie, what kind of father would I be to allow you to go through this unaided? I want the best for you, and we can afford it. Just accept this with the grace you no doubt have.”

I looked at him, and almost cried again. These hormones didn’t half screw with my emotions.

“Thanks Dad, you are lovely,” I said, and went and gave him a hug.

I helped clear away supper, and told my folks that I was going out for a drink with Stewart.

“Don’t you drink and drive, young lady,” said Dad.

“You know I don’t.”

“And, there is a lot of date rape about,” observed my mother.

“I’ll be careful. I think I can trust Stewart,” I said, smiling at Dad who was rolling his eyes at me, behind Mum’s back.

I went and changed into a short tight leather skirt, with a white blouse, and a black leather jacket. I pulled on my black long boots with the high heels, and spruced up my make up.

I was ten minutes late picking up Stewart, who looked a little shocked at my short skirt.

“Shit, I didn’t really mean it,” he said.

“Mean what? Oh, this old thing? I was just lounging about, and flung on any old stuff,” I said, and he hit me.

“Don’t interfere with the driver,” I said, grinning at him.

He looked at me in a strange way.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you sure you used to be my mate Joe?”

“I think so, but it is all very hazy,” I said, putting on an old woman voice.

He smiled.

“It's just, well, it's just you look too much like a girl.”

“Duh. That’s the whole point,” I said.

“I know, but, I mean, I’d at least expect you to look a bit like you used to.”

“You mean I don’t?”

“Duh. Who’s the thicko now? Aren’t you listening? Josie, you are a seriously sexy looking babe. There is nothing about you that suggests Joe bloody Fortune.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. Nada. De Rien. Not the looks, the walk, the voice, the mannerisms, absolutely nothing!”

I was quiet as I negotiated the car park at the Feathers.

I sat a while after turning the engine off.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I, I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted.

“Course you can.”

“I’ve never been to a pub, like this, I mean. Not without Paul.”

“You’ve got me, so come on.”

I got out the car, and watched the police car slide into the car park behind us. I waved, and one got out. It was Ed. He came over to us.

“Let me go in first. I’ll find a quiet spot, and then you come in,” he said.

“This is heavy,” said Stewart, grinning. So I hit him.

“That’s not fair, you know I can’t hit women.”

“Chicken,” I said, and he stuck his tongue out. I laughed and relaxed.

He was about to hold the door open for me, but I shoved him through first. What is it about blokes? They like the nervous and often seriously insecure girls walk into strange places first, and call it good manners. Bollocks.

The pub was crowded, and there were a lot of our year group in.

“Hey, Josie! Over here,” shouted Craig.

Shit. He had a huge grin on his face.

We walked through the crowd, and Caroline and Debbie were there. They squeezed along on a bench for me and I sat down.

Debbie looked at my skirt, and as I took my jacket off, and shook her head.

“What?” I asked.

“You. You look amazing,” she said.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I feel everyone is looking at me.”

“They are.”

“Oh shit. Really?”

“Yeah. The ones who know are looking thinking, ‘No way, this is a con.’ The ones who don’t know are thinking, ’OOOh I want into those panties.”

“Debbie!”

“She’s right. You are far too sexy to be a bloke,” said Caroline.

“What do you want, Barbie doll?” Stewart asked.

“Just a diet Coke. I’m driving,” I said.

“So, feeling better after the great revelation today?” Caroline asked.

“A little. It's all a bit weird.”

“A bit. You've started so much speculation.”

“What about?” I asked.

She looked at my breasts.

“Them for starters. How much are real?”

“50%.”

“They look good.”

I smiled.

“It's amazing the stuff you can buy these days,” I said.

“So, come on, what do you have down below?” Debbie asked, and I went red.

“Debbs! You can’t ask that,” Caroline said.

“Why not? I’m interested.”

I made a decision.

“You two, come with me,” I said, and went off to the ladies.

They followed, and when we had the place to ourselves, I showed them.

“Fuck, you are a girl!” said Debbie, as I pulled up my tights and knickers, and smoothed down the skirt.

“Almost, I just have to have some plumbing work done in a few months.”

“Plumbing?”

“Well, I don’t intent to have anal all my life.”

“Anal?” asked Caroline, naívely.

“Anal sex,” said the more-worldly Debbie.

“You have anal sex?” Caroline said, her voice verging on the hysterical.

“Unless you can offer an alternative?” I said.

“I mean who with?” she asked.

“Duh, my boyfriend,” I said, and I went for a pee.

“Stewart?” Debbie asked, horrified.

“No not Stewart. Give me some bloody taste. Paul.”

“Who’s Paul?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Where is he?”

“Working, in Bournemouth. He is a journalist.”

“Bloody hell, how long have you two been, um, er, an item, so to speak?” Debbie asked.

“Since March,” I said, and finished my pee, and wiped carefully.

“So, what's it like?” Caroline asked.

“What a boyfriend?”

“No, anal sex,” she said just as a strange woman came in, and gave her the weirdest look.

Debbie and I convulsed into giggles and Caroline went bright red and ran out.

We followed still giggling.

My place had been taken, and Craig offered me his knee to sit on. I shrugged and sat on him.

“Are you really the same person as Joe?” he whispered.

“No. I’m a clone and don’t want anyone to know,” I whispered back, and he looked confused.

“Yes, I am Jo,” I said, and he shook his head.

Stewart had fought his way to the bar and back and handed me a coke.

I offered my knee and he sat on me, and Craig groaned with the weight of both of us. There was a live band at one end of the pub, and at ten they started to play. They were pretty crappy, but better than a juke box.

Stewart leaned over and asked me to dance.

“I’m crap at dancing,” I said.

“So am I, come on.” Much to Craig’s relief, he dragged me onto the tiny dance floor.

Now, Joe Fortune had never danced. Apart from never having anyone to dance with, I had always been too self-conscious. However, after Risoul, and being allowed to be 'Jessica' for five weeks, I was an old hand at wiggling my bits pretending I was dancing.

Once on the dance floor, Stewart was replaced by a grinning Craig, who disappeared to be replaced by Rob, and then Sam, and he was followed by Ricky.

I eventually had to sit down as the slow ones started and I was not playing that game, yet.

I went outside for a breath of fresh air, and my mobile rang. It was Paul.

“Hi Paul,” I said.

“Josie, I miss you.”

“No, you don’t, you’ve probably got a call girl snuggled up with you.”

He chuckled, a deep rich sound.

“I’d be so lucky. So, what are you doing, how was your first day back?”

“Horrendous. I was paraded like a freak in front of everyone.”

“No?”

“Not really. The principal and I just sort of cleared up any misunderstandings and I was perfectly open about who and what I am.”

“And?”

“Everyone was cool. I am at the Feathers with some of them, just relaxing. I miss you though,” I admitted.

“I’ll be back on Friday, do you fancy coming to stay with me this weekend?”

“Count on it.”

“What are you wearing?”

“My leather miniskirt and the white blouse with the sexy collar.”

“And the boots?”

“And the boots.”

“OOOh.”

“You men, that’s all you think of,” I teased.

“I miss you, girl.”

“Mmm, I miss you too.”

“I love you Josie, did you know that?”

“Yes, you told me, several times.”

“Oh, then in case you forget. I love you.”

“I love you Paul, come back soon.”

“I will, now be good.”

“You too.”

He rang off, and I felt sad. I did love him, and yet I wasn’t certain if we had a future or not. The age difference mattered a little, but while we needed each other, I was happy.

Debbie came out looking for me.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I just got too hot. Besides, Paul called.”

We sat on a bench.

“I mean, are you really okay? It's very heavy, all this shit,” she asked.

“Yeah, actually I’m better now it is all out in the open.”

“So, what is all this business with the police?”

“It's just something I got involved in by mistake. Someone came to the shop and had some work done, and that work is now possible evidence in an old murder.”

“Cool. So why are you being protected?”

“The suspect is now an important man.”

“No?”

“Yeah.”

“Bloody hell.”

Caroline came out at that moment.

“Hi, what are you guys talking about?” she asked.

“Anal sex,” said Debbie, and I got the giggles again.

“Really?” Caroline asked, and we were both off.

She sat next to me.

“Take the piss, why don’t you,” she said miserably.

“Oh Caroline, what’s the matter?” Debbie asked, and Caroline was clearly a little upset.

“I can’t help being a vicar’s daughter. I really don’t know anything, and everyone expects me to know everything.”

“So, what do you want to know?” I asked.

“Where do I start? I went to a girls’ convent, and I was never in the ‘in-crowd’. I just went along and I always wanted to find things out, but no one told me anything.”

“What about your parents?”

“My parents? Joke. My mum is so uptight, I’m amazed they ever had me.”

“Has she told you anything?” Debbie asked.

“She didn’t even tell me about periods. I found that out the hard way at school.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Caroline, I never knew.”

“The story of our lives,” I muttered.

“Have you had a boyfriend?” Debbie asked.

“A couple of boys seem to be interested, but I think they are as shy as me. I don’t seem to have the looks like Josie,” she said, and I was surprised.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you do have the edge on looks,” Debbie said, almost bitterly.

“Oh come on. You guys are much prettier than me. I’m not even a real girl, yet.”

“Then why have half the guys got stiffies over you?”

“Debbie. Don’t be disgusting,” Caroline said, prudishly.

“It's true, Craig was just telling Ricky that he would take you regardless of what you had down below. And Tim Ryan said that there was no way you could ever really have been a bloke.”

“That is so gross,” said Caroline.

“Really?” I asked, interested now.

We had a laugh.

“So, Caroline, have you anyone special at the moment?” I asked, just to change the subject from me.

“Not really. There is a guy in my German class who is nice, but he is even more shy that I am.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Bruce. He is one of the quiet blokes. I prefer them to the loud lot in there.”

“You know we always thought you were far more forward than you seem to be. Didn’t we Josie?” asked Debbie.

“You have this superior look. It's dead sexy,” I said, and she grinned.

“It’s only because I’m bloody terrified all the time,” she admitted.

“I think we all are,” I said, and Debbie grunted agreement.

“Well, don’t fuck on a first date,” said Debbie, and I snorted.

“Oh, look who did,” she said, and grinned lewdly at me.

I went red.

“You didn’t?” asked Caroline, shocked.

“How come we are back on me again?” I said, a little defensively.

“Don’t change the subject. What was it like?”

“Debbie, nice girls don’t have this sort of conversations. Besides I didn’t fuck on my first date. It was later on,” I said.

“We aren’t nice girls. What was it like?”

“I take it you have never had it that way?”

“You want the truth?”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never had it either way. I’ve given a few blow jobs, but I am terrified of getting pregnant. My sister had to drop out of university because she got pregnant. So I am determined it isn’t going to happen to me.”

“There are pills and things these days,” I said.

“Yeah, she was on the pill.”

We were silent, and it came as a bit of a shock to be the only one who had actually had sex with a man.

“Anal is pretty cool,” I said, in the end. “The trick is to have loads of lubrication, to be empty and to relax. I never had any desire to do it, but I met Paul, and he treated me as a girl, and one thing led to another.”

“What was his reaction to discover you were, I mean, did he, I mean, did he know you were not sort of all there?” asked Debbie.

“No, I was up front, and he knew. We never set out to do it, I was happy just having a kiss and a cuddle. Then I felt I wanted him inside me. I was really odd, as it made me feel so much more, I don’t know, like a girl, I suppose. He was so gentle and slow. It hurt a little at first, but I learned to relax and then I learned to love it, and once we found the best position, you know, face to face, it was out of this world.”

“Face to face, I didn’t know you could do that?” Debbie asked.

“Yeah, you just have to get your hips further forwards. I like wrapping my legs round him,” I said. The thought was making me feel a little randy.

“Is he big?” Debbie asked, with a look of semi-horror on her face.

“Not particularly. Average I suppose. But it was just so nice to please him.”

“You won’t get pregnant that way,” Caroline said to Debbie.

“Hmm,” she said, unconvinced.

“Put it this way. In a few months, I'll have the right equipment, so I won't have to use the tradesman’s entrance again,” I said, and they hooted with laughter.

“Is Paul, you know, gay?”

I thought for a moment.

“Paul is a man who is in love with a girl. He is aware of what I am, and treats me as a girl at all times. He has never seen me as anything other than this, and never will. He has never had a relationship with anyone other than women before, and I am the first non-genetically born female he ever took to bed,” I said perfectly truthfully.

“How old is he?”

“Twenty six.”

“Dirty old man.” said Debbie. “So where do you meet?”

“I used to perform in a TG club. I had an act, I took off Kylie Minogue and one or two other female artists. We got loads of different people in, and one evening he was there.”

“What made him go to a gay club?” Caroline asked.

“It’s not a gay club. It is a TG club. We got gays, straights and all stations in between. He had heard about it and as a travel writer thought it would make a different article.”

“Woah. Talk about different. So you met and what then?”

“We danced and he was kind and gentle. He has had a real screwed up life, and we both seemed to find and meet each others needs that night. I ended up going to his place, and we went to bed. I never intended to do anything, but one thing led to another, and before I really knew what was happening we were cuddling.” I said. “We did not have sex for a while, it just seemed a natural progression.”

“And?” asked Debbie.

“I liked it,” I admitted.

“You said it hurt?”

“At first, but then I just relaxed. He was so terrified of hurting me, you see, he’d never done it before either.”

“I think that is so beautiful,” said Caroline.

We laughed.

“Seriously, I am pleased for you. I wish I could get a steady bloke who cares for me as much as Paul seems to care for you,” Debbie said.

I shrugged, as there wasn’t much I could say.

“Debbs, when you gave a blow job. How, I mean, what, how do you know what to do?” Caroline asked.

Debbie chuckled.

“The first time, I thought I was going to die. He stuffed the damn thing so far down my throat, I thought I’d suffocate or vomit. In the end I nearly choked. So, just make sure you keep a tight hold of the damn thing, because when they get close, they start wanting to ram in as far in as possible.”

“Eargh. Gross!” Caroline said, and Debbie and I got the giggles again.

“What about the bit when he, you know?”

“Comes?” Debbie asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you should always get him to use a condom, what with disease. That’s why you get flavoured ones. Rubber tastes foul, particularly with the spermicidal stuff the smear all over them these days.”

“But if you don’t. If he doesn’t, I mean.”

“Then you get him to warn you, and take your choice. Get a tissue, or swallow.”

“Urgh.” said Caroline.

“It's okay actually. Isn’t it Josie?”

“I don’t know. It is an experience I have yet to enjoy,” I admitted.

“Really? Haven’t you done that for Paul?”

“Not yet. Next time maybe.”

“This is so gross,” said Caroline, standing up.

“You asked us,” Debbie and I said in unison.

We went back in and danced some more. Craig was getting drunk, and Tim Ross was looking at me with a strange expression on his face, so I extricated Stewart and drove him home.

“G’night Barbie,” he said.

“Goodnight Tosspot,” I said, and he disappeared into his house.

I drove home and went to bed. I missed Paul something rotten.
 
 
Part 6
 
 
Paul returned on Friday as promised, and I went and stayed with him in his cottage. There was a farmyard opposite, and Ed and his team set up there. Paul and I had a very carnal night on the Friday and slept late into Saturday morning.

I got up around ten, and had a shower, and he plodded to his computer to get his first article finished for Monday. I dressed in a suede skirt, with a fawn sweater, and my suede boots. His larder and fridge were empty, so at noon, I took the Mini to Sainsbury’s to do some shopping. As I was pushing my laden trolley to my car, a big black van pulled up along side, and the sliding door opened.

I was bright enough to push the trolley at the man who jumped out, and I turned and ran, screaming as loud as I could.

I heard some cursing, and “Get the bitch!” from behind me.

I ducked left, as I saw one of the men sprint to my right to cut me off. I cursed my high heels, and hoped that the police were with me.

I reached the end of the car park, and was against a wall. I turned and looked as three men in dark clothes closed in on me.

I looked round for anyone to shout for help to.

“Come on, nice and peaceful, and no one will get hurt,” said one of the men.

I felt my mobile in my pocket, and keyed it on, then pressed 999. I watched as the van was driven slowly towards me, and I was now as far up at the back of the car park as I could get. There was nowhere else for me to run.

The man who had spoken to me took a length of cord from his pocket and started to wrap in round one hand. His meaning was clear. I was about as terrified as I could get.

“Look, what do you want me for?” I asked.

“Shut the fuck up!” said the man.

At that moment, two dark cars screeched to a halt, a dark Vauxhall and a Range Rover.

I saw the blue light inside the Range Rover, and just sat on the ground in relief.

“ARMED POLICE. DO NOT MOVE!” came the amplified voice.

The three men looked totally startled, and the man with the rope recovered first, and lunged into his jacket pocket with his right hand. I watched in slow motion as his hand came out holding something black, and he started lifting it towards me. Realising it was a gun, I simply lay flat and rolled under the nearest car.

There were four loud bangs. Very loud. And I passed out.
 
 
I was looking at the sky. A fluffy white cloud was floating overhead, and a voice intruded on my consciousness.

“Josie! Josie! Hey are you all right?”

I looked up, and there was Pete. He was looking down at me with a worried expression.

I was so relieved I burst into tears and clung to him.

It was then I saw the body.

Two officers had shot the man who had been drawing the gun, and all four bullets had hit him. They had covered the body with a blue sheet, but I saw the pool of blood on the tarmac.

“Come on, let’s get you away,” Ed said.

They took me to the Range Rover.

“Wait. My shopping,” I wailed, and they looked at each other.

They drove me to where my trolley was still standing, and watched bemused as I loaded my shopping into my Mini.

“Follow me, or something,” I said, and tried to open my driver’s door. I was shaking too much, and I felt Pete take my keys from me.

“Get in the Range Rover, I’ll take this to the cottage for you.”

Ed stayed at the scene as more police cars turned up. I sat and shook all the way back to Paul’s.

I just sat in the back of the Range Rover, unaware that we’d arrived.

Pete opened the door.

“Come on Josie, we’re here.”

I looked at him, and then at the cottage. He was holding his hand out to me, and I took it.

“How did they know?” I asked.

“The car. They were waiting for the car.”

I shook my head.

“No. They’ve been watching me. How come they never saw you?”

He shrugged.

“Probably because we are very good at what we do.”

“Will they try again?”

“Not now. They know you are protected.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I can’t, I’m trying to make you feel better,” he said with a little smile.

I smiled, but it was very half hearted.

“Shit, I was scared!”

“Yeah, I know.”

Pete came in with me and explained to Paul what had happened, and left us alone. Paul held me as the reaction hit, and I sobbed in his arms.

They even brought the shopping in, but I didn’t feel like cooking.

Two hours later, Ed appeared with Superintendent Hutchings.

I was curled up on the sofa, clinging to Paul.

They both sat down.

“Are you okay?” Ed asked.

“Is he dead?”

He nodded.

“Who was he?”

“He was a mercenary, an ex-paratrooper and hired gun. The other three were all the same, and have said absolutely nothing ever since they were arrested.”

“Did they all have guns?”

“Just two of them. The one that died and one other.”

“Josie, this changes things,” said the superintendent.

“Yes?”

“Yes. We have enough to act, and we are going to. Mr Lambert is going to be arrested.”

“But do you have enough to charge him? One old and grainy film is hardly conclusive evidence,” Paul asked.

“We need to stop him trying to harm Josie.”

“But if he walks, then surely she's in even more danger?”

“Possibly, but they’ve tried twice now.”

“And they know I'm a girl.”

“Quite. So we're going to act.”

“May I make a suggestion? I mean, I know I'm new at all this getting killed business, but I've had a thought, and it might help,” I said.

They looked at me.

“Well, if he walks free, then I'm toast. Right?”

They just stared at me.

“What if I called him, at the House of Commons, in broad daylight, and tell him I'm willing to give him everything I’ve got? They don’t know you have it yet, do they?”

“No. It's the one ace I am keeping for the last minute.”

“Well then, they might just arrange a meeting, and if I'm wired, then I may be able to get him to confess.”

Ed smiled.

“He’d never go for it.”

“He would if I named him, and said I will only deal with the man in the film.”

“He’d arrange to have you frisked. You’d never get a wire past his men.”

“I’d get them past your men, wouldn’t I?”

“My men? Oh, the officers at the House?”

“Exactly. He could hardly have his bully boys there, could he?”

The Superintendent looked sceptical.

“Look, if I wore earrings with a microphone in them, I would wear clothes that showed a lot of flesh, and he could see I wasn’t wearing a wire. I would take him to a place he’d feel secure, from directional microphones, and then try. Men appreciate blondes, but never think we have brains”
 
 
“George Lambert, please,” I said on the phone.

“Who is calling, please?” the female voice asked.

“Jo Fortune.”

“Thank you, and what is it about?”

“It's about a constituent of his, Mr William Henderson.”

“One moment.”

I was put on hold, and looked at the three officers with the recording equipment.

“Jo Fortune? This is George Lambert.”

“If you want the film, I will meet you in the lobby of the House in two hours, at thee p.m..”

“I’m sorry, what film is that? I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Very well, I will give it to Special Branch. Goodbye Mr Lambert.”

“Wait!”

There was silence. He was being very careful.

“Look, I really have no idea what you are talking about, but if you want to meet me, fine. I will see you at three. How will I know what you look like?”

“If you don’t know now, then that is your problem,” I said and hung up.
 
 
The earrings looked like black onyx spheres. Both were microphones, and were switched on by the controller in the van. They would pick up a conversation between me and anyone close to me and send it to a range of 1000 metres, and if a sub unit was available, someone with an earpiece could stay with me at 200 metres whilst we were 2000 metres from the base unit.

I was dressed in a simple pale blue skirt and blouse, with a leather jacket and my black boots. I had a shoulder bag, and was very nervous as I was dropped off by a ‘cab’ at Parliament Square. I pretended to pay the cabbie, my friend, Sergeant Ed.

“Good luck Jo.”

“Thanks, watch my back.”

“Count on it.”

I then walked through the gate and into the main lobby. The place was packed, and security was tight. As I presented myself for searching, I noticed an extra security man slide across and give my bag a very thorough search. I was wrong, as his goons were in here. A female searched me, and really felt me. She paid attention to my belt and bra, and even went between my legs.

I was permitted to pass, and walked through.

A man approached me.

“Miss Fortune?”

“Yes?”

“Mr Lambert regrets that he cannot meet you. But you may give me the item.”

I turned and saw two goons in suits by the door.

“I’m sorry, no Lambert, no film.”

We stood staring at each other.

“He is very busy, but you may trust me to give it to him.”

“There is a price on it.”

“How much?”

“One million.”

His eyebrows rocketed upwards, and he laughed.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“So are murder, corruption and bribery.”

He looked around.

“Are you going to give me the film?”

“I will give the film to the man on it. George Lambert, and no one else.”

“Wait here.” he said and walked off. I suddenly saw Pete dressed as a uniform PC, with helmet and everything, just wandering about, looking as if he belonged. He did not even make eye contact, and he exchanged words with another PC by the door.

The man was back.

“Follow me,” he said, and I swallowed and went with him.

After miles of corridor, we finally ended up on the terrace overlooking the Thames.

Mr Lambert looked exactly what he was, a prosperous and important man, and he did not look happy.

“Miss Fortune?”

“Mr Lambert.”

“What is this, a blackmail attempt?”

“I prefer to look at it as a business transaction, whereby I end up with some life insurance.”

He almost smiled.

“Go on,” he said.

“Simple, I have a DVD of a film, I assume you recovered the original from Mr Henderson before you had him terminated, so you have tried twice to do the same to me, and unfortunately each time I had a mobile phone. But this can’t go on, as you know I lead a complicated life, and need cash to, how shall I put it, un-complicate it,” I said, as his calm face twisted into ugly anger and revulsion.

“You're a twisted little queer, so you need to have surgery to make you look like a woman?” he snarled at me, losing his cool. But it told me, and the listeners that not only did he know of me, he knew intimate details that very few people knew. I tried to annoy him further by not rising and just smiled calmly.

“No, Mr Lambert. I'm a woman, but I need surgery to complete the job. Unlike you, I haven’t had to resort to prostituting myself to kill in order to please my masters.”

“I’m saying nothing to you.”

“No, I don’t expect you to. Do you want the film of you leaving Mr Spooner’s cottage or not?”

His eyes widened in surprise.

I laughed.

“I'm not stupid. I live very close to there, and recognised it. I then checked the old news reports and two and two made four.”

“Who have you told?” he said, clearly worried.

“I've given a letter to an undisclosed law firm, with a copy of the DVD, with instructions to give it to Special Branch if I do not check in with them with a different codeword each week. Apart from them - no one, and this.” I said, producing a DVD, “is the only other copy.”

He stared at it.

“Ten thousand.”

“Come on, the surgery and treatment is thirty five thousand, and I need a flat, and a new car as well”

“Fifty thousand.”

“One million, take it or leave it.”

“For one million, I want the other copy.”

“For one million, you get whatever you want, including my silence. But, you let me get on with my life.”

He smirked, and I knew that once he had the DVDs, I was dead.

“Done. I need a couple of days to get that sort of money.”

“You have twenty-four hours.”

He looked at me.

“You really are a hard little bitch. How would you like a job?”

“For you? No thanks. I do have some scruples,” I said, and he laughed.

I turned to go.

“Miss Fortune, fuck me up, and you're dead.”

I turned back.

“Mr Lambert, you say the nicest things. By the way, was it all worth it?”

“What?”

I waved my hand at the building and his Armani suit.

“All this for his life?”

He nodded.

“Oh yes, it was worth it.”

I smiled, as I saw the Superintendent approach along the terrace behind him.

“Well, I hope you enjoy the time you have to think about that,” I said, and walked away from him. I went through the door, and found the man who had brought me.

“Finished, for the moment,” I said, and walked off down the corridor.

There was a shout, and the man had obviously seen his boss being detained, and he was running after me.

I turned the corner and found Pete grinning at me.

“Ed is down on the left,” he said, and I went to a small room and was dragged into it by Ed.

He put his fingers to my lips signifying silence.

The man trotted past, cursing under his breath.

“Excuse me, sir.” I heard Pete shout.

The man flustered, and unarmed, stopped and approached the officer.

“A young lady was here, I think she sneaked in past security,” he said to Pete.

Pete smiled.

“You, sunshine, are nicked. Accessory to murder, kidnapping and conspiracy to the above.”

Before the man was aware of what was going on, Pete restrained and handcuffed him. I then appeared with Ed. The man saw Ed’s MP5, and realised that he and his boss were now well and truly sunk.

The rest of the day consisted of sitting in a small office in New Scotland Yard, and compiling a very detailed statement of what had happened. Unbeknown to me, they had even managed to get film footage of our conversation on the terrace from a vantage point across the river.

Eight arrests had been made in total, so far. The two from the Vauxhall - when I had followed them in the cab. Then there were the three survivors with the van in the supermarket car park, and finally, Lambert and the pair of ‘security’ personnel at the House of Commons.

I sat and watched the small TV as I drank my eighty fifth cup of tea.

Several boxes of documents and PCs were seized from his office and home. TV footage showed a distraught looking Mrs Lambert watching as several officers removed box after box of documents from his house.

“Officers from Scotland Yard’s Special Branch raided the M.P.’s home and office this afternoon after he was arrested on suspicion of murder, conspiracy to murder and corruption allegations. They removed computer equipment and documentation from both locations.

“Mr Lambert is being held at an undisclosed police station, and is facing a possible prison sentence, if charges with even one of the offences alleged come to conviction. A police spokesman spoke to me earlier.”

The scene changed to the usual scene of the revolving sign outside the tower that was NSY.

Superintendent Hutchings faced the camera.

“Mr Lambert was arrested in the House of Commons earlier this afternoon after a long investigation in which we believe he has been directly involved in at least two murders and the attempt of at least two more. It is strongly suspected that Mr Lambert has used his position to abuse that trust in permitting or arranging contracts to companies who should never have been allocated them.

“All I can say is that we are actively investigating Mr Lambert’s and his associates’ activities for the last thirty years.”

The scene went back to the reporter, who waffled on about the impact this might have on the already beleaguered Blair administration.

I was tired, but I got a call from Paul on my mobile. I told him how things had gone, and then he told me that he was on a train heading to Cornwall. He had left it until now to tell me he was going to Newquay. That really pissed me off, and I said some things I shouldn’t have.

I was still stewing when Tony Hutchings came in to the office.

“Something wrong?”

“Men!” I said, and he smiled. “I’m sorry, it’s my boyfriend. He’s fucking off to Cornwall to do his journalist bit. He knew about it weeks ago, but only told me now. He thought I would have been upset if he’d told me earlier. Like, I’m not pissed off right now.”

He sat down and looked at me.

“I’ve just been speaking to the boss, the Commissioner, and he has been appraised of your part in this. What you did was very brave, so you will be getting a civil citation for helping us.”

“Is it enough to put the bastard away?”

“A DCI from the Thames Valley Police is coming up with the file from the 1970s. With the film, and one or two other bits, we might be in luck. There is always a chance that DNA could be on some of the evidence, which is still held on file.”

“What about the case against him trying to kill me?”

“There we have been a little luckier. The man we shot had a mobile phone, and he carefully removed any numbers that called him. But George wasn’t so careful. He made two calls to him, and the numbers are logged in his mobile.”

“That was a bit careless.”

“I think he was just very confident that he could take care of things.”

“Am I safe now?”

“I think so. Whoever was in bed with him, so to speak, will now be trying to row for home and cleaning out their own house. You are no longer a threat to them, as we have everything you had, and so nothing more can be gained by attacking you. But I am going to keep the team in place until this goes to court.”

“Where is he?”

“Lambert? Paddington Green. Why?”

“I just wondered. I suppose I can go home now?”

“Ed will get someone to give you a lift.”

I stood up and stretched.

He smiled.

“Tired?”

“Bloody knackered. This has taken a lot out of me, and I have an ‘A’ level exam next week.”

“You look far to mature to be doing ‘A’ levels.”

“Thanks, flattery will get you everywhere,” I said.

“So, what’s next?”

“I don’t know. I suppose just get my head down, get the exams out the way and then get my last bit of surgery finished with.”

“Well, take care, I hope you get through everything. I suspect you will.”

“Thanks. Will I be needed at court?”

“Possibly. I’ll let you know.”

“I’m not unwilling, it’s just that I’d rather I didn’t if I don’t have to. It is a bit public really.”

“I understand. It may not be necessary, he may admit everything.”

“Yeah, fat chance,” I said.

“Really?”

“I’ve met the man, he’ll fight to the end.”

“Maybe, but we can bring other pressures to bear.”

“Like what?”

“Financial ones. He has a home and all kinds of other investments. We can seize everything if we choose.”

“Legal blackmail?”

“Perish the thought. Discretionary justice.”

“I like it.”

“Goodbye, Josie. I like you, and what ever you do in your life, I am sure you will be excellent at it.”

He shook my hand and then kissed my cheek.

“No matter what anyone may say, you're a charming girl.”
 
 
Pete was my chauffeur, and he confessed to have volunteered for the job.

“So, where to? The boyfriend or the parents?”

“I can’t face the parents, and Paul has buggered off on some job. So the cottage would be fine, I can have some peace and quiet for a bit.”

He drove in silence, sensing I was not really in a chatty mood. We arrived at the cottage at about eight o’clock. I went to open the door, and he came with me, and checked the house out. He was about to leave, and hovered by the door.

“Look, tell me to fuck off if you like, but you wouldn’t fancy a meal at the local, would you?” he asked.

I almost burst out laughing, as he was so shy about it, and looked nervous. I didn’t laugh, and worked out that it was late and I didn’t fancy cooking.

“Why not? Okay,” I said, and he grinned like a schoolboy. I called Paul, and found he was ensconced in some Hotel in Newquay. He was a bit humphy with me for being a miserable cow on the phone, and the conversation was hardly ideal. I was not going to grovel to him. He claimed to have told me, but I had a lot on my mind.

I sensed that we had had our first tiff, and hoped we could recover.

Pete took me to a different pub to the one I used to go to with Paul, for which I was grateful.

I started to relax, and he told me about his life. He was single, and looking, at which point he gave me a leer, and I just laughed and shook my head.

He loved the job, and was determined to stay on firearms teams for as long as he could. We had a pleasant meal, but he made it quite plain he fancied me, which I found amazingly flattering. I was not in the mood to go through difficult explanations and possible confusions, so I let him know I wasn’t interested.

He dropped me off, so I locked the doors and had a long soak in the bath.

My breasts were certainly respectable enough not to require the extra forms. I would have liked them to be a little bigger. My figure was improving, and my hips and bum were certainly ‘fuller’ than they had been. I was also getting a little podgy, so I made my mind up to start taking some exercise every day.

I went to bed rather upset that I was alone, but satisfied that at least one hurdle was out the way. I drifted off to sleep, vaguely wondering what Pete would be like in bed.
 
 
The next day I returned home to my parents and settled down to get my ‘A’ levels done. I followed my own instructions, and was up early every day and went for a run before breakfast. After a week, I had two companions, as Ed and Pete came with me. One of the drawbacks of their job was a lot of static work, and they rarely got time for this. So with two really hunky guys, I did a three mile circuit around the nearby park and streets.

One of the first things I noticed was that my boobs hurt. Jogging was dangerous. I was introduced to ‘jogger’s nipple’ and invested in my first sports bra.

After a month, I lost the fat, and even gained a little weight. I was perturbed about this, but then Pete explained that as I was exercising, I was eating more, and the muscle was heavier than flab.

I was still a good weight for my height. Having been a short guy, I was taller than average as a girl, so my nine and a half stone (133lbs) was reasonable for an active eighteen-year old.

I was taking my pills, and even attending college regularly. I had thought I wouldn’t want to, but everyone was brilliant, and I eagerly sought out people my own age.

Paul came back, and things were a little strained between us. It was odd, as I seemed to be growing up, and as I did so, his place in my life was less vital. I had other friends of my own age now, and would want to spend time with Debbie and Caroline. He was a little distant, and although we still enjoyed being with each other, and sex was still great, I realised that he was unhappy with the way things were going.

One Friday in May, he took me to a really fancy Hotel called the Four Pillars at Sandford-on-Thames, and paid for a really expensive meal.

We had just finished an exquisite dessert, and he took my hand across the table.

“Josie, we need to talk.”

“Ohoh, that sounds ominous,” I said, and he half smiled.

“Look, I don’t really know how to say this, and I don’t want to hurt you by saying the wrong thing. But I sense that things gave changed.”

I looked at him, and his frown was so deep, I was worried.

“Go on.”

He looked around, and tried to formulate exactly what he wanted to say.

“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after the London thing. I just needed the space. Everything was you, you, you. And I was feeling squeezed out.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Fucking off to Newquay didn’t hurt?”

“I said I was sorry for that.”

“I know. Go on.”

“I said before it was like watching a butterfly emerging, well, it is still like that, and you’ve the most beautiful wings. Every flap makes me feel threatened, and I feel that you are longing to be free.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I don’t know. On the one hand I want you to be with me, and yet I feel that I am imprisoning something which should be free.”

“I’m not an animal.”

“No, you're a beautiful woman, with laughter in her soul, who needs to be free to laugh and to run, and to live life to the full.”

“I also have a mind, and a right to make my own decisions,” I pointed out.

“Agreed.”

“Look, Paul, we found each other when we both were in need. The way I see it, our needs have changed a little. You're more confident with who you are, and before you deny it, I have seen you chatting girls up. I am also more at ease with who I am. I've made new friends, and I need them as well as the love that you give me. I've to get through a serious surgical procedure, and what lies beyond it.

“I'm eighteen now. I've missed out on being a girl for eighteen years. But you are one of the few people who can really understand how I feel, just as I know what you've gone through. The crux of all this is actually basic.

“You want a wife. I know it and you know it. You've reached that point in your life where you yearn for that domestic arrangement, and it would be topped off by children. I’ve watched you look at dads in the park playing football with their kids, so I do understand.

“I’m not ready for that. If I was, I would be at your side like a shot, and would probably be happy to be your partner for the rest of our lives. I do love you, but I am not ready to settle down. My wings are still flapping, and I may want to try them out, but I may not. I do, however, need the freedom to choose.”

He still held my hand. He nodded.

“You're right, I've tried to find the right words, and found it hard. I love you so much, that I do want you to be my wife, and yet I can see that we're not at the same place.”

We sat in silence for a while.

The waiter brought us our coffees, and we sat and drank them.

“So, where does that leave us?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“I still love you, but I am just not ready to settle down yet,” I said.

“Well, shall we just stay as we are until you get the urge to fly?”

“Is that fair to you?”

He smiled. “I don’t know any more.”

“Look. I stay at home most of the time, I go to school, and most weekends we get together. I have no problem with that, and if you are happy to keep going, I have no intentions of seeking any other partners, if that's what you are afraid of,” I said.

“You would have no problem attracting them.”

“Yeah, but keeping them?” I asked.

He laughed.

“I was going to ask you to move in with me,” he admitted.

“I know. Do you really want me to?”

“You know I do.”

“I’ve thought about this, and I admit it would be fun. For a bit. Then you’d be off on your job, and I’d be left at home, feeling responsible. I think it is best we leave things as they are. If things change, then I'll deal with them, but to use your cage analogy, I don’t want to be penned in, just yet.”

There was something else on his mind.

“Josie?”

“Hmm?”

“What about if either of us find someone else?”

“Have you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then what about it?”

“Would you be honest with me?”

“Would you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Paul, the question is theoretical, but I don’t know. We're in a relationship. Despite our shortcomings and problems, we have formed a real attachment, and I have no sudden desire to form another one. The hassle is just too great. But should I find someone who blows me away, then I would of course tell you. I’d hope and pray that you’d do the same for me.

“I want you to be happy, and that means if our relationship founders and we can’t fix it, we are mature enough to call time and walk away still friends. I need you Paul, I haven’t the words to express the thanks that I owe you for what you have done for me, so let's not beat ourselves up over what may be. Let's live with what we have now.”

So we left things at that. Life would go on very much the same, and the air was cleared, or some of it was.
 
 
I took all my exams, so by the end of June, as I walked out of the last one, I felt an amazing sense of anti-climax. The results were not due out until August, but I found I didn’t care less. I had thought about University, and to be honest, I just wasn’t interested. I had a share in a business that was solvent, at least. I was finally about to become the person I always wanted to be, and I had a potential to live my life.

Paul was away again, this time in Scotland, and I had to admit that I was no longer so tied to him as I once was. My group of friends was larger than at any time in my life, and we decided to meet at the Feathers to celebrate the end of ‘A’ levels.

My mother was brilliant, and had accepted me completely for who I now was. Dad was still a little funny about it. My brothers had been amazingly accepting, as if they expected me to be a girl all along. We weren’t that close, so it was all academic really as we rarely saw each other. Both were married, one living in Wales, and the other in Cumbria. Both had settled into farming communities, Mark as a vet, Jeremy as a doctor. I had nothing in common with either of them.

I had a shower and dressed in a short skirt and sleeveless top. It was warmer now, and I knew the Feathers got hot the last time I went dancing. I also wore sensible shoes that would not hurt my feet. They had smaller heels, and rubber soles.

As I looked at my reflection, I wondered how different I would look in a month’s time. My boobs had reached 36C by themselves, and I was perfectly happy with them at that size. In fact, I was really happy with my figure in general. Physically, I was quite fit, and missed my police escort on my runs.

They were pulled off me, and had been assigned someone else now. Lambert was committed to the Crown Court, and was on remand in Brixton Prison. He was charged with two murders, and the two attempts on me. Apparently, his minions had decided to tell everything, and implicated him right up to his neck. Most only faced lesser charges, and were more than happy to drop him in it.

The Police, Serious Fraud Office and the DTI had uncovered over eighty irregularities in his dealings over the years. He was in serious shit, and every day another revelation implicated some fine respectable pillar of society.

So far, eight others had been arrested, and four faced charges. Six more had fled the country, and one had been found dead in his car, having gassed himself with exhaust fumes.

Tony Blair hung him out to dry, and was distancing him with every moment that passed.
 
 
I picked up Stewart as usual, and we arrived quite early at the pub. Several of the others were already there, and Craig was partly pissed already.

“JOSIE!” he shouted, managing to embarrass everyone who knew either of us.

“Hi Craig, you drunken git,” I said, and he just laughed.

Stewart and I had something to eat, as the last thing either of us wanted was to get too drunk. I only had two weeks before my operation, and was beginning to wish it was all over.

“Hi Jo,” said Debbie, and she slid into the booth beside me.

“Debbs, okay?”

“Yeah. Almost.”

“Almost?”

“Well, Tim is being a silly sod at the moment.”

“Why?”

I don’t know. He is sending such confused messages. One minute I think he is interested, and then he is just so fucking distant. I don’t understand him.”

“That’s men for you,” I said, and she giggled.

“Do you like him?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s okay. He makes me laugh.”

“He makes everyone laugh, but do you fancy him?”

“I suppose so. I would if he could be serious.”

“You’ll find that he is insecure, and only plays the clown to mask something he is worried about.”

“That’s a bit deep,” she said, and I grinned.

“I have had time to think deeply about shit like this,” I said, and she laughed.

“So what do you reckon I should do?”

“Go for it. Tell him that you want to fuck his brains out and see what happens,” I suggested.

Stewart overheard the last part and went bright red.

“What?”

“Not you, tosspot,” I said, and he looked relieved.

The evening progressed, and at one point Tim Ross asked me to dance. I noticed he kept glancing at my tits.

“Tim, don’t do that sweetie, it is not very polite. If you must know, it's all me,” I said, and he went bright red.

We danced some more and I got close enough to ask him about something.

“Tim, do you fancy Debbs?”

He looked embarrassed.

“”Look, she likes you, and you like her, stop being a silly sod and go dance with her.”

He sort of smiled, and then it dawned on me. He fancied me.

Oh Fuck!

Mega-fuck!!

Fuckity-fuck!

So as discretely and diplomatically as I could, I said.

“Tim, you're a lovely lad, but I’m not in the market, she is and fancies you, so make the best of it, boy.”

I then kissed his cheek and walked off the dance floor.

I went to Debbie, and said, “I’ve softened him up, go get him.”

She grinned, and I next saw them snogging to a slow one.

Stewart came up to me.

“Come on Barbie, let's you and me boogie.”

“To this, you have to be kidding.”

“Oh, too good for me, eh?”

I grinned and grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. We took the correct dance pose, and waltzed about for a bit, and then he let go of my hand, and grabbed my bum with both hands.

“Stoo! What the fuck are you doing?” I said.

“Shut up, and just go with the flow,” he muttered, blowing into my ear.

We were about the same height, and I put my arms loosely round his neck.

He didn’t force himself against me, and it was like dancing with my brother, and then he kissed my cheek.

I stopped myself from flinching.

“Tosspot. Behave!” I said.

He did it again.

“Stewart, what are you doing?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Trying out a theory.”

“What theory?”

“That you taste as good as you look.”

I laughed.

Then he looked into my eyes, and I didn’t like what I saw.

“Stewart!”

“Shh,” he said, and kissed me on the lips.

I was quite shocked and stopped dancing. He kept going, so to avoid falling over, I started again.

“Stewart. Don’t, please,” I said, feeling confused.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because…...”

“Yeah?”

“Because, you're confusing me,” I admitted.

“You? What the fuck do you think you’ve done to me?”

I looked at him.

“Josie, you are, no Joe was my best friend. But suddenly you came along and took him away. Then I was spending time in the company of this stunning girl, who was nicer than Joe, more fun than Joe, and yet did everything with me that Joe did. You think you're confused, what the fuck do you think I feel?”

I clung to him, and suddenly felt so guilty.

“Oh, Stoo, I didn’t realise.”

“No, I know. Life just went on, but I found myself falling in love with you, yet all the time I knew that underneath, you were still my friend Joe, and I went through countless sleepless nights. Then I’d tell myself that you were my friend, and you needed a friend, not a boyfriend, as you already had one of them, even if he's old enough to be your dad. Then, you’d ask me round to your place and we’d fuck about with computers for a bit, and there you were with a short skirt, and those fucking legs.

“Have you any idea how fucking gorgeous those legs are?”

I was crying now, and I just clung to him.

He stopped dancing, and saw the tears.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, taking his hand, and we went outside. It was warmer than the last time I had sat here with Debbie and Caroline.

“Look, I’ve fucked up, big time. Josie, I’m sorry.”

I took his hand.

“No, I’ve been blind and stupid. I expected everything to stay the same, and didn’t realise that if I changed, then other things would too. I didn’t see what was happening right under my nose.”

“You realise I still tell my parents that I’m off to see Joe, I can’t bring myself to tell them the truth,” he said.

He squeezed my hand, and I found I liked it.

“What a fuck-up,” he said, and I laughed.

“Yes, something like that,” I agreed.

“So, now I’ve been an arse, what happens?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“Josie, I’m sorry, it’s the booze. I had one to many.”

“No, you didn’t,” I challenged, and he grinned at me.

“How’s what’s his face, anyway?”

“Paul, he’s fine. I think. He’s away in Scotland.”

Stewart was silent, and held my hand in a vice like grip.

“Stoo, let the blood flow, please.”

“Sorry,” he said, letting go, a bit.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked.

“Shut up, I’m trying to unscramble my brain.”

“Sorry dear,” he said, and grinned.

Despite my confusion, I laughed.

“You are so fucking gorgeous when you laugh,” he said, spoiling my recovery nicely.

“Oh Stewart, you idiot,” I said, and he just grinned again.

We’d been friends for years. I’d first met him when we were about eight, and went to school together. We found we liked the same things, and laughed at the same stupid jokes. We could both quote the entire Monty Python repertoire from memory, and the Goons were our idols.

We were, as Stewart had said, best friends, and were closer than brothers. Until I fucked up the relationship. I supposed we could stay friends, sort of like brother and sister.

“I already have a sister, and don’t want another one,” he said, as if he was reading my mind.

“Look, I’m not a….” I started to say, and he put his other hand up to my mouth.

“Never ever say that. I know exactly who you are, what you are, and why you are. It's the ‘who’ you are I am in love with. I find I think of you every bloody day, and can’t wait to see you. You're the girl of my fucking dreams. And so you know, as far as I'm concerned, you're a girl, no doubt and no fucking question.”

I felt awful.

“I’ve fucked it now haven’t I?” he said, and I nodded a little.

“Yup.”

“So, what happens?”

I was crying, because I realised now that I loved him, I always had, but had never seen it before. It was a very different love to what I felt for Paul, it went deeper and had gone on for longer. A lot of things became clear to me, and I was split straight down the middle. On the one hand, I wanted him as a friend, and for our relationship to stay as it always had been, and now I discovered that that was impossible now. On the other hand, I found I had a yearning to know him better and deeper, yet I felt a degree of loyalty to Paul.

“I don’t know,” I said, being honest.

“Look, tell me to fuck off, and I'll just go somewhere quite and slit my wrists. But seriously, I don’t want to split you guys up.”

“Shut up, tosspot,” I said.

He stared at me.

“Look, Stewart, don’t get cross with me, and don’t push me. I just need a little time and space. There's a fuck of a lot happening in my life, and I'm hard pushed to know which way is up at the moment. You've been my friend for too long for me to ever tell you to fuck off, and you mean so much to me, I could never really explain what I do feel for you. So, just take a deep breath, and count to a couple of million or something.”

“One, two, three, four, five...”

“To yourself,” I said, and he grinned again.

Somehow the spark had gone from the evening. I didn’t want to dance again, as this would bring me close to Stewart, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that, yet.

He took my hand again, but I didn’t pull it away, although I was tempted. This was heavy.

“Hey, we could go back to your place and play Halo?”

I smiled, as he was such a dork sometimes.

“Shut up, Tosspot.”

Debbie and Tim came out, and slumped onto the bench next to us. Debbie saw we were holding hands and grinned at me. Tim was draped around her shoulders in a very possessive and rather proprietary manner.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Tim asked.

“Just cooling off,” I said.

“You’ve been here ages.” Debbie remarked.

“Lots to talk about,” I said, and she looked closely at me, and then nodded.

“Come on Tim, lets go wake up the ducks on the river,” she said, standing up and dragging him off after her.

“How did she know to do that?” Stewart asked.

“She's a girl, we know little things like that. She knew we need to have some time by ourselves.”

“Do we?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Oh, what for?”

“To talk.”

“What about?”

“Life, us, you, me. Shit Stoo, everything.”

“What’s to say?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, don’t get me wrong, I agree that talking is good, but I said my piece, all I want to know is where do we go from here?”

“Where do you want to go from here?” I asked.

“I think I just want to know if I'm wasting my time, or whether you feel anything for me?”

I squeezed his hand.

“You have to ask that?”

“Yes. I fucking well do. I'm so fucked up by this, I really do,” he said, quite heated, and I looked away.

“Sorry,” he said.

I shook my head, I couldn’t speak, the tears were threatening me again, bloody hormones.

“Josie, look I’m sorry, I'm doing everything you asked me not to.”

I turned back to him.

“Well go on. Test your theory.”

“Huh?”

I grabbed him and kissed him, and after a stunned second or two he responded, and our tongues touched. He suddenly responded passionately, and held me very tightly, and gently stroked my breast. My nipples immediately hardened, and the kiss entered another dimension.

He broke away first.

“Fuck!” he said.

I smiled.

“Well?”

“Huh?”

“Do I?”

“What?”

“Taste better than I look?”

He simply grinned.

“And does that answer your question?” I asked.

He looked at me, and nodded.

“Good, so come on, I’ll take you home,” I said, and stood up.

I drove carefully to his home, and stopped outside.

“Thanks, and I am sorry.”

“What for?” I asked.

He grinned. “Falling in love with you for one.”

“Look, I don’t know what is ahead for either of us, but don’t expect anything from me for a bit. I have things to sort out, and I really value your friendship. So, just hang in there, okay?”

He leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.

“If you’d ever told me we’d end up kissing, I have freaked out. But you are a really good kisser,” he said.

“So are you. G’night.”
 
 
Part 7
 
 
The first thing I was aware of was the pain.

I think I screamed, because the pain went away and I was flying.

I opened my eyes and saw hooded figures and I giggled. It was like a cartoon.

“Josie. Can you hear me?”

“Hi,” I said, and giggled again. My voice sounded funny.

“Josie, tell me, where are you?”

I thought about that, and for some reason I couldn’t remember. Then I remembered the pain, and they were all wearing masks. It all came back, I remembered.

“Hospital,” I declared, triumphantly.

“Good, how do you feel?”

“I don’t know, you tell me?” I said and giggled again. My voice was all scratchy.

The pain started creeping back. I felt a dull ache in my groin, and my nose was sore, as were my lips. I had a sore throat, and felt sick. The world was spinning, so I shut my eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

I felt movement, so at one point I opened my eyes to watch ceiling lights flit passed very quickly. I closed my eyes again.

I must have passed out, because the next I remember, I was in my room again, and I was in bed. I was propped up, with tubes going into my arm, and tubes coming out from under my nightie.

The sun was out, and there were flowers all over my room. A nurse was taking my pulse and looking at her watch.

I had something in my mouth. It was a thermometer.

She took it out and looked at it.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Fucking horrible,” I croaked.

I had a bandage on my nose, and a dressing on my lips. My throat was sore, and I still felt sick.

“Well, you're over the hard bit. Try to sleep. The pain relief will help.”

I must have dozed off again, because when I woke up Paul was sitting next to the bed.

“Hi,” I squeaked.

“Hey there. Howya doin’?”

“Don’t ask.”

He smiled and took my hand.

I smiled, it hurt, so I moaned.

“Take it easy. This is the worst bit. You’ll be tons better tomorrow.”

“Urgh,” I said, and went back to sleep.

He had gone when I next woke up, and my mother was sitting by the window, knitting.

“Mum?” I said.

“Hello darling. How are you?”

“Urgh,” I said. It summed up everything very nicely.

“Paul was here for hours. He said he would be back tomorrow. He has to get on and finish an article by this evening.”

“Umph,” I said, and retched into a kidney bowl.

I wasn’t stunning company, that was for sure. The pain relief was turned down, I think, because very soon I was almost going up the wall.

My face hurt, but that was bearable, but my groin was really sore. Not a sharp pain, but a really constant ache, which was so uncomfortable, I kept trying to move to get away from it.

The nausea passed, and I still had a thumping headache. Nurses came and went, and gradually I became more aware for longer. Mother had gone, and I was alone. I was able to focus on the clock and was surprised it was six pm. I had gone to theatre at 8am.

Mr Boyle came in and sat on the bed.

“Hi, sore?”

I tried laughing, and even that hurt.

He grinned.

“You can expect to be sore for a few days. Today is the worst. I'll take the dressing and packing out tomorrow, and believe me, a lot of the discomfort is due to that. Other than the pain, the operation was a great success. You had sufficient surplus skin for me to make everything, and so as long as you do the exercises, you should have no problems down below.

“As for the facial work. My colleague, Mr Simmons, is very pleased with the work, and once the swelling goes down, you will hardly recognise yourself.”

I just looked at him, as it was the only thing that didn’t hurt. He just smiled in a sadistic fashion.

“There is the disadvantage of having it all done at once, but, trust me, in a few days, you will be up and about. And in just a couple of weeks, you will have forgotten what all the fuss was about. You do have the advantage of youth. If you were just ten years older, you could add two weeks to your recovery time.”

“Humph,” I said, and even that hurt.

“Just liquid tonight. Then once we unpack you, you can go onto solids.”

“Whoop-de-doo,” I croaked, unenthusiastically.

He grinned maliciously again.

“Try to sleep, it will make the pain go away.”

“Humph.”

He stood up, and wiggled my foot gently. That hurt too.

“Fuggoff,” I grunted, and he waved and said a cheery bye-bye.

I declined soup, and was allowed some chilled fruit juice, which I sucked slowly through a straw.

I had a restless night, the pain was quite intense, and I just could not escape and get comfortable. By morning I was feeling depressed and regretted ever agreeing to this stupid idea.

The nurses woke (joke) me up at seven, and took blood pressure, temperature, pulse etc. I was given a bit of a wash, and my drips were changed. I had not increased the pain relief, and had it on minimum. I was terrified of becoming morphine dependant.

I had some more fruit juice, and felt bloody tired and fed up.

At 9am, Mr Boyle was back. There was a nurse with him, and she started to pull the bedclothes back.

“Okay, young lady. It is time to take a peek at my handywork.”

They unwrapped the dressing, and I lay back and grimaced. I felt the sharp tug as they removed the urinary catheter, and then there was a sudden release from the discomfort. It still ached, but only a fraction of what it had been like.

He whistled through his teeth.

“Very neat. Even if I do say so myself. Do you want to look?” he said.

I took a quick peek, envisaging something from a butcher’s shop. I was surprised to see what I could recognise as normal female genitalia, just a bit red and puffy, and there were a few sutures visible. I was completely shorn, but I had been awake when they had done that. It looked fine to me.

“The stitches will dissolve, and in a few months, after the hair grows back, no one would ever tell. Now, the first thing is being able to pee, so that is an important step. Next is the old bowel movement. Sometimes you might have rather a runny tummy, so don’t worry, it is perfectly normal. But then again you might not.

“The dilation must start tomorrow, and you can have a warm bath tomorrow evening. Any questions so far?”

I shook my head.

He took the dressing off my nose.

“That looks good. It is still a little puffy, but in a few days it will be perfect. It looks good, do you want to see?”

I nodded, and he took off the lip dressings too. I was handed a mirror, and could see that my nose was enormous, and my lips were huge. I looked like a freak.

He just laughed.

“As I said, they are both swollen, and will subside in a few hours, or certainly in a couple of days. You can eat today, but keep it simple, and not too much. You will be very sensitive and tender down there.”

“I am everywhere, already.”

He smiled.

“Isn’t that better without the packing?”

I nodded.

“So, you should sleep a bit better tonight. Just let the nurse know if you want a pee.”

He was gone again, and I was left feeling a little better. I was still tired, and so much so that I managed to drift off to sleep again.

I woke up at ten, feeling some pressure in the bladder department. Paul was sitting in the chair by my bed, and he was reading his newspaper.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello, better?”

“That wouldn’t be difficult. How did the article go?”

“Fine. I got it in on time.”

I smiled, and twisted and rang for the nurse.

“You look all busted up,” he said.

“Thanks, I feel all busted up. Hopefully, it'll go down soon.”

“Yeah, I saw the doc, and he reckons that in a couple of days, you’ll be fine.”

The nurse came in.

“I need to the loo,” I said.

“Okay, swing the legs over gently,” she said. I staggered to the loo, feeling very weak and wobbly.

I sat and let go. The sensation was familiar, yet different, and it was so strange not having a willy. I sat and stared at my new bits, and suddenly felt so much better. I was complete at last.

I wiped and there was a little pink on the tissue. The nurse just smiled and nodded. I still had a huge smile on my face when I went back to bed.

Paul spent two hours with me, and I was in a buoyant mood when he left me. He was zooming off to Jersey to do a piece on the hotels there. He was going to be away for a couple of weeks, and even that didn’t piss me off too much.

I had some lunch. It was just some macaroni cheese and an apple. I ate very slowly and gently.

Both my parents came in the afternoon, and I asked Mum to read all the cards and tell me who sent the flowers. I was amazed how many people had sent something, and felt very humble.

By the evening, I was very tired, and sore. I was happy to sleep.
 
 
Dilators. Urgh.
 
 
Four days after the operation, I was allowed to dress. But only after in had fulfilled that morning’s regimen of dilation. There were five in the set, and one to three were fine. Four was proving hard, and required patience, muscle control, lubrication and sheer will power.

My face was returning to normal, and I was flopping about in a very loose summer dress. I had to wear baggy disposable knickers with in-built pads. Sexy? No. Practical? For the moment, yes.

Paul called me every day, and although he told me he was missing me, I sensed he was not perhaps missing me as much as he told me. I caught up with my reading, and once the pain subsided, I started taking mild exercises in the hospital gym.

I only had one day left, and was already to keep my dilation programme going. I was too well aware that if I wanted an active and successful sex life, then this aspect was vital.

I would take out number five, which I had nicknamed ‘Arnie’, look at him, and put him back. If ever I met a bloke that size, I think I’d just run.

I was sitting in the sun, just enjoying the warmth, and feeling almost human for the first time, when I heard a squeal of delight.

“JOSIE. YOOHOO.”

I looked up and saw Debbie and Caroline. Needless to say Tim was there, and another guy I didn’t know.

I waved, and they came bounding over to me.

The stranger was Bruce, and I smiled at Caroline, who blushed.

Tim and Debbie were now very much an item, and I was thrilled.

Bruce kept staring at me, and Debbie nudged him.

“Stop staring.” she said.

“Sorry.” he muttered.

I grinned.

“Leave him alone, he’s never seen a construct before,” I said.

“A what?” asked Caroline.

“A construct. Someone who has been constructed rather than been born. I'm an android. Didn’t you see the film Blade Runner, with Harrison Ford?”

Bruce frowned.

“What did you tell him?” I asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“Bruce, what have you heard about me?” I asked.

He looked uncomfortable.

“Just you’d had a sex change.”

“That’s right. No big deal,” I said.

He was still staring at me.

“Bruce, it's rude to stare.” I said.

“I’m sorry, but you look too, I mean, you don’t look, um, er, were you really a bloke?” he asked, unbelieving.

I kissed him on the cheek.

“You really know how to make a girl feel good,” I said.

We had a great day, and they were in great form. I hadn’t heard from Stewart at all, so I asked after him.

“He's been working in the shop. Apparently they got a huge order from the States, and they’ve been working all hours. I saw him last week, and he was looking completely knackered. He did say he was going to try to come down,” Debbie said.

“Are you allowed booze?” Tim asked.

“Why, whatya got?” I asked.

“Barcardi and coke,” he offered in a coke bottle.

I took a swig, and it tasted great. He passed out several bottles, all premixed.

“So, what's everyone doing this summer?” I asked.

“I’m going to the States and Canada for my year out. I have a job in Canada on my Uncle’s fruit farm in Ontario,” said Tim.

“Debbs?”

“I don’t know yet. I may see what working on a fruit farm is like,” she said, grinning at Tim. I smiled, and wondered whether she had progressed beyond blow-jobs yet. The looks they gave each other rather made me suspect she had.

“I’m going to Germany, I have got a job on a camp, helping with the kids,” said Caroline.

“Bruce?”

“I’m not sure. My Dad wants me to find a job, then go to uni next year, but I’m not sure if I want to wait around a year.”

“If you get some money, then it might save a few bob. Those fees and loans are crippling.”

“That bastard Blair. I see he went to Uni on a grant,” said Debbs.

“Champagne socialist,” muttered Tim.

“How about you, Josie?” asked Caroline.

“I thought I’d find a willing man, insure him for a cool million, and fuck his brains out,” I said, and they all fell about laughing.

“Seriously, what are you going to do?”

I shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I’ve had a job offer, which I may take up, and then again, I really don’t know what I want to do. I thought I did when I completed the UCAS form, but things have changed a little bit.”

“What’s the job?” Tim asked.

“As a travel rep with Lynx Holidays. I was a ski rep for five weeks at Easter. The boss lady wanted me to go back after my exams. I think I might.”

“Um, did you do that as a bloke or a girl?” Bruce asked.

“A girl. I used my sister’s name. She worked for the company, and I looked enough like her to use her passport and stuff.”

“Actually, you do look like Jezzy. In fact, with your nose and lips done, you're much more like her than before,” Debbie said.

“You reckon?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Where is Jessica, I haven’t seen her for ages?” asked Tim.

“She went for a holiday in the Caribbean, hence my job in France, then her boyfriend took her to the States, then they got engaged, and she has been there ever since,” I told them.

“She always was one for the boys,” muttered Debbie.

“Yeah, well this one is almost thirty, and an oil billionaire.”

“My God, even older that your Paul,” said Caroline.

Debbie was watching me like a hawk.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Okay, he is in Jersey. Working,” I said.

“What with you here, like this?” she asked.

“It's okay, he was here for the first couple of days,” I said.

“Yeah, right,” she said, and I stayed silent.

In fact everyone was silent, and there was an embarrassed hush for a moment.

“So, how long are you staying down here?”

“Just tonight. We’ve booked two rooms in a bed and breakfast. The school holidays haven’t started so there are some vacancies.”

“Two rooms?” I asked, and Caroline went bright red.

I just smiled.

“How are you getting home?” Tim asked.

“Mum is coming down, I think,” I said.

“You won't need a lift, then?”

“I don’t think so. I'm getting out just after breakfast, and the dilation.”

“What is dilation?” asked Caroline.

I stood up.

“Let me introduce you to Arnie,” I said, and took them to my room.
 
 
I honestly thought Caroline’s eyes were going to pop out.

“This is the smallest one,” I said, holding up the massive Arnie.

“Oh my God!” she squealed.

“This is about half the size of a real one. So as I get better, I move onwards and up wards,” I said, and I thought she was going to faint. Bruce was looking rather depressed, and then Debbie couldn’t control herself any longer.

She just collapsed onto my bed, and waved her legs in the air.

She was laughing so much I was afraid she would wet herself.

“Oh, Caro. If you could have seen your face,” she wept.

“Actually, this is the biggest, and if ever I meet a bloke that big, then I think I’ll just shut up and marry him.”

“That’s not big. I’m three times that size,” said Tim, with a grin.

“Shut up. If you think you're that size, then I think we need to take you to an optician,” said Debbie with a giggle.

They left me at teatime, and I was sad, as they were such good fun. I was lucky to have friends who accepted me for who I was, and I was perfectly at ease with them. I knew from Paul that most who went through what I was doing were not so fortunate, as bigotry and prejudice was a real barrier to individuals finding acceptance amongst family and community.

I was feeling a bit low so I rang Paul, and although he was up-beat and cheerful, it wasn’t the same as having him with me. In a way I was pleased he wasn’t here, because I wanted him to see me looking normal, and not like a prize fighter. Although the facial swelling had gone down, I was bruised, and feeling really ugly.

But I really wanted to hold someone, and he wasn’t here for me to do that.

I went back to my room, and changed into my tracksuit. I popped into the gym, and spent an hour just building up my stamina again on the stepper.

I had returned to my room for a shower, and was sitting on my bed wrapped in a towel and painting my toenails, when the door opened and Stewart popped his head round.

“Hi Barbie doll,” he said, and thrust a bunch of red roses into my hand.

My heart gave a strange lurch, and I realised how much I had missed him.

“Hi Tosspot. They're lovely, thanks,” I stood up, carefully, and put them in the basin. I didn’t have a vase handy, so I would have to wait until the nurse came round.

“Shit. You look great,” he said.

I blushed.

“Cool room. Is this private, or what?”

“Private.”

“It’s more like a hotel than a hospital.”

“It’s pretty nice, but I miss not having people around me.”

I realised that I was almost stark naked, and he was looking at me with a very odd expression.

“Stoo. Give me a minute to get dressed?”

He grinned, and left me alone.

I dressed, and put on a pretty yellow summer dress, and left my legs bare. I was nice to be able to fill a bra with 100% me, and I spent time and effort on my make up, and had to admit that my smaller nose and new fuller lips did improve my looks. I brushed my hair and slipped on my shoes.

I then went looking for him, and found him at the nurse’s station describing some horrendous affliction that his late uncle was alleged to have died of.

He looked up as I approached.

I smiled, and his jaw dropped.

The nurse nodded at me, as if to say, ‘He’s an idiot. But a very nice one.’

“Is that better?” I asked him, and he just nodded.

“You look, um, you look good.”

“Good?”

He grinned.

“Yeah, good enough to eat,” he said, and tried to bite my bum.

I squealed and ran out into the garden, and he followed.

I stopped, and he almost knocked me over.

“Careful, I'm very delicate,” I said. He just smiled.

“You look great, Jo. What have they done to your face, there is something is different?

“See if you can tell?” I said, and sat on the bench. He sat next to me, and looked closely at me.

“Your nose. It's different,” he said.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know, it looks a bit smaller.”

I smiled.

“And your mouth, your lips seem fuller somehow.”

“Well done.”

“You really look like your sister now.”

“That’s a bit of a bummer,” I said and he laughed.

“Oh, I don’t agree, I always had the hots for Jessica, mind you, so did everyone else.”

“Really? You filthy little beast,” I said, and he gave me a dirty laugh.

“Actually, you look better than Jezzy. You have some intelligence in your eyes.”

“Thanks a bunch, that doesn’t say much,” I said.

He pointed to my groin.

“Everything done okay?”

“Yup, but I’m not allowed to use it for twelve weeks.”

“Bugger, and there was me hoping to be the first,” he said, and I blushed and looked away.

“Hey, Jo. I’m joking,” he said.

“I know.”

“Is that all you, as well?”

I looked where he was looking, and typically, it was at my breasts.

“All home grown, no implants.”

“Really, how come?”

I shrugged.

“I think I was on the hormones for a long time, and they have just grown. I was given the option of implants, but I didn’t fancy being a Jordan.”

“I’m glad, you look perfect, just as you are,” he said, and I looked at him.

“How’s Paul?” he asked, and I smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Paul is fine as far as I know. I rang him yesterday, and he is still in Jersey, and will be back at the end of next week.”

“How are things?”

I looked away, and tried to think how to answer this one. I knew why he was asking, and it was quite hard for me.

“I don’t know. Honestly. He has been there for me all the way to this point, and I just feel he is either losing interest, or is afraid he is losing me. It could be that I have changed too much, and he doesn’t like what I am now, or that we are just growing apart. I know he wants to settle down, and I don’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“We had a long chat a few weeks ago, and we just seemed to be drifting apart,” I said.

“What do you want, Jo?”

I looked at him.

“I just want to be me. I'm fed up of being what other people want me to be. My parents wanted me to be the son I couldn’t be, and Paul wants me to be the little woman at home. Well, I just want to be me. Why can’t I be me, Stoo?”

“I want you to be you,” he said, and I reached out and took his hand.

“Yeah, but who am I, Stoo?”

“The most beautiful girl I have ever known,” he said, and looked away, reddening rapidly.

We sat in silence, and he had a tight grip of my hand.

“Stoo, do remember the last time I saw you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Could you just hold me? I need someone to just hold me.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and I snuggled up to him. We fitted very nicely together.

We sat like that for ages. It was a warm sunny evening, and my mind was in a real whirl.

“Jo?”

“Mmm?”

“I told your folks that I’d take you home tomorrow.”

“Oh, where are you staying?”

“There is a motel just down the road, I’ve a room there. I just had to see you.”

“That’s nice,” I said.

“Are you allowed out for supper?”

“I suppose so. I have only a final check with the surgeon tomorrow, and then I’m free. Today is the first day that all my swellings have gone down.”

“Do you fancy coming to the local pub or something?”

We went in, still holding hands, and I spoke to the nurse. As long as I was back by ten, there was no problem. I took my mobile, and so was contactable if necessary. I was still on some anti-biotic as infection was a threat, but the course ended tomorrow as well.

He drove us to a sweet little pub called the White Horse, and I have no idea of the name of the village.

It was quite busy, but there was room in the garden. I had a cardigan in case it chilled off, but it was fine at the moment. They had a barbeque going, and we just sat and ate freshly cooked burgers, sausages and kebabs. There was a real family atmosphere, and there were loads of kids just mucking about. There was a play area at one end, and I saw Paul-like figures supervising their children.

It brought it back to me, we had drifted apart, and I had to admit it.

I sipped my OJ, and he had a pint of lager. He sat next to me, and when we weren’t eating, he held my hand, or wrapped his arm possessively across my shoulders. It was nice. I felt very comfortable and safe. I trusted Stewart more than I trusted anyone else in the world. Even more than Paul.

A folk group started up, and played in the corner of the garden, and it was brilliant. I felt the happiest I had been since the operation.

“Jo?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You made a funny noise.”

“I was purring.”

“Eh?”

“I’m really happy, so shut up, and hold me.”

We listened to the group for a few numbers.

“Jo?”

“What?”

“How are your lips?”

“My lips? Fine, why?” I asked, and looked at him.

He gently kissed me, so gently, that I almost cried out.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he said.

I was silent. My head and my heart were having a minor conflict. My head wanted me to wait so Paul could be released, and my heart wanted to kiss him again. My head also told me that I was still raw and tender from surgery, and my heart told me to just go with the flow.

“Have I upset you again?” he asked, worried.

“No, try again,” I said, and he kissed me again. He was still gentle, and our tongues touched and danced lightly together. I took my hand to behind his head and pulled him gently towards me. One of his hands found its way to my right breast, and ever so tenderly, he caressed it, and stroked the nipple.

I experienced an explosion of feelings deep within me, and my groin seemed to become very warm. I could feel my nipple respond and harden under his delicate touch, and our kiss became less gentle.

I lost track of time, and the kiss stretched into an eternity. Time and the world ceased to exist, and all I knew was that I was in love. I had loved Paul, and it was a love born out of need. But the love I felt now was born out of a longing and fulfilment of my soul. I ached to possess and to be possessed by Stewart, and I felt us almost becoming one entity for the duration of the kiss.

He broke away, and I immediately felt a loss.

“Sorry, but it is almost ten. I should take you back,” he said.

“Stoo, I, I, shit, what did you do to me?”

“What you did to me weeks ago.”

“What was that?”

“Jo, I told you I love you. I still love you, but it is so much deeper now. I don’t think I understand it, but I just love you.”

We stood up, and walked hand-in-hand to the car. He drove slowly back to the hospital, and I was feeling very strange.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“What’s the matter?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“It’s my heart.”

“What?”

“I’ve just lost it.”

He looked at me quickly.

“I love you, you stupid Tosspot. Now what the fuck do we do?”

He laughed, and drove through the gates into the hospital.

“What about Paul?”

“Paul is my problem. Leave him to me,” I said, as I got out of his car.

We walked to my room, and I checked back in with the nurse. She was just going off duty, and the night nurse was just coming on.

Stewart came to my room, and went to the loo while I got ready for bed. I was sitting on the bed in my nightdress when he returned. He sat next to me, and took my hand.

“Do you remember that time at school, and we were in that play?”

“What, when we were about thirteen?”

“Yeah, you had to play a girl’s part, and I was the hero, and we had to kiss. Do you remember?”

I’d never forgotten, I was in heaven then. I was able to be a girl for the first time in my life, and I even was kissed. Mind you the embarrassment of the situation took away most of the nice feelings.

“I remember,” I said, smiling at the memory.

“Well, I just thought I’d tell you, you're a better kisser now.”

“So are you. But, I just want you to know, I really liked the first one, all those years ago.”

“Yurgh. We were both blokes.”

“No, Stoo, I’ve never been a bloke, not inside.”

He looked at me.

“Well, not on the outside either, any more.”

I kissed his cheek, and went to the bathroom and had a pee, washed my face, and cleaned my teeth.

When I came back, he was on my bed, watching the TV. There was a film on, Air Force One, starring Harrison Ford.

I lay next to him, and we snuggled together, and he put his arm around me. We watched the film together, and half way through the nurse came in.

She smiled as soon as she saw us, and just left us alone after taking my blood pressure and stuff.

“Is this allowed?” Stewart asked.

“She'll be back later with a shotgun.”

He sniggered.

“I’ll have to marry you then.”

I actually dozed off, and only woke up as he was tucking me in.

He kissed me and I smiled sleepily at him.

“Bye, I’ll be back at nine.”

“ ‘kay, bye.”

“I love you, Jo.”

“Mmm, I love you too, Tosspot.”

He grinned and quietly left.

I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face.
 
 
Mr Boyle was in my room at eight thirty, and he gave me a full examination.

“I am really pleased with your progress. You're healing so much quicker than many. You have been very consistent with the dilation programme. That is really excellent. Number five has to be done within the next four weeks, and then you can relax. How far have you got?”

“Number four, just.”

He smiled.

“Most don’t get that far this quickly. Is there any pain?”

“None, it is a little tight, but with the KY, I’m fine.”

“The stitches have mostly dissolved already and all the swelling has gone down. Even your gynaecologist would not be able to tell you weren’t a natural, until he sees you don’t have a cervix.”

He looked at my head, particularly my nose, mouth and throat.

“Perfect. He has done a first class job on you. It is quite amazing, as you are a stunningly pretty girl. Not that you weren’t before, but this just takes the edge of masculinity away, that spoiled your otherwise perfectly feminine face.”

I smiled, as he was saying all the right things.

“Now, I have written a letter to your GP, and I understand you have already gone through the name change business with the passport authority and driving licences etcetera. But you need to make sure it is all done legally. I see no reason why you should have a long and productive life. My only sadness is that you will never be able to conceive, bear and give birth to a child, as you look only too right for just that.”

I smiled, and nodded. It was my great regret, but it was a very small price to pay.

Stewart was waiting for me in reception. I was wearing a skirt and light top. I still couldn’t bear the thought of wearing tights, so I was bare legged again.

He stood as I approached, and I just melted into his arms and he kissed me.

It went on and on, and it felt wonderful.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I missed you. Did you sleep well after I left?”

“Mmm.”

“Ready to go home?”

“Mmm.”

“Come on then,” he took my bag from me, and we walked hand-in-hand to his car.

He was very quiet on the way back.

“Stoo?”

“Yup?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“How the hell I’m going to explain you to my parents.”

“Ah.”

“Ah. Indeed. Any suggestions?”

“Not right now.”

“I mean, I’d told them you’d not been well, and that you’d had to have an operation. But they also know us pretty well, and we were closer that brothers for the last eight years. Mum said something really off to me when I said was coming to fetch you.”

“Oh yes?”

“She said, ‘mind you be nice, and don’t be too judgemental. The poor child has had a hell of a time.’ Now what the hell did she mean by that?”

“Does you mum know Jean Jackson or Hazel McKay?” I asked him.

He scrunched up his face in thought.

“Yes, I think so, the names ring a bell, why?”

“There’s your answer. Both were visiting Mum the other day, and I was dressed like this. I spun them a yarn about a genetic gender disorder, and that I had always been a girl. I seemed to go down all right, and neither twitched at all. Now if they know, then most of Oxford will know by now.”

“You mean my folks already know?”

“Possibly.”

“And they didn’t tell me?”

“It could be they figured that you already know.”

“Then what about the judgemental bit?”

“They possibly think you might be upset and get cross with me for deceiving you for all these years.”

He lapsed into silence, and frowned as he drove.

“Stoo?”

“What?”

“I hate to be a pain, but I need the loo, and I am a little unpredictable in that department still. Can we stop?”

“Yeah, fine. Are you okay?”

“Fine, I just don’t want to put excess pressure on my plumbing.”

“Oh, right.” he said, looking a little embarrassed.

He pulled off the road into a pub car park.

“This okay?”

It looked a nice pub, but he sensed that I was nervous.

“I’ll come with you. Look, its eleven o’clock, we could have a drink or something.” he said.

“Okay, a cappuccino would be brilliant.”

We went in and he ordered our coffees and I went to the loo. When I came out he was in deep conversation with the barman. He came over carrying our coffees, and grinning from ear to ear.

“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” I asked, as we settled down into a booth.

“The barman, he asks me who you were.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

“He said, ‘I recognise her off the telly, I now she is an actress, now who is she?’ He wouldn’t have it you weren’t famous.”

I smiled, as little things like this really made me feel better. No matter how much better I felt as Josie, I still was suffering a crisis of confidence. I was terrible going through life waiting for someone to see through me, and tell the world what I really was - a freak.

My mobile went, and it was Paul. Stewart rolled his eyes and wandered off to the loo.

“Hi Paul.”

“Hi. How are you?”

“Great. I’ve been discharged and I am on my way home. We had to stop, I needed the loo.”

“Did your folks pick you up?”

“No, Stewart collected me. You remember him?”

“Yeah, your friend from way back?”

“That’s him. Anyway, we're having a coffee in this little pub on the way home. How are you?”

“I’m great, Jersey is a really nice place.”

I was getting vibes now, and I was feeling very uneasy.

“When are you coming home?”

“Ah, I was coming home next week, but I’ve an opportunity to stay on a while. There is a really good article in the historical side of this place. Did you know that the Germans invaded the Channel Islands and occupied them in WW2?”

“Yes. Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember our conversation about being honest and open?”

“Yeah. (Pause) You can tell, hey?”

“I can tell. Besides which, I need to be honest too.”

“So, who goes first?”

“I will, that way you can blame me. I just feel that we have taken ‘us’ as far as we are going, and I am going to take the job with Miranda with Lynx. I want you to know, so that we can stay friends, and just take a step backwards, if that is what we both feel is appropriate.”

“That’s it?” he asked, sounding a little surprised.

“Yes. Why did you think I was falling in love with someone else?”

“From the way you said the honesty bit, yes.”

“I haven’t had time, I’ve been busy, remember?” I said feeling guilty about Stewart. “And I suppose, I am still very close to Stewart. Although, nothing has been said. It’s funny, we’ve been friends for so long, it almost feels as if we've been lovers too.”

“Friendships can have that affect.”

“It was nice of him to come and get me. I am feeling very vulnerable now.”

“Yeah, and I feel bad about that. I felt the same when I first came out from hospital. But I wasn’t there for you, was I?”

“You were there when I needed you, and I still love you for the wonderful man you are, but our lives are taking a different road just now, and we need to recognise that,” I said.

Stewart came back and made a face, so I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Okay, I accept that, and I guess it makes what I have to say a bit easier.”

“You’ve met someone?” I said.

He was silent.

“I think I knew,” I said.

“How?”

“Woman’s intuition. What you said, how you said it, and what you didn’t say.”

He laughed, but with little humour.

“I feel real bad about this.”

“Don’t. It's probably for the best. Does she know about you?”

“Yeah, unlike you, she didn’t guess. She has two young kids, and walked out of an abusive relationship a couple of years ago. She runs a small guest house, so I was up front as soon as I realised we had feelings for each other.”

“What was her reaction?”

“She didn’t believe me at first. That was nice. Then she had a day or two to think about it. She saw I had a girl friend, you, and thought that I seemed perfectly normal. She asked if we could go real slow.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Paul, go for it. You need her and she needs you more than I do. I still love you, but all good things come to an end. I just would value your friendship?”

“You got that. Now I feel even worse, you're being wonderful over this. I was really dreading it.”

“I’ll clear my stuff out of your cottage. I’ll leave the key on the hall table. Paul, thanks for everything.”

“Honey, you make me want to come and make you change our minds,” he said.

“No, go to her. Become that father you always wanted to be. I could never give you children, and we know that's something you’ve always wanted.” I said, and found that tears were in my eyes.

“Josie, I’ll always be there for you, as a friend. You know that?”

“I know, and me too, for you.”

We hung up, and I sat, looking at the phone. I had wondered when, if and how it would end, and now I knew.

“Jo, are you okay?” Stewart asked, looking worried.

I nodded, I didn’t trust myself to speak.

“Do I gather you’ve just split with Paul?” he asked.

I nodded, and he could see my tears now.

He moved and sat next to me, and put his arm around my shoulders.

“Is it…”

I put my hand up to interrupt him.

“Shh, I don’t want to talk about it for a bit, okay?”

“Okay. Sorry,” he said, and just held me. I finished my coffee, and looked out the window. A chunk of my life just finished, and I didn’t know what was round the corner.
 
 
Part 8
 
 
We arrived back in Oxford at lunchtime. I felt remarkably relaxed now, I had been a bit stressed over Paul for a bit, and then it dawned on me that I was free again. As much as I enjoyed the security of our relationship, I was aware that there was a price to be paid. But for me, he had been an essential part of my development, and I think I had been the same for him.

“Sorry Stoo. I was a bit down for a while,” I said.

“That’s okay, it isn’t everyday you break up with your first boyfriend,” he said with a grin.

I looked out at the familiar streets, and felt that it was all a bit of an anti-climax. As I saw people going about their lives, I suddenly seemed small and unimportant. The massive changes in my life were just a speck of dust in the cauldron of life.

“So, straight home or what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I need cheering up before I go home. Mum will fuss and mother me rotten for the next couple of weeks, and I don’t know if I can face her just yet.”

“Well, there is absolutely no doubt you are completely female now,” he said.

“Why?”

“Moods. You’ve been through the whole range, and we haven’t had lunch yet.”

I smiled.

“Better, but what will it take to get you to laugh?”

“Something funny,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll work on it.”

He drove into the area where we both lived.

“How about lunch at my place? You have to see my parents eventually, and I’d rather face them with you, than have the Spanish Inquisition when I go home without you.”

I laughed then, at the picture of him tied to a chair being made to answer questions about me.

“Why not? I haven’t seen them in ages.”

He drove to his place, which was up a quiet street in north Oxford. He pulled up outside the house, and looked at me.

“Are you sure, we can do this another time, if you want?”

“No, lets get it over with. I mean, it isn’t as if we are engaged or anything,” I said, and he looked at me sharply.

“Darn, that was my next question,” he said, in mock anger. I did laugh then, but something in his eyes alarmed me a little.

I let it go.

We walked in the front door. It was a big old house, in grey stone, detached, and set in a garden of about half an acre of mature trees and shrubs.

Stewart was the youngest of three children, as he had an elder sister of twenty-four, and a brother of twenty-one. Both were away at the moment, his sister was a teacher in Bicester, and his brother was working in South Africa, ready to go back to University in the autumn.

“Stewart, is that you, dear?” came a female voice.

“Yeah, and I’ve brought Jo back for lunch,” he said.

Stewart’s mother, Penny Hall, was younger than my mother, and a very sophisticated woman of forty-eight. She had been a clothes designer in her youth, and even managed to keep up with her skills whilst having a family. His father, John Hall, was also in the clothes business, but in the retail side. He worked for many years as a buyer for Marks & Spencer, but had gone independent ten years ago, and formed his own company. He was doing very well.

She came out into the hall, and stood for a moment looking at us. She was polite enough not to stare, but I could tell that my appearance surprised the hell out of her.

“Jo. My Goodness. What can I say? You look fantastic. What a change, eh?”

I went over to her, and she gave me a hug.

“Hello Mrs Hall, I’m sorry if I startled you.”

She held me lightly on my forearms, and just looked me up and down.

“Jo, I’ve been Aunty Penny for years. Just because you now look like a movie star, there is no reason to get all formal with me,” she said with a smile.

“Sorry, everything is so strange. It’s like I’ve had to start again with everyone.”

“You don’t need to start again with me. I’m sure you are the same inside as you’ve always been. But, I knew you were never a real boyish boy. But I never imagined this was underneath.”

I smiled.

“No, I think I managed to surprise everyone with that.”

“Even yourself?” she asked.

“A little, perhaps. I always knew I was a girl, and I am so happy to finally be allowed to be one.”

She smiled, “You really could be Jessica’s twin.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said.

“Nah, she’s tons better looking than Jezzy. And she has a brain,” said Stewart. Then he went bright red as his mother looked at him, and frowned.

“Come and talk to me in the kitchen. You will stay for lunch?”

“If that’s okay?”

“It’s fine. I half expected it in any case. Have you been home yet?”

“No. Not yet. I just know Mum is going to fuss and I don’t know if I can cope.”

We went into the very large modern kitchen, all dark wood with loads of work surfaces. There was a traditional kitchen table at one end with old chairs gathered round it. Stewart pulled one out, and virtually forced me to sit down.

Penny went to the hob, and fiddled with some of the pans, which were boiling rapidly.

“I have a beef casserole, with some baked potatoes, mange tout and broccoli. Is that okay?”

“Lovely.”

“What was the food like in the hospital?”

“Quite good really.”

“It was more like a five star hotel,” said Stewart.

Penny came and sat down next to me, and Stewart sat on the other side of me.

“So, a lot seems to have happened to you since we last saw you. Do you want to tell me about it all?”

“What do you already know?”

“Well, I heard, through the jungle drums, that you suddenly appeared as an attractive girl, and even worked for most of the Easter period in France as a girl at a ski resort. I understand that you had a gender disorder, which is now corrected?” she said, with a very dubious expression.

I laughed.

“I have always known I should have been a girl. It made life slightly awful at best and absolutely terrible at worst. The nightmare got worse as I started puberty, which was late. I think I was about fifteen when it started. Anyway, I managed to offset it by using some female hormones, and then things came to a head a few months ago.

“I realised that I could no longer live a lie, and I just had to make the transition. It was so hard, because no one had a clue what I was going through, and so many things seemed to happen at once.”

I then told them of the Lambert case, and Penny was shocked and surprised.

“I read in the papers about that. So you became involved in all that?”

“Yup. They tried to kill me twice.”

“Good God. As if you didn’t have enough on your plate.”

“But that's all in the past. I understand, he has made a full confession, and has agreed to plead to some charges in exchange for information relating to serious fraud and corruption in very high places. The Superintendent in charge says that he wouldn’t be surprised that he isn’t bumped off in prison.”

Stewart was looking at me with a very odd expression.

“Stewart, did you know about all this?” his mother asked.

“A little. I had no idea that they tried to kill her.”

“Well, what a thing. How did the operation go? What did you have done?” she asked me.

“I managed to chemically castrate myself with hormones, so Dr Simpson finished that particular little job back before Easter. Then, I had everything else done down near Brighton.”

“Everything else?”

“My plumbing is the same as any other girl now, except, I will never be able to conceive.” I said, and looked down at my hands. It was odd, laying myself open like this.

“What about up top?” she asked, nodding towards my breasts.

“Oh, that’s all home grown,” I said, proudly.

“Mum!” Stewart said, embarrassed at the turn the conversation was going.

She smiled.

“Well, to look at you, I still find it hard to believe you are the same person as that little boy who spend so much time with us.”

“I’m still me, but I am now what I should always have been.”

Lunch was a pleasant, relaxed meal, and I went into a little more detail about the Lambert affair. I helped them wash up, and knew that I would have to go home now. I thanked Penny for lunch, and she gave me another hug.

“Jo, you know you are always welcome here. I hope and pray that you manage to find some happiness now.”

“I already have,” I said, looking at her son, and Stewart went red.

Stewart parked next to my beaten up old mini.

“Are you going to keep that?” he said.

“I don’t know. I can’t afford a new one, and it's a real character.”

I got out of the car, and he grabbed my bag.

“You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to,” I told him.

“I want to. I can’t let you face her all on your own.”

He took my hand, and we went in the front door.

Mother came rushing to meet us.

“Oh, Jo. I was getting worried. I thought you’d be back earlier.”

“I stopped off to see aunt Penny, and she insisted on giving me lunch,” I said.

“Well, you ought to come and lie down.”

“Mum. Stop fussing. I’m fine. I don’t need to lie down, as I will just take things easy for a few days. So chill, please.”

“Hello Aunt Anne,” Stewart said, and it was as if mum saw him for the first time.

“Stewart. How nice of you to fetch her. It was just too kind.”

“It was a pleasure,” he said, smiling at me.

I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on, and sat at the kitchen table, and looked at the Daily Mail.

“What’s been happening, then Mum? Have you heard from Jessica?”

“Yes, she and her young man are flying in next week. They are getting married here, and so they’ve to make the arrangements. I think Jessica wants you to be head bridesmaid.”

I grinned.

“How cool is that?” I said.

“I said that you might not be up to it. What with the operation and everything.”

“Mum, you plonker. I’m fine.”

Stewart stifled a laugh.

The kettle boiled, and I went to make a coffee.

“I’m having a coffee, anyone else want one?” I said.

“You look very well,” Mum said.

“Thanks, I feel fine. Just a bit tender and delicate in the plumbing department, but getting stronger every day.”

She was staring at my face. I hadn’t told her about the facial surgery.

“There is something different about you?”

“I had a nose job. The surgeon recommended that it should be a bit smaller, so they did that at the same time as my lips and Adam’s apple.”

“You look so like Jessica, it is uncanny,” she said.

Stewart just smiled.

“I think she looks prettier,” he said, and Mum nodded in a vacant way.

“This is so strange,” she said.

“You’ll get used to me.”

“That is the strange bit. It is almost that I don’t really remember what you used to be like.”

We chatted about family things for a while, and then she decided that she wanted to go shopping. Stewart and I went to my room, and I unpacked and checked my Emails. I showed Stewart my alter-egos on the Internet, and he was gobsmacked that I had been having cyber sex as a girl with men for so long.

“I don’t need to any more,” I said, and deleted all the alternative personal profiles.

He was sitting on my bed, just looking at me.

“Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going to happen now?”

“I’m going to do my dilation exercises, have a rest, and then might have a nice long bath, why?”

“I don’t mean like that. I mean with us. What’s going to happen to us?”

I looked at him, and he was so earnest it was almost funny. But I didn’t laugh.

“Stoo, don’t rush me, okay? I’ve just finished with Paul, so emotionally and physically I’m a bit of a mess right now. If you can be here for me as a good mate, then that will be brilliant. I need time and space. You do too.”

“Me?”

“Yes. We have been friends for ages. Now, I know something is happening between us, but we both need to work out what we really want. I’m not this goddess you seem to think I am. I’m still me, and although I may look like a normal girl, I’m never going to be able to be a mother, and that is something which effects everything.”

“Jo, cut the pretentious crap. I started fancying you as soon as you appeared. But I told myself not to be stupid. Then, I just lost it, and couldn’t stop thinking about you. If you want time, fine. Take as long as you need. Juts remember, I’m here, and I’m waiting for you.”

I went over to the bed. I slipped my shoes off.

“Move over.” I said, and he shifted over, allowing me to sit next to him, with our backs against the headboard.

“This is so weird,” I said.

“What is?”

“Us. I mean, it almost feels incestuous.”

“I don’t fancy my sister,” he said, grinning and taking my hand. I didn’t object.

“Hey, Jo. I’m not going to rush you. But I really don’t need any time.”

I smiled, and snuggled down a bit. For I was suddenly very tired.

“Stoo, I may go to sleep. If you want you can stay, otherwise, piss off now.”

“I’ll stay, if you want me.”

“I want you,” I said, and he smiled.

“Thanks, that’s all I needed to hear.”

I made myself comfy, and snuggled against him. I fell asleep almost immediately.
 
 
I was woken by a gently kiss to my cheek. I opened my eyes, to see Stewart smiling down at me.

“Hi sleepyhead. I think your dad is back. You slept for four hours,” he told me.

I stretched and yawned. I was aware of bladder pressure, so I swung my legs off the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, need a pee, that’s all.”

I went to the loo, and looked at the enormous number five. Arnie, looking like a silver space rocket, just leered at me menacingly.

I took number four, and with sufficient lubrication, slowly relaxed and inserted it into my vagina. It was a tight fit, and slowly and very carefully, I eased it as far in as I could. It was a weird feeling, and I did not find it unpleasant, just rather disconcerting. I had weeks of this to go.

Paul had been between number two and number three. In a way was sad that he would never get to do the ‘real thing’, but I suppose it was just never meant to be.

Stewart knocked on the door.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Fine, just doing my exercises. So piss off and leave me alone. Unless you want to watch?”

“Cor, can I?” he said.

“No, fuck off,” I said, chuckling.

I finished the exercises, and then I cleaned and put the dilators away. Number four would do me for a week or so, until it slipped in without any difficulty. Then I was onto Arnie. I wasn’t looking forward to him.

I washed my face, and reapplied my make up. I brushed my hair.

My face still looked a little puffy, but the doctor told me that I could expect that for another week of so. I was very glad I had got it all over with at once.

Stewart was still on the bed, reading a magazine.

“How long have you been reading Cosmopolitan?”

“Years, why?”

“Most guys hid Mayfair and Penthouse, but you hide Cosmo.”

I smiled.

“I guess I don’t have to anymore.”

“You look lovely,” he said, and despite myself, I blushed.

“Thanks. But I know I look a wreck.”

“Typical woman. Pay her a genuine compliment, and she goes and belittles it,” he said with a huge grin.

“I’m not belittling it. I just know how swollen and puffy my face is still.”

“It may be, but from where I’m sitting, you look fantastic.”

“Come on, help me face the old man,” I said, and we went down stairs.

Dad was in his study, he was sitting at his desk, and he turned as we entered.

He stood up and smiled, opening his arms up. I almost cried, but went and hugged him.

“Welcome back, Sweetie. How was the journey?”

“Fine. I had lunch with Stewart and Aunt Penny. Is Mum back from shopping yet?”

“Yes, she’s in the kitchen. Well, hello, young Stewart. How do you find our new daughter?” Dad asked.

“She’s great. A huge improvement,” he said, and Dad’s eyebrows lifted several centimetres.

“Were you surprised?”

“At first, very much. But I’ve kind of got used to the idea now.”

“So have we. Particularly as she is such a pretty girl.”

“Oh Daddy, I am so lucky. So many people are disowned by their families.”

“Really?” he asked, genuinely shocked.

“I have read of hundreds of people, just like me, whose families and friends just completely shun them. They have to move away and start a completely new life somewhere else entirely,” I said, almost telling them of Paul, but I decided that that was unnecessary.

“Where is your young man, Paul, is it?”

“Paul is in Jersey, and he is no longer my young man. He has met a divorcee his own age, with children, and he and I have parted on the best of terms.”

“Really? As from when?”

“As from about noon today.”

“Gosh. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Daddy. It was inevitable, and probably for the best.”

“Besides, she still has me,” said Stewart with a smile.

Dad smiled too.

“Stewart, I suppose you want to stay for supper?”

“If that’s okay?”

“Anne thought you might, so she has already catered for you. Do you want to tell your mother?”

“I’d better, I suppose.”

Stewart went and called his mum on his mobile, and I sat on the small sofa in Dad’s study.

“You look well. A lot better than when I last saw you,” he said.

“That wouldn’t be difficult. My face was swollen, and my groin was a real mess. But I’m much more normal now.”

“Normal? Yes, I suppose you do feel that,.” he said with a sad smile.

“Daddy, you have no idea. Everything seems to have fallen into place. I feel complete, somehow. The angst has gone. I feel I can start to live my life for the first time.”

He smiled and sat beside me, taking one of my hands. He looked at the long slender fingers, and the delicately shaped and varnished nails. He patted it, gently.

“Sweetie, I am pleased for you. I have had a lot of time to think and read about your condition. I never knew how common it was, and I certainly was not aware as to the deep rooted feelings that it generates in those who experience it.”

I was pleased he did not use the word suffer, although, suffer would be appropriate at times.

“What will you do now?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“My A level results will be back in a month or so. I don’t know what I want to do, I used to think I wanted to do IT at UNI, but I don’t anymore. I think I’d like to do something in the holiday, leisure or airline industries.”

“I had hoped you’d come to Oxford.”

“I know, and I may still. But, everything has changed so much. I need to take time to see what would be best.”

He smiled.

“I can understand that. Very sensible. But, you should get a degree under your belt. One has to be practical, and you won’t ever be one of those women who will find a husband, and have loads of children before you are thirty.”

I smiled.

“No, but I could always adopt.”

He looked at me.

“Josie, just be you, and do what you feel is right. I’ve done everything I can, and am so proud of you.”

I cried then, and he did too, a little. We hugged. I had never been as close to him as I was at this moment. I wanted to thank him for everything he had done, but I hadn’t the words, so I hugged him instead. He understood.

Supper was quiet, and Stewart left shortly afterwards, as he could see that I was still weary and wanted to go to bed. I had a long bath and then slipped into bed very gratefully.
 
 
The weeks went by, I started to become fidgety with inactivity, and realised that I must be getting better. I started jogging again, and even unfit Stewart started joining me.

He was spending time in the shop, and I occasionally dropped in, but Martin was a bit strange. He hadn’t taken my change very well, so although polite, he was distant and reserved with me. I think he resented the fact that I had never told him. Although he knew I hadn’t told anyone, it didn’t seem to make any difference.

He still did not have the capital to pay me off, but the new machinery and IT equipment was a great boon, and work was trebled. I was in no rush, as I was still a quarter owner, and knew that my share was increasing every month.

On the following Monday, I took Arnie out of the box and stared him straight in the pointy end.

“Okay buster. This is it,” I told him, and smeared him with copious amounts of KY jelly. Before I could change my mind, I lay back on the bed, opened my legs and started to insert him into my vagina. I had already put jelly up there as well, and he slid in easily for the first few centimetres.

Then he stuck.

Well, not stuck, but sort of didn’t want to go any further.

I forced myself to relax, and arched my back, raising my hips to make it easier.

Another centimetre.

I grabbed my phone, and called Stewart in the shop.

“Stoo. It’s me.”

“Hi Jo, what’s up?”

“Arnie. At least he is part way, and I need help.”

There was silence.

“Stewart?”

“Jo, you want my help?” he asked, sounding worried. I giggled.

“Not physically, you pill. Make me relax and help take my mind off it. Try to make me laugh.”

“Thank fuck for that. I thought you wanted me to come round and help stuff it up you.”

I giggled, this helped.

“Shh. Martin overheard the last. He is looking really oddly at me,” Stewart said in hushed tones.

I imagined Martin looking odd, and the giggles started in earnest. The whole situation was so ludicrously funny, that I really started laughing, and Arnie slipped up a few more centimetres.

Ten minutes later, he was all the way in. I was almost wetting myself with laughter, and Stewart was onto his fourth Monty Python routine.

“Okay, you can stop, he’s in!” I said, but he kept going. I heard Martin getting cross in the background, and that made me laugh more. I had to hang up, otherwise I was going to have an accident.

As my fingers played around, just feeling things, I suppose, I touched the little cherry that was my clitoris. The surgeon had used part of the sensitive end of my penis, and created it in the right place. I had explored everything with my fingers, very gently and tentatively ever since the first day, but this was the first time that I didn’t feel uncomfortable or even partly numb.

I had been told that the nerve endings would take some time to settle down, and for feeling to return. Well, they did today, for as my fingers brushed the clitoris, I almost cried out as a spasm of pleasure hit me.

I was also told that only in a small percentage of male to female SRS was it possible to achieve orgasm, and a smaller percentage still, were actually able to create their own lubrication. But the human body is a strange thing, and sometimes it baffled even the experts.

I slowly extracted Arnie, and at the same time rubbed my clitoris.

The feeling was amazing, and I found myself reinserting Arnie, and rubbing myself at the same time. I kept this up, until a wave of pleasure I had never ever experienced before grew and impaled me to the bed, leaving me gasping for breath. Arnie was slipping and sliding into me, with no problem at all, and I realised that somehow I had naturally added to the KY.

I came again, and this time was left in no doubt that I was one of that very small minority.

I extracted Arnie for the last time, and carefully cleaned him off.

He no longer looked the fearsome brute that he used to. In fact, I was looking forward to tomorrow.

After I had been home for a couple of weeks, I had called Lynx Travel, and was told that Miranda was in Florida. I asked them to let her know I called, and they told me that she would call me eventually.

Stewart and I were having a pub lunch when my mobile went off.

“Hi, Jo Fortune,” I said, not recognising the number.

“Josie, its Miranda.”

“Oh Miranda, hi. Thanks for getting back to me.”

“I take it you're interested in a job?”

“Definitely, if you can use me?”

“How long are you free for?”

“I'm taking at least a year out, so from now until September next year.”

“Brilliant. Look I’m in Florida at the moment, as one of the girls has let me down, so is there any chance you could come out here?”

“When?”

“As soon as. Look, I’ll let the main office know you will be coming in. They'll sort out a contract, and uniforms. You will need a green card, so give them your details, and come out as soon as you can.”

“Great. Are you sure that’s all I need do?”

“Josie, I've worked with you. I know I can rely on you, so just get yourself to the office by tomorrow. Everything will be set.”

“How long will the green card take?”

“Not long, they know about travel companies, and so as long as we aren’t seeking to stay long, you will have no problem.”

I hung up, and Stewart was looking at me very strangely.

“So, you're really leaving me?” he said, in a mock melodramatic voice.

I smiled. “Florida.”

“Really? Brilliant.”

“I have to get work permits and stuff. I am going to the head office to sort it out tomorrow.”

“Where is that, London?”

“Cheltenham.”

“Oh, can I come too?”

“You fancy a job as well?”

“No, the shop is fine for me. I just want to be with you.”

“You are sweet, but you don’t have to. I am capable of going there all by myself.”

“I know, as I said, I just like being with you.”

“That's different, you said you wanted to be with me.”

“Both.”

I smiled.

“As I said, you are sweet.”
 
 
Stewart drove me to Cheltenham the next day. We arrived at about 9am, and I was wearing a simple grey skirt and a pale yellow blouse.

The office was a remarkably small one, on the outside at least. There was a small travel agency on the ground floor, with a staff of just two, and then up a narrow staircase to the offices above. There were three floors, and chaos reigned.

A really nice woman called Cheryl met Stewart and me, and took us upstairs. She thought Stewart was here for a job as well until he put her straight.

I gave her all my documents, passport, driver’s licence, and National Insurance card. The latter had only just been returned to me in my new name: Josephine Anne Fortune.

“Okay, Miranda called me yesterday, just after she spoke with you. We just need to fill out a few forms, and if you sign them, we can get it all in the pipeline. The US authorities usually take ten days to process our forms, so in a fortnight or so, you should be in Florida.”

Stewart got bored and wandered off for a walk. I filled out the forms and was as honest as I could be. There was a bit for surgical operations, so I entered gynaecological reconstruction surgery. It wasn’t a lie, was it?

The whole lot took a couple of hours, and several cups of coffee. I was getting as high as a kite on caffeine.

“I understand that you’ve worked with Miranda before?” Cheryl asked.

I smiled.

“Yeah, I was a bit naughty. My twin sister, Jessica, was a ski rep, and she got an offer to go to the Caribbean, she didn’t want to risk her job, so she persuaded me to take her place. I came clean to Miranda, but it worked out so well that Miranda offered to take me on as myself. So, here I am.”

“Of course, I should have guessed. You’re Jessica’s sister. You’re so alike, are you identical?”

“Not quite.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have been able to tell you apart. I thought I knew you from somewhere. It's been bugging me all day.”

I gave her my bank details, and I then signed a contract for six months.

“We do six months, but there is a clause for either you or us to terminate should things not work out. If you want to stay on, then we simply renew the contract, and the longer you stay, the better the pay.”

“Fine,” I said, and sat back, relieved that it was all over.

“Welcome aboard. I am supposed to ask you about training.”

“Training?”

“Yup. All our reps should be fully trained, but as you have already worked for us for five weeks, do you really need it?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so. But what I’ll do is give you the training manual to read and if you have any questions, you could give me a ring. It is actually pretty basic, and if you survived the ski resorts, then it will be easy for you,” she said, handing me a thick volume, and several handbooks on different locations around the world.

“Oh, shall we get your uniform sorted?”

We spent the next hour in an attic, going through polythene bags of uniforms. The lynx colours were red and yellow. There was a yellow blouse and red cravat with a yellow skirt and red jacket, and a red skirt and yellow jacket. There were red blouses, and yellow cravats. It could be mixed and matched. Shoes were optional, but ideally they liked the red shoes.

Then for less formal occasions, there was the yellow polo shirt, and a red waistcoat or a red body warmer. Tee shirts in both colours and all sorts of stuff like bags and holdalls. There was also a red and yellow light coat. I still had all Jezzy’s winter gear, and the ski jacket was dead sexy.

We managed to find everything that fitted me, and I finally left carrying a large bag of clothes.

I met Stewart who was waiting by his car. It was a sunny day, and he was lying on a wall with his shirt off.

“Got the job then?” he said, as I chucked the stuff into the boot.

“Yup, just have a fortnight’s wait for the work permits.”

“What now?”

“Lunch?”

“What do you fancy?”

“I’m not bothered, but I do need something other than coffee.”

He grinned.

We found a wine bar with outside tables, and settled down and had a very pleasant lunch.

I noticed that Stewart was looking at me a lot.

“What?” I said, eventually, as he was beginning to bug me.

“I keep trying to see any trace of Joseph. But there is nothing left of him. You are a completely new creation, in every way.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, so sound different, you look, shit, you look just amazing, and you move differently. You're full of fluid grace, and so feminine. I know what you were, but I'm finding it increasingly hard to believe it any more.”

I just smiled.

“How’s Arnie?” he asked, and grinned when I went red.

“Arnie is fine. I don’t need him any more.”

“You don’t mean you’ve found someone bigger?” he asked, in mock horror.

“No, I just don’t need him any more. I just have to let nature take it’s course.”

“Does that mean we can fuck now?” he asked.

“Stewart!”

He grinned. “Only joking.”

I looked at him, and he dropped his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, and he just smiled.

“I was. But you know that if you fancy one, just give me a call.”

“Shut up, Tosspot.”

He grinned again.

“It’s been a month since the op, how long before you can just do what you want?” he asked.

“If you must know, I shouldn’t have sex for another eight weeks.”

“Eight weeks, I’ll be old by then!” he said.

“You and me both.”

“So, you will be able to do what any other girl can do?” he asked.

“Yes, except, I don’t bleed, and I can’t get pregnant.”

“Sounds to me like the best deal all round.”

“Stewart!”

“Well, I mean, would you want to get pregnant?”

I looked at him, and he stopped smiling.

“Shit, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t. I just don’t have the equipment,” I said, a little sadly.

“You’d make a lovely mum.”

“Thanks,” I said, sarcastically.

“No, I mean it. You are so lovely, kind and gentle, you have what it takes.”

“What do you want?” I asked, smiling.

“To be allowed to love you.”

I looked at him.

“I’m not stopping you,” I said, after a moment. He moved round to sit next to me.

“Jo, I know I said it before, but I do love you,” he said.

“I know.”

“You mean everything to me, and I don’t want to lose you.”

I understood that he didn’t like the idea of me taking a job abroad.

“Kiss me,” I said, and he leaned over and gently kissed me.

He wrapped an arm around me, and I just melted to him. He cradled my head as we kissed, and I felt myself responding. A now familiar warmth started spreading from my groin, and I was tempted to try out my new equipment, but knew that it would be a mistake.

“What am I going to do when you are away?” he asked

“Love me from a distance?” I suggested.

“I seriously thought about coming with you.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I can’t. Martin needs me in the shop. He is such a Luddite, the business would collapse if I wasn’t there.”

We paid the bill, and went for a walk along the river. We sat down on the grassy bank, under the willow trees, and watched two swans sail gracefully up stream.

He kissed me again, and we lay in an embrace. He caressed my breast, and I squirmed under his touch. We lay there, gently caressing each other, and kissing. I felt very aroused, and I could feel he was too.

“I want you so much,” he said.

I smiled, and kissed him.

“You can’t have me.”

“May I touch you?” he asked.

I looked at him. “Gently!” I said, and he slipped his hand inside my knickers. He very gently pulled them down, so I was exposed, and then he caressed the lips with his fingertips.

I moved so to accommodate him, and he found my clitoris. I bit my lip and must have made a sound, as he pulled his hand away.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, that was nice. I enjoyed it.”

“Oh,” he said, and put his hand back.

He gently rubbed me and I moaned.

“You're all damp!” he said, in some surprise.

“As I said, I just don’t bleed or have babies.”

“Gosh.”

I let my hand fall onto his fly, and opened the zip. His erection was straining to escape, and so I gave it a helping hand.

It was a little smaller than Arnie, but not a lot. It was a lot bigger than Paul, but that was expected. He was circumcised, and the pink helmet was throbbing with expectancy.

“Look what I found,” I said, and he rubbed me some more.

We kissed and I held his penis tightly, rubbing the knob with my thumb. I could feel the juice just seep out of the end, and he started to squirm.

I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to know what it tasted like, so I bent over and took the end in my mouth, and licked the juices onto my tongue. He thrust forward, and I had to push him back to stop him from shoving his dick down my throat. I remembered the conversation I’d had with Debbie, and held it to stop him forcing too much into my mouth.

He wasn’t long, and he started to thrust faster and faster, and I made myself take all his ejaculation in my mouth. He grunted and spurted his semen into my throat, and I had to concentrate not to gag. It wasn’t an unpleasant taste, hotter than I had imagined, and faintly flavoured, but it had aroused me so much, that I was tempted to let him fuck me.

I stopped him as I was feeling slightly raw, and I was content. For the moment.

We lay there, just content to be together. I pulled my knickers back up, and he zipped himself up again.

“Eight weeks?” he asked.

“Eight weeks.”

“Shit,” he said, and I kissed him. I could still taste him in my mouth, and it was erotic kissing him.

“If I came over to Florida, would you be pleased to see me?”

“Of course.”

“Right, make a date in your diary, I’ll be coming there in eight weeks.”

“Mmm, so will I.”
 
 
Part 9
 
 
It was September, and the humid heat in Orlando was almost overwhelming. I greeted the newcomers getting off the plane, and watched with amusement as those in thick clothes started to melt. I had been here for five weeks now. I was in the lightest tee shirt and a very short skirt. So those in jeans must have been roasting.
 
 
Having spent the two weeks waiting for my papers, just getting fit and sunbathing, I already had a very nice tan when I arrived. My A level results came through, and I had achieved three grade As, which pleased me, but on the other hand, I was still unsure what the hell I wanted to do.

I had brought a fresh batch of Lynx customers on the Virgin flight from Gatwick, and it was just like the Risoul trip, only farther and warmer.

I was feeling a little down, as my relationship with Stewart was now stronger than anything I had had with Paul. We spent a few nights together and still I had not let him do anything to me. I enjoyed pleasing him orally, and he returned the favour to me. I considered anal, but decided that that was irresponsible, and a bit dirty now that I had the right equipment.

We had spent our last night together, and he had actually wept on saying goodbye to me at Gatwick. He refused to go into the Terminal, as he did not want me to throw a wobbly in front of the customers.

I was in my red skirt, yellow blouse and red cravat. I had the red jacket as well, but it was so warm it was in my bag. I wore red high heel shoes, and even my nails matched.

It was a very different crowd than the skiers, more families with younger children. But I corralled them to the gate room and then onto the plane. The cabin crew treated me almost as one of their number, and were good to me. Particularly as my red uniform was almost the same as theirs.

I sat next to a middle-aged couple, the McCavotts, whose two daughters Lucy and Jenny were about 12 and 10. The girls were really excited, while their poor parents just looked worn out. They had driven down from Shropshire, so were exhausted before the flight had even taken off.

“That bloody M25. It is a complete bastard,” said Mr McCavott.

I had to agree.

“Do you do this all the time?” Mrs McCavott asked me.

“This is my first American trip. I worked for Lynx in the Alps on a ski holiday.”

“Do you like the job?”

“Yeah, it's fun, and I get to meet all kinds of people.”

“Is it full time, or are you a student?” he asked.

“I'm on my year out, just getting enough cash for my university fees.”

“That bugger Blair. How typical of the man. Accepts his grant but then turns round and changes the rules for everyone else.”

Mr McCavott wasn’t a New Labour supporter then.

I took the time to speak to all the families and gave out the welcome packs. There were lots of questions, and many of which I couldn’t answer as I just didn’t know. So it was a relief to see Miranda waiting for us as we cleared Customs.

She immediately came up and gave me the biggest hug. I was quite overwhelmed, and she realised that.

“I'm so glad you made it. You have saved my life. I’ve been struggling ever since that dozy idiot got herself run over.”

It seems that my predecessor had not looked the right way when crossing a road, and been hit buy a taxi. Fortunately, she only broke a leg, but it left them short, so Miranda had to fly out and take over.

We gathered up our clients, and took them to the coach. Luckily, they were all in the same hotel, so it made life much easier. Miranda went through the welcoming spiel on the coach, and invited them all to the welcoming talk in the hotel lobby at noon. It was three in the afternoon back in the UK, but was only ten am here.

She took me to our room in the hotel. It was huge, with a double bed in one back room, and another double bed in the main room. There were two TVs, and a decent sound system. With a small kitchenette area, and two bathrooms, it was seriously nice.

“I have the back room, but I'm going home next week leaving you on your own. You can move into my room if you want. The room is nicer, and the bed is bigger.”

The hotel didn’t have any dining facilities, but the diner was in the same car park, and served food from 04:00 to midnight. It was on International Drive, so within easy reach of all the major attractions.

“The punters tend to look after themselves. We have access to concessionary rates for the attraction tickets, so we can provide them cheaper than at the door. The hotel provides minibuses to all the attractions on a daily basis, and they offer a shuttle service from 09:00 to 11:00, returning every hour from 17:00 to 21:00. Most of the customers hire cars for all or part of their holiday, and we can help there. We have a link with Alamo.

“Our job is really to advise and assist, unlike the ski holiday, where we had to do everything, once they have their routines planned, we can just sit back and relax.

“We have an office here in the lobby, which we share with all the other reps.. We have to man it for an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening, but that's all.”

I changed out of my smart gear and into a short skirt and polo shirt, I felt more relaxed. We went to the diner and had a coffee together and she gave me the run down on what was expected of me.

I made a few notes, and she smiled.

“So, you look different, what have you been up to?”

“I'm fitter and much healthier. Jessica sends her regards. She and her fiancé, Max, came over last week, and are arranging the wedding. They want me to be a bridesmaid, so I'll have to try to escape to Texas for that.”

“When’s the big day?”

“Not sure, they were muttering about November. He has a huge holiday home in the Caribbean, so they will probably bugger off out there as soon as it's over.”

“You'll be out of here by then. Two months is the limit for one tour. So as it's August now, I should think you’ll be home by the end of October.”

“That’ll be fine.”

“So, what’s been happening in your life? Still with Paul?”

“No, that sort of died. He fell for a divorcee with kids in Jersey. I have Stewart now.”

“Oh, you young girls, I don’t think I could keep up.”

“Come on, you're as bad. Don’t forget, I saw you if France. How come you haven’t settled down?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. I’m thirty-two next birthday, and although I love the life, I'm getting tired. I’ve had so many lovers over the years, I don’t know if I could stand a stable relationship for any length of time.”

“You just haven’t met the right bloke,” I said.

“Hark at the voice of experience,” she said with a grin.

I just smiled.

“Seriously, Josie, you've changed, what have you had done?” she asked looking at me closely.

I pointed to my nose.

“I knew it. Why, there was nothing wrong with it?”

“I broke it some years ago, and it was never quite right. So I had an opportunity to have it sorted and slightly improved at the same time.”

“Well, you still look gorgeous, and you'll have the boys flocking round you as soon as they see you are unattached.”

I just smiled.

“So, this is serious, with Stewart, I mean?”

“Maybe. We’ve known each other for years, and we just grew together in the last month or so.”

“Has it reached the bedroom yet?”

“Yes and no.”

She laughed out loud.

“Classic, in other words, you haven’t let him yet.”

I just smiled.

“That’s the way, get them all lathered up, they appreciate it so much more that way,” she said, and it was my time to laugh.

“The local lads almost expect the British girls to be a bit raunchy. So take care. You look stunning, so will have a job to keep them off your back. Some of them are very thick and don’t understand the word no.”

“What about the British lads?”

“They're full of talk, but are mainly here for the beer and the sights.”

“How about you, no Mr Right here, then?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“I thought I'd found him, but he turned out to be married and just wanted a quick fling.”

We had to go to the lobby, so our conversation was curtailed.
 
 
Here I was gathering another group of hopefuls together. Now the UK schools were back, it was a different crowd. More couples and singles, the noise level was more acceptable, but the single males all had a predatory look in their eyes.

I had developed a knack for adopting a very passable American accent, which helped when in local bars and restaurants. Being a single British girl was like a red rag to an American bull. When out by myself, or with some of the girls I had befriended, I would adopt an American accent and it worked like a charm.

Unfortunately, my everyday speech was affected, and I found myself talking with a slight accent all the time. It had become a real joke and I found myself doing it without trying any more.

I stood at the front of the coach and addressed the crowd.

“Hi there, my name is Josie, and I'm your Lynx rep for your holiday. We'll be going to the hotel, where you'll be allocated your rooms and I have a welcome pack for each group or family.

“There will be a welcome talk in the hotel lobby at noon, and that is situated in the parking lot of the hotel. I will be on duty in the office, which is in the reception lobby of the hotel, every morning and evening for one hour. The times may vary, but the welcome pack had those details.

“If you have not yet purchased tickets for the various attractions or arranged car rental, I can arrange both at a concessionary rate. Our prices are 15% cheaper than you pay over the counter, so I advise you to take advantage of these rates. We also have a book of discount vouchers for bars, restaurants and other attractions that are located in the Orlando and surrounding areas.

“If you have any questions, then please see me as I come round, or wait until noon. I will have the car rental details and tickets with me then. Until then, welcome to America, and I’m sure you will have a great time here in Florida.”

I switched off the microphone and sat down. I sorted through the packs, and then went back dishing them all out. There were loads of questions, and from one young man an offer that I just had to refuse.

“ ‘ere, darlin’, have you ever ‘ad a decent English bloke?”

This caused his friends to laugh in an embarrassed sort of way, and I realised that I had given my spiel in pure American.

“Honey, I’d just love to, so when you find one, can you ask him to call me?” I said, and moved on. His friends laughed louder this time.

The transfer from the airport didn't take that long, so soon the punters were sorting out their rooms and investigating the facilities, like the pool. I sorted out some administration work and hung around to give the welcome talk to the gathering throng.

Once the welcome talk was over, I spent an hour dishing out tickets and car rental vouchers, and taking loads of money, travellers’ cheques and swiping credit card vouchers.

Once the last customer had gone, I breathed a sigh of relief and shut up shop.

A girl who worked for Thomsons, Carrie Granger, finished about the same time, and we went to Friendly’s together for a light lunch. Carrie was new, having only arrived the previous week. She also believed me to be an American, as she had yet to hear me with my normal English accent.

“God, I hate the first days,” she said, as we sat in our booth. The waitress, a burly woman called Connie, came and gave us our menus.

“You get used to them,” I said, pouring a long glass of iced water. This was a definite positive against UK restaurants.

“What is it about the English tourist? They all get so bloody British and obstinate,” she asked, as Connie came back for our order.

I ordered a tuna salad and some iced tea. Carrie took her time and eventually chose a burger and fries.

“If you keep eating that shit, you'll get way gross,” I said, realising as I said it how American I must sound to this English girl.

“So how do you keep your figure?” she asked.

“I go jogging every morning at seven, and I only eat salads for lunch,” I said, trying to drop the accent, this time.

She frowned at me.

“That’s very good. You almost sound English.”

“I am English! It’s working in this place for weeks that does it,” I said, now completely back to normal.”

“That's amazing. I was positive you were American. You have a real knack for accents.”

“I find that the American boys are less interested if I sound American, and the English boys are less interested when I tell them I’m local and have a boyfriend.”

“God, how confusing. So do you have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, but he's in Oxford. But he told me a couple of nights ago that he's planning to come and visit me.”

“Aren’t you tempted by the local talent?”

“Not really. I’m way too busy,” I said, American again.

“That’s brilliant. The way you switch, how do you do it?”

I shrugged, and put on a Belfast accent.

“To be sure I don’t know, but if I find out I’ll be sure to tell ye.”

“Shit. That is so good. Can you do any others?”

“Pourquoi, certainement. Je parle français parfaitement,” I said, fluently.

“Gosh, can you speak any other languages?”

“ ¡Sá­.  ¡Hablo un espaá±ol pequeá±o,” I said, and she shook her head.

“I wish I could speak another language.”

“Didn’t you do French or Spanish at school?”

“French up to GCSE. I failed. Mind you, it was awful, the teacher was a dreary old bat who had no interest at all.”

“It makes a difference. My teacher was brilliant, so I went on an got an A at A level. My last job with Lynx was in the French Alps at a ski resort.”

At that moment two large males intruded. They were American, but from their accents, they were from New York.

“Hey girls, do you mind if we join you? The place is packed and there ain’t no other seats,” one said.

I glanced round the diner and saw it was indeed full. There were some waiting, and these two just happened to sneak by the queue system.

I immediately slipped into local accent mode.

“Sure, help yourselves,” I said.

As Carrie and I were opposite each other in the window seats, the guys had to slip in beside us, one on each side.

They took in the uniforms, and I took in them.

The one next to me was wearing a NY Giants Tee shirt and baseball cap, with cut off jeans as shorts that had been cut just above the knee, leaving a rough end. He wore trainers and short white socks. He was very tall, at least six foot six, and broad. He looked like a pro football player, and was all muscle. He had very short fair hair and a pleasant, but not handsome face. He looked as if he had been in one or two fights in his time.

The other guy was slimmer, but as tall. His hair was slightly longer and a darker shade of brown. He had a ‘Cheers’ tee shirt on and a pair of baggy shorts and flip-flops. His face was more sensitive and he had freckles across the bridge of nose.

“So, where are you guys from, New York?” I asked.

“Hey, yeah. The accent, right?” said the one next to me.

“Right.”

“It kinda gives us away. How about you?” he asked.

“I’m from England,” said Carrie, as our food arrived. Connie was under pressure, so she plonked our food down with an automatic, “Enjoy.” and gave the two guys their menus.

The slim one looked at my plate.

“A salad. Don’t tell me, you're from California?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said, taking a mouthful.

“Are you from round here?” the other one asked.

“Uhuh,” I said shaking my head.

“Now, Thomson, that’s a British company, right?” he said.

“Yes.” said Carrie.

“So, I ain’t heard of Lynx.”

“Ah, we're quite a new company,” I said, this time with an Australian accent.

Both guys were frowning.

“Say sump’in’ else.” said the big one.

“Well, just what would you like me to say?” I said, straight from Belfast.

“Again.”

“Actually, this is rather a tiring game, why don’t I just tell you?” I said, straight out of the English aristocracy.

“You ain’t English too?”

“What makes you say that?” I said, straight from the Bronx, this time.

“Hey, you’re from new York too!”

“Why sir, I’d ask you kindly to desist in slanderin’ ma good nayme.” I said, as per Forest Gump.

“Shit girl. Stop messin’ with us. Where are you from?”

By this time, Carrie was almost wetting herself with laughter, so I smiled, and gave in.

“I'm just a girl from the old city of Spires. Oxford, England,” I said in my normal voice.

“Are you sure?” the big one asked, wary now.

“I’m sure. My name is Josie Fortune, and I’m from the UK. And that's Carrie.”

“Hi, Josie, Carrie. I’m Mike and my buddy here is Rob,” said the big one next to me.

“Hi guys,” said Carrie.

We ate and Connie took the boys’ orders.

“So, you been workin’ here long?” Rob asked.

“I’ve been here a week, but Jo has been here for much longer.”

“Five and a half weeks,” I mumbled through my salad.

“Cool. Do you like it?” asked Rob.

“It's too soon, but I think so,” said Carrie.

I was munching, and I so just nodded.

“Are you on holiday or working?” she asked.

“We are just bummin’ for a year, we're due to start at college next fall, so we thought we’d come down here for the summer, and then head across to California for the winter and get some work.”

“Just the two of you?” I asked, having won that round with the salad.

“Yeah, we started out as six, but the other three decided to get work first and then bum round. We had some money saved up from the early summer, so we just started early.”

“So, you two got no guys?”

Carrie looked at me, and shook her head.

“I have a guy,” I admitted.

“Here or in England?” asked Mike, with a smile.

“As from next Monday, here.” I said.

Disappointment oozed from every pore, and Mike almost slumped visibly.

“Oh,” he said.

I smiled. “Sorry, but best that’s over with. Where are you staying?” I asked.

They pointed to the large campervan in the parking lot. With New York Plates, it was a dead giveaway.

“You’d best be careful where you park, the local PD are hot on camping in the city limits,” I said.

“Is that right?” Rob asked, frowning.

“Yeah, a family from Canada got their camper impounded just last week.”

“Shit,” said Mike.

“There's a place just north of here, a farm, that lets you camp for ten bucks a night. It's about fifteen minutes on the highway,” I said.

“Cool. Look, as you know so much about things around here, how about joining us for dinner tonight?” said Mike.

I glanced at Carrie, who shrugged, in an, ‘I’m easy either way’ manner.

“Okay. But remember, I have a guy,” I said.

“Great, and I’m hardly likely to forget,” said Mike, who was smiling again.

“What’s the Wet ‘n Wild place like, just up the road?” Rob asked.

“It's okay, if you like getting wet and sunburned,” I said, and they laughed.

“Are you able to get off during the afternoon, or do you have to work?”

“I’m off now until six, but then I have an hour in the office,” I said.

“Same with me,” said Carrie.

Connie came back with their food and dumped them down, taking our empty plates, so I asked for our check.

“Um, look, we've been on the road a real long time, and that Wet ‘n Wild place looks pretty damn attractive. So, would you like to join us there?” Rob asked, with Mike nodding.

I had been there in my first week, and it was fun, but I had to admit, it was hardly the place I really wanted to spend four hours on a sunny afternoon. But then, I was probably just going to flop by the pool and then Email Stewart, again.

“Okay, but don’t get upset if I bring my book,” I said.

They didn’t look as if they would.

“We’ll meet you there in an hour,” I said, and we left them to it.

“I can’t believe we just picked up two blokes,” Carrie said.

“Don’t be daft, they picked us up,” I said, and she giggled.

I went up to my room and slipped my bikini on. My tan was exceptional by this time, but I still took my sun cream. I grabbed my Stetson, sandals and put my wrap around skirt on. Then I took a small bag with a book, shades and a bottle of water from the icebox.

I then switched on my laptop, one of the first things I bought over here. I checked my Emails and saw one from Stewart. He confirmed he was flying out on Monday, and was on the flight I was meeting. He had just paid for the flight, as I was going to put him up in my room. We had both worked out the eight weeks were up, and I was as eager as he was to try everything out.

I Emailed him, telling him that I was going swimming to get in shape for him, and sent it.

We met the guys at the gate, and I insisted that we paid for ourselves. I was aware that we were working, and they weren’t, and this was not the start of a beautiful friendship for me.

The attraction was busy without being crowded, so we found some loungers and staked our claim. I took off my wrap, and the guys grinned at me. I went into the wave pool, as it was not waving at the time, and swam twenty 50m widths really fast, with proper racing turns.

I came out and the boys were watching me.

“You swim pretty good,” said Rob.

“Thanks.”

We went with them on various slides and chutes, and generally mucked about for a while. The warm sunshine was wonderful, and so I went and lay on the lounger and read my book. Carrie stayed with the guys and I heard her shriek as she went down the vertical drop.

After a while, a shadow fell across me, and I looked up. A tall but unfamiliar male was looking at me.

“Hi babe, can I join ya?”

At this moment, Mike arrived, and sat next to me, handing me a coke.

“Here you go, Honey,” he said, and the other man shrugged and walked away.

“Thanks,” I said, giving the coke to Rob who arrived grinning.

“Who’s idea was that?” I asked.

“Mine,” said Mike. “I was watching that dude, and he tried in on with six girls over there, and I said to Rob, ‘What do you bet he tries it on with Josie?’ And he did.”

“I’m grateful, as a kick in the balls often offends,” I said, and turned my page.

“Shit Josie, you are so cool,” said Mike, and I lowered my shades and looked at him.

Carrie splashed the guys with some cold water and they chased her into the wave pool.

It wasn’t long until Mike was back. He lay on the lounger next to me, on his side propping his head up with his arm. I tried to read, but his presence was rather off-putting.

I put my book down.

“You don’t have to stop reading,” he said.

I looked at him. “I’m not a spectator sport,” I said, to which he smiled.

“Maybe you should be. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.”

I smiled. “That has got to be the lamest line I've ever heard,” I said, and he grinned again, without shame.

“Yeah, I know, but it happens to be true. Why aren’t you a movie star or a model?”

“Because I'm a real person, who's on her year out before university and I have to earn enough to pay my first years fees.”

“No shit? How old are you?”

“Eighteen, why?”

“I thought you were way older than me. I’m nineteen in a month.”

“You're big for your age. Football?” I said.

“Yeah, you can tell?”

“Just a bit.”

He grinned, but still looked at me.

“Mike, look, I'm sure you are a nice guy, buy I seriously am not in the market for another boyfriend.”

“He’s a lucky guy.”

“He’s my lucky guy.”

“Okay. But if you get pissed with him, please call me.”

This started a discussion about the difference between English and American English.

“Pissed is an expression that is used to mean either drunk, or angry. So you can go and get pissed with someone, it denotes you go with someone to get drunk. You can piss someone off, just like over here, I can say, ‘Piss off, I'm really pissed off with you.’” I told him.

We then spent half an hour discussing lots of different expressions, including fanny, jumper, bangs and lots of others. I saw Rob draping an arm over Carrie’s shoulders, and smiled. They didn’t waste much time.

Mike looked where I was looking, and smiled too.

“Sorry,” I said, and he shrugged.

“Hey, that’s life.”

Time passed and I had to get back to be available for my customers. I showered and changed into my red skirt and yellow blouse with red cravat. I was quite looking forward to a dinner out, as I tended to eat with one of the other girls, or by myself in my room. It was all very well being here, but the pay wasn’t brilliant, and I was trying to save as much as I could.

My customers came in dribs and drabs, some wanted tickets, while others came to ask about medical facilities. I dealt with them for an hour, and was just about finished when the New York boys arrived. Carrie was nowhere to be seen.

“Woah! You look stunning Josie,” said Mike.

“These are my work clothes, I haven’t changed for dinner yet,” I said.

They had both put relatively clean clothes on, clean jeans that is. Carrie appeared, still in her work clothes, and smiled as soon as she saw Rob, who grinned and looked all bashful.

“Look, where are we going to go? Then we can dress accordingly,” I said.

They looked at each other, and shrugged.

“Where’s good?” Rob asked.

“Anywhere, what do you fancy? The Japanese restaurant is great, but so is the Chinese, the Italian, or just a good old Texas Steak House.”

“I could do with a steak,” said Mike, and I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, jeans it is,” I said, and went off to change

I put on a pair of tight pale blue Levis, and my new cowboy boots, with the silver heels and toes. I chose a pretty black top, tying the tails under my breasts, leaving my tummy exposed, and put on my Stetson again. It was a warm evening, but I wore my denim waistcoat.

I went back down and found the guys drinking beer by the van.

“Hey, look at you. A real purty Texas cowgal,” said Mike with a grin.

“Why, thank you sir, now, where did you leave my horse?” I asked, in the nearest I could get to a Texan accent.

“Hey, you are good,” Rob said. Then Carrie appeared, and I was in the shade again.

Carrie was a red head, with lustrous hair and green eyes. She was a little heavy in the bum, but proportionate up top. She was pretty, but I thought she needed to perhaps lose a few pounds and then she could be stunning. But, hey it wasn’t my life.

We went a short walk up the International Drive, and the Steak House was quite empty. Many of the schools had gone back, and so things were quieter than when had I first arrived. But still, there were enough people around to feel like holiday all the time.

A girl dressed just like me met us at the door, so I took off my hat, just in case they got me waiting at tables. She showed us to our table, and a live Country and Western band was playing at the far end.

“This is cool,” said Rob, and I smiled.

The food was good and plentiful. I ordered barbequed chicken, and watched Rob eat his way through an enormous rack of ribs. Carrie had a small steak, and Mike went for the 20 ounce T-bone. I had eaten here before, and knew the size of portions, so knew from experience that the chicken was the safest bet.

The boys were quaffing beer as if it was going out of fashion, and the alarm bells started ringing. Despite the rule about being 21 and drinking alcohol, the guys did look older, as did we. At this rate, they would be too inebriated to drive away, and I had visions of the local police and all sorts of shit.

“Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s driving?”

“Huh?”

“Tonight, after this, who’s driving?”

“Uh, I dunno.”

“Well, think now before you drink too much. They won’t let you leave the camper there, and if you try to DWI, you’ll be doubly screwed.”

The boys looked at each other, and Rob took out a coin, and flipped it.

Rob lost, and ordered a diet Coke.

After that I relaxed, and actually enjoyed myself. They boys were reasonably intelligent and good company. I even danced some, and Mike was smiling again.

We walked back around midnight, stopping by their van.

“Hey, thanks Josie. That was a good night.”

I saw Rob and Carrie walk a little way off, and smiled. I was a little envious, but I knew that Stewart was arriving soon.

“Mike, it was fun. Thanks.”

“And thanks for being sensible, neither of us are, so it was a good thing you came along.”

I kissed his cheek.

“Thanks also for being a gentleman, and not hitting on me.”

He smiled and looked at his feet.

“It was hard, but as I said, if ever…..”

“Thanks, I’ll remember. Goodnight.”

“Good night, Josie Fortune.”
 
 
Rob was clearly attracted to Carrie, and the feelings appeared reciprocated. Mike found a girl who worked in a hotel up the road, and I was slowly, but reluctantly, dropped.

Before long, I was with the coach of departing guests at Orlando Airport, and the arrivals were collecting their bags. I knew Stewart was on the flight, and was so excited I could hardly contain myself.

One by one, the Lynx customers made their way through, and I was there, in my red outfit, to greet them. I directed them to the coach, and waited until I had everyone. Stewart appeared in shorts and a Miami Dolphins shirt, looking a lot hunkier that I remembered.

He came straight up to me, with that cheeky grin on his face.

“Hi babes, remember me?” he said, and kissed me.

“Sorry, just who are you sir?” I said, in my American accent.

A couple standing next to us frowned and looked sharply at Stewart.

“Stewart Hall, you know, the bloke you're going to marry,” he said, and I blushed.

“I don’t seem to have you on my list sir, you’ll have to go back to England,” I said.

He grinned.

“God, it is so good to see you. You look lovelier than ever,” he said, and I smiled.

“You look good too. Have you been working out?”

“Does it show?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Yeah, I’ve been going to a gym three days a week. I was turning into a real slob, so I have tried to make myself look better for you.”

“Well, go get on the coach, it is that big white one there. I’ll be out in a minute,” I told him, and waited for the stragglers.

Finally, all were accounted for, and I got on the coach and started my routine, and found myself slipping back into the American accent as usual. Then I went and handed out the welcome packs and sat down just as we arrived at the hotel.

I waited for everyone to get off and sorted out the rooms. I answered their immediate questions. Then I was alone with Stewart who was sitting in the sun being very patient.

I went out and he looked up at me.

“So, are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, it's fun.”

“You are very good at it, and the accent is perfect.”

“Thanks, look, I have to change, so bring your stuff and I’ll show you your room.”

“My room? I thought….”

“Wait and see,” I said, and took his hand.

I opened the door, and he saw the double bed, and the huge TV.

“This is your room, and this…” I said, showing him the back room and the even bigger bed, “is my room.”

He had dropped his bag on the floor, and he grabbed me.

“Come here, you.”

“Why, what ya gonna do to li’l ol’ me?” I teased.

“Eight weeks, Jo. It's eight weeks.”

“What is?” I asked innocently.

He just kissed me, and I clung to him. The passion that had been building in us both over the preceding weeks now overflowed and before I knew it, we were taking each clothes off.

I was only wearing a blouse, skirt, bra and knickers, and he only had on shorts and a tee shirt, so we were naked very quickly.

He looked at me, and held both hands as we stood facing each other.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

“And you are very hard and want something,” I said, and he smiled.

I reached out and took his cock in my hand. It was very hard and very warm. He kissed the nape of my neck, and then my breast, catching a nipple in his teeth, and making me gasp.

I pushed him onto the bed, and knelt astride him, kissing him and stroking him. I wanted him so much.

He touched me between my legs, and I almost shouted in pleasure.

“You are so wet,” he said.

“So, why do you think that is?”

“I dunno, you want something too, maybe?”

“Oh, just shut up and fuck me,” I said, and gasped again as he slowly inserted his cock in my hot and very ready little hole. He was very gentle, and took it so slowly. I gradually sat down on him so he was as far inside me as he could be. It felt wonderful.

I started to rock back and forth as it stimulated my clitoris, and he moved with me, thrusting in and out in time with my rocking. I could feel myself losing control as I approached what I understood to be an orgasm, and literally screamed as it hit me.

Never before had I felt anything like this, and then I came again and again as he kissed my nipples, and grabbed my bum.

He was quite quick, as he had been waiting a long time for this moment. He suddenly started to jerk and arched his back, and he was so deep, I thought I’d split.

His spasms told me he was injecting me with his semen, and the thought of him coming inside me brought me to another final orgasm.

I stayed where I was, just kissing him, as I felt him subside inside me, finally slipping out.

“Better now?” I said.

He lay there, breathing heavily.

“Shit,” he said, and I smiled, and touched his now flaccid penis.

“I think I’ve killed it,” I said.

“Shit,” he repeated.

“Aw. What’s the matter? Has you gone and broken your wee-wee?” I said, in a baby voice.

“Josie, where the hell did you learn to fuck like that?”

I smiled.

“Just because I didn’t have all the right kit, it didn’t stop me from using my imagination. Why, did you like that?”

“It was wonderful.”

“As good as a real girl?”

“I wouldn’t know, but shit. You are as much a real girl as I could handle.”

I looked at him.

“You’ve never had it before?” I asked, and he shook his head.

“Isn’t that sweet; a first time for both of us?” I said.

We lay there for a while, letting the air dry us off. I held his soft little penis, and ended up just playing with it in my mouth.

It didn’t stay soft for long, and he pushed me onto my back, and thrust himself back inside me again.

This time he kept going for longer, and after ten minutes we were both drenched in sweat and I was dizzy with pleasure. I had lost count, and when he finally thrust and ejaculated into me, I was actually grateful, for I don’t think I could have kept going much longer.

We had an hour before the meeting with the clients, so I dragged myself to the shower. Stewart joined me, and I had to be very strong, as he became aroused again.

“Look, I have to work. So, go take a cold shower, and I’ll be back soon,” I said, and managed to get dressed. I was drying my hair, when he attacked me, and kissed me.

“Stoo. Stop it. I can’t, not right now,” I shouted, and he laughed.

I put on my make up and he was lying on the bed stark naked, his erection back in place. I kissed him and then his dick.

“Keep my place, I’ll be back soon. I’ll bring back some lunch,” I said, and reluctantly left him alone.
 
 
Part 10
 
 
“Josie, why?”

“Stewart, because I need to know that I can.”

“But the police, you could do so much better!”

“You sound just like my father.”

“Well, that proves it, I'm right!”

“Look, just because it's not your first choice, neither is it what my father wants for me, I have to look at my future; it's my life, regardless of what others may want for me,” I said.

We were in the living room at my home in Oxford.

“Have you thought about, you know, your past?” he asked. Usually this was a tactic designed to make me crumble, but this time I didn't.

“You mean telling them that I used to be male, yes, actually I have.”

“Don't you think that'll put them off?”

“Why should it? Many forces are actively recruiting people who are either gay or transgendered, just like they want people from any minority group in society.”

“What about university? With your A level grades, you could even get into Oxford.”

“And do what? Waste three years studying something that will be of sod-all use for the rest of my life?”

“Shit, what made you so cynical all of a sudden?”

It was early in February 2003, and I'd been back from America for several months, having just turned nineteen. Jessica's wedding in Texas had been brilliant, but everything after that had been a down-hill slide into anti-climactic drabness.

Stewart was still fully committed to the shop, which had expanded. I still hadn't received my cut, but Martin was at least able to look at me without squirming with embarrassment. He was well aware that he'd missed the boat, as my share had more than doubled over the last few months, so when he could have paid me twenty thousand, he was looking at nearer fifty now, yet he still claimed he couldn't afford to. This suited me, as I saw it as an investment, particularly as I had lost interest in the shop and the computers that had at one time meant so much to me. I had, however, made sure that I had my share legally documented, as I wouldn't put it past Martin to try to renege on the agreement.

They hadn't changed, but I had, beyond all recognition!

I suppose seeing Jessica embrace the materialist's dream by marrying her millionaire had made me think deeply about my own aspirations. For so long, all I ever wanted to do was to become a woman, the fact I had achieved that meant that I had no fixed idea as to what I wanted to do with my life. The desire to be a girl had been so all-embracing that I couldn't think outside very much at all, only as much as people expected of me. Now the future was lacking the one thing that predominated most of my conscious thoughts, there was just a void in its place, - a void I desperately needed to fill.

The wedding in America had a touch of Disney-like froth to it that I found faintly distasteful. Oh, one couldn't fault the whole affair, from the beautifully decorated church, the fabulous dresses, the perfectly choreographed ceremony, the immaculate stretch-limousines, the fantastic reception or even the awesome party afterwards. However, for my somewhat more modest tastes, I found it so sugary to be sickly sweet.

Take the dresses.

I was one of Jessica's bridesmaids, along with three of her friends. The dresses must have cost nearly a thousand dollars each, yet they were so over-the-top with lace and frills that one could never possibly wear them again. They were stunning, fitting like a second skin, but no matter how much I adored wearing mine, I could see it was completely impractical and would probably never get an airing ever again.

Jessica's dress looked like something out of Gone With The Wind, complete with veiled bonnet and a bouquet that reached the ground. Two pages, cousins of the groom, held her twenty foot train, it just was just TOO much!

The rest of our family flew out from England a couple of days before the wedding and were put up in a five star country club/hotel a few miles from the groom's family home near Dallas. Dad was embarrassed when he found that Max had literally 'bought' the hotel for the duration, so none of us had to pay for anything, and no one other than our family were staying there. I joined them on the day before the wedding, having seen Stewart off on a plane back to his beloved shop, and caught a short flight from Orlando to Dallas/Fort Worth.

Jessica hadn't seen me since before my surgery, so when I walked into the hotel to find her organising our family, she stared at me for a couple of seconds before she realised who I was.

I was very tanned, but so was she. My hair was much longer and bleached almost white by the sun. Standing next to her, we looked so alike that most people believed us to be identical. I was, however, a good inch and a half taller, and I think my bust was a little fuller, but apart from that we did look remarkably alike.

“Oh my God; I don't believe you!” she screamed, rushing over to hug me in a tight embrace. “You look absolutely divine!”

She even sounded American now.

Despite falling into the trap of adopting local accents, I decided to become more British that the Royal Family, so I made sure I sounded crisp and very English whenever I spoke.

This had the opposite effect to what I intended, despite knowing how attracted the American males seemed to be with the English accent, the more upper-class sounding the better. I did an exceptionally good upper-class accent!

I had wanted to be rather aloof and distant, in order to deter any possible amorous advances by testosterone-laden American jocks. My act, for such that it was, must have been unconvincing, for I seemed to attract them in droves, particularly when they discovered that I was unmarried and had no male partner in tow.

Dad made one of his best speeches, ever! I was dreading it, for I knew how dreary some of his speeches have been in the past. As an academic, he sometimes fails to touch down on planet Earth for very long, but he displayed a degree of awareness of his daughter and life in general that caught me by surprise.

His delivery was so British, dead-pan and calm, that the mainly American audience failed to realise he was being funny until Jessica and I started laughing and crying at the same time. His description of Jessica's previous love interests was absolutely on the nail, and I had to admit that I'd underestimated my father's level of awareness of what went on around him.

Anyway, the wedding was excellent, the party went on long into the night, after which Max and Jessica, now Mrs Strondheim, took off to the Caribbean on his private Lear Jet from his private airstrip next to the family mansion. I didn't even get time to tie some old cans on the back before take off.

I managed, eventually, to get to bed, alone, I might add, and spent the next week with my parents and brothers playing tourist in and around Dallas.

It was strange being with my brothers and their respective families again, as I hardly knew them. They were a bit older than Jess and I, so really we'd spent very little time with them over the years. I hadn't even met Mark's wife, as I'd been away at school when they'd got married in a registry office in Wales. There were two nephews and one niece now, but I was uncertain who had what.

Being what and who I was now, meant that they didn't know me at all, so it was like getting to know people from scratch. There was some embarrassment and the atmosphere was a little stilted as they came to terms with their prejudices, but I ignored that and wore them down by just being me. In the end, I even managed to remember that Mark was married to Kathy, and they had Julian and Samantha, while Jeremy's wife was called Gail and they had little Toby, who was only six months old. When one is all but devoured by something like a gender identity problem, it's amazing how much of the outside world goes on without you being either aware or even interested.

Free of the problem, I was now able to be both interested and aware. It was very humbling to be hugged by little people who call you Aunty Jojo!

Coming home was the first step into the anti-climax. The time in Orlando had been hard work but good fun. Miranda sang my praises and offered me a full-time position with the company. I said I needed time to think about it, as I was still uncertain whether to go to university or not.

Christmas was the next anti-climax. Mark and Jeremy, both being busy professionals, decided that the wedding was all the time they could spare, and both were required to work over the holiday season. That was a shame, as I knew my parents would have adored having a full house for Christmas, particularly as the grandchildren would have loved the old house and all the goodies in the dusty old attic. Jessica told us that she was spending Christmas with her new American in-laws, and so it was just me and the old folks.

Stewart, despite declaring everlasting love for me, went with his family to some relatives in Yorkshire for Christmas, knowing that I was on my own.

In the end, I persuaded my parents to go up to Cumbria and spend the time with Jeremy, Gail and little Toby. In desperation, I called up Miranda and took a four week post as a Lynx rep in La Vigno in the Italian Alps, covering the Christmas and New Year period.

This time, I was there as myself, not pretending to be my sister. I was as much of a woman as I could ever be, short of experiencing a monthly bleed and actually conceiving, there was nothing to say I was any different to any other woman.

I flung myself into the work with gusto, working hard and playing equally hard. I skied as much as I could, improving and honing my skills as I did so, as well as making many new friends. Lynx only had one rep in this resort, as we only sent around forty people as a rule. If more came then another rep was found, and so as we'd booked nearly sixty, I went out as a spare rep.

The resident rep was a guy called David Fuller, who started out being rather snotty and supercilious with me. Once he realised I wasn't as green as he'd thought he tolerated me, but I felt he was jealous of me. The fact I skied better than he did, spoke French and a little Italian and was far more relaxed made our relationship difficult at best.

I didn't let it bother me, and just got on with my job. I met an Italian Ski Instructor called Tony in the bar one evening and decided I needed some companionship.

Sex with Tony was completely different to anything I had experienced to date. Paul had been loving, gentle and kind, and just what I had needed at the time. Stewart was fumbling, exciting and fun, so we learned things together, but compared to Tony, both were complete amateurs.

Tony was well equipped, by being amazingly good looking, physically powerful, charming and with an enormous tool. The only real problem was that he knew that these attributes made him almost perfect.

I wasn't after a husband, or a limpit-like boyfriend who'd go into a decline if I should ever even think about looking at the trousers of another man. I was after someone who'd look attractive next to me at any social occasion, share my table at meal times, so I didn't have to eat alone, and finally someone who could make me feel like a woman in bed.

Did I tell him that I used to be male?

No, I bloody didn't.

I moved into his apartment, and then we shared two weeks together, during which time I learned much from him. He was the kind of man that I would have loved to have been, had I been able to remain a male. He was gregarious and popular, with both men and women, and he was relaxed in any company, regardless of age, gender, nationality or socio-economic grouping.

We actually made a stunning couple, with his dark and swarthy Italian looks and me with my Nordic fairness and golden tan.

He was a giant in bed, capable of making our coitus last for twenty or thirty minutes at a time. Many a time, he'd leave me breathless and sweaty, completely exhausted and sated. I think I must have satisfied him, for he managed to remain faithful for all of two weeks, which, I found out from a friend of his, was a record for him.

Our relationship, if that is what it was, came to an abrupt and almost violent end when I came back to his apartment early one afternoon. I first became aware of odd noises coming from our bedroom, so as I walked down the narrow passage, I had already guessed what was happening.

My heart sank. I had a choice. I could leave, and thereby pretend that nothing had happened, and presumably he'd still screw me and pretend he was in love with me. In those few moments I took a long hard look at myself. I didn't love him, so I didn't feel inclined to give him the satisfaction.

Slowly pushing the bedroom door open, I surveyed the scene. He was lying on his back with the girl astride him with her back to me, moaning with pleasure. This had been my favourite position, so stunned by what I saw, I watched for a few seconds, before either of them became aware of my presence. Her hair was long, flowing down her back, and I experienced a real pang of jealousy, for she looked very young. I guessed that one of his students had flashed her eyes in that way he couldn't resist, but he couldn't resist flashing eyes, and I should know.

My clothes were in the wardrobe, so I simply walked across and opened the wardrobe, taking took out all my clothes. He saw me first, and his expression of horror and guilt was almost comical, but I didn't feel like laughing.

“Don't stop, Tony, I'm sorry to interrupt, but as I'm looking for a real man, I thought I'd better leave you to those schoolgirls that are so impressed by your charms.”

I then walked out leaving the front door open.

Half an hour later he came over to my apartment and pleaded with me to forgive him.

“I don't know what happened, Jojo, I was just so weak,” he said.

“Yes, you were,” I said, quite calm, but seething and ashamed inside. I had thought I was enough of a woman to please any man, so my pride and self confidence was hurting very much. I was also feeling a degree of shame at being disloyal to Stewart, so that didn't help.

“Please forgive me?” he said.

I looked at him with fresh eyes. This man, who was very much a man, was also a little boy, who, once let loose in the candy store, had to try every candy on display, even if some made him sick. Why? So he could tell his friends he had.

I was just another piece of candy, and therefore in his eyes, just another notch on his belt.

“I forgive you, Tony, but I've learned my lesson. What we had was fun, but was never meant to be more than what it was, a bit of fun while it lasted. Now it's over, so we can both move on.”

If I thought my pride was hurt, it was nothing compared to his. He wailed and actually cried, but it didn't move me. I may be a confused, naíve young woman, but I wasn't stupid. Eventually he saw he wasn't getting anywhere with me and left after I agreed to say nothing about what happened.

“On one condition,” I said. “Don't you dare say this was my fault and say you dumped me for any reason whatsoever! We've parted because you are a double-dealing, selfish little shit who can't keep his dick in his trousers for more than ten minutes. If I hear anything different, then I will tell everyone the truth, including that the girl was under fifteen.”

“But she's seventeen!” he wailed.

“So you say!” I shouted back, forgetting that I wasn't much older.

No the best way to end a relationship, but I did feel a small degree of satisfaction every time he avoided me in the town or on the slopes. I grew up in La Vigno. I learned more about people than I actually wanted to, and I learned that although being a holiday rep was fun, it wasn't something I wanted to do for the rest of my working life. I didn't want to end up like Miranda.
 
 
Here I was, back home once more and arguing with an increasingly possessive and unreasonable Stewart .

That makes me sound a real cow, but actually, he and I were still getting on fine, except he was beginning to piss me off. While we were doing what he wanted, where he wanted and when he wanted, we were fine, but if I should want to do something different, then we faced difficulties. For the most part, we just did things together in a relaxed way, much as we always had, but I was changing faster than he was. My experiences in La Vigno had meant I had grown up quite a lot in the last few weeks.

I was honest with him, once I came back from Italy, in that I admitted having sex with one guy. I didn't say that I'd had sex with the man for fifteen days, sometimes three times a day, as I felt that might have been a tad insensitive.

Stewart told me he understood, and then admitted that he'd screwed a girl at a party while I was away, so we were even.

Oh yeah?

We picked things up from where we left off in Florida, only to find that things weren't quite the same. I'm not certain whether my expectations had changed, or his had. I suspect they had both changed, and I was unable to pinpoint exactly what was wrong. I still felt very fond of Stewart, and judging by the way he treated me, he still felt the same about me. But I wondered whether we actually loved each other.

Loved?

I hesitate to use the word, as I'm not sure whether it is right. The Greeks had at least four words to cover the multitude of sins that is crammed into that enormous, four-letter English word.

Did I love him?

I don't know.

I was very fond of him, in that he made me laugh and smile whenever we were together. I missed him when we were apart, and I loved being in his company, but did I love him?

Did I feel he was my special person with whom I'd spend the rest of my life?

Did my heart sing every time I heard his voice?

Did the prospect of being with him make me feel fulfilled?

No.

In fact, he was beginning to irritate me more than amuse me, if I have to be completely honest.

Part of the problem was we'd been best mates as boys, so we knew each other too well. Now I was female, he expected the closeness to stay the same, but my needs had changed. He was treating me as his best mate who just happened to have a vagina and looked attractive when we went out together.

Another part of the problem was me.

I had a past and Stewart, through no fault of his own, was part of my past. I actually wanted to forget my past and make a new life, in which that unhappy boy called Joseph could be all but forgotten. With Stewart that could and would never happen, and we both knew it.

It was at this point that my father, bless him, stuck his oar in and asked me when I was considering applying for university.

Everyone was still trying to make me fill the boxes they designed for me, and I was bursting with resentment. I had my own life. If I made mistakes, then they were mine and mine alone. If I succeeded, then it would be down to me and no one else.

“I'm not sure I am, Dad. I'm considering a career.”

“Most careers require a good degree, these days.”

“I'm considering joining the police,” I said.

The shit then hit the fan, with Stewart taking my father's side. The more they put up rational and reasonable arguments for me going to university and not joining the police, the more determined I became to do anything they didn't want me to. I then became more determined to make my own decisions, regardless of other peoples' designs on my life.

I stomped up to my room and locked the door.

Looking back on that episode now, I can see why it happened, but although I was aware that I was being both foolish and a little selfish, I so desperately wanted to be able to live my life the way I wanted to. The fact that a university degree would benefit any career choice I made, whether the police or something else, was a factor I refused to consider. Good advice is only any good when the receiver is receptive, otherwise it's just noise.

The one advice my father had given me over the years was never to act on impulse when emotionally involved. Sleep on any problem and look again in the cold light of a new day.

So the next day I called the only policeman I knew well enough to trust, Detective Superintendent Michael Hutchings, of the Special Branch in London.

His advice?

The sod, he advised me to get a degree and apply to the police once I'd done so. His rationale was simple. The police needed intelligent people, in that it needed people with skills and abilities as well as experience of life. I was nineteen and a transsexual. Okay, I was now a woman but my past was an issue, whether I liked it or not. University would allow me to broaden my academic knowledge base in a subject that would be useful to my new employer as well as to me, at the same time it would allow me to grow up more. It would also give me time to make decisions that otherwise could be made in haste.

Why was the world ganging up on me?

I almost wished that I could find a millionaire and get married, just like Jessica had done.

Almost.

Okay, so what could I study that would benefit me the most?

As I looked over the Oxford spires from the window of my bedroom, I knew the future was uncertain, but it was that uncertainty that excited me the most. For the first time in my life, I actually looked forward to the unknown, as I was finally the person I wanted to be.

---

 
End of Book One