Working Girl 1

By Susan Brown.

 

 

This story has been migrated from Classic Big Closet.

I was waiting for things to settle down here before continuing this epic tale (sic).

Apologies for those who have read it before. Parts 2, 3 & 4 will appear over the next few days closely followed by a new part (surprisingly called part 5)

 

 

Part 1

OK this is a personal journal for my eyes only. God knows what I would feel if this got out into the open for anyone to read! . The only reason why I'm doing this is because my therapist said it would help with some 'issues' that I have. In my opinion, it won't do any good, but here goes.

'But Mr Davis, I will get you the rent money by next week, I promise'.

The creep looked at me with an expression that indicated that he had heard that one before and if pigs had wings they would be called pigeons.

'Look Tony, this is the third time in 4 months that you have been late with the rent. I'm a nice guy but not that nice'.

He sighed, his bad breath nearly knocking me out. A gross lump of a man with sweaty armpits and an odour to match; His mother probably loved him, but no one else would. Had he never heard of personal hygene?

OK, you have until Wednesday to pay of all you owe or you're out.'

I shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

I made myself a coffee with slightly shaking hands and sat down in the deck chair that served as my best chair.

I looked around the apartment as I sipped the hot drink and noticed that the damp patch on the wall now looked like the shape of Africa. It was growing, it used to be Japan no doubt it would soon take over the whole wall. What a dump.

I suppose, as this is a sort of journal, I ought to mention how I came to be in this flea-infested hellhole of an apartment. You never know, my great grand children may want to know about me someday.

I was born 18 years and 6 months ago. (The six months are important, you will see why in a minute).

I had a happy childhood living with my mum and dad in Kent (England).

My dad was a computer software designer and my mum was the secretary to the managing director of a large company that made ball bearings and stuff like that.

We lived in a large detached house in the commuter belt, about 30 minutes from the centre of London.

I was an only child and I suppose a bit spoilt. I had a big garden to play in and doting parents who liked to be generous with birthday and Christmas presents.

I went to a local private school. It was OK but being a bit shy and small for my age, I didn't make many friends. Luckily there was no bullying at the school, so I wasn't too badly off.

Life was quite good for me until I was 16, when disaster struck. My Dad died in a plane crash. I wont tell you how much grief that caused my mum and me. It was a period that I try to forget about, even now.

Dad was well insured, so there were no financial worries. About a year later, mum married her boss.

It was mutual hatred at first sight. David Roberts was a man who liked to bully people. What mum saw in him I will never know. They say that love is blind, so that must have been it. I think that he was a bit of a control freak. He was always bossing me about, you know what I mean:.

'Don't do this Tony, Don't do that Tony. Don't stay out after dark, bla, bla, bla '.

Mum and David were married about a year and I was three days short of my 18th birthday when the next terrible day happened.

I came home from the cinema to find a police car and an ambulance, just leaving my house.

I ran in but was stopped by a policewoman.

'Who are you?

'Tony Summers, I live here. What's going on?'

Are you Mrs Roberts's son?

'Yes.'

'Come and sit over here. I need to talk to you.'

Mum was dead. She had been washing her hair and used a hair dryer with wet hands. The dryer was faulty and she had an electric shock.

I was numb. The ambulance had taken my mum away and I had lost the only two people in the world that loved me.

The next week went in a sort of haze. I saw little of my step dad. He appeared to be upset about my mum, but not unduly. A control freak to the last, even when his wife had died in such tragic circumstances.

My birthday passed without any ceremony. The funeral came and went. I was still in shock and I had not cried, God knows why, I had good reason to.

A couple of days after my mum's funeral, David called me into his study.

'Sit down, Tony. We need to talk.'

I sat down and waited for David to speak. I somehow knew that I was not going to like what he was to say.

'We've never really got on, have we.'

'No, I suppose not.'

'I am sorry about that, but it can't be helped. I am selling this place and moving abroad. I think it best, now that you are 18, for you to try to stand on you own two feet and make something of yourself. You are not intelligent enough to go to university, so you must get a job and perhaps an apartment somewhere. Here is a cheque for  £2000, which should help you with the apartment deposit and other expenses.'

He handed me the cheque. I looked at it without understanding fully what was going on here.

I cleared my throat and said 'But Mums will, she left me something in that didn't she?'

'No, when we were married, the will was changed.'

'Who gets my dads money?'

'It wasn't your dads money, it was your mums and she decided when we married that I should be the main beneficiary.'

I should have said something. I should have shouted at him, punched him, done something, but I didn't.

I got up and walked out. Out of the house, my home since I was born and out of David Roberts' life.

So that is how I came to live in this desirable residence. I had no money no job and probably no roof over my head soon.

I had tried loads of agencies for jobs but I had no qualifications. I just did not do well at school. I was always bored. My teachers all said that I was intelligent and should do well, but when it came to exams, I just did very very badly.

I had written to lots of different companies for a variety of jobs. The problem was, I need a reasonable amount of money to come in to pay for my apartment and that meant ruling out the MacDonald type jobs. They just didn't pay enough.

I searched the papers every day and spent a small fortune writing letters.

I was either too old (18!!!), too young, had no experience or no qualifications to get the jobs I applied for. I tried shops, banks, the police force and lots of different jobs too varied to mention. All I got from the ones that bothered to answer were rejections.

I heard a knock on the door.

With dread I cracked the door open, thinking it was the odious Davis, trying to pester me again. Luckily it was Sheila, my only friend in the building.

I opened the door wider as she breezed in.

'Hi Tony, how's tricks?'

Sheila was about 28, a lovely red head and had a body that men drooled over. She was still in her nurses' uniform and looked as sexy as any of those pics on those magazines that I have to go on tiptoe to reach in the newsagents.

She plonked herself down on my shaky bed and crossed here shapely legs.

I dragged my eyes away and said 'Davis was after me for money again.'

'That turd should be put away somewhere. How long have you got?'

'Until Friday.'

'I'll lend you some money, but I can't afford all of it.'

'Thanks Sheila but I won't take your money, you can barely afford living here as it is.'

'We'll talk about it later. Oh here's you're mail, I picked up as I came in.'

She gave me three letters.

'Thanks.'

I took them and opened the first one. It said that I am guaranteed to win pots of money as long as I ring a premium rate phone number.

The second one was a regret letter.

Sorree, your application has not been successful this time, but we will keep you in our database and contact you as soon as etc……

I sighed and opened the last one.

Dear Ms Summers,

After viewing your application, we would like to see you as soon as possible.

Please can you come for an interview on Monday the 5th of June at 10.00am.

We attach details regarding our location.

When you arrive at reception, please ask for Mr Roberts.

If you are unable to keep the above appointment, please let us know.

Yours Sincerely,

James Johnson
Director.

I was stunned; at last, I had managed to get an interview!

'Well.' Said Sheila impatiently, 'why have you got that goofy expression on your face. Come into some money or something?'

I was speechless; I just passed the letter over.

' Wow, great news, Tony well done….'

She stopped suddenly and looked at the letter again and then grabbed the envelope.

'Erm Tony, have you seen who the letter is addressed to?'

I came out of my dream state and looked at Sheila as if she had gone crazy.

'It's to me of course' I said as I grabbed the envelope and looked at the name, 'It says to Ms…..'

My jaw dropped as I read,

Ms Toni Summers

I picked up the letter and saw that it started with Ms Summers.

'Oh God Sheila, they think I am a girl!'

<To be continued>

Copyright Susan Brown 1999

Tony can't believe his eyes !

Part 2

 

'I'll have to ring them. Let them know about the mistake.'

'What job was you going after, hun?' said Sheila.

I went a bit red.

'Erm, secretary.'

I hurriedly explained. 'The job didn't say anything about being male or female and anyway they can't discriminate any more. There are laws against it.'

Sheila looked at me with an amused expression on her face.

'Sure, Tony, do you really believe what you are saying. There are a few male secretaries, but that is normally big companies who need to be careful about discriminating. I'm betting that as you are going to be interviewed by the director, it's a small company without a human resources department.'

I knew in my heart that she was right. They would want a woman not a man.

'Why did you go for a job like that anyway?'

'I can type.'

'When did you learn that?'

'Well, my dad was a software engineer; he got me interested in computers. I learned how to use a computer keyboard when I was knee high to a grasshopper. I got to be very good, before he died. I used to help write up his notes'

I screwed up the letter and threw it in the bin.

Sheila was looking at me oddly.

'How much does the job pay.'

16K a year with bonuses.'

'Wow, that's good money. You could afford to live on that, couldn't you?'

'Sure, but its academic, I can't go to an interview. It's a waste of time. I'll ring them tomorrow to cancel.'

Sheila gave me another strange look.

'Tony, have you got any other jobs in the pipeline, say brain surgeon, pop singer, judge, anything at all?'

'No, you know I haven't.'

'Stand up a minute.'

'What?'

'Just do as Auntie Sheila asks, please.'

I stood up. 'What is wrong with Sheila,' I thought, 'she needs to go to bed. This night work is getting to her.'

'Turn around.'

'What!'

'I said turn around, silly, do a twirl, go on, just for little me.'

I shook my head, thinking that she had flipped or something but slowly turned around until I was facing her again.

'You are a skinny little runt for a boy of 18 aren't you.'

'PARDON.'

'Oh sorry Tony I know you have a thing about your size and shape, but don't you see, it could work.'

'WHAT COULD WORK!'

'Don't shout, you'll wake up the rats in the walls.'

I calmed down a bit.

'Sorry, but I get upset when people call me names and don't explain themselves.'

'I apologise Tony; look I'll lay it on the line. One you have no money, two you have no job, and three you are about to be thrown out on you're ear. Am I right so far?'

I nodded, still not knowing where this was going.

'OK point four, you are quite small, in fact you could be called petite, am I right?'

'Yes, I can't help that though can I?'

'No but you can use it to your advantage. Now we are realistic enough to know that you won't get that job, if you go to the interview as you are.'

'Yes, but I can't go any other way, can I!'

'Yes you can.'

'No I can't, silly!'

'What if you went as a girl.'

'A GIRL.'

'Yup, I think it would work.'

I sat down heavily on my creaky bed.

'Sheila, are you nuts, how can I go as a girl when its obvious to anyone with eyes that I am a boy.'

'Not when I'm finished with you hun. Look I know you sort of look like a boy now, but lets face it you are no hunk. You are thin, small, in fact you are about an inch shorter that me. You have a nice face, do you shave much?'

I felt my face go red. What with being blond and a little under developed in the he-man department, I only needed to shave a couple of times a week, if that. I somehow never did have my fair share of hairs.

'Sometimes,' I said in a small voice.

All this was embarrassing and more than a little bit personal. Remember I was painfully shy and I was very immature where the opposite sex was concerned. I didn't know how to deal with a feisty outgoing girl like Sheila and now she was calmly suggesting that I turn myself into a girl, get a job and live happily ever after!

Sheila grabbed my hand and said. 'Look Tony, as the song says I think that you can do it, if you really try. I will help you. We have a few days to get things right. Lets go to my apartment and try to see if I can turn you into the ideal secretary.'

'What about your boyfriend Steve, won't he be there?'

'No he's on call at the hospital till tomorrow, come on, don't wimp out on me now.'

In a daze, I let her lead me to her apartment and as I went in all I could think of was what would my mum think of her little boy now.

So there I was sitting on Sheila's bed being shown all manner of girly things.

The floor looked as if a bomb had hit it. There were skirts, blouses, panties, nylons, dresses and other things that I was not sure, all over the place.

'Ooh look, this would be lovely.' Exclaimed Sheila holding up a black blouse.

'Err, nice blouse.' Was all I could think of saying.'

'Don't be silly, this is my LBD.'

'LB what?' I asked innocently.'

'God, you haven't lived much have you, hun. Its my little black dress, what do you think?'

I went as red as a beetroot and just sort of squeaked.

'Sorry Tony, I didn't get that.'

I cleared my strangely constricted throat and said, 'I can't wear that, its far to short. Do you want to get me into trouble or something!'

Sheila looked at the dress critically and sighed, 'Ah well, a girl has to try. OK what about this then?'

She pulled a longer dress out of the pile in front of her. It was a cream colour and looked like a sort of cottony fabric with straps. (hey, don't ask for detailed descriptions, its not as if I am a fashion expert or something !)

'Can't I wear a top and a pair of slacks?' I asked, more in hope than expectation.

'No, you need to wear something that oozes efficient secretary. Lets try it on, shall we?'

'OK' I said with a certain amount of natural reluctance.

I grabbed the dress and started to put it on.

'What are you doing, Tony. You have to take your clothes off first, dummy.'

'Is that really necessary, we only want to see if it fits.'

'You won't know if it fits unless you strip down properly and try the dress on like a real girl. Look we are going about this the wrong way. Lets do it as if it was me getting ready to go out for the evening, OK?'

'OK.'

'Right, first things first. Go and get take a shower. I don't want any BO on my nice clean clothes. Wash your hair and don't forget to use the conditioner. When you've finished, put on the robe that's hanging on the back of the shower room door. While you are doing that, I will tidy up here and get your undies and things sorted out.'

I scooted into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it, just to make sure that Sheila didn't rush in and take me by surprise.

I stripped down to my birthday suit and got into the shower. I found some shower gel. It was pink and smelled nice. As I showered I was thinking all the time that I was silly to think that I could pull this off. My self-esteem was not great. I had no confidence in myself and no way would I be able to fool anyone that I was a girl and that I could hold down a job as a secretary. I washed my hair, remembering to use the conditioner on my rather long locks. Finally I was finished. I switched off the shower, grabbed a big towel and dried myself as quickly as I could.

I stepped out of the shower and saw the robe on the back of the door. It just had to be pink and silky, didn't it!

I put it on and tied it using the silky belt. I must admit that it did feel nice, sort of soft and slippery. Anyway, enough of these pervy thoughts, I went back into the bedroom to find Sheila putting a few things on the bed that looked decidedly feminine.

'All clean then?' she had in that bright, nursey sort of way.

''Yes, I think so.'

'OK take the robe off and lets have a good look at you.'

I did my red beetroot face again.

'Look Tony, I have seen more bare men than you have had hot dinners. Just think of it as if you are in hospital and are undergoing treatment. I need to see you without your clothes on so that I can work out what size undies and things we need, OK?'

'OK. But promise you won't laugh.'

'What at? There is nothing under that robe that I haven't seen a million times.'

I slowly took of the robe and let it fall, holding my hand in front of my rather small and shrunken manhood.

'Well, you're skinnier than I thought. No hair except a few pubes. Quiet a nice shape though. I think we can do something with you that will convince your interviewer that you are worth employing.'

She ran her fingers through my hair.

'Put the robe back on while I sort you hair out. Its long enough for me to do something with it.'

I quickly did as she asked, better the robe than in the nuddie!

Sheila put some large rollers in my hair and then blow-dried it. She then pulled the rollers out, dried it some more and then attacked my shocked locks with a large hairbrush. She seemed to take ages. Pulling my hair one way then another. I was getting a headache by the time she was satisfied.
'That will do for now, but I think we will have to visit the salon before you go to the interview.'

Salon! That sounded ominous.

'Can I see what you've done?' I asked.

'Not yet, wait until we've finished. Now lets do some makeup'

Do I need makeup? We're only trying on some clothes!'

'Remember hun, we said that we were getting ready to go out for the evening. No way would I go out without some war paint on. Just trust me, I wont make you look stupid, OK?'

'OK,' I said reluctantly.

First of all she put splotches of skin coloured cream all over my face and neck with a sponge and worked it in .

'You have good skin, Tony but you don't want it to shine in bright lights, anyway a girl is naked without foundation. You don't need much though. Now some powder, good, you do have nice skin, I'm envious. OK we need to colour those cheeks, you do look a bit anaemic. Lets put some nice mild pink blusher on. There, that looks lovely. Right, close your eyes while I put on some eye shadow.'

She carried on talking and I just let it wash over me. A strange feeling came over me as I was worked on by this determined nurse. I suppose it was a mental shrugging of my shoulders. I accepted that she was going to finish what she started and no amount of whinging on my part was going to alter it.

After nearly blinding me with a mascara brush and putting a number of coats of gloss on my lips, she was finished.

'That wasn't to bad was it?'

'I suppose not,' I said graciously.

'Right, lets get you some false boobies.'

She rummaged about in some drawers and pulled out a couple of rubber breasts!
'I used these when I went through my Dolly Parton phase. She helped me into a lacy bra and inserted the soft and spongy breasts over my natural boyish ones. Initially they felt cold and then as they warmed up with the heat of my body, all I could feel was the weight of them on my bra restricted chest.

'It feels funny,'

You'll get used to them. Now slip these panties on.'

I pulled up the silk and lacy panties, they were very and I mean very frilly. They felt smooth and silky just like the robe.

You had better wear these tights to hide that small bulge that's just appeared,'
I blushed as I realised that Mr Percy was perking up.

'Sit on the bed and I'll show you the best way of putting them on.'

She rolled up one leg and then the other. I stood up and pulled them up past my belly button. I now knew why they were called tights as Mr Percy subsided and then disappeared out of the way.

'Put your arms up, hun.'

I was on auto drive now, so I did as I was told.

'This is a slip to make sure that your dress doesn't cling to you, it also feel great.'
As I felt the slip slide over my body, I shivered a bit, it was probably the coldness of the fabric, it couldn't have been anything else.

'OK, now step into the dress and I will zip it up for you.'

I stepped in and Sheila helped me to pull it up and zip up the back. I must admit, it didn't feel as bad as I thought it would.

'Sit down and try on a pair of my shoes, you look about the same size? What are you?'

'A small six.'

'My aren't you a dainty toes,'

She crammed my feet into some cream coloured strappy shoes with long thin heals.
'That looks good, now stand up.

I tried to stand and immediately fell back down on the bed.

'SHIT.'

'Tut tut, tut, polite girls do not swear.'

'But Sheila, I can't stand up in these things.'

'Most girls love to wear these, it makes them taller, walk nice and they are considered to be sexy. You soon get used to them.'

'I don't want to be sexy and I don't want to get used to them,' I said as I struggled to stand up again.

Don't fuss there're only 3 inch heals. You should some others I've got. Here let me help you.'

I finally managed to stand up, my ankles wobbling with the strain of it all.
'Well done, now walk across the floor.'

I took one step and nearly fell over. How can I explain? It was like walking on a tightrope without a long bar to help with the balance.

'Here,' said Sheila, 'Hold my arm and try to relax a bit as we walk. Don't take big steps, try small ones. That's it, you're getting the hang of it now.'

It was very hard but despite the strain on my ankles, I started to get used to the strange shoes and the weird way I felt as I took small steps. I'm probably exaggerating but my hips felt like a pendulum, swaying from side to side as I walked.

'Can I see myself now?'

'OK, lets go look at you in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. Shut your eyes and I'll lead you.'

I shut my eyes and held on tight to Sheila's hand, not wanting to fall over again.

'Sheila, I said as I tottered into the bathroom with my eyes still shut, 'I don't think this is going to wor.....'

'Open you eyes hun.'

I did as I was told and looked at the mirror.

I didn't recognise the person in the mirror. It wasn't me.

<To be continued>

Copyright Susan Brown 2005

By

For some reason, Mr Percy was dancing rumbas in my panties, trying to break free from its nylon prison. I could not believe that I was the same person.

'Wow.' I said with awe.

As I looked at my new self, I realized that I was the spitting image of my mother. OK not exactly, but probably when she was a girl about my age. My mum always dressed young and could have been my older sister in the photo I have on my shelf in the flat.

I realised that to see my mother, all I needed to do was look in the mirror. I was part of her as she was part of me. From that time on, I felt better about my mother. I had lost her but I had many happy memories of her and also my great dad that I could draw on and treasure.

'Well sweetie what do you think?'

I looked at myself again and said, 'thank you Sheila you have helped make me feel a lot better today.'

'Oh sucks to that. Do you think that you can swing it?'

'Swing what?'

'The interview, silly!'

'What interview?'

'With McClarens, of course!'

Lord, I had forgotten that!

'Oh that again, I'll never get away with it. Remember I'm a boy not a girl!'

'Look again, Toni. I see a pretty no lets change that, a drop dead gorgeous girl, in the mirror, don't you?'

'Yes, I know I look nice but you can't be serious!'

'I am Toni, very serious. You look like a real girl. There's no reason
why you can't go to that interview and get the job.'

All my doubts came flooding back, big time.

'It's weird and kinky. I'll get locked up or something. It's all right
doing this in my own flat or yours, but it's a different matter trying to pretend to be a girl in front of other people. Anyway, what about women's intuition. I thought you girls had a sixth sense or something. Any girl or man for that matter would see through me straight away.'

Sheila looked at me and then said, 'You look like a girl, with your soft voice you sound like a girl. Unless they know you're not, then you will get away with it. Walk about a bit again, let's see if we can get you to walk like a girl naturally, so you don't even think about it.'

I reluctantly walked up and down on my now aching feet, once again trying to imagine the way a girl would walk.

Sheila laughed at me!

'You've forgotten all I showed you. Oh, Toni, women don't walk in a mincing way like that. Let me show you again.'

She walked up and down until I could see what she was getting at. Small steps and swing slightly at the hips, not wildly like I had been doing.

I tried again. I found it hard to get used to the damned shoes. They had a 3 inch heel and much higher than I was used to and they were a lot narrower than anything I had ever worn. My feet felt a bit pinched. However, I walked up and down, up and down until Sheila was satisfied I was doing OK.

I sat back down on the bed and Sheila immediately said, 'look at your
legs!'

I looked down and didn't see anything wrong.

'Your knees silly, you can see right up your knickers!'

I blushed deeply and shut my legs quickly.

'Sorry.' I mumbled. 'being a girl is bloody hard work.'

'Look honey, you will have to try to remember, think girl, not boy.
Small steps when you walk and sway your hips very slightly. When you sit down always put your knees together. Oh, and don't forget to smooth your dress under you as you sit. That would be a dead give away. Speak softly in a slightly higher key. Use your hands more when you talk. You men lack expression, we women move our hands and arms about when we speak, God knows why, but we do. Have you got all that?'

I tried to take it in but I couldn't believe that I would get away with
it. To say I lacked confidence would be an understatement.

Sheila saw that I wasn't convinced about all this.

'Ok honey, desperate measurements are called for.'

I looked at her with foreboding. What was this insane woman going to
suggest next?

'Are you hungry,' she asked.

I hadn't eaten much in the past few days. It was a bit difficult with
my income or lack of it.

'I'll eat later.'

'When did you last have a decent meal?'

'I don't know, yesterday, maybe.'

'Oh you poor thing. I have an idea. Let's go to McDonalds.'

'I can't afford it.'

'Don't worry, its my treat. You can pay me back with your first pay
packet.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes I'm sure.'

'Well, thanks Sheila. I'll just get changed and then we'll go.'

'Hang on a minute. You are going dressed as you are.'

'NO!'

'Don't worry, we'll go across town. No one will know you and it will
be great practice for your big day.'

'I can't! I will be found out and arrested or something.'

'You won't be arrested silly. Look at yourself, be honest. Do you look
like a girl or a boy?'

I reluctantly went over to the mirror again and looked at myself as if
I was looking at someone else. There was no denying it, I didn't look
like a boy dressed up. I looked like a teenage girl and a pretty one at
that! And yet I still felt that it was wrong to be like this. Years of prejudice against men being dressed as women and of trying to be
'manly' as I was supposed to be, left a mark that was hard to eradicate.

Sheila came up behind me and gave me a hug.

'I know how you feel honey. It's hard, I realize that. Just remember,
we are going somewhere that you never need go to again. If you are
caught out, no one will ever recognize you dressed as a boy. Believe
me honey, I have been a girl all my life and I have to tell you, if I
didn't know you as a boy I wouldn't think twice about what or who you
are. If you pull this off, you will have all the confidence you need for your interview.'

I stood there looking at the girl in the mirror. Suddenly, I didn't
worry any more. I had been through so much in my short life. It was
about time I started making things happen for me instead of waiting for
something to turn up. It was probably just bravado or the onset of me
going nuts, but I looked at Sheila and just said, 'OK, lets do it.'

Sheila found a tailored cream jacket from her things and I put
it on as it was a bit chilly outside. I followed her out of the flat and
as I walked down the stairs, I marvelled at the cool silky feeling of
the dress and slip brushing against my legs. Even though I was wearing nylons, I felt a bit naked to say the least. Conflicting emotions of fear and pleasure alternated as I went out of the front door and got
into Sheila's car.

Luckily, the street was empty apart from old Mrs. Jones across the
street who was chucking her cat out for the night.

'You OK honey?' said Sheila as she started the car.

'I'm not sure about this.'

'You are doing great. Mrs. Jones across the road didn't look shocked
when she saw you, did she?'

'No, that's because she's as blind as a bat.'

'Come on Toni, you are doing great. Just sit back and relax. What have you got to loose?'

'Nothing I suppose.'

Sheila leaned forward and put the radio on and suddenly we both laughed as we heard the familiar song 'Pretty Woman' coming from the speakers.

'That's a good omen,' laughed Sheila.

'I hope so!'

In no time at all, we arrived at McDonalds.

There were lots of people coming and going and the drive through was doing a roaring trade.

We parked as near as possible to the entrance and got out of the car.
I felt the wind in my hair and it felt strange as it blew across my
face. I had to hold my dress down as I was in danger of doing a Marilyn Monroe with it. My heart was pounding hard as we walked towards the brightly lit entrance. Sheila put her arm through mine for support. I was shivering and it wasn't just because I was cold. I was grateful that she was with me. There was no way I would have done this by myself.

'Stand tall honey, remember you are a lovely girl.'

We walked through the entrance and over to the counter.

'Hello ladies, how can I help you?'

The boy in the silly hat and uniform sounded so chirpy he must have
been eating birdseed.

'Big Mac and cola please for me and what would you like Toni?'

'Same please,' I whispered.

'Speak up honey I couldn't hear you.'

I cleared my throat nervously and said, in what sounded like Mini
Mouse's voice, 'same as you please.'

The boy behind the counter smiled and said, 'coming up ladies.'

As he was loading our trays, he was looking me up and down and to say the least I was somewhat uncomfortable. Had he seen through my disguise?

In no time we had our meal trays and after a cheery, 'have a nice day,'
from the acne ridden boy, who either had something in his eye or was
winking at me, we headed towards the comparative safety of a corner
table.

My shoes were starting to make my feet ache again.

'Remember small steps. You're a girl now,' whispered Sheila out of the corner of her mouth.

I shortened my step, imagining that everyone was looking at this kinky
boy dressed up as a girl.

Just before we reached the safety of our corner seat, a small brat of a
child decided to throw a tantrum. He/she screamed at the top of its
voice and threw its tray onto the floor. On the tray was a Big Mac and
it sort of exploded as it hit the ground. In the burger was a thin
green slice of pickle. The orphan pickle departed from the burger and
landed on the floor, my shoe landed on it a micro second later.

Before I knew it, I was doing a summersault in the air and landed on my backside.

Sheila screamed, the child (little sod!) screamed and I screamed.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by strangers, all looking down at me.

I closed my legs and tried to get up but unfortunately, on the tray had
been some pink milk shake laughingly and inaccurately called strawberry. This had leaked out of the cup and spread a thin film over the floor. I slipped again on the sloppy concoction and landed on my scantily clad rear end. I looked up at everyone staring at me. Everyone looked down at me spread-eagled on the floor covered in cold pink milkshake. I felt numb, wet, cold and thoroughly pissed off. I just gave up. Here I was, in the middle of McDonalds, dressed as a girl and surrounded by people who any second now were going to get the shock of their lives.

God knows why, probably hysteria, but I started laughing. Somehow, my mind went over and over that damned song 'Pretty Woman'.

If only Roy Orbison could see me now!

To be continued?

Before I knew it, Sheila had me back on my feet with a little help
from a spotty McDonald's helper, who looked like Ronald McDonalds son.
I was whisked into the ladies toilet (another thing to add further
horror to my already battered senses).

Luckily there was no one in the toilet. I think I would have died if
there was.

'Sheila, let me go home, please!'

'Now don't be a silly girl, Toni. You only slipped and fell over, no
big deal.'

'One, I am not a girl I am a boy and by the way I can hear the way
you are spelling my name. Two I am a boy in a girl's toilet. C I am
confused as hell and I've forgotten what I was going to say now. Oh
yes, I WANT TO GO HOME!'

'Now don't shout honey, it will only draw attention to yourself.
You are doing fine, look, it's only your coat that's really got wet
and dirty. Take it off and I'll see if I can't get it cleaned up a little.

'But everyone saw me. They must know by now that I am a pervert dressed
as a girl. I bet the police are on the way and they will lock me up and

throw away the key.'

Even I could tell that I was beginning to sound a bit delirious. It
must have been the shock. While I had been talking, Sheila had started
to clean me up and taken the sticky slice of pickle off of my hair. God
knows how it had arrived there. It must have had a life of its own. She
brushed my hair, wig or whatever. She then used plenty of tissues to wipe
up the splashes of pink goo on my once shiny shoes. She then proceeded to
fix my makeup, which by this time had started to look, to say the least,
bizarre.

You may think that I submitted to this meekly, but all the time I was
complaining, creating and behaving like a spoilt brat.

There was a knock on the door!

I shut up like a clam with laryngitis and looked at Sheila with horror.

'Quick, into the toilet booth, while I find out who it is.'

I rushed into the small cubicle locked the door and sat down on the
toilet. I nearly screamed as I realised that some prat had lifted the
seat and my silkily clad and almost bare rear end touched the cold
white porcelain of the toilet bowl. I eventually sorted myself out
and then heard Sheila and another woman talking about me.

'Hello Madam, I am the duty manageress. How is your friend, is she OK?'

'Yes she is tidying herself up in the cubicle. She'll be alright in a
minute.'

'The Mother of the little boy has apologised to you both and has left
She has paid for a new meal for you both. When your friend has cleaned up,
please let us know what you want and I'll make sure it's brought over to
your table. Is that OK?'

'Yes, that's fine. I don't think she will be long now.'

With that I heard the door close so I stood up unlocked the door and
poked my head out.

'Is she gone?' I whispered.

'Yes, did you hear what she said.'

'Yes, but I can't go in there, everyone will know what I am.'

'That's right they will.'

'Eh?'

'They will see you for what you are, a pretty young girl. Look at
yourself in the mirror. Is that a reflection of a boy or a girl?'

I looked at myself. My hair was a bit mussed up and my makeup still
wasn't quite repaired yet, but there was no denying that there was no
way anyone would think I was a boy dressed and looking like that. Hell,
I looked so nice, my penis started to shake itself and stir
uncomfortably down below. God, how creepy I was beginning to fancy
myself! Let me tell you, dear and patient reader that there is nothing
more uncomfortable than a restricted and bent stiffy!

'I look OK, I guess,' I said grudgingly.

'You look more that OK you look lovely and you know it. I wish I had
legs like yours. Now come on, let's finish tidying you up and go and
have that meal.'

In a few minutes, you would not have known that I had a near death
experience with a pickle. Sheila had gone off with the coat and then
came back with it looking a bit damp, but without any sign of pink.

My hair was neat and tidy and my makeup had been redone to Sheila's
satisfaction. It was with a lot of trepidation that I left the toilet
and walked the three miles to the table in the corner.

I looked around to see if anyone was laughing at me or ringing the police
on their mobiles. I swear that I saw a baby in a pram with a mobile but
that may have just been my heightened sense of unreality.

I noticed that all the faces were different. I then remembered that people
never stayed long in places like that and a whole new load of gullible punters
had taken the place of the ones that were there when we arrived.

We ate our meal in silence. Sheila was too busy filling her face and I
was looking around furtively to see if I was being ogled at. As I saw
people munching away at their Big Macs and breaking their teeth on the
rock hard fries. I realised that no-one was paying us the least bit of
attention.

I started to relax and my heart rate dropped to around 150 a
minute. I dipped my McNuggets into the mild curry source and
actually managed to force some down without puking. I brushed the hair
out of my eyes and started thinking about of all things whether I preferred
stockings to tights!

I suddenly realised that for a few moments I had forgotten that I was a boy
dressed as a girl. I felt like a girl or what I assumed a girl should feel
like. My penis had shrunk back to manageable proportions and was no longer
an uncomfortable problem.

I revelled in the coolness of my legs when the inappropriate air conditioning
wafted air up them. The cool silky touch of my clothes and the way my silky
panties slid on the mock leather seats all made me feel what could only
described as feminine.

'God,' I thought, 'I could get used to this.'

Suddenly I jumped as Sheila spoke.

'That was nice, have you finished yet, we need to go. I'm feeling tired and
need to get some sleep. I'm covering a shift for someone in a few hours.'

I hurriedly finished my meal and we went out into the chilly air. I put my
still slightly damp coat on as I was getting goose pimples on my bare arms.
We walked over to the car and got in.

In no time we were on the way to the safety and security of home.
Sheila kept looking at her watch and muttering about the time. We were nearly
home when we heard a siren behind us, getting nearer with every second. I looked
behind and saw the flashing lights of a police car come up close behind.

'Oh shit,' said Sheila as she pulled over to the side.

She switched off the engine and got out of the car as the tall
policeman walked over.

I could not hear the conversation as I huddled down into the seat,
trying to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

Suddenly I heard a tap on the window. I didn't see the other policeman come
up to the car.

I wound down the window and said in my best squeaky Mini Mouse voice,
'Can I help you?'

'Get out of the car please.'

I opened the door and got out. I nearly tripped on the hem of my dress as I
caught it on something, but managed to get out without anything ripping or dropping off.

I looked over the bonnet of the car and noticed that Sheila was being
searched!

My policeman said to me, 'Name please.'

'Erm TTTony SSSummers,'

'Put your hands on the bonnet and spread your legs, please.'

In a dream I did as I was told. I saw Sheila opposite me doing the
same. Our eyes met. I could see the horror in her eyes as we realised
simultaneously that very soon, the policeman would find a package that he did not
bargain for!

He stared with my ankles and quickly frisked up to my hips and then....

To be continued

Sheila winked at me, screamed and fainted!

The policeman who was frisking me immediately stopped what he was doing and ran around to the other side of the car.

'What did you do Mick?'

'I didn't do anything, Dave, she just sort of dropped!'

While the two policemen tried to revive Sheila, I had time to get my act together.

I went over to them, trying not to fall over in my bloody shoes and in my best, concerned girly type voice said, 'What did you do to my friend?'

'Sorry Miss, she just fainted on me.'

Sheila was showing signs of revival, moaning for all she was worth and struggling to get up.

Both policemen helped her shakily to her feet.

'Are you OK miss?'

'Y..yes thank you. I'm sorry, it was the shock of you running your hands up and down me. I'm not used to that sort of thing.'

'Sorry, miss we have a job to do.'

'Why did you stop us,' said I, all brave and flashing my eyelashes.

'A car answering the description of your one was reported leaving the scene of a robbery. We had to check it out. Also your offside break light was out, so we had good reason to stop you.'

Sheila was, by now, back to her usual self, 'Why the hell did you start body searching us. Do we look like desperate criminals or are you just pervy?'

Just then the police radio sounded. Mick went over to the car and then after a few moments came back.

'It's OK, the robbers have been caught.'

'Well,' sad Sheila, 'thank God for that. Can we go now?'

'Yes miss, but please get your light seen to or you will be stopped again.'

With that, the policemen ran to their car and left us in a hurry to go and stop more innocent people going about their lawful way.

I slumped into the passenger seat of Sheila's car, smoothing down my skirt with one hand and wiping my fevered brow with the other.

'Sheila you should win an Oscar for that performance.'

'Not bad was it. I knew that there could be awkward questions if he found the little surprise in your panties. It was the best I could think of at the spur of the moment.'

'Well that's it. I've had enough. First we go to McDonalds and I slip on some brats' dinner. Then I get stopped by the police and almost strip-searched. I am a nervous wreck. I can't go through with it. I won't go through with it. I've aged ten years today.’

Sheila said nothing as we drove home. She almost spoke several times, but thought better of it.

In the mood I was in I wouldn't have listened anyway.

All of a sudden there was a bang from the back of the car and it lurched drunkenly to the side of the road.

‘Oh shit, what now!’ I shouted desperately.

Sheila got out of the car and went around the back.

‘We’ve had a puncture, you have to get out of the car’.

‘I can’t get out, someone will see me’

‘Toni, I am not going to fix this with you in the car. You have to get out. The jack won’t take your weight as well as the car.’

‘I’m not fat.’

Even to me, my voice sounded a bit squeaky and hysterical.

Sheila walked over to my side, wrenched the door open and said, ‘go sit on that wall, it won’t take a minute’.

Reluctantly I got out of the car after looking everywhere to make sure that no one was about.

I sat on the wall, wincing as my bum felt the slight shock of the cold wall on my scantily clad rear end.

Just then I heard the noise of a big engine. I glanced up and saw that it was a bus coming up the road.

I shrunk down a bit, in the vain hope that I wouldn’t be noticed. What I didn’t realise was that the bus stop was right by where we had broken down!

Of course it stopped next to us and out came about a hundred people. My face must have looked as red as the bus, cos that’s how it felt. I had nowhere to hide.

Just then a snotty nosed boy of about 10 and his anaemic looking mum came up to me. The boy was picking his nose with the intensity of an expert and eating whatever he found up there. From being red, I now felt green, after looking at the nasally challenged brat.

‘Hello Dear, are you all right?’ Said the Mum.

‘Erm, yes thanks. Um my friend is fixing a puncture , then we’ll be on our way.’

‘Mum’, said the brat, ‘why does her face look red and green’?

‘Don’t be rude Damien.’

‘You do look a bit peaky, Dear, will you be OK?’

‘Err Umm yes thanks. I er think that I’m coming down with a cold.’

‘Well, you should wrap up warm, dear. You young girls think you can dress up in next to nothing. No wonder you catch all those nasty bugs. Come on Damien, lets get you home.’

With that, The lady and brat walked off down the street. As they went, the kid turned round and poked his tongue out at me. I returned the gesture and put my finger up in a very unladylike manner. It was crude, but it helped.

I looked at Sheila. She was struggling to change the wheel. I was just about to offer my help, when I heard the sound of two motorbikes coming up and screeching to a stop.

I looked around and there they were.

‘Oh my God’ I thought.

The vision in front of us were two bikers covered in leather, chains and hair. Both over six feet tall.

They went over to Sheila and one said, ‘Ullo love, got problems wiv yer wheel then?’

‘Erm yes, the nuts stuck.’ Said Sheila with a slight quaver in her voice.

I don’t know if she was scared, but I was nearly wetting myself.

‘Shove over luv, let me and Ronald do it.’

(Ronald!)

I giggled slightly hysterically as they bent over and I saw what was written on the back of their leather jackets. One said ‘I luv my Mum’ and the other one said ‘I luv his Mum too’.

In less time than it takes to tell, the wheel was changed and after our profound thanks, Ronald and Derek (I kid you not) were off down the road, in a haze of blue smoke and burning rubber.

We got back in the car and were off again. I was about twenty years older by now and twitching slightly. Today had not been a very normal day and would take years of intensive therapy to rectify.

Finally, we arrived home. We stopped outside our house and I got out.

It was funny, I was so used to wearing those clothes that it was second nature for me to get out of the car, smooth my skirt down and go up to the front door. I was so wrapped up in myself, I didn't even look to check if anyone could see me get out of the car.

Sheila locked the car and opened the door. She followed me up to my room and came in after me.

I knew that she was going to try to persuade me to change my mind I was adamant that I wouldn't.

'Look Toni..'

'Don't Tony me, I have been through hell and back these past few hours. I don't want to know. Thanks for trying. I really appreciate it, but my mind is made up. I wont go to the interview.'

’But you will get away with it. You have to admit that at times you forgot you were a boy and you sounded, looked and acted like a girl.'

'I suppose so, but that is different from trying to get a job where I have to be a girl all the time at work.'

'Look Toni, you have only been a girl for a few hours and look at you, you're a natural. If I didn't know different I would think you were a girl. Its all a question of confidence.'

'Yes, and I haven't got any.'

Sheila looked at her watch.

'Look honey, I have to go to work, I've got no more time to argue with you. It's up to you. I'll be back at 6, if you change your mind, then I'll help you. It would be the difference between you having enough to live on or getting chucked out on the street. It's up to you. Bye.'

Sheila went out and closed the door behind her.

I went over to the mirror and looked at myself. I was so full of doubts and conflicting feelings. I knew my confidence was low and who’s wouldn’t be after the day I had just experienced! However, looking at the girl in the mirror, I also knew that I liked what I was seeing.

My heart was beating like a drum and I hate to think what my blood pressure was right then.

I looked at the image of myself for ages and imagined what it would be like to live as a girl. It looked as if the prospect of it happening was almost inevitable. It was so unfair. Why couldn't I make it as a boy.

I knew, call it sado-female intuition if you like, but I just knew that things were going to go pear shaped for me in a big way . I would never get away with being a girl. Hell, I had lived my life as a boy and Sheila expected me to act like a real girl after just a few disastrous hours of practice.

Then my hand brushed against the silkiness of my blouse. Almost without thinking, I slid my hands down my skirt. I experienced a thrill at the feel of my feminine clothes. I never felt like this, wearing jeans and a tee shirt! It was strange, weird, kinky and downright eerie, but I couldn’t deny it, I liked the way I looked and felt.

Perhaps I should have been born a girl. I know that some people feel that way. But until now, I thought I was 100% male. Now I didn't know.

'Oh God,' I thought with alarm, 'I'm actually enjoying looking like this. I must be turning into a pervert.'

Just then there was a knock at the door. 'It must be Sheila,' I thought, 'I wonder what she wants now?'

I opened the door, not thinking about what I looked like.

I jumped as I saw it was Mr Davis, the landlord!

He looked past me and said, 'Sorry Miss. Erm is Tony in, I need to see him urgently.'

I had to think on my stockinged feet.

'Ummm, he's out at the moment.'

'Are you a friend?'

'Err, sort of. He's ah my cousin.'

I cringed as Mr Davis looked at me closely and then smiled.

'Yes, I can see the resemblance. But you're much prettier.'

'Er thank you.'

'Can you tell him, sorry but I need the back rent sooner than I thought. I need the money by Friday at the latest, otherwise he has to go.’

I gasped. Friday. No way could I get him the money by then.

'I… I mean Tony said that you gave him until next week to pay.'

'That's before I found out that he had no job. I have someone who will take the room quickly. The new tenant has a job and I can’t afford to take a chance of not getting paid by Tony.'

Just then my mouth became disengaged from my brain. In mitigation, you have to understand that I had been through some pretty traumatic times, in the last few hours. Call it delayed shock or something.

Anyway, I don't know why, but I heard myself say. 'You don't need to worry about Tony getting a job. I'm living here with him now and I'm a secretary. I don't get paid til the end of the month, but I promise that you will be paid then.’

I smiled, batted my eyelashes so much, that I could feel the draught. I tried to myself appear like what I thought a coy, nice girl would look like in this improbable situation.

'I don't know. I should really let the new man have it.'

'Pleeeaase.'

He looked undecided and then smiled. 'OK honey. On two conditions.'

(Oh God!).

'One. That you are the named tenant.'

'That's OK.' I said.

'And two, because I like to vet all my tenants for suitability, I take you out for a meal tonight..On me.'

(Oh shit!!)

'Er I can't. I'm washing my hair tonight.'

'Well, this other guy wants an answer tomorrow. If I can't vet you tonight I may have to let him have the room.'

'Can't you vet me now?'

'No I have to go to the bank and then chuck out... I mean assist some other tenants who can’t or wont pay. That's the deal, take it or leave it.'

I looked at his mottled, lined face. He had beads of sweat on his forehead. I think he was smiling, but it appeared to be more of a leer. I could see his discoloured teeth behind his cracked lips. His deodorant smelt strongly of B.O. He was wearing a dirty mac with strange stains on it. Perhaps he was one of those people who went to seedy places, where mac's were considered de rigueur. In short, he was not my type (as a girl or boy).

But, I had no choice. It was a far far better thing etc……

'OK,' I said reluctantly, ‘what time?'

’I'll pick you up at 8 p.m.,' bye.'

With that, he looked me up and down, licked his lips, leered at me and left.

I closed the door and sat on the bed.

My heart sank. I was in the effluent up to my neck again. What the hell did I say that for! I don't have a job. I have no money and yet I opened my big gob and crap spewed out!

I had pushed myself into a corner, I knew that. I hadn't though out the consequences and now I was going to pay for it.

I looked at my watch. It was 2 p.m. Sheila would be back at 6. Perhaps she would help me to get ready for my first (and I sincerely hoped, only!) date as a girl.

Oh God what had I let myself in for now!!

<To be continued>

----
Copyright Susan Brown 2005

I was still sitting on the bed, half an hour later.

I was in shock. I still could not believe what I said to that effing creep, Davis.

I had actually batted my eyelids at him like a call girl on heat. OK, if he was a hunking male with a body to die for, a face to match and muscles in the right places, but Davis! He was the original creepy and dirty old man.

Then I realised what I had just thought and I broke out into a sweat.

What was I doing, thinking about hunky men! I am a hunky, well puny really, man. Well not much more than a boy, actually. Anyway, you know what I mean.

No way was I attracted to men. All right, I looked nice dressed as a girl. Hell, I fancied myself looking like that and I felt nice too. All that silky stuff…nice, but that was no reason or excuse to think pervy thoughts about men.

I got up and went to the cracked mirror over the washbasin. I looked at the scared face, blinking at me in the reflection.

There was no denying it; I looked nice as a girl, much nicer than I would be as a boy. Still I was a man and men should not think such thoughts.

‘Am I gay?’ I said to my reflection. ‘No, I can’t be. I love girls. It’s just that girls don’t seem to feel the same way about me.’

I had tried to date a few girls and I had even gone to one of those speed-dating places a couple of months before. I was the youngest one there by a long way. Every girl was at least thirty. I had tried to put on the charm, but being small, shy, inexperienced and young didn’t help one bit. No one was interested except an old lady of at least forty, who wanted to mother me.

‘Anyway,’ I thought, ‘this doesn’t help me much. What the hell am I going to do?’

I made myself a cup of tea, sat down on the bed and wracked my fevered brain as to how I was going to get out of this.

I could see no way out. I had no job. I was going to be chucked out of my home, unless I go out with the monster from the black lagoon. I had to go through with it. I had no choice.

Then I had another distressing thought. I remembered that I had to go to an interview dressed like a girl and get the job as well!

I felt my head was beginning to split. I had a few aspirins and then lay back on the pillow. Everything was going around my head as I drifted off into a troubled sleep.

I dreamt that I was in McDonalds. I was just wearing some panties and a bra. I stood in the middle of the crowded room, shivering.

Everyone was pointing at me. There was the spotty boy who had served me. The two policemen who had stopped me and Sheila leering at me, with a huge syringe in her hand. The bikers were there, holding hands and making rude gesturers. Finally, there was Davis standing in front of me. They were all chanting. ‘Fake, Fake, FAKE.’

Just then Davis, with an evil leer on his face, a dribble of saliva coming out of the corner of his mouth and his tongue hanging out and panting like a dog, ripped open his dirty, stained mac to reveal…..

I woke up suddenly to a banging at my door.

I shakily got up and opened the door. I could see with bleary eyes that it was Sheila, still in her nurses uniform. I must have slept for longer than I thought.

‘Hi Toni, I’m back. Good God girl, what have you done to yourself? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!’

‘Um, just a bad dream, anyway. Don’t call me a girl; remember under all this stuff, I’m 100% man.’

‘Err, if you say so.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Nothing, nothing. Anyway, do I have to stand at the door all day or can I come in.’

‘Sorry.’ I said as I let Sheila in.

‘Well, Toni, have you decided what you are going to do?’ she asked, sitting on the bed and looking at me with a quizzical expression.

I sat next to her and sighed.

‘Well Sheila, there have been some developments.’

‘What sort of developments?’

‘Davis knocked on my door, shortly after you went to work.’

Sheila whistled. ‘Were you dressed like that?’

‘Yup.’

‘Oh GOD, what happened?’

‘Um, I er, pretended to be my sister.’

‘Tell me all and don’t leave anything out.’

I told Sheila what happened in full and explicit detail. I was not very happy to tell her, but I had no choice.

Sheila hooted with laughter.

‘So you’ve now got a date with Wondering Hands, have you?’ she asked trying to control her mirth.

‘Wondering Hands?’

That’s what all the girls in the flats call him. Given the chance, he is all over you like a rash.’

‘Did you let him touch you up?’

‘He tried, but I work in A&E and we are used to that sort of thing. Let’s just say that he had to use his other hand for a week.’

‘To do what?’

‘Never mind. So you have painted yourself into a corner and you want Auntie Sheila to help you out of it.’

I nodded my head, not wanting to say anything.

‘Well, I suppose it’s partly my fault for not warning you about the lovely Walter Davis.’

Sheila took charge, thank God, as my brain had booted down and wasn’t able to think effectively.

‘OK Toni, back to my place and let’s get you ready. Quick, we haven’t got much time!’

‘What do you mean, we have two hours,’

Sheila laughed and said; ‘two hours is nothing. You really need at least three, but we will have to manage somehow.’

We arrived at Sheila’s flat and in no time, I was stripped and having yet another shower. I had to wash and condition my hair using some girly looking pink goo.

Once I was clean and dry, I put on her silky robe again. This was all a bit like de ja'vous as they say in Spain.

Sheila rapped a towel around my hair and hustled me into her bedroom.

I sat at her vanity and she dried my hair using a dryer. She then teased and back brushed my hair to make it stand out more.

I was given a wispy black bra, which I put on with some difficulty.

‘You need to start doing this stuff for yourself. I won’t be here all the time, so get used to it.’

After fumbling with the bra, Sheila put in the pink blancmanges. I mean breast forms.

I gasped a bit; they were bloody cold!

Next came the panties. They matched the bra, black with lace and stuff. It was tricky, as I had to pull my little tinkler in between my legs and Sheila did something with my nuts that made me gasp.

‘Ouch,’ I complained loudly.

‘Stop moaning, I’ve just put your balls back up inside you. You learn funny things on the wards, now days. Look, see no sign except a little bulge.’

‘It’s not very comfortable,’ I complained in a winy voice.

‘See how you go. Now what shall we wear tonight?’

‘Are you coming too?’ I said hopefully.

‘No., I was speaking figuratively.’

‘Oh.’

‘Now then,’ said Sheila, opening up her wardrobe, ‘what will look nice on you.’

‘I don’t want to look nice. I hate that creep. I do not want to encourage him.’

‘You need to look nice, otherwise, he will think you don’t like him and he will chuck you out. Now you want to look nice but not drop dead gorgeous as you don’t want him to try it on with you.’

‘Yuk! You don’t think he will do you?’

‘Probably, but you can always say that you have the curse.’

‘What curse is that?’

‘Time of the month.’

It’s the 15th. What has that got to do with it?’

‘Periods Toni, periods; you must know about that. Didn’t you learn about the birds and the bees at school?’

‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t pay much attention to that, it seemed a bit messy.’

‘Anyway, it should stop him going all the way.’

‘I don’t even want him to think about starting, let alone going all the way. Anyway, remember, I am a boy, not a girl. I don’t have all the bits. Hell, I don’t have any of the bits so he couldn’t go all the way even if he tried!’

‘Believe me, honey; given the chance, he would try, if he thought that he would get away with it. Hence, the ploy I always used if I didn’t want that sort of attention. You have the curse, right?’

‘OK. I’m beginning to wish that I just moved out and gone to live in one of those nice cardboard boxes in an alley somewhere.’

‘None of that talk. Now let’s get on with it as we don’t have much time.’

Sheila got to work on me and it was just before 7.00pm that I found myself back in my dingy flat, staring in the mirror and looking at Toni.

I was wearing a black satin long sleeved top, a black leather skirt that was about six inches above my knees. Black shear-stockings and four-inch heels.

My hair looked full and a bit wild. I kept pushing the hair from out of my eyes. God knows how Sheila had made my hair look like that. Anyway, my makeup was quite heavy. I had striking blue eyelids. My eyebrows had been plucked (ouch!). My cheeks had a flushed look, my lips were large, wet looking, very red and I looked as if I was continually pouting.

‘What do you think, Toni?’

I didn’t say anything.

‘Well!’ said Sheila impatiently.

‘Er, um er, I look er, different.’

‘You look hot, girl. No way is Davis going to chuck you out. He will want to see you as much as possible and can do that if you are the tenant.’

‘But looking like this I will have to continually fight him off. Hell, even I’m turned on looking like this. What will it do to a dirty old man like Davis?’

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Sheila looked at me and I looked at her. She went into the bathroom to hide, as we had agreed that Davis should not see her.

I gulped and slowly walked over to the door.

My heart was in my mouth as I opened the door and standing there was Walter Davis.

He was wearing a suit. Well, I call it a suit but it looked as if it was twenty years old. It was brown and had a faint pin stripe. I could smell the lovely aroma of mothballs wafting from it. His shirt was sort of lime green in colour and needed an ironing. His tie was orange with pink spots on it. I cannot believe that it was ever in fashion.

I was a bit taken aback by what he was wearing. Eventually, my eyes went up to his face. He had washed, which must have been a first, but his shaver had missed a few places and my eyes were drawn towards a particularly large mole on the side of his face, which still had a few hairs sprouting out of it.

I think he was smiling, but it was more of a leer, as he looked me up and down, taking in my somewhat sexy attire.

He was breathing heavily, for some reason and all he could say, in between gasps, was ‘wow.’

Ah well, I thought. ‘In for a penny.’

I went to get the leather coat that Sheila had given me for tonight and went over to the door.

‘Shall we go?’ I said in a squeaky voice.

‘Of course my dear,’ He said, finally finding his breath.

I walked downstairs, trying not to fall over and break my ankles on the high stiletto heels.

I could hear Davis, still breathing heavily behind me and the hairs on the back of my neck stood out in anticipation of the night in front of me.

Eventually, we were outside and I looked around for his car.

Just then, a huge great long stretched limo swooshed up and stopped.

Out got a man in a chauffeur uniform and he came round and opened the door.

‘Madam,’ he said in a Jeeves sort of voice.

I hesitantly got in and tried to sit down on the plush white leather seat. The problem was that I forgot that I was wearing leather too and I promptly slid off and landed on the floor.
My legs were up in the air and I could see that both the chauffeur and Davis were looking at me with tongues out.

I quickly pulled myself together, rearranged my legs and sat down on the seat.

Davis quickly joined me on the seat and virtually sat on my lap. I struggled to put some distance between my self and odious man, but I was hard up against the car door.

I tried to think of something, anything to get the octopus off me and said the first thing that came into my head.

‘Mr Davis, please don’t sit so close, you might catch it.’

He moved away from me as if I had given him an electric shock.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ he said with alarm in his voice.

‘I’ve, er, just gotten over athletes foot and I don’t want you to catch it.’

Hey, it was on the spur of the moment and if you can think of anything better under pressure, you just try it!

He looked at me funnily and said, ‘athletes foot is a foot condition, isn’t it?’

‘Er, yes, but it is highly contagious and you can get it from touching other things as well as feet. A bit like foot and mouth.’

He looked at me a bit strangely, but kept to the other side of the car until, after about three years; we arrived at the restaurant.

Jeeves, or whatever he was called, opened the door for me and I stood on the pavement, with the wind whipping up my skirt while Davis struggled to get out of the car.

As the car wooshed away, I turned around and looked at the restaurant. It looked quite expensive. There was a man outside wearing some sort of gaudy uniform, covered with ribbons and medals. He opened the door for us and I walked in first, waiting for the bottom pinch from Davis, which luckily did not materialise.

A man in waiters uniform came over to us, took one look at Davis, sniffed and said ’The fish and chip shop is around the corner.’

Davis puffed himself up and said, ‘I have booked a table for two in the name of Davis.’

I was so embarrassed that I just wanted the ground to open up.

The waiter sniffed again, looked at his list, raised his eyebrows at seeing Davis’s name and said. ‘This way… um… Sir, Madam.’

We went over the acres of deep, plush carpet to our table. I was very aware of my appearance. At any moment, someone might stand up and tell the world that I was not a girl, but a man dressed in drag.

I could see out of the corner of my eyes that many faces were staring at us. I felt like a fish out of water and Davis looked just like a complete halibut. I wished that I was anywhere, even McDonalds, rather than here.

The waiter helped me into my seat. No one helped Davis.

‘Would you like a drink while you look at the menu sir?’

Davis tried to look important as he said, ‘Pint of lager please.’

‘And what would madam like?’

‘Diet coke please;’ I wanted to stay sober, but if things got bad, I wanted to keep my options open.

The waiter left us while we looked at the menu.

I saw the prices and they were incredibly expensive. Even a prawn cocktail would cost more than a year’s salary in some third world countries.

I realised that Davis was talking to me.

‘Pardon?’ I asked.

‘What would you like to start, my dear?’ Smirked Davis.

(My dear!!!)

‘Erm, prawn cocktail please.’

‘And your main course?’

I looked feverishly down the list of main courses. It was all foreign to me. At last, I saw something I recognised.

‘Fillet steak please.’

Davis clicked his grubby fingers and the waiter came across with our drinks.

After putting the drinks down, the waiter got out his order book, licked the end of his pencil and said ‘Sir, are you ready to order?’

We will both have prawn cocktail followed by steak and all the trimmings.

‘Very good sir, and for the wine, I can recommend the Cabernet Sauvignon?’

‘Is that white?’

‘Ahem, no sir, it is red. It goes very well with red meat.’

‘OK, we’ll have that then.’

The waiter went off leaving me to stare into the bloodshot eyes of my companion.

He spoke.

‘Well, my dear, I bet that you didn’t expect me to bring you to a posh restaurant like this?’

‘Um no Mr Davis, I expected something a little less expensive.’

‘Anything for you, my dear; and did you like the car?’

‘Very nice, if a bit big, Mr Davis.’

‘Now, now, my dear; we can’t stand on ceremony, call me Dirk.’

(Dirk!!)

‘Dirk?’

‘Yes, that’s my name and sorry, I don’t know yours?’

‘Tony.’ I said without thinking.

‘But that’s your brother’s name.’

‘Er, yes, but his ends with a y mine ends with i.’

‘Confusing, that.’

‘Yes; Our Mum and dad’s little joke.’

‘I mean, there is no way you can be confused with your Brother is there?’

The coke went up my nose and I nearly choked.

‘Are you alright, Toni?’

‘Yes, thank you Walt… I mean Dirk.’

‘Anyway, I much prefer your company to his.’

‘Does that mean that I … I mean we can stay in the flat?’

‘I don’t see why not, if tonight goes OK, of course.’

I didn’t like the sound of that. What other evil things did he have plans to do with me.?

He drank down his lager in one gulp, burped loudly and said, ‘Better out than in.’

An old lady sitting at the next table looked at him as if he was a cockroach and I must admit I had sympathy for that viewpoint.

After a few minutes of small talk and I really mean small-minded talk, our starters arrived.

I ate with relief at not having to talk to Davis.

He put a napkin around his neck and started to eat as if he had not consumed food for days. He put the food in his mouth as if he was shovelling coal in a boiler. It was not a pleasant sight.

‘Well, Babe, like the food?’

‘Er, yes, very nice.’

I looked around at the other diners. It seemed to me that we were the centre of attention. Were they looking at me, a boy dressed as a girl or Davis, that celebrated A Hole with the manners of a pig? Sorry, I am disparaging the pig species. Looking at Davis, I could not think of an animal that came close to the way he ate.

All the time he was eating, he was looking at me or to be precise, my breasts. He obviously had a fetish about them. To say I felt uncomfortable would be an understatement. I kept looking at the watch that Sheila had lent me. I swear that the hands were barely moving.

Davis was talking to me again. A marvel really, as his mouth, for once, was not full of food. I tried to pay attention to what he was saying. His voice had a slur in it now, no doubt helped by the three quarters of the bottle of wine that he consumed together with the third pint of lager he had just polished off.

‘Well babe, I can see that you are enjoying yourself. If you play your cards right, there is plenty more of this coming your way.

‘Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.’

He smiled. My eyes were drawn to his mouth. It was fascinating really. He had bit of food around his bloodless lips. I could see his lizard like tongue, darting out occasionally as if to taste the air. His teeth, brown with nicotine stains and in the need of major repair work, glinted in the glair of the overhead chandeliers. He sipped his fourth pint as he continued.

‘Well, a pretty girl like you needs a strong, rich man like me to look after you. I’m sure that we can come up with an arrangement regarding your rent in return for, shall we say, certain favours?

My heart sank like a stone. What did he mean by certain favours? I did not like the sound of this.

‘Sorry, I don’t understand.’

‘Look, honey. I’m a man of the world. I have needs, manly needs and I’m sure that a girl like you would be able to satisfy them. Now don’t say anything. Hear me out, in return for you being my escort and er, date sometimes…’

I had to say something, anything.

‘Aren’t you married?’

‘Eh, what, yes but she doesn’t understand me. Now, where was I?’

He sipped on his lager and continued.

‘As I say, I need a date sometimes. Someone who will help me relax and enjoy myself. You are lucky that I’m around. You could live in splendour. I could take you to posh clubs and restaurants. Wine you and dine you. I’m not poor. I have been fleecing… I mean collecting rent on all my properties for years. I have plenty stashed away to enjoy myself with. Let me give you a bit of advice. Get that worthless brother of yours, out of that flat and I will let you have it rent-free. In return, you can be my bit on the side, my significant other, in short, my bit of fluff. I could pop round and we could make hay together very regularly. What do you think; good idea eh?’

I looked at him. My brain was numb. I had thought that I had not been very fortunate in my life, but now it came to this. He thought that I was only good enough to be his bit on the side. I may have been a bit short when God handed out brains, but no way was I going to have anything to do with this poor excuse for a man.

Without another thought, I picked up his pint of lager and poured it over his head.
His look of shock was enough to make up for this evenings disaster of a date. I got up and walked out of the restaurant. I could hear him shouting behind me as I walked past the shocked diners. His voice was ringing in my ears.

‘I want you and that waste of a brother out of that flat by the morning, you bitch.’

As I went through the swing doors of the restaurant into the cold night air, it hit me. I was homeless again and I didn’t have a clue as to what I could do about it.

Copyright Susan Brown 2005

As I went through the swing doors of the restaurant into the cold night air, it hit me. I was homeless again and I didn’t have a clue as to what I could do about it.

********************************************************************

I was out on the pavement. It was cold and quite dark.

I knew that I had a long walk home, so I started down the road. As usual, I was in a panic over whether anyone would see me, realise that I was not all girl and shout for the police.

I could hear the clatter of my heals, striking the pavement. The noise was almost as loud as my heart, which was thumping away as if I had done a marathon or something. I had done it again. I regretted poring lager over the head of the hated Davis. Not because he didn’t deserve it, in fact I really enjoyed doing it and seeing the look on his pock marked face, but because I was now without a home. I was deep in the doo doo surely; things couldn’t get much worse, could they?

The wind blew up my skirt and I screeched out a little ‘eak’ as I tried to keep my Marilyn Monroe impression to the minimum. As I carried on I noticed that the streetlights were well spaced out and for a lot of the time it was quite dark.

A stone or something had somehow gotten into my shoe, God knows how, as I felt as if I was on stilts in these things.

I stopped by a lamppost, put one hand up against it and using the other one; I took my shoe off and emptied it of the offending object. It was a tiny bit of stone but had felt like a boulder.

I gratefully put my shoe back on and was just about to move off when a car drew up.

I looked over thinking that it might be a taxi or something. It was a man in a black BMW.

The window silently swished down and the man leaned over to me and said in a whisper ‘How much?’

‘Pardon?’

‘How much?’

‘Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Are you up for anything.’ He whispered. Perhaps he had a sore throat.

‘I’m on my way home.’

He smiled, ‘Is it far, sweetheart?’

‘Um, no it’s about a mile down the road.’

‘Do you want to get in then? We’ll go to your place and talk prices as we go.’

‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘it must be a taxi then. Funny, no signs up. It must be a posh one if it’s a BMW.’

I got in the car and we were off.

‘You look nice, love.’ Said the man in a normal if a bit smarmy way.

‘Erm thanks, I said as I attempted to do up my seat belt.

I swear I could smell whisky or something on his breath. Getting in this car was looking like not one of my brightest ideas to date.

‘So you been doing this long?’

‘Doing what?’

‘You know, the streets.’

‘Oh no, I’ve just left the restaurant.’

‘Used to be a waitress eh? You will make more money doing this.’

‘What, taxi driving?’

‘Eh?’

My skirt had ridden up my legs a bit and I was in danger of showing a bit too much of my panties, so I wriggled my bottom a bit in a vain attempt to pull my skirt down. The man couldn’t keep his eyes off me for some reason and the next thing I knew, he put a hand on my leg and was pushing his hand up my skirt!

I screamed and to be honest it did sound a bit girly.

Out of the blue, there was a crash and the sound of tinkling glass and I went forward against the seat belt. There were another two banging noises and all of a sudden a balloon surrounded me. For some reason I thought of the number six, but in a flash, that thought was swallowed up as I struggled to release myself from the belt and the cloying plastic of the erupted airbag.

Eventually I struggled out of the car and I sort of fell onto the pavement landing heavily on my botty. The man was still trying to untangle himself from the seat belt and airbag in a vain attempt to get out of the car as I heard the now all too familiar sound of a police car, eee ooring its way towards the stricken car. The flashing blue lights shone brightly as the police car screeched to a halt behind the badly dented BMW.

I knew it, just knew that the policemen were the same ones that had pulled Sheila and me over. You know, Mick and Dave I think their names were.

Anyway, they were in full, save that man mode as they pulled the car driver’s door open and helped untangle the man from his seat belt and airbag.

Once they had managed to untangle the man the policemen started asking questions.

‘Right sir can I see your licence,’

‘Er, sorry officer, it’s in my other wallet.’

‘Can you tell us what happened?’

‘Um a cat ran across the road and I swerved to avoid it.’

I couldn’t help it. I should have kept my mouth shut. But remember, I had just a very fraught day. I opened my big mouth and said, ‘You bloody liar, you were touching me up!’

Both Mick and Dave’s eyes swivelled towards me. I had made a boo boo. I realised that.

‘Don’t I know you, Miss?’ said Dave.

I stepped back slightly, into the gloom.

‘Erm, I don’t think so, officer.’

‘Can you substantiate your statement, Miss?’

‘Sorry, I don’t understand.’

‘Have you any witnesses to your alleged assault.’

Why do policemen have to talk like that? Can’t they just speak plain English?

‘How could I have a witness, he was going about 50 miles an hour, when he groped me!’ |I was getting angry now at how stupid these coppers were being. I was forgetting that I was a girl with extra baggage as it were.

‘Are you sure that we haven’t met,’ said Dave to me, frowning.

‘She’sh talking rubbish,’ said BMW man, suddenly.

Mick and Dave turned back to the man and Mick said, ‘have you been drinking sir?’

‘Coursh not.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t mind blowing into this little bag then,’

‘I don’t need to do that Shargeant. I’m perfectly shober.’

‘Its constable, sir and I think that you should just blow into the bag, just to confirm what you have just said.’

The man looked like a rabbit, caught in the headlights of an approaching car. He did a very stupid thing, he ran for it. The two policemen immediately gave chase, leaving me, for the moment, alone.


At this point, I showed a rare bit of intelligence as I quietly slunk (is that a proper word?) away before Starsky and Hutch got back.

I took my shoes off to avoid breaking my ankles and ran around the corner as fast as I could in my stocking feet.

As I ran, the damned skirt kept lifting up, so I had to use one hand to hold it down. With my other hand holding my shoes and me trying to run in virtually bare feet, I must have looked a bit of a strange sight.

Unfortunately, since I was a child, I had suffered a bit from asthma and as such unless I used my inhaler, I run out of breath very quickly.

Eventually, I ran out of steam and I slowed to a walk. I sat down by the edge of the curb, gasping for breath and put my shoes back on.

There was a call box on the next corner so I wheezed over, put 20p in the slot and rang Sheila.

After a few rings, Sheila answered.

‘Hello?’

I still couldn’t catch my breath properly and I just wheezed into the mouthpiece.

‘Sheila.’ I croaked.

‘Sorry, who is this? Hello?’

‘It’s me.’ I gasped.

‘Who is this? Look I hate you dirty, filthy heavy breathers. If I catch you, I will put your tackle into a mangle and turn the handle real slow. Now get lost pervert, before I ring the police.’

The phone went dead.

I looked though my purse for more change and realised that I didn’t have any more cash.

I slammed the phone down in frustration and wondered why I was being picked on like this. Perhaps God had a sense of humour, but if he had, I didn’t think it was a very good one.

Just then I could hear sirens coming my way. I hid behind the phone box, just in time to see Mick and Dave flash by in their police car and I swear that I saw the man who owned the BMW in the back, gesticulating wildly and shouting something.

I carried on down the road as my breathing slowly returned to normal. The clouds had parted and it was now a clear evening. The stars were shining and it was a full moon.

The roads were quiet and thankfully free of dirty old men, women and children.

I was now about a 20-minute walk away from home and I went as fast as I could in my heels. How women could wear these damned items of torture regularly, I would never know. They should get medals for endurance above and beyond the call of duty.

Anyway, I had to cross the road. I didn’t see the drain cover. My foot landed in one of the slits and with a loud bang, one of my heels broke off.

‘****!’ I said loudly.

This was definitely not one of my best days.

I hobbled on, listing to starboard and contemplating whether I should break the other heel to even things up when, just then in the distance, I heard engine sounds. It was a… no two motorbikes.

In seconds, I was bathed in the glow of headlights as the bikes roared up to me.


The bikers took their helmets off and to my surprise, (not really, after all that had happened!) it was Ronald and Derek.


‘Ullo luv, got problems again?’ said Derek eloquently, his chains clinking melodiously.

‘Yus, I mean yes. I’ve broken my heel and I’m trying to get home.’

‘Wot’s a loverly gal like you doin out alone?’ said Ronald, scratching his armpit.

‘Um, I had a row with my date.’

‘Won us to go an sort im out luv? Said Derek, grinning evilly.

‘Um…no thanks, I just want to go home.’

‘Yer shouldn’t be out ere, all alone like this, at night, luv. There’s a lot of strange people about.

Looking at Derek and Ronald, in their black leather, chains and wild hair, I wondered what they considered was strange. I was brought out of my musings by Derek.

‘Got a spare lid wiv yer, Ronald?’

‘Yus, Derek. We’ll give you a lift home, ducks.’

I looked at the big throbbing machines and the quaked slightly.

‘No, that’s OK, I can walk from here.’

‘Don’t worry, love. You’ll be home before you know it.’

In seconds I was hoisted behind Ronald, wearing a crash helmet, which had seen better days, smelling slightly of stale sweat and something else not very nice.

I found myself clinging on to dear life as we roared down the road. My skirt was up around my face and my delicate regions were getting the full force of a 60mph gale. I was glad that Mick and Dave were not around to nick me for indecent exposure. Now that would have been fun!

True to there word, I was outside my place in no time.

Ronald lifted me bodily off the bike.

‘There you go, luv, nice and safe. Now remember, a nice girl like you shouldn’t be out alone.’

‘That’s right, Ronald, you tell er.’

‘Um, I’ll remember, thanks for the lift boys.’

I handed the helmet back to Ronald who attached it to his bike.

The two bikers roared off and as they went, I noticed that they had different leather jackets on this time. One said in studs, ‘I Luv Sex’ the other one said ‘I’ve got a headache.’

I limped up the steps, opened the peeling front door and went in the house. I wondered what the hell I was to do now, as I walked up the tastefully uncarpeted staircase to my room.

I went in, shut the door with a bang and went to sit on the bed and put my head in my hands.

Just then there was a quiet knock on the door.

I wearily got up and opened the door. It was Sheila standing there with a quizzical look on her face.

‘Well, you’re back quick. How did you get on?’

‘Come in,’

Sheila sat on the bed next to me and looked at me hard.

‘Rough was it?’

‘Rough isn’t the word. Disastrous would be nearer.’

‘Tell Auntie Sheila then.’

I proceeded to tell Sheila all that had happened. For some reason, she got a smirk on her face when I told her of the incident with the BMW man, sniggered when I told her that I had rung her and laughed out loud when she was told about Derek and Ronald.

‘The long and short of it,’ I said rather testily, ‘Is that I am being chucked out tomorrow and I have nowhere to go.’

‘Now don’t worry about that, I….’

Just then there was a series of loud bangs on my door.

I opened the door and there in all his splendid finery, his lime green shirt and orange spotted tie stained with beer and looking like murder, was Davis.

He looked angry, very angry. His little piggy eyes were puffed out. His face was redder than beetroot. The veins on his bulbous nose seemed to stand out more than usual and his hands were clenching and unclenching like he wanted to do serious damage to someone’s neck, probably mine.

In a flash of intuition, I realised that he was not happy with me and that I would not be on his Christmas card list.

‘YOU BITCH!’


Copyright Susan Brown 2005

Working Girl 13

By
Susan Brown

1.

I woke up gradually, coming out of a fog of discordant dreams. Dreams that I was a boy masquerading as a girl just so that I could get a job! It was obviously a dream because reality wasn’t that stupid.

I could hear voices in the distance.

My eyes snapped open and I immediately realised that I was in a strange room, a bit like the sick room in my old school, but more high tech, chromium and sterile looking.

I was lying on a bed and as I lifted my head off the pillow, looking down my body, I knew with frightening reality that I was indeed dressed as a girl; boobies sticking out to attention and partially hiding my skirt and stocking covered legs. The memory of the awful meeting with my hated step father came rushing back.

My head fell back on the pillow as tears started forming in the corner of my eyes. I could not believe it. I was caught out, finished, kaput and metaphorically dead in the water.

The pain and humiliation of it all; I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.

A door opened and a woman with a nurse’s uniform came in, closely followed by Miss Prendergast.

‘Hello dear, how are you feeling?’ said the nurse kindly.

‘Er, um, fine thank you.’

She checked my forehead and pulse as Miss P twittered around looking all flustered.

‘You’ll live, said the nurse sympathetically. ‘Just lie here for ten minutes and then you can go.’

She bustled out; all starched apron, black stockings and efficiency.

‘You had us all worried, dear. What happened, time of the month or something?’

‘Er no. Did um, er did Mr Roberts recognise me?’

‘No dear. I don’t think so. He knew about your parents’ death though. I think he was a bit surprised to see you. Anyway, as soon as you feel well enough, he would like to see you for a chat in his office. I‘ll push off for a few minutes and then take you to see him.’

She left me to myself. I knew now that he had recognised me and would put me through all sorts of humiliation to satisfy his warped mind.

‘SOD IT.’ I said to myself loudly.

How I could think of getting away with this, it was a stupid idea anyway.

I lay there feeling very sorry for myself, thinking about what it would be like to live in a nice clean cardboard box under a bridge somewhere, away from all the hastle of what was a farce of a life.

Eventually, I got up shakily and walked to the door. I wasn’t going to give my step-father the satisfaction of seeing me cringe. My heels clicked on the tiled floor and my false boobs gently bounced up and down slightly in their silken traps. I stepped out into the corridor…running slap bang into Miss P!

‘There you are dear, come along, we can’t keep the boss waiting now can we?’

She held my arm in a vice like grip. I think she thought that I might faint again or something.

As we went up in that damn lift, I fell into a sort of stupor. My mind was numb. It was as if I was going to my own execution.

Then, suddenly in the few moments that it took to reach the 32nd floor, I decided.

I looked down at myself, noticing my cream silk blouse, perky (if false) breasts, my elegantly tailored business suit with the skirt tastefully falling to just above my stockinged knees. Then I saw my face in the lift mirror, it was a mess. If I was going to do this, I wanted to look my best.

‘Can I freshen up please, before I see my step… I mean Mr Roberts?’

‘Of course hon,’

We reached the 32nd floor with a ping and I was given direction to the ladies loo.

I went in and luckily it was empty.

I went over to the mirror and delved into my handbag. Luckily, I had the necessary tools needed for the repair of my ravaged face and I marvelled at the skills that I had acquired so quickly from my best friend Sheila. In no time I was back looking, in my humble opinion, not too bad.

You may be wondering, dear, patient and long suffering reader, what the hell I was doing.

Welllll….I realised that I liked being Toni. I liked myself better, felt better and realised that Tony was a poor under achieving substitute compared to what I was now. I was happier being Toni. It wasn’t just the clothes, although that helped a lot. It was the fact that I was more at peace with myself. I know that I had been through hell on my journey to Tonihood, the pickle incident in McDonalds being a prime example, but I liked the clothes I liked the way people looked at me. Not as a scrawny boy, but as a young woman with a future, not here obviously, but somewhere. If I could get an interview here as a girl, surely, I could get one anywhere.

My musings were stopped by a knock on the door. Miss P’s head poked in.

‘Toni, are you OK?’

‘Yes, I’m coming.’

We reached my step-fathers office and Miss Prendergast led me through the door.

On the other side, behind her desk was the Pippa clone, dark glasses still perched on her head like two extra eyes boring into me.

She knew, she must know…about me, a boy masquerading as a girl to get a job with of all people my step-father. I could feel my confidence draining away like water down a plug hole.

‘Hi Toni, feeling a bit better, ya?’

She was smiling and looking genuinely concerned. Perhaps dear step-dad hadn’t told her, too ashamed of me perhaps? After all, I supposed, it was a bit like bringing the families’ dirty washing out in the open.

‘Go right in, the boss is waiting for you. OK ya?’

I pushed open the heavy oak door. My heart was pounding. I knew that I had to get it over with so I took a deep breath and went in.

He was sitting behind a huge desk. He was typing on a keyboard and looking at a screen to the left and he just motioned me to sit down on the leather chair in front of him.

As I sat down, I blushed as the chair made a sort of farting sound. It reminded me of an old sitcom I once saw.*

‘Give me a moment.’ He said in that well remembered, clipped voice that I hated so much.

I looked at him as he concentrated on the screen. He looked very much as I remembered him. Dark hair with a touch of grey at the temples, thin nose, hazel eyes, lips pursed as he concentrated.

He bashed the enter key, turned round to me and said, ‘feeling better?’

‘Yes thanks.’

‘What made you go white and faint like that?’

‘You must know.’

‘I’m sorry; I don’t know what you mean. What must I know?’

‘Look David, please don’t play games. You owe it to Mum not to hurt me more than you have done.’

‘David?’

‘So’, I said sarcastically, ‘You’ve forgotten that you married my mum and then when she died, chucked me out with a few measly pounds!’

For some season I was now crying.

‘David, what do you mean, David?’

He looked puzzled then he snapped his fingers.

‘Bloody hell, do you think that I’m David? No, I’m his twin Peter. I wouldn’t piss on my brother if he was on fire!’

I went all faint again and I saw stars in front of my eyes. Do all girls start swooning like this at the first sign of extreme stress? Perhaps I was more girly than I thought.

Before I knew it, Pippa clone was in front of me with a glass of water. I sipped the cold drink as David, I mean Peter, hovered around looking useless.

‘I don’t believe it.’ I kept mumbling.

‘Toni sweetie, are you OK, hon?’ said Pippa clone.

I was a bit out of it and I just pointed my finger at her and said, ‘ is your name Pippa?’

‘No hon, it’s Sasha, why?’

‘Nothing.’

‘OK, Sasha, you can go now. I’ll call you if she goes all faint on me again.’

‘OK, Peter. Don’t let him bully you Toni, he’s a little sweetie really.’

‘OUT.’

‘Yes Sir, Mr Boss Man,’ said Phillipa as she laughingly left the room.

I now knew that no way could this be David. He had a sense of humour bypass when he was born.

Peter sat down at his desk and said. ‘I think that it might be an idea if you told me about what has happened to you. Start from the beginning. I promise that I won’t interrupt.’

I took another sip of water and then told him my life story. How I was brought up by my loving parents. How my father died and then, after she married David, my mother dying in a tragic accident. I told him about being thrown out of my own home and the struggles that I had experienced to try to make ends meet.

Peter listened to me finish, cleared his throat and then said. ‘Well, you’ve certainly been through it. I didn’t twig that you were Phillip and Sarah’s child until Sasha Prendergast told me that you mentioned the death of your father to her. I knew your parents through your fathers work with us. He was a great man and bloody good at his job. We became friends and I met your mum shortly after. She was a lovely woman and I am so sorry you have lost both of them. I suppose it was my fault that David married her. I introduced them to him at a party. David was looking for a secretary and one thing led to another…she got a job with him. I had no idea that he had got that close to your mother and I’m somewhat surprised that he married her.’

‘Why.’

‘Well, after your father died, I lost touch with your mum. I was not talking to David as we had not seen eye to eye on a number of things. He was cold, cruel to my parents, took a lot of money from them and treated them like animals and then dropped them when they were no further use to him. He lacked what I call moral fibre, and the last time I saw him, I punched him in the face and disowned him.’

‘That sounds like him. He was cold and cruel to my mum and to me.’

Peter looked at me with a puzzled expression.

‘Changing the subject slightly, I think that there is something else you haven’t told me.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Your parents, as far as I’m aware had only one child by the name of Anthony or Tony for short. I never met the kid but I am assuming that unless they had another child, you are Tony. Perhaps you would like to explain what’s going on and why you are trying to do an impression of Melanie Griffith in Working Girl?’

2.

So I told him, about the mix up on the interview letter, how it was assumed that I was female and the fact that my friend, Sheila had persuaded me to go for the job dressed like this.

He laughed when I told him of my adventures in McDonalds, the two lovely gay bikers and the bumbling policemen.

‘So,’ said Peter, ‘You certainly have the balls… I mean the resourcefulness to make great efforts to get this job using every means available to you and that’s to your credit. Now that I know that you really are Phillip and Sarah’s son, I think you need to know a few things. Do you read the papers much or watch the TV?’

‘Not really. Papers are all doom and gloom and I couldn’t afford a TV, why?’

‘Although I had not spoken to David for some time, I had heard that he had moved abroad to Australia, selling his company and pocketing the proceeds in the process. He was also implicated in a scam involving the company pension scheme. To cut a long story short, he was brought back to England and is now awaiting trial for fraud, embezzlement and also bigamy.’

‘Bigamy, isn’t that when you marry someone, but illegally because you are already married?’

‘Yes, that’s right. It turned out that David had married one of his secretaries some years ago. He had fathered the woman’s child and her parents arranged a secret shotgun wedding. She was a catholic and would not divorce him. He left her and the child some years ago and it was only after the police investigated his affairs that all this came to light.’

‘So he married my mother under false pretences.’

‘That’s right and it could be important to you.’

‘Why? She is dead now and I’m only glad that I don’t have any family connection to him.’

‘Well, leave it with me and I’ll make a few phone calls. I will see how things are and let you know the position.’

‘Why would you do that for me?’

‘Because of what my brother has done, not only to you, but to my family and friends.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it. Anyway, let’s get back to business. When can you start?’

‘Start what?’

‘To work for us.’

‘You still want me to work here after all that has happened?’

‘Yes, of course. Phillipa has a good eye for new employees and she likes you. On top of that, you are the child of some dear friends and almost a relative, if only bigamously, that’s good enough for me.’

My spirits rose up out of the depths of despair. I couldn’t believe that he was still interested in employing me.

‘I can start straight away, if you like.’

‘OK, come in tomorrow at 10 o’clock and ask for Sasha. She will assign you and get you going.’

‘Thanks, that’s great news.’

‘Just one thing?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you coming to us as a girl or boy? You seem pretty at ease with yourself dressed like that and you are very pretty, if you don’t mind that sexist remark. I don’t mind whatever you decide; we have an open policy here. As long as you do your job, you can come as an elephant, if you want. Anyone who discriminates will not keep his or her job. Luckily, to date, no one has had a problem with this.’

As he was talking, I remembered the conversation I had with myself in the lift. I took a deep breath and said, ‘I like the way I am. I know it all seems very quick and I have messed up so many times in my life, but now, right at this moment, I love being a girl. I love the clothes and the way I look. I feel more alive than I have been in a long time and although I’m constantly afraid of being outed or laughed at, I feel that I want to try to be the best girl that I can. I don’t know if I want to stay this way permanently, but I am far happier now than I have ever been, so, what I’m trying to say is that I would like to stay as a girl for now.’

‘OK, I respect that but before you decide to chop bits off or do anything drastic, can I suggest that you speak to some experts before you finally choose which way you want to go? Also, if you want to keep your gender secret, that’s OK but I suggest you tell Sasha, so that she is aware and can look out for you?’

I automatically crossed my legs at the thought of ‘chopping bits off’.

‘Um…OK, and thanks.’

‘Right, push off now. I have loads of work to do and you have taken up too much of my time.’

He said it with a smile, so I knew that he wasn’t too annoyed with me.

3.

I left him and walked out of his office.

Pippa was in the outer office with Pippa cl… I mean Sasha.

‘Hi, hon,’ said Phillipa, ‘all OK ya?’

‘Ya… I mean yes, fine thanks. He said I can start tomorrow.’

‘Goodo. I knew he would like you. While I remember, a friend of yours, Sheila I think popped into reception and left a message that she would see you at home.’

I had forgotten about Sheila! She must have been waiting for ages.

‘Ok, thanks.’

‘Right, come down to my office and we’ll have a chatet about what you’ll be doing and sort out the boring paperwork.’

We went in the stomach churning lift down several floors and we ended up in a nice cream carpeted, cream walled office. This was the home of Phillipa Prendergast, HR manager, or so it said on the door. It also said ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here’ and I hoped that it was a joke.

‘Sit down hon.’ she said pointing to a sofa in the corner. ‘Coffee, white with?’

‘Yes please.’

She poured out two coffees from a percolator bubbling in the corner and brought over the cups, handing me one whilst sipping the other.

She pulled over another chair and sat down opposite me.

Have you got a P45?’

Er, no. what is it, a disease?’

‘No sweetie, your P45 describes your National Insurance and Income Tax details, from your previous job.’

‘This is my first proper job.’

‘OK, no problemo. Can you bring your birth certificate in tomorrow?’

‘Erm, I don’t have it.’

‘Riiiight. Can you get a copy.’

‘I’ll try. But it might take a bit of time. I left home after a row with my ex step-father and I don’t know where it could be or how I can get a copy.’

Phillipa looked a bit confused but didn’t say anything. The Sloane Ranger upper crust breading I supposed. The ‘One shouldn’t ask, should one?’ mentality.

I made a decision.

‘I think I need to tell you a bit about myself. Peter said I should tell you but he left it up to me.’

‘Don’t tell me anything if you don’t want to. If Peter is happy about you then that’s good enough for me.’ she said sipping her coffee.

‘No, it’s only fair.’ I sipped on my hot coffee, took a deep breath and just blurted it out.

‘I’m a boy.’

I chose the wrong moment as she choked mid gulp and sprayed coffee all over my cream now coffee coloured blouse.

‘Oh lord, sorry, Oh GOD look what I’ve done. Your lovely blouse!’

‘It’s all right.’ I said weakly as she handed me a couple of tissues to try to clear up the mess.

‘No it’s not, but it was a bit of a shock that. You can’t be a boy. Look at you; you’re so pretty; no one could mistake you for a boy. God, I wish I had your legs, face…most of you actually. I look a bit like a horse.’

‘No you don’t, you’re lovely.’

‘Oh gosh. Sorry I babbled like that. Normally, I’m Ms Efficiency, but you threw me a curve there. May I ask a personal question?’

‘Yes, OK.’

‘Erm, don’t answer if you don’t want to and I do not want to upset you in any way and I’m not one to judge or anything. My best friends would tell you that I’m not in any way shape or form biased or judgemental or anything but… why are you dressed like a girl, if you are a boy?’

‘Because I like being dressed like this and I came to the interview like this…..’

I told her the whole sordid story and apart from the couple of ‘goshes’ and the occasional ‘golly’ and ‘oh my’s’ she heard me out.

‘Well Toni, you certainly have been through it.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Well Toni, you… Oh sorry, I’m burbling again. Look, I have no problem with this and no one is going to bat an eyelid about what gender you are. In fact, to my knowledge, there are two men here who used to be women and one visa versa. We have some openly gay guys working here too, Derek and Ronald. Lovely people, you must meet them sometime.’

‘Derek and Ronald?’ I said faintly.

‘That’s right.’

‘Both over six feet tall and ride bikes?’

‘That’s them. Do you know them?’

‘We’ve met.’ I said.

‘Oh good, you have friends here already. Now, I have meeting to go to. I’m chairing an ad hoc committee, pro tem with the MD and AMD re the PPM. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten and we’ll have a chatipoo then. OK ya?

‘OK, um thanks,’ I said, not understanding every other word she had just said.

4.

I left the building in a much happier state than I had entered it, caught the tube and arrived home just in time to run into my old friend Davis.

‘Oy you. What the f*****g hell are you doin ‘ere?’

He was wearing a tasteful ensemble of jeans (I think they were blue under there somewhere) and a once yellow tea shirt with ‘I’m the man.’ written on it.

The shirt was greasy with stains of several meals tastefully splattered over a goodly portion of the belly extended front of it. There were other dark stains under the armpits which I assumed was sweat but would probably be useful in germ research or possibly warfare; but I digress.

‘I’m visiting my good friend Sheila,’ I said, thinking on my stockinged feet.

‘Mmm, well, don’t stay long. I don’t want to lower the tone of the neighbourhood.’

I just smiled and went past him, making sure not to touch anything and holding my nose delicately.

I opened the door with a key and there was Sheila, looking uncomfortable, sitting in a chair whilst opposite her sitting on the sofa bed was our friendly policemen Mick and Dave!

‘Erm, sorry to disturb you. I’ll leave you alone.’

‘Just a minute Miss.’ Said Dave in an officious voice.

‘Yes Inspector?’ I said brightly, still trying to sidle out the door.

‘I am still a humble constable,’ said Dave sadly, ‘anyway, enough of that. You are, Ms Summers?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Can you verify your movements on the night of the twenty-first?’

‘Well, I’m quite regular really, I get up in the morning and use the toilet then. I don’t need to poo in the evening normally.’

‘Not THAT sort of movement. Where were you on the night of the twenty-first?’

‘I can’t remember, it was so long ago.’

‘What four days ago?’

‘Oh that twenty-first. Let me see, I was doing my hair.’

‘Not all night.’

‘Well most of it anyway. Then I went to bed.’

‘So you weren’t street walking and being picked up and driven away in a black BMW by a drunk driver?’

‘Who said I was.’

‘You look very familiar, Miss. It wasn’t very light, but I am sure it was you.’

‘What colour was the BMW?’

‘Black, why do you ask?’

‘Just wondered.’

‘Enough of this crap, Mick,’ said Dave.’ Let’s take her down the nick and extract a confession.’

‘What for. I haven’t done anything?’

‘Look officers, what is all this about?’ said Sheila.

Mick coughed and said, ‘well, it’s like this, the slime ball who we nicked driving the BMW under the influence, is claiming that we kicked the shi…I mean hit him unnecessarily when trying to detain him. We thought that you were a witness to this and could corroborate the facts.’

I looked at them warily and said, ‘if, and I say if I could have been the person who may or may not have been in roughly that area at roughly the same time and if I happened to see anything, would I hypothetically of course, be in trouble in any way shape or form?’

All the years of watching police dramas were bearing fruit and I knew the patter off by heart.

‘Well Miss, we aren’t interested in you, just trying to get the facts straight.’

‘And save your bacon?’

‘Well, yes really.’

‘And there wouldn’t be any charges? Not that I’m in any way guilty of anything.’

‘You’ll be as clear as the driven snow, miss.’

‘OK, and I have a witness, Sheila, remember? I was an innocent person and I had just been upset be a man in a restaurant. I didn’t have any transport and I started to walk home. My feet were killing me and a man driving a black car pulled up. I thought it was a taxi and I got in…..’

I told the police what happened and how I slipped away whilst the drunk was being arrested.

‘Anyway,’ I concluded, ‘I didn’t see you hit the man in any way. In fact he was causing you problems not the other way round.’

Dave looked incredulous when he said, ‘So lets get this straight Miss, you thought that a man in a black BMW drove up to you as you was walking home and you thought that it was a taxi?’

‘Erm, yes.’ I didn’t like the way he looked at me as if I was thick or something.

‘I see, Miss. Did you see any sign on the car that said taxi?’

‘No, but it was dark.’

‘Even so miss…’

‘Leave it Dave,’ said Mick impatiently, ‘all that matters is that she is willing to say that we didn’t beat the crap out of that bloke. Now miss, would you mind popping down to the station to make a statement?’

‘What now?’

‘It would help clear things up.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Sheila, ‘I’ll come with you.’

So it was that I found myself down at the nick, filling out a statement for Mick and Dave.

After doing as they asked and getting my hand shook by the grateful and relieved policemen, we found ourselves out on the street again.

‘Let’s go get something to eat at Dominos,’ said Sheila.

‘OK,’ I said as we crossed the road, trying to avoid the busy traffic.

A short walk found us at the pizza restaurant. We were led to our seats and then after a short wait we were tucking into a pizza of gigantic proportions.

As we ate, I filled Sheila in on what happened at the job interview.

‘My God,’ said Sheila, ‘so your step uncle or whatever is happy about you being a boy, notionally, I mean?’

‘I don’t know what you mean by notionally but yes, he’s cool about the whole thing.’

‘When do you start?’

‘Tomorrow at 10.00 a.m.’

‘So, are you going dressed as a boy?’

‘Um, no.’

‘Why not? They know about you now and your new boss is cool about who you are. You don’t need to pretend any more. Though, I must admit you have taken to wearing girly stuff like a duck to water.’

I felt myself go red under my makeup. I crossed my stockinged legs under the table.

‘Erm, I want to go dressed as a girl.’

‘Good on you. I knew that you looked happier as a girl. More real and complete I suppose.’

‘That’s it. I think that as a boy I wasn’t up to much. I under achieved, was as shy as hell and I didn’t know where I was going. Now although I have had more than a few problems on the way, I am happy as I am. That doesn’t mean that I want operations or anything yet. I am still new to this and I want to try before I buy, sort of thing, you know?’

‘Yep, you are right not to go the whole way until you are one hundred and ten percent happy that you want to be a girl for the rest of your life, now time is getting on and I am on shift in an hours’ time so I need to get home and changed into my uniform.’

‘Can I try it on?’

‘Pervert.’

We paid the bill and left the restaurant. Just two girls chatting away, as you do and crossing the busy road full of cars, lorries and kamikaze cyclists.

We ran across the road. One of my nice shiny heels got caught in a grating and I went crashing to the ground. There was a screech of brakes and a thudding sound. I also heard two screams one was Sheila and the other one was me. Then it all went black.

To be continued.
Copyright Susan Brown 2007

* The Fall And Rise Of Reginald Perrin.

Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter out. Once again real life tends to slap you in the face sometimes. I hope to continue the story sooner rather than later and I hope, gentle and patient reader, that you will be patient with me. Some authors, even bad ones, like what I am (she said preening herself) are somewhat temperamental and erratic.

Please leave comments as it helps to know if one is appreciated (or not).

Working Girl 14

By

Susan Brown

1.

I heard a beep, beep sound.

It was annoying me. I just wanted to sleep and it just kept going on and on.

Beep, beep, beep…

It was no good, I couldn’t sleep.

I opened tried to open one eye and it felt gummy and sticky so I tried the other…the same. I then felt the pain in my leg.

I groaned as the pain intensified.

I heard the sound of feet walking across the floor coming towards me. Then I felt a cool damp cloth or something being wiped across my eyes.

‘Hi, honey, woken up at last?’

I prised my eyes open. I had recognised that voice, it was Sheila!

I opened my eyes, it was a bit bleary, but I could see Sheila in her nurses’ uniform leaning over me with a sort of worried smile on her face.

‘Sheila,’ I croaked, ‘what happened. Where am I?’

‘In hospital.’

‘Why/’

‘Don’t you remember?’

No, yes, I don’t know. Didn’t we have a pizza?’

‘Don’t you remember what happened after that?’

‘No?’

I tried to lift my head off the pillow but for some reason I couldn’t. It felt too heavy and I was quite frankly, knackered.

‘Don’t try to do anything. Look, you got knocked over by a taxi.’

‘It wasn’t a black BMW, was it?’

‘No, it was yellow and had taxi written all over it. Who ever heard of a black BMW taxi anyway?’

I changed the subject.

‘Am I very ill?’ I said in my best claustrophobic voice.

‘Well, you have a hairline fracture and a number of traumatic abrasions and contusions to the left tibia. In addition to this, you have had further contusions and abrasions to you left elbow and forehead which in turn has led to concussion, blurred vision and other small things that the doctor will discuss with you.’

My God, that sounded serious!

‘What was all that in English?’

You’ve got a broken leg, some scratches and some bumps.’

‘Will I live?’

‘Probably, as long as you don’t walk into any more cars.’

‘I hurt all over, especially my leg’

‘I’ll see if you can have any more pain killers. Don’t go away.’

She moved out of my eyesight.

I tried to lift my head again and managed to have a look at where I was before dropping down again, shutting my eyes.

I noticed that I was wearing a hospital gown, washed out pink in colour. My leg was raised a bit and covered in a pressure bandage. I could see my painted toes sticking out beyond where the bandage finished. I had another bandage on my left arm and a few bruises and scratches in various places.

The room was a sort of sickly green colour with a clock ticking loudly on the wall in front of me. The floor was the same colour and looked so shiny that people could break bones if they slipped on it. Still, at least they would be in the right place to fix it. To the side was an informative poster warning me of the dire consequences of unprotected sex.

The hospital room was one of those single ones where people with dreadful infectious diseases or enough money to bribe the sister went.

As I had no money, my brain went into fifth gear and then overdrive.

Perhaps I was infectious. I had heard of MRSA like everyone else. Maybe I caught it somehow when I was admitted and they had to put me out of the way of healthy people so they didn’t catch it. Perhaps I was on my last legs and Sheila was keeping it away from me, being all brave and everything.

My vivid imagination ran wild. Thinking about how my funeral was going to be and how all the flowers should be distributed to orphanages.

I could just see all my new workmates and Sheila, looking down at my grave.

I shuddered as in my minds eye I could see the odious Davis, wearing his best greasy shirt and jeans throwing a singe red plastic rose on my coffin as I…….

‘Wake up, Toni.’

My eyes snapped open. Sheila was back.

‘Let me help you take these,’ she said holding out a couple of pills in a paper cup.

With difficulty, I downed the pills and then took a sip of water to wash them down with.

‘Sheila.’

‘Yes, honey?’

‘You would tell me if I was desperately ill and had MRSA or something wouldn’t you?’

‘You haven’t, but of course I would tell you. What put that into your head?’

‘Well, I’ve been put into a single room.’

‘So?’

‘I saw on that hospital soap the other day, what was it called? Oh yes, Casualty that they put people with unmentionable nasty problems or infections in single rooms. I suspect because they don’t want to upset normal unhealthy patients.’

‘Crap.’

‘Pardon.’

‘Well, you don’t actually believe what you see on the telly, do you?’

‘Well…’

‘Don’t be silly. No the reason why you are here is that you have a willy.’

I could feel my face go red.

‘Willy?

‘Yes that thing that dangles between your legs and gets caught up in zips, technically called a penis and…’

‘I know what a willy is, I’m not stupid. Why have I been put in here because of my willy?’

‘Well, on admission, the nurses that cared for you noticed that you were wearing girls’ clothes when physically you vaguely resemble the male species.’

I went redder.

‘Oh….My…God…!’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘They all know.’

‘Know what?’

‘That I am a boy.’

‘After all you have told me and they way you have been dressing lately, not forgetting the way you look, do you consider yourself a boy or girl?’

‘Um…a girl, I suppose.’

‘That’s what I think. Anyway, I was way too upset to be coherent when they rushed you to hospital, so I didn’t have a chance to talk to the nurses and doctors about you. The admissions policy here is that if you are dressed as a woman but have the physical attributes of a man or visa versa, they will try to put you into an individual room until you are able to tell them your preferences.’

‘That’s very PC of them.’

‘Well, possibly, but I think it was more to do with the unfortunate incident of the patient admitted whilst unconscious wearing some knickers under his jeans and stained brown coat.’

‘What happened?’

‘They put him in a female ward, thinking that was a good idea, not realising that he was a pantie fetishist who liked to pinch girls’ knickers off the line and wear them and then flash people at random.’

‘Yuk! What happened?’

‘When he woke up, he evidently though that he had died and gone to heaven. He started drooling and hyperventilating. He nearly had a heart attack at the site of all that female flesh. They sedated him and got him out of there fast.’

‘So they think that I’m kinky, now!’

‘No, silly. I had a word with the ward sister and she knows your situation.’

‘So she thinks that I AM a weirdo who likes dressing up as a girl!’

‘No, you silly moo. She knows that you are transgendered and they are OK with that. You would be surprised at the amount of people who come to A&E who crossdress at least under their male outer clothing. What I am saying is that it takes a lot to shock a nurse and you or anyone else wearing knickers would not even score 1 on the Richter scale.’

‘So they don’t think that I’m a sick weirdo like that flasher then?’

‘No, if anything, when they undressed you, they were surprised at the package in your panties.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Let’s put it this way, you look very convincing as a GG.’

‘GG.’

‘Genuine girl.’

‘Mmm you seem to know a lot.’

‘Well, when you went all girly on me, I asked around, looked at the internet and found out a lot about girls like you.’

‘You mean that there are others like me? Hang on a minute, when I went all girly on you! You were the one to push me into this!’

‘Never mind all that. You must have heard of cross dressing before you got into a dress?’

‘Well yes, I suppose so.’ I said yawning, ‘I thought that people who did that were drag artists like Danny La Rue. Remember, I led a bit of a sheltered life, up until I was chucked out of home and I got to know you.’

‘I think I’ve been insulted there, but never mind, I’ll save breaking your other leg until next time. Anyway, the pills I gave you obviously have made you sleepy, so I go now and come back tomorrow. Bye love.’

She bent over and kissed my cheek and left the room.

I yawned again, realised that the pain had faded somewhat and before I knew it I was asleep.

2.

I was on this jumbo jet and it was taking off. I was wearing a yellow strappy sun dress and white sandals.

I was strapped in the seat and quite frankly I was petrified.

I am not a good flyer. I had only been in an aircraft once before and I was terrified. We had been landing in Malaga and the pilot decided to land it in a pothole. We bounced so much on landing, I was physically sick on my Dad. He was not pleased; it was his best Hawaiian shirt that got gooed on.

Anyway, back to the jumbo. We had just had a lecture from the stewardess about how, if we crashed and somehow survived, we had to put on a lifejacket, be all brave and not panic. (as if!).

I gripped the armrest like there was no tomorrow I could feel the sick coming up. My eyes were tightly shut. The roar got louder as the engines seemed to want to tear away from the wings. I grabbed the person next to me and screamed as I opened my eyes and saw the odious Davis leering at me. He had my dads’ Hawaiian shirt on, though it was covered in stains of a dubious nature, I still recognised it. He was leering at me and said something over the screech of those damned engines. The smell of his breath nearly made me swoon.

‘It’s alright love, I will protect you. After all, you are my wife and can’t wait to get you into bed in our luxury caravan at Skegness.’

I shuddered in horror and shut my eyes again. I tried to get away from him as he pawed me in a disgusting reptilian manner. The engines got louder and louder and I got more panicky.

Suddenly, I was tapped on the shoulder.

I jumped as I opened my eyes. I saw that I was in bed and I was obviously not in a jumbo. My memory came back with a rush. I was in hospital! I breathed a sigh of relief as I realised that I had bean having a nightmare. I was tapped on the shoulder again. I looked up and saw that it was a hospital worker, she looked as knackered as I felt. Perhaps it had been a long shift.

‘You awake, love?’

‘I am now.’

‘Sorry I can’t hear you. I’ll turn of the floor cleaner.’

She flipped a switch and the engine like sound went and it was quiet again.

‘That’s better. Did I wake you, dear?’

‘Oh, that’s all right, I was having a bad dream anyway.’

‘I just wanted to know if you were a private patient. If you are then I’ll go and do another room.’

‘No I’m National Health.’

‘That’s OK then.’

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was 5.30am!

She switched on the floor cleaner again and I tried to block out the noise by putting a pillow over my head.

Eventually she was finished and then it was quiet. I had just nodded off and then there was an almighty crash just outside my door. It sounded like someone had dropped a dozen bedpans.

I looked at the clock. It was 5.45am.

When my heart stopped galloping I drifted off to sleep…only to be woken up by a bang on the door and a trolley being pushed through the door.

‘Breakfast time.’ said the woman with a toothy grin and a sort of net hat thingy on her head.

I looked at the clock, it was 6.02am.

‘Cornflake, boiled egg and toast do ya love?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Ooh you got to eat dear or they will give you an enema.’

‘Cornflakes please.’

‘Cup of Rosy Lee?’

‘Pardon?’

Tea, love, Cup of tea?’

‘Um, yes please.’

She slopped the tea down on a sort of wheeled tray thingy and then put a few cornflakes and a small puddle of milk in a bowl and then pushed the whole thing in front of me.

‘Get that down you quickly, dear. Its ward rounds soon.’

Before I could say thank you she was out of the door and tearing down the corridor waking up some other poor devil.

I swallowed the cardboard cornflakes and tepid milk and then washed that down with the tea. I think it was tea. To be honest, it tasted like dishwater.

I pushed the tray away and shut my eyes again. I was still dog tired, probably the effects of the accident and pills.

I drifted off to dreamland… only to be woken up AGAIN by the door being crashed open.

Suddenly I was surrounded by a gaggle of people in white coats.

The eldest one; a man with white hair and half moon glasses said. ‘Sorry to wake you up. How do you feel?’

‘Tired.’

‘Yes that’s to be expected. Let’s have a look at you then.’

He poked and prodded me, asked if this that and the other hurt and then said to one of the other white coats, ‘Got the x ray handy, Andy?’

They all went over to other side of the room switched on a white panel and pushed the x ray up against it.

‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘What do you think of that?’

‘A clear hairline fracture to the left tibia, Sir,’ said a junior white coat.

‘Do you all agree?’

There were a series of nods and yeses.

‘Bloody idiots. God help the National Health Service if you lot are a prime example of the new doctors we are getting now!’

He pulled the x ray away from the panel, turned it over and blew on it, then he put it back on the panel.

‘Now, do you still think that it’s a fracture?’

There was series of shaking heads and no’s.

The doctor came back over to me and said.’ Well my dear, my colleagues are in agreement now that you do not have a broken leg, just a few cuts bruises and a bit of swelling. You can go home in a few hours . If you get any headaches or feel sick, call your doctor straight away.’

‘What about the broken leg?’

‘It was a hair on the x ray.’

‘Oh.’

With that the doctors left.

It was 6.45am.

I went back to sleep.

3.

I woke up with a jolt to someone plopping a wet sponge on my face and washing me vigorously.

‘Sorry, love, did I wake you?’

I tried to answer but as my mouth was full of sponge and soap, the swear word never came out.

I felt like a car. You know, when you stop at a traffic light and some oik comes up to your car, washes the windscreen at an incredibly quick pace then demands money with menaces.

Before I knew it, the nurse was gone, leaving me clean, but still slightly soggy around the edges.

It was 6.58am and I was beginning to hate that bloody clock.

The ticking of the clock helped me drift off to sleep.

I dreamt that I was at a ball. It was being held at a stately home. I was in the ball room with what appeared to be hundreds of other gaily dressed people.

I looked down at myself.

I was wearing a long white sequined ball gown. It had a flattering slight V shape to the bodice section, with two layers of taffeta and chiffon over the skirt. It was sequined and had beading to the front. The dress was strapless and flowed down my body, fitting me to perfection and making me look pretty, slim and vibrant. The dress came with long matching gloves, which complimented the dress to perfection. I could feel myself restricted by a boned corset but not uncomfortably so. I could feel that my legs were encased in a sheath of fine silk stockings, held up with suspenders attached to the corset. I was wearing white court shoes studded with diamonds and with ridiculously high heels.

My bosom was heaving with excitement as I was being led around the dance floor by a handsome man in evening dress. He was drop dead gorgeous and I could feel the juices wetting my panties in anticipation of the night ahead.

I could see in the various mirrors dotted about the room as we waltzed past, my long blond hair, piled on top of my head and held in place by a tiara of silver and diamonds.

The smile on my face said it all. I was in love.

The dance finished and he led me out onto the terrace. It was quieter and cooler out there. The stars were shining in the clear sky. The moon was full as we looked over the lake to the valley beyond.

I looked up at him, my lips, slightly sticky and sweet from my lipstick parted as his head came closer and closer. I could see his liquid blue eyes and I felt as if I was floating on air as he came closer and closer.

Our lips met and opened in unison as his wonderful tongue probed deliciously in my waiting and eager mouth; our tongues entwined in a lovers’ embrace that excited me to the depth of my being….

Then I woke up to find a hard thermometer in my mouth and a nurse taking my pulse.

‘Sorry dear, did I wake you up?’

I was too upset to speak. The dream was too real. What the hell was going on? Do I fancy men now?

The nurse finished what she was doing and was off again, leaving me somewhat upset as I realised that I felt uncomfortably sticky and damp down below. I felt under the covers. Yup, it had happened. I had orgasmed in my sleep, dreaming about french kissing a man!

I looked at that sodding clock, still bloody ticking away, it was 7.20am.

I stayed awake then. Not daring to fall asleep. Time ticked past slowly as things quietened down.

I wondered how soon I could leave hospital. I was waiting for someone to come back and give me the final release from this hell hole and then I could go.

Sheila popped in at 10.am carrying a small case.

‘Hi Toni, having a nice rest.’

‘Grrr.’

‘Now, now, don’t be like that. I heard from Peter that you haven’t got a broken leg after all.’

‘Peter?’

‘The doctor who examined you.’

‘Oh.’

‘He said that there was no reason why you can’t go home and as I have finished my shift. I’m here to help you get dressed.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘Why, haven’t you had a nice rest?’

‘Don’t ask.’

To be continued….

Working Girl 15

By

Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

I spent a couple of boring days in bed reading girly mags, ‘to help with my feminine initiation, acclimation' or something, according to Sheila.

When I got bored reading about Spotty Cynthia from Streatham and her boyfriends and other similar letters on the problem pages, I tried the TV.

Daytime TV seemed to comprise of lots cooking shows, dressing up older women to look like fifteen year olds shows, more cooking shows, assorted shouting matches on various chat shows and more bloody cooking shows.

Luckily, after two days of near terminal boredom broken by dreams about drizzles of olive oil and garnishes of Rocket, I was able to get up and start walking, well limping around the flat.

Sheila had gone to work and I was all on my lonesome when there was a knock on the door.

I slipped my dressing gown on over my rather revealing baby doll; I know, not practical, but very sensual, and opened the door.

‘Hello.’ he said, looking me up and down.

The first thought that came into my head was, ‘Cor, what a hunk.’

He was about six feet tall, with honey blond hair, deep blue eyes, a lovely small upturned nose, nice smile and some toothpaste ad type teeth. They sort of sparkled as he smiled. He had a cute little dimple in the middle of his chin.

He looked about 20 give or take a year, ummm, not that I noticed any of that, of course as I still have manly (if smallish) equipment and I was into girls.

‘Um. Hello.’ I squeaked, I mean said.

‘Sorry to trouble you, I’m new here. I’ve taken over the flat downstairs from a Tony Summers and I have some post for him, do you know where he's moved to?’

As usual, my brain let me down and I heard me saying, ‘He’s moved to Australia. I’m his sister, Toni.’

‘You’re Tony?’

He looked puzzled and his clean strong forehead crinkled slightly in a small frown.

‘Toni with an i.’

‘Must be confusing?’

‘Yes erm, our parents had a strange sense of humour, it’s actually short for Antonia.’

‘Oh, I see. Nice, I like it.’

He looked down at the letters in his hand and shuffled them absently.

‘Oh, it looks like you have a few too.’

He handed the letters in my general direction while gazing up and down and then noticed that I was standing sort of awkwardly.

‘Are you OK, there's a bandage on your leg?’

‘Oh yes, I just banged my leg up a bit and it’s still a bit stiff.’

He gazed at my legs a little more closely, making me feel a teensy bit uncomfortable as I hadn’t shaved them in a few days. I was also very aware of my flimsy covering and the fact that I could swear that he had x ray eyes. Hell I could feel it. I’m not really paranoid, am I?

‘Um, anyway, thanks for the letters. I’ll make sure Tony gets his. Er thanks again, bye.’

I shut the door in a hurry, not wanting him to see how upset I was.

I heard him walk down the carpet-less corridor outside and breathed a sigh of relief.

I limped back to bed, took my dressing gown off and slipped under the covers.

As my head hit the pillows, a faint smile played on my lips as I thought about him. I didn’t even know his name!

I shook myself out of my daydream as I realised that I must still be feeling the after effects of the accident. I have no interest in men, full stop. I like, no love girls not boys. I might be in a nightie and look vaguely girlish, but my preferences were purely hetero. It must be a post traumatic stress thingy.

‘’Mind you, I thought, talking to my inner self, ‘if I like being a girl and dress as a girl, does this make me a lesbian or bi, or what?’

My head was spinning with confusion and I drifted off to sleep.

‘Wake up Toni, want some tea?’

My eyes snapped open and there was Sheila, still in her uniform, prodding my arm.

‘Ouch, that hurts. Where's your bedside manner?’

‘Sod that. One of the first things we learnt at nursing school was how to irritate, pester and bully patients. Anyway, you are due to go to work tomorrow and it’s about time that you were more mobile. Come on get your finger out.’

‘But it hurts!’ I whined bravely.

‘Don’t be a baby.’

‘Not.’

‘Am.’

As usual, I lost the argument and got up, gingerly and slumped a little sulkily into the armchair. I only winced occasionally, for effect, but it was like water off a ducks back. Sheila was a hard girl.

‘Now, you’ve finished the pantomime performance, let’s look at that leg.

She knelt down in front of me and gently unwound the bandage.

I only yelped a couple of times as she finally removed the covering. Not bad, considering.

‘Hmm.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Does this hurt?’

‘Ouch!’

‘And this?’

‘Ouch, ouch.’

‘Good, it looks OK. You don’t need the bandage back on; you might get away with stockings tomorrow when you go to work.’

‘Do I have to go?’

‘You promised your uncle when he rang, yesterday.’

‘I was feverish and didn’t know what I was saying.’

‘Rubbish, you can’t back out now. So, has the postman come?’

I followed her gaze, looked down on the bed and noticed the letters.

‘Oh, I meant to tell you before you started torturing me that a man has taken over my old room downstairs.’

‘I know, Giles is OK.’

‘You knew?’

‘Of course. I know all the potential nookie for miles around.’

‘Do you fancy him?’ I said, for some reason, sounding upset at that.

‘Nice, bum, teeth and all that, what's not to like. But a bit young for me and probably wet behind the ears, I prefer men with experience, he still looks like a learner.’

‘Oh.’

‘Mind you, ideal for you. Training wheels and all.’

I nearly choked on the tea that she had just handed me.

‘ME, don’t be silly, I’m into girls.’

‘Are you sure? Look at that wet dream you had in hospital.’

‘What wet dream?’

‘You told me about the ball, the gown and prince thing. Also I helped get you out of bed to go home. There were signs.’

‘Signs?’ I said quietly.

‘I have been a nurse for years now. You would be surprised what we find on the bed covers.’

I felt myself go red all over as I ever so cleverly changed the subject.

‘Erm, I suppose I had better read my letters now.’

Sheila smirked as she took my cup and went into the kitchen.

Most of the letters were trying to sell me something, so I chucked them.

One letter in a cream envelope and hand stamped, caught my eye.

I slit the envelope open and took out the single sheet.

It was from a doctor’s surgery:

Dear Ms Summers,

Your new employers have a pension and life insurance scheme with Total Life and Pensions Group.

A stipulation of being in the scheme is that members have to have a medical at the earliest opportunity.

Your HR manager has contacted us and intimated that you are due to start on the 21st of this month. We have therefore arranged the examination for that morning at 9.00am sharp with Dr Squires, prior to your commencing work.

If this is inconvenient, please let us know in good time.

Yours etc.

I looked at the letter. To say my gast was flabbered, would be an understatement.

How the hell was I going to get out of this!

Copyright Susan Brown 2007

Working Girl 16

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

‘What’s up?’

‘Oh God, oh God, oh God!’

‘O hell, don’t go all religious on me. Tell me what’s wrong?’

I shakily handed the letter over to Sheila. I wasn’t panicking, I’m sure I wasn’t, not really, I mean panicking…no, no, I was OK.

‘Ah, this could be interesting.’

‘Interesting, is that all you can say. I turn up there, dressed all girly like, strip my clothes off, the doctor sees my meat and two veg and all you can say is that it’s interesting.’

‘Don’t panic.’

I…am…not…panicking.’

‘Look honey’, said Sheila sitting on the bed in her best, Florence Nightingale mode, ‘you are getting this all out of proportion. Just go in, sit down, explain that you are in transition and that you are physically male but prefer the female gender role.’

‘You’ve been reading stuff on the internet again, haven’t you?’

‘Don’t say it like I have been looking at porn. When your little problem arose, I thought that it would be a good idea to have a look at the stuff about it on the net. I know all about gender dysphoria and everything now. Well, enough anyway.

‘What is that? Have I got it and will it hurt?’

‘Don’t go all, hypochondriac on me. It’s just a term used for people with your proclivities.’

‘Pro what? Oh forget it; you’re trying to confuse me with those big words again. Look, it’s all very well you saying that it will be all sweetness and light when I go to see the doctor, but it’s me who has to go through this, not you.’

‘I’m sure that it will be OK. You are just letting your imagination run away with you.’

I was not convinced, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

2

Next morning I woke up with vague wisps of a dream; doctors holding BIG syringes, straightjackets and leering nurse Ratchett types… with a shake I cleared my head, slightly. Coming to the realisation that two things were happening today.

First I did have to see a doctor and… I didn’t want to think of the consequences of that, then I was going to work in an office…as a girl!

You can imagine, gentle and patient reader, I was just a trifle reluctant to get out of bed.

Eventually I got up. Sheila was at work, so I didn’t have her moral support.

I stumbled to the bathroom, looked at the mirror and saw my sleep ravaged face staring back at me. With a small grimace and ignoring the building tension, I sat down for my early morning wee.

After sighing umpteen times a small tinkle developed, I wiped myself down there, stood up, took my nightie off and had a shower.

Very carefully shaved my legs under the shower and washed my hair, not forgetting to use the conditioner, of course.

As I dried myself off, I wondered what I should wear. I wanted to look like a girl going to the office. I had a few nice things that I could wear now. Sheila had dragged me around the shopping centre after the shock of opening the letter.

My mind went back to that previous afternoon and I shuddered.

She had made me buy several skirts and blouses, some dresses, bras and knickers.

I got fed up with changing rooms. I was embarrassed at seeing all that naked flesh (other than mine) and not knowing where to point my eyes, while I tried on more and more clothes.

It was the one thing that I still found boring, buying clothes. Perhaps it’s a girl thing that I haven't quite mastered yet. Or maybe you're born to it.

After what seemed like hours we had gone up to the coffee shop and after getting our drinks and some nice big knickerbocker glories, We took the drinks and ice creams, looking really tasty in the tall glasses, over to a table and we sat and watched the world go by.

It was nice to get off my aching feet; heels must have been designed by men; women wouldn’t be that stupid!

We got hit on by a couple of Neanderthals as we sat and sipped our cappuccinos and scooped the ice cream out of the glasses with long spoons.

‘Hi girls,’ said one blockhead, ‘It’s your lucky day.’

‘And why would that be?’ said Sheila, disdain dripping from her voice.

‘We are here to cheer your little lives up’, said Neanderthal 2.

‘I can see you boys are a bit on the shy and retiring side and I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything but please, piss off.’

I just sat there, eyes wide in admiration listening to a real pro at work.

‘Come on love, you know that we're the best thing you're going to see in this dismal dump today. What say we go grab a flic or something eh,’ said n1.

‘I like the sound of that, especially the ‘something,’ said N2.

‘What part of piss and off don’t you understand? Anyway girls like us are not in any way, shape or form interested in men, no sorry, little boys like you. Now run off to your mummy before I call security.’

I was getting lower and lower in my seat, and my head was now in line with the table. Sheila was a bit anti men at the moment what with the problems she had recently experienced with her ex, she could be a bit unpredictable and I just wanted to stay out of the firing line. I think that I would prefer to play ‘ring around a rosy’ with gelignite than be anywhere near Sheila when she was in a strop.

But they just did not get it. The warning signs were there. Sheila was smiling and looking reasonable. She was tapping her fingers gently on the table; all very bad signals. Thick sods!

It had gone strangely quiet. The only people unaware that there was a problem were the two boys. Most of the people at the other tables had gone quiet and were staring at us in unashamed nosiness.

‘Come on girls, you know it makes sense. Lets face it, we're the best chance today of you having a good time. What are you, frigid or somefin?’

There was a pregnant pause, and then it happened.

Sheila must have had some mystical training from a martial arts expert from Tibet or somewhere windswept and foreign. It happened so quickly.

Sheila picked up our knickerbocker glories and in a blink and it's over motion, chucked the contents with unerring accuracy over the two wasters.

One second the boys were standing there, wearing reasonably clean tee shirts and jeans, with self satisfied smirks on their faces and the next, they were covered in strawberry, vanilla and chocolate ice cream.

They were somewhat stunned and didn’t react for a few seconds. The mixture of melting ice cream on their hair and faces now cascading gently down onto their tee-shirts made me giggle nervously, probably mild hysteria on my part.

‘YOU BITCH!’

‘YOU COW.’

They started to grab at Sheila who was wielding her handbag like an offensive weapon when there was a cough…

‘Excuse me ladies, but is something wrong?’

I looked up from my semi prone, almost under the table position and saw two rather hefty security guards looming over us. They must breed them big in this shopping centre as they both looked over six foot six inches tall.

The two boys looked distinctly uncomfortable as they dripped ice cream onto the nice shiny floor.

Sheila was the first to speak.

‘These, erm… gentlemen were bothering us and making rather rude remarks. I felt threatened as I thought that they might attack us, so I threw the ice cream at them. Isn’t that right Toni?’

‘Eek.’

One of the security guards took my coherent answer as confirmation and in seconds the lads were being dragged away, shouting and cursing their innocence, for some not so gentle interrogation down in the dungeons or somewhere.

Sheila looked at me.

‘Get up off the floor Toni; it’s not ladylike. Shall I order another knickerbocker glory?’

I got myself up a little awkwardly, dusted myself down and sat opposite her again. I didn’t know girls could get that aggressive. She scared me sometimes. There was a sort of unearthly thing about her that was decidedly not of this world.

‘Um, yes please.’ I squeaked.

She got up and ambled over to the counter. People got out of the way like that film, you know, the one about Charlton Heston with a long beard, parting the sea or something.

Anyway a lady cleaner came over, chuckling to herself as she cleaned the mess off the floor.

‘Game one, that.’ She said with a nod Sheila's way. ‘Those boys are bad ones. They're always here, mucking about, frightening the girls. They got banned last year for pinching stuff. They never learn. Stupid gits.’

The woman finished doing her stuff and ambled off again, just as Sheila came back with the ice creams.

‘There we are, get your face into this.’

We ate in silence. The food area gradually went back to normal.

‘Um, Sheila.’

‘Yes, hon?’

‘Didn’t you worry about your continuing health when those boys started and you finished the argument like that?’

She laughed.

‘No, they were pussycats compared to some I have to deal with in A&E on a Saturday night.’

‘Oh.’

3

My mind snapped back to the present. My daydreaming meant that I had to get a rush on.

I grabbed a cream silky blouse and black skirt, matching jacket, some knickers a bra, tights and black low heel shoes and then put them all on the bed.

In a few moments, I was over at the dressing table applying my makeup. This was getting easier and easier to do and in less than ten minutes I had painted my face on.

Another ten minutes saw me dressed, hair brushed and out of the door. I had avoided breakfast as I thought that I probably wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

I caught the bus at the end of the road. I found a seat at the back that was free and I looked again at the letter from the doctors.

I knew where I was going, as the surgery was just off the high street, not far from the office where I was going to work.

My heart did flip flops, thinking of my ordeal ahead. If I was a drinker, now would be time for a stiff one.

All too soon, the bus stopped at the high street. I got off and walked slowly towards the doctors’ surgery. I looked at my watch. Five minutes to my appointment.

I soon found myself outside the surgery, took a deep breath, girded my loins, whatever the hell that meant and walked in.

The place was empty. I was expecting tons of sick people slumped on seats, coughing and spluttering and possibly twitching a little as well.

Instead, I was in a tasteful waiting room, with deep comfy chairs dotted here and there, coffee table with glossy magazines in the centre and a small table in the corner with a small, old fashioned, brass bell on it.

I walked over to the table; the plush deep red carpet deadening the sound of my shoes as I went.

There was a note on the table in front of the bell. It said ‘Please ring for assistance’.

I very tentatively rang the bell, the small tinkle sounded deafening to me in the quiet room and I jumped slightly at the noise.

A door creaked open in the corner and a woman in a white coat came into the room.

‘Hello, are you Ms Summers?’

‘Um, yes.’

‘Gosh, you are punctual. Right, come this way, please.’

I followed her out into a corridor and into another room. It was clearly some sort of changing room.

‘Right, erm Toni is it? Yes, well could you please take all your clothes off and put one of the gowns on from over there.’

She vaguely pointed at some folded items of clothing on a table in the corner of the room.

‘I need to explain something.’ I said, in desperation.

‘No time now, the doctor is very busy and has other appointments. Please ring the bell when you're changed.’

‘But.’

‘Just ring, when you're ready.’

She left the room in a hurry, leaving me somewhat upset, to say the least.

I took all my clothes off and changed into the gown. It wasn’t very pretty.

I felt very exposed and draughty at the back and I was not a happy bunny.

I rang the bell and a few minutes later the woman came in.

‘Good, all fixed? Let’s get you into the doctor.’

‘But…’

‘If you have any questions, just ask the doctor.’

I gave up. She just was not going to listen to me. I followed her with a large amount of trepidation out of that room, down the carpeted corridor and into another room.

It was obviously an examination room with all the usual stuff, you know torture instruments, drugs, needles pills, severed limbs… well perhaps not that but I had watched House MD recently and it kind of put me off doctors of any kind and what with my very recent accident and the traumatic time spent in hospitals, I was slightly biased against the medical profession.

‘Just sit here. The doctor will be with you in a moment.’

With that she left the room, leaving me in a state bordering on mild hysteria.

As usual, while I was waiting, my mind went into overdrive.

What if the doctor was angry and disgusted with me for pretending to be a girl?

What if…

‘Hello, Toni.’

I looked around to see a pleasant looking female doctor. She seemed about thirty years old. She had a white doctor’s coat on, medium brown hair and a gentle smile.

‘Erm, hello doctor.’

She sat down at her desk, looked at a file of papers, put them down and then turned to me.

‘Ok Toni. You received a letter from us about the medical. It’s not going to hurt you or anything like that. It’s just that these stuffy life insurance people don’t trust anyone not to drop dead, making them pay out thousands, something they don't want to do unless they have to. Just looking at you, you look pretty OK to me, but I have to run a few tests just for forms sake.’

She shuffled a few papers on her desk and then continued.

‘First of all, I know it’s embarrassing, but could you slip off your gown and pop yourself on the couch over there as I need to give you a gynaecological exam. I’m sure that you have had many before so know it's a little uncomfortable but there is no need to worry. After that, I’ll take some blood and other things, sound your chest, prod and poke you in various places and that will be it. Toni, are you OK? You look pale.’

I looked at her. She had a kind face. Perhaps she won’t shout at me.

‘I’m not a girl.’ I whispered.

‘Pardon dear, I can’t hear you.’

I cleared my throat. I could feel a few tears go down my face, hitting the starchy white gown like little bombs.

‘I am not a girl.’

‘Sorry dear, it’s a failing of mine. You are, of course a young woman. A very pretty young wom…’

‘I am a boy.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘I am a boy.’ I said looking up through my tears at a face that looked concerned and puzzled at the same time.

She looked at her papers and then looked up at me again.

‘Are you transgendered?’

I nodded, not able to speak.

‘Well, silly. Why didn’t you tell me, letting me blunder on like that.’

‘I tried to tell your receptionist but she didn’t give me a chance.’

‘Yes, sorry about that. She’s agency. I’ve only had her a few days and she’s driving me mad. My normal girl is off with the flu.’

‘She said that you were in a hurry and had lots of appointments, so if you want me to go…’

‘One, I don’t have lots of appointments, I pick and choose my hours and the number of patients I see. Two, this isn’t the NHS, I am private and can charge extortionate fees to clients who can well afford it. Three, that woman will have to go. Anyway, enough about my problems, lets talk about yours. I want you to sit there and tell me all about yourself. Then and only then I will examine you. OK?’

I nodded.

‘So tell me everything. I have a feeling that you have a few things to, ah, get off your chest. I noticed by the way that you are still wearing your bra. Breast forms?’

‘Yes. Well, um… it all started with a letter…’

I told her all my adventures, if you want to call them that. The misunderstandings; dressing for the first time; going out dressed as a girl; finding that I liked the way I looked and felt; realising that I liked myself better as a girl than a boy. Then I told her about the interview with my uncle and the shocking revelations. Then I explained about what happened when I had the accident and finally the incident in the shopping centre with those two idiots.

‘Well you have been through it, haven’t you? I take it you have not discussed your gender problems with a doctor yet?’

‘No, my friend, Sheila has told me that I must do that before I make any final decisions.’

‘Very wise. Why do you feel more like a girl than a boy? After all, you have been a boy most of your life. Just putting on pretty clothes and liking them doesn’t mean that you are a girl, you know.’

I struggled to put words to my feelings.

‘It’s just that I feel more complete as a girl. It’s like before, when I dressed and looked like a boy, I wasn’t very good at it. I was never good at boy’s games. I was shy and withdrawn. I didn’t like rough and tumble. I was bullied a bit at school, but no more than other kids. It wasn’t a bad school really, all boys, no girls. I thought I was OK when I was there but, looking back, I was a square peg in a round hole. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes I do. Do you feel more comfortable with being a girl then?’

‘Yes, it’s like I’ve spent most of my life being something that I’m not. I like the way I look now and how other people seem to like me. I’m not so shy and I have friends. I never had many friends before, as a boy. I feel as if my life has just started.’

The Doctor looked at her watch.

‘OK, we’ll talk more another time. Let’s do the exam.’

As promised, she prodded and poked me. She then got me up on the couch, did a thorough examination of me, including my little boys toys and yuk, rectum! Finally, she made me wee in a small bottle, took about an armful of blood and then told me to get dressed.

‘Come back here when you are dressed and we’ll finish things up for today. All right?’

I nodded and walked to the changing room, quickly got dressed and then went back into the exam room.

The doctor was writing on her pad as I came in and she motioned me to a chair.

‘Won’t be a tick.’

She finished writing and then turned to me.

‘OK Toni, that’s all your tests done. You look very lovely, by the way. You will have absolutely no problems passing. Now back to your medical, I don’t think that you have any problems regarding your health that need concern you. I will be sending your samples to the lab and we should get a result in a few days, but I’m not too concerned that anything is likely to drop off you in the near future. However, you need to address the conflicts that you have with your gender. I see quite a few people with problems of this nature, but I am not an expert. I can put you in touch with a doctor that specialises in this and she will help you with any permanent decisions you may wish to make. She is a lovely lady and I highly recommend her. Would you like me to give her a call?’

I thought for a moment and then just nodded.

‘OK.’

She picked up the phone, dialled a number and waited a few seconds.

Hi, Sally, It’s June. How are you? Kids? Great; look I have a young lady here who needs to talk to someone about her M to F gender situation. Could you see her? When are you free? Hah, tell me about it.’

Doctor June, looked at me and smiled while we waited.

‘Thanks Sal. Yes, I’ll see if that’s OK.’

She turned to me.

‘She can see you on Saturday morning at nine. Is that OK with you?’

‘Yes please.’

‘Sal, Saturday at nine is fine. See you at the squash club on Thursday, bye.’

She put the phone down.

‘Well, Toni, things are moving in a positive direction for you. Are you happy?’

‘More relieved really. Its nice to have people that are willing to help me.’

‘The trouble is, there are a lot of kids out there who can’t or won’t get the help for whatever reason. Too often they harm themselves and that’s a tragedy. Anyway, you have a job to go to and that stupid receptionist needs a few words spoken to her, so push off now and I’ll let you know when the exam results come in.’

She stood up and we shook hands and I left.

As I walked out of the building I felt happier than I had done for a long time. I was making decisions on my life now and not being pushed from pillar to post by events outside my control.

I walked the few blocks to the office building where I hoped I would be working for quite some time, took a deep breath and walked through the doors.

Copyright Susan Brown 2007

Working Girl 17

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

As I walked out of the building I felt happier than I had done for a long time. I was finally making decisions on my life and not being pushed from pillar to post by events outside my control.
I walked the few blocks to the office building where I hoped I would be working for quite some time. I took a deep breath and walked through the doors.

Actually, I didn’t walk through the doors, that would have hurt, they sort of swooshed open automatically. It would have been a bit silly to walk into the doors, wouldn’t it? I’m glad I got that straight. Um, I do tend to babble a bit when I’m nervous, so forgive me going on about the damned doors.

Anyway, the doors swooshed open and I found myself once again walking up to the reception desk.

The girl behind the humongous granite desk smiled efficiently; her teeth glistening in the spotlights; headphones at the ready; satin blouse all shiny and erm satiny. She was cool and collected, in fact the epitome of receptionism. I could maybe learn to dislike her, I think.

May I help you?

I gulped twice, breathed deeply and said, ‘I have arrived’.

Why I said that, I don’t really know, but I thought it sounded rather good even in my somewhat heightened state of scared shitlessness. My imagination ran wild as I was saying it. My thoughts were that there would be the sound of the Hallelujah chorus in the background. Emails would fly around the building announcing my arrival. There would be a collective sigh of relief that I had finally arrived… Mass rejoicing….

‘And you are?’

I came back to Earth with a bit of a dull thump.

‘Toni Summers, I’ve just got a job here. I er need to see Ms Prendergast from HR.’

‘Certainly Ms Summers, just take a seat over there and I’ll call Ms Prendergast.’

She smiled another gleaming 200 watts and I went over to the deep black leather sofa in the corner of reception to sulk for a bit.

Of course, as I sat, the damn thing farted like the ones in my uncles’ office. CJ had a lot to answer for. *

I read a glossy magazine, only two years old, about posh houses and their even posher owners and how hard it is to get good staff nowadays.

I heard a ping from one of the many lifts, and there was Miss, sorry; Ms Prendergast bouncing over to me.

She still had those sunglasses perched on her head and I wondered, vaguely if she slept with them like that.

‘Hello, Toni, nice to see you again. Come on up to my office and we’ll sort you out. OK ya?’

I followed her into the lift and experienced the 3 g- force stomach wrench as we travelled up to her floor.

In minutes we were in her office and she was sitting me down with a cup of tea and a garibaldi.

‘So Toni, how are you after your accident, OK now, ya?’

‘Ya, I mean yes, I’m alright now, thanks. My leg hurts a bit when walking, but not much.’

‘Great, super, wonderful. Now down to brass tacks, as it were. Could you sign these for me in blood? I have a small knife...’

The colour drained from my face.

‘Ha Ha, my little joke, black biro will do.’

I signed the several forms with a slightly shaking hand. My sense of humour was fragile at the moment, to say the least.

‘Well done Toni. Now we need to talk about how you present yourself.’

I looked down; saw the cream silky blouse and black skirt and matching jacket. I thought I looked fine, rather swish actually.

‘Am I not dressed OK?’

‘Yes dear, you look lovely; nice blouse, by the way. It’s not that. Sorry, brain transplant needed! Sorry, no it’s just how you are going to present yourself to everyone who works here.’

‘Sorry, not with you.’

‘I’ll explain. Only a few people here know that you were born male. We don’t think that it’s right for us to tell anyone about your personal circumstances. It’s up to you who you decide to confide in, you know, who you tell. Capish?’

‘Ca what?’

‘Sorry, my Italian lessons getting in the way, what I was trying to say is that you need to decide, who, if anyone you want to tell about your dressing as a girl.’

‘Oh, I see. Do I need to tell anyone?’

‘No, of course not. Let’s face it, hon, no one will see a boy in you. You scream girl. Look, while you have a think, I’ll go get another cuppa; these are cold. I hate these silly machines. Either too hot or too cold or they taste like dishwater. Fancy some cappo’s? They're not too bad. White with one?’

‘Yes please.’

‘Okey Dokey, back in a tick.’

With that, she breezed out leaving me to think about what she'd said.

Did I want anyone else to know about me? Should I be open about it and to hell with the consequences?

For once, I made a quick decision. It was my business and mine alone to decide who should know about me. If I did tell people, the word would get around and sooner or later, I would get unwanted nastiness from someone who didn’t like ‘freaks’. It might happen anyway. Perhaps I might give myself away, scratch my bum in a male fashion or pick my nose or something? Do girls pick their noses? I don’t think I've ever seen that, but I’ve led a sheltered life. Anyway, I decided, I wouldn't tell anyone who didn't need to know.

‘Just then, Ms P came back in carrying two cups of steaming something or other.

‘Sorry it took so long, I had run out of 20p’s,’

‘’Thanks,’ I said as she put the cup down in front of me.

‘Don’t mench. Now, have you thought about things?’

‘Well, Ms Prendergast…’

‘I’ve said before; you must call me Pippa.’

‘Um, sorry Pippa. Anyway, I’ve decided that I don’t want anyone to know about my personal circumstances.’

‘That’s OK hon, I respect that. I’ll just make a note on your file while I remember. Mind like a sieve, me!’

She typed stuff on her computer and then turned back to me.

‘OK,Toni. You will be working with Roger Pilkington. He’s in charge of publicity and is rather dishy. You will be his PA and general dogsbody. I’m sure that you will get on fine with him. Between you and me, all the girls drool over him. I’m sure that you’ll get on like a house on fire. Have you finished your drink? Great, let’s go and see him.’

She picked up the phone and speed dialled.

‘Hi Rog? Pippa here, can I bring Toni down now? Great, super, won’t be a mo.’

We went down two floors in the lift and emerged into a wide spacious corridor with several offices each side. Most of the offices had a nametag on the door; we passed several before coming to one with Roger Pilkington on it.

Pippa knocked on the door and walked in, closely followed by a nervous me.

The office was large and had a nice view over the streets of the town and down to the river. The office was wood panelled, with lots of tasteful pictures and what looked like diplomas scattered around the walls. There was a huge, highly polished wooden desk with a high executive leather chair in front of the panoramic window.

Sitting at the desk was I guess Roger Pilkington. He got up immediately and walked the twenty yards or so around the desk and extended his hand in welcome.

‘Hi, Toni, I’m Roger. Whatever Pippa said about me, ignore, I’m a very nice person, really.’

He was tall. About six foot one; broad shoulders, blond hair, a strong nose, gleaming smile and a clear complexion. He obviously worked out as I could almost see his rippling muscles under the pure white shirt. He was about thirty I would say but he could have been younger or older; it was one of those faces.

‘Hello, Mr Pilkington.’ I said shyly.

‘Rog or Roger, please, we are all friends here, Isn’t that right Pippa?’

‘Oh yes Roger,’ giggled Pippa, clearly smitten by his good looks and obvious charm. ‘I’ll leave you in Roger’s capable hands, Toni. Don’t hesitate to come and see me if you have any probs. OK ya?’

‘Yes, thanks for all your help.’

‘Don’t mench, bye.’

With that she left me with Roger who motioned me to a sofa in the corner.

I went over somewhat apprehensively and sat down, I breathed a sigh of relief that it didn’t make any embarrassing noises as I sat down.

Roger came over and sat next to me.

‘Now Toni, I’ll tell you a bit about what we do here and what I would like you to do for me.’

He spent the next half an hour explaining my duties, which were well within my capabilities. I was to do some word processing, appointment coordination, filing, coffee making and as Pippa had said, general dogsbodyness type duties.

Roger glanced at his expensive looking watch.

‘Let’s go and have an early lunch, my treat.’

Without waiting for an answer, he got up, grabbed his jacket and strolled out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself sitting opposite him in a small Italian restaurant, off the high street and away from the crowds.

It was what I would call an intimate restaurant with individual booths where people could hold conversations without being overheard.

Even though it was lunchtime, you would not know it in the restaurant because it was quite dark. They had candles on the tables, piped muzak coming from hidden speakers, it was altogether a romantic setting.

We were served, silently and efficiently, by the waiters and in what seemed like no time at all, I was eating my spag bol and sipping the white wine, whilst listening to Roger telling me about the job and how he and I fitted into the grand scheme.

‘We have a very important role in the company. Without publicity, we would not get any work. We are the ones whose job it is to catch the eye of the general public. We deal with dreams and aspirations. What we do is help fulfil those dreams…’

As he spoke, I thought about what he was saying but I was also drawn into those lovely blue eyes. His mouth was strong and yet gentle. His adams apple bobbed up and down as he spoke. His expression was one that was kind and gentle but in a manly sort of way. I think I was falling under his spell.

We finished our meal and then had coffee.

As we drank, my eyes went to the candle in the middle of the table. The flame flickered and when I looked, it was reflected in his eyes.

He spoke.

‘So Toni, do you think that you will like working for me?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘That’s good. I think that we will get along just fine. So fine in fact that I would like to see more of you, in fact a lot more of you.’

My hand was resting on the table and he gently paced his over mine. I shivered as his hand touched mine, a shiver of pleasure. The wine was making me feel slightly light headed. His voice had a musical quality, sort of soft and melodious as I looked into his liquid eyes.

‘You are so beautiful, lovely hair, wonderful eyes. Slightly upturned nose, gorgeous full lips. You are just what I have been looking for.’

‘Looking for,’ I said distractedly, not really listening as I was being drawn into his gravitational orbit.

‘Yes. You see I know who you are. I happened to see your file. Pippa is a bit lax with security. Fancy using password as your password. Anyway, I know that your real name is Tony and that you have a package in your panties that is not normal for a girl. I happen to like girls with that equipment, always have, always will. I can see that you and I are going to have a great time, getting to know each other intimately.’

My heart went cold at these words, any haziness from the wine being stripped away in an instant. I could see through him. All the things that he had said were just come on lines. He wanted me for my body, nothing else.

‘I’ll tell Pippa,’ I said, voice quavering with emotion and fear.

‘No you won’t. You see I know people, press and such like. They would love a juicy story like this. How would you like to have your face plastered over all the local papers? ‘Boy pretends to be a girl to get a job’ it’s not much of a story really, but stories are a bit thin on the ground at the moment. Also, what do you think your workmates would think, knowing that it’s a boy using the ladies loo, not a girl? I know that this company is progressive and everything, but even so, there are some people here that wouldn’t want your sort working with them. But let’s not talk of such unpleasantness. I can protect you and look after you. In return, all I ask is that we have a bit of fun. I can’t wait to see you without any clothes on. I will teach you things that you have never dreamt of. You and I have a great future ahead of us.'

I looked at him and could see the pure evil in his eyes. How could I have been taken in by him and what the hell am I going to do about this mess? Everything was falling about my ears again and I didn’t know where to turn.

I wanted to cry. So I did.

~ ~ ~ ~

*The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin. Beg, borrow or at least buy the DVD if you can.

Working Girl 18

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

‘Don’t cry, Toni. You mustn’t be upset. We are going to have a great time, as long as you do as you are told. I’m into bondage and I can’t wait to tie you up. Leather and PVC is so nice, don’t you think?’

As he wittered on, I looked at him, smirking, almost drooling at the thought of what he intended for me or, more to the point, to do to me. I felt physically sick. Why had I fallen for his charm? How could I be so stupid and naíve?

I took a tissue out of my handbag, wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

I shakily stood up and said, ‘I have to go to the loo.’

‘Hurry back sweetheart, I want to you tell all of my plans for you. We are going to have such fun.’

The smirk on his face showed all the supposed superiority of a man who was just about as full of bullshit as anyone could be. He made me shiver with revulsion. I think he actually took my shivering for eagerness on my part!

‘I’ll be waiting so don’t be long, honey.’

I went into the toilet and sat in a cubicle crying my eyes out. Sobs wracked my body. I could see streaks of mascara on the toilet tissues I used to wipe my eyes.

After a few moments I got myself back together, relatively speaking, dried my wet face, opened the door and headed for the basins.

As I walked out, I realised that I wasn’t alone. There was an older woman, perhaps forty or so, looking at the mirror and touching up her lipstick.

She looked over at me, smiling and then frowned.

‘Are you OK? You look like you have been crying, time of the month or man trouble? It’s normally one or the other.’

I looked at her not feeling much like conversation; still, she seemed nice enough.

‘Man trouble, I suppose.’

‘Do you love him?’

‘God, no!’

‘Is he pestering you?’

‘Yes, I have just started working for him and he wants me to do things that I really don’t want to do.’

‘Is the job important to you?’

Yes it is. But not at any price.’

‘So this man has made sexual advances to you and you don’t want to play?’

‘Yes.’ I whispered.

‘Well, hon, it seems that you have two choices, stay or go. If you complain about sexual harassment, it’s your word against his and if he’s been there a lot longer than you he will be believed unless you have proof. I know it’s not nice, but if I were you I would simply leave. You would be surprised how many of these cases fail. No job is worth this sort of unhappiness. One thing though, if you get the chance, kick him in the balls, hard and scratch his car. Those are the two biggies in most men’s lives. I don’t usually recommend breaking the law, but a girl has to protect herself. Also once you have left, see a solicitor and try to get compensation. Some firms don’t like the bad publicity, even if there isn’t cast iron proof of harassment and you might get something, if only to make you go away. Now sort your face out so you can go out in public without looking like a panda.’

‘Thanks for the advice.’ I said as I tried to sort out my ravaged face.

‘Don’t mention it. Here’s my card. If you do need any help, call me.’

I took her card. It said ‘Melanie Griffith’ Solicitor.

‘Look after yourself, bye now,’ she said as she left.

I put the card in my handbag, finished off my lippy and left the loo.

But instead of going back to the table I went out onto the busy street and didn’t look back.

Feeling slightly numb after what had happened I couldn’t think clearly, plus I needed to consider what Melanie had told me. To do that I needed to get as far away from Roger as possible. Well that was her thoughts plus my feelings and then I saw a black cab passing (it wasn’t a BMW, I made sure) and hailed it.

‘Where to love?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well you need to go somewhere; otherwise you're wasting your money.’

‘Home I suppose.’

I gave him my address and in a short while I was sitting on my bed, taking my shoes off and lying back on my bed, exhausted.

I must have dozed off and jumped slightly when I heard the phone ring.

I didn’t answer it not wanting to talk to anyone.

Some time later I opened my eyes to a darkened room. I must have been sleeping for longer than I thought.

A little groggily I got up, switched the light on and went into the kitchen to make some coffee.

My thoughts shied away from what had happened today. It was distasteful and worrying. Mindless activity, that's the shot. Coffee making fitted the bill.

Slumping down into the old beat up settee I sipped my steaming coffee and thought about what I wanted to do; not about work or Roger but now or in the next half hour or so. I didn’t want to think at all about the future just at the moment.

The cup emptied itself after a whole bunch of sips and I was still undecided what to do. Sheila was doing a long shift at the hospital and I wouldn’t see her until the morning. I was still a bit fuzzy after all that had happened and my brain was obviously not in gear.

‘I’ll have a shower.’ I thought, ‘it might make me feel a bit better and wake me up at the same time.’

So all decisive I stripped off my office clothes, folded them neatly on my bed and headed for the shower.

As the hot water hit me, all the knots in my muscles seemed to soften and ease. I stayed in the shower 'till just short of wrinkly and then towelled myself off, using one of my newish white fluffy ones.

Carefully wrapped in big white and fluffy softness,I went over to my wardrobe and picked out a long denim skirt and white smock top.

I had sort of decided to go for a walk down by the river. It was a nice evening and perhaps the walk will help me decide what to do. Walks are sometimes good like that.

Now I had a plan, I felt a bit better and automatically put on my panties, bra, skirt and top, not thinking much about dressing and the fact that a few short months ago I had never put girls’ clothes on before.

Quickly applied my makeup, not too much; it wasn’t as if I was going clubbing or anything.

The phone rang again and once again, I ignored it.

Checked myself in the mirror, nodded to the reflection, picked up my shoulder bag and keys and went out for my walk.

The roads were still a bit crowded with people going home from work.

Eventually, I found myself down by the river, sitting on a bench.

Several pigeons thought that they could extract food from me but soon got fed up and decided that it was more productive to poop on the statue of a long dead mayor, fifty yards away. Worked for me.

I looked at the river flowing silently past where I sat. The trees were floodlit in several places and the reflection on the water was lovely.

It was so peaceful here. Birds were calling each other in the treetops. The moon, nearly full was low enough to reflect across the gently flowing (current of) water, rippling in front of me. Only the murmur of traffic in the distance could interrupt the total tranquillity of the scene.

Tears started trickling down my face as I reflected on my future.

I could not go back to work. The fact that I didn’t return after lunch and had walked out on Roger was enough to make me realise that I was most likely finished there.

Anyway, the thought of seeing Roger again made me shiver with horror.

‘So what next,’ I asked myself.

Tomorrow, I would look in the situations vacant columns to see if there were any jobs about. I'd been able to get one job, so there must be others.

It was getting a bit chilly and I was getting goose bumps on my naked arms so I decided to head home. But first I had an unpleasant job to do.

There was a newsagent on the way to the river. It was still open and I went inside, bought some writing paper, an envelope, stamp and a biro.

Next stop, the library; it was closing soon, so I had to be quick. I sat down and wrote a letter to Pippa.

~~Dear Ms Prendergast,

I regret that I will not be able to continue working at the office for personal reasons.

I am sorry that it did not work out and hope that you are able to find someone else soon.

Could you please forward any paperwork that I need to have to my home address?

Yours sincerely

Toni Summers. ~~

I put the letter in the envelope, sealed it and put Pippa's name on the front.

I was about to put a stamp on the envelope but changed my mind, I would hand deliver it and leave it at reception or with the security guard or something.

I caught a bus and I was able to get off, just down the road from the tall office building which, oh so briefly held all my hopes and dreams.

As I walked up the steps, looking up there were still many lights dotted around the building where people were, I assumed, still working away.

The doors opened silently and I could hear the loud tap tap of my shoes as I walked across the marble floor leading up to that impressive reception desk.

There was a security man sitting at the desk reading a newspaper.

He looked up with a smile as I approached.

‘Hello, miss, can I help you?’

I could feel myself getting upset as he spoke.

I blinked away the tears, ‘ erm, can you please make sure that Ms Prendergast gets this, tomorrow morning?’

‘Of course miss, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine, thanks’. I said as I quickly turned away and ran straight into someone in a leather bike jacket.

‘Ooh. Sorry dear, didn’t see you. Did you see her Ronald?’

No. luv, I only have eyes for you. Oh you’re erm, no don’t tell me. On the tip of my tongue. Erm, Sammie? No, no, Toni. You’ve started here then, I told Ronald that we must look you up as soon as. Didn’t I Ronald?’

‘Yes, Ronald, you did. You got quite boring about it.’

‘Bitch.’

‘Don’t call me bitch or I’ll make you do the washing up tonight.’

Of course I did the most logical thing imaginable and laughed. My sides were splitting as I watched those lovely men go into a spat. They obviously adored each other and it occurred to me as I was laughing that some people had all the luck.

Of course my laughter turned to tears and I before I knew it, I was being led over to the staff restaurant and sat down in one of the comfy chairs, of course it farted as I sat down. It would.

A hot drink was pushed into my shaking hands and Derek taking charge ordered me to drink it.

‘Now, dear, tell us all about it,’

‘Ooh I do love it when you come over all masterful. Yes, come on love, we’re all ears,’ chipped in a concerned Ronald.

I looked at them, holding hands and with a worried look on both their faces.

‘To hell with it,’ I thought, ‘someone had to know about Roger, so he can be stopped from doing bad things to someone else.’

I told them all about what had happened today and what Roger had said to me. Their mouths dropped in unison when I told them about the blackmail, the fact that I still had male equipment and what Roger said that he wanted to do to me.

‘Yuk.’ Said Ronald, ‘bondage that’s so passé.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Derek, ‘I would love to tie you up and…’

‘Derek, ladies present!’

‘Oh sorry love; it s my wicked imagination taking over, anyway, if it’s between consenting adults there’s no problem, but to force you… I’ll scratch his eyes out!’

‘That’s my boy,’ said Ronald affectionately.

‘So, Ronald, what are we going to do? Let this lovely young thing leave before she’s really started or are we going to do something about that slime ball?

Derek looked at us both and just said, ‘I have a cunning plan…’

‘ Ooh do tell then.’ said Ronald as I felt a twinge of hope.

Derek just grinned with a cat and canary, or was it cream, look. Well both probably from the expression.

To be continued...

Working Girl 19

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

‘Ooh Derek, don’t keep us in suspenders, what shall we do to him?’

‘Well… how about this… I know a lovely little policeman who owes me a favour.’

‘I love men in uniform.’

‘Hush up Ronald. Now he may just have access to some undercover mike type stuff and young Toni here could be wired up and get him to confess without knowing what’s going on. What do you think?’

‘You’ve been watching too much television,’ I said with disdain.

‘Don’t knock it love. I love cops and robbers.’ There was just a touch of sulkiness in voice and on face.

I looked at him. It wasn’t a very good idea, but it was the best one anyone could come up with. We did discuss other possibilities though.

‘Can’t you tell your uncle, dear?’ said Derek after a few minutes thought.

‘No. How will it look, five minutes after getting the job if I tell my step uncle that my boss is a pervert and wants to get into my panties and do unspeakable things to me? I don’t want use my family connections to solve this problem. I need to stand on my own two feet.’

Ronald’s idea of whipping him up with a whisk wasn’t taken too seriously and my idea about going home and cuddling under the duvet with my teddy was also met with a certain amount of negativity.

‘Do I know this policeman?’ I said, going back to the original idea and almost knowing the answer before I heard it.

‘’Don’t know hon, do you? Dave Stebbings 'is name?’

‘Does he happen to go round with a policeman called Mick Something?’

‘Not Mick Something; Mick Smith.’

‘Bloody hell,’ I muttered under my breath.

‘Why, do you know them?’

‘We’ve met.’

‘There’re nice boys.’ said Ronald.

I coughed politely and said, ‘Are they, um, ah, gay?’

‘Bent as a diesel driven doughnut, dear.’

‘Oh.’

‘Anyway, the only thing is,’ continued Derek, ‘you are going to have to get back your resignation letter and then go into work tomorrow. I’ll speak to Dave in the morning and see if he can come up with the goods?’

‘Goods?’

‘You know mike or wire thingy. I don’t know the technical term for it.’

I thought for a moment. Did I want to go ahead with Derek’s mad cap scheme? At least I wasn’t alone in this. I now had Ronald and Derek’s help and when Sheila found out about what the slime ball did to me, she would want to put his balls in the mincer and feed the neighbourhood cats. I crossed my legs at that thought; not pretty.

I blew my nose on a tissue, wiped my eyes took a deep breath and squeaked, ‘OK, lets do it.’

‘’Good girl,’ said Ronald enthusiastically.

‘If I didn’t love Ronald, I could fall for you.’ said Derek with a grin.

‘Steady tiger.’ Said Ronald affectionately, whilst I giggled like a schoolgirl.

Well, then I had to go over to the security man and get the letter back didn't I. Flirting is tough work when you don't mean it and lack match practice.

After saying goodbye to Derek and Ronald, I caught a cab outside, (not a black BMW. I’m not THAT dumb) and in next to no time I was home.

As I arrived, I noticed a man in a long brown hooded anorak lurking outside but I took no real notice. I had things on my mind.

I let myself in and plopped down on my bed just shy of exhausted.

It had been a turbulent day, to say the least. Now, though, for some strange reason I was feeling more positive.

I was really more outgoing if a little wimpy, being a girl than I ever was as a boy.

As a boy, I was a doormat. A wallflower, in short a non entity.

I had let my step father walk all over me and get rid of me at the earliest opportunity.

Through Sheila, I had found a new life as a girl and I wasn’t about to let a creep like
Roger Pilkington mess with that.

‘Well,’ I said to myself, ‘sod him.’

I was tired so in no time I was tucked up in bed. Well not, no time actually. Do you know how long it takes to get ready for bed when you have to scrape off makeup, moisturise, brush your hair, clean and floss your teeth, ya de ya de ya…?

Anyway, eventually I was in bed, tucked up with my little pink heffalump (don’t ask) and was reading a well thumbed copy of Bridget Jones Diary.

The next thing I knew, there was a crash coming from the kitchen and a muffled, ‘bugger.’

I cracked my eyes open and saw a chink of light from the curtained window and sounds coming from the kitchen.

I glanced blearily at the clock, it was 7.00am.

Muffling a yawn I got up scratching my bum in a ladylike fashion and went into the bathroom to relieve myself.

A few minutes later I wandered into the kitchen to find Sheila, tucking into bacon and eggs.

‘Anything left for me?’

Sheila had her mouth full; and vaguely waived her fork at the frying pan.

Not needing a further invite I grabbed a plate and was soon tucking in to my cholesterol fix of the day.

‘Well,’ said Sheila, wiping her lips on a tissue, ‘that was nice. How did your first day go yesterday? Did everyone love you and your witty sparkling personality?

I finished chomping a piece of bacon before answering.

‘It didn’t go quite like I planned.’

‘What do you mean? You haven’t been sacked already, have you?’

‘Not quite, but I did get to hand my notice in, though.’

‘WHAT!’

‘Well, it was like this…’

After telling Sheila what happened; which took some time because she did keep interrupting with expletives, some of which I hadn’t heard before, she looked at me as if I was nuts or something.

‘So, let me get this straight, you are going to get wired up, go back into the lions den, get incriminating evidence and get the sod sacked?’

‘Erm, yes.’

She frowned, looked very unhappy and said, ‘Don’t I get to hit him at least?’

‘No.’

‘Not just a little bit? I’ll go for the body and not leave him permanently damaged.’

‘I don’t want you going to prison.’

‘Bummer. Did I ever tell you that I was off men?’

‘Twice a day for the past fortnight.

We cleared up the food plates and I was just about to change out of my nightie when there was a knock at the door. Sheila was in the shower so I answered.

‘Who is this at this time of the morning?’

I opened the door and there were my two favourite plods, Mick and Dave.

They took one look at me and went stereophonically bright red.

I joined them as I realised that I was wearing one of my more flimsy concoctions.

I quickly grabbed a robe and hastily put in on, whilst the two policemen looked everywhere but at me.

‘Sorry about that,’ I said, ‘come in, please.’

They walked in just as Sheila came into the room wearing her birthday suit and drying her hair.

‘Oh shit,’ she said running into the bedroom and slamming the door shut.

Dave coughed and said, ‘Erm, we had a conversation with a couple of bikers we know called Derek and Ronald.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘They said that you may need our unofficial assistance.’

‘Um, did they tell you why?’

‘Yes, said Dave, ‘they did. It’s highly unorthodox and frowned on by the powers that be, but we don’t like people like this on our patch and you did assist us with that effing BMW driver, so we are willing to help you out.’

‘As long as it’s understood,’ said Mick, ‘that we didn’t help you in any way shape or form and if this goes tits up, er, sorry. If you get caught, you take the wrap, we won’t go down with you.’

Did these people have their own clichéd language or something or do they watch too much TV? Both I guessed with just a tinge of pique.

Dave handed me a Tesco’s carrier bag.

‘When you finish with it, give it to Derek or Ronald and they'll get it back to us. It’s straight forward, putting it on and that. The instructions are in the bag.’

‘Yes,’ said Mick, ‘Even I can work it, so it must be dead easy. Now if the perp plays you up or is still a threat to your person after you have the goods on him, let us know and we’ll make sure that he has a little run in with the law. Perhaps a bit of porridge will do him good. He wouldn’t like it in the stir, no way.’

Years of watching police programs got me through that and I was able to struggle through with some sort of interpretation of what they were actually saying. I realised in their strange way, they were trying to help me.

Dave clasped Mick’s hand somewhat affectionately, I thought .

‘That’s enough Dave,’

He let go of Mick’s hand as if he was being scalded.

‘Sorry, love.’

‘Shh, not in front of the public.’

‘Oops!’

With that the two ‘buddies’ left in a hurry.

‘Thanks again,’ I said to their retreating backs.

I looked at the clock. It was time to get ready for work.

Before doing that a little light went on in my head. I had an idea. Who said blonds were daft?

I texted Bridget from the salon and sent a message, ‘matter of life and death can you do a quick 20 min makeover before work?’

‘Be here in 30 mins and I’ll see what I can do.’

Lucky she started early.

I put the mobile down and proceeded to run around getting dressed and behaving sort of like a slightly demented headless chicken. At least I didn’t have to put my face on.

I chose my clothes carefully. I wanted to have the efficient yet sexy look. I think I did OK because Sheila didn’t comment but to be fair, she was looking slightly comatose by now.

‘Do you want me to come with you,’ said Sheila yawning and ignoring my frantic attempts to get ready.

‘Get some sleep; I’ll text you to let you know how I’m getting on.’

‘OK, but don’t take any prisoners. I have taught you well, grasshopper. It is now time to change from a caterpillar to a butterfly, spread your wings little one and go kick ass.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Oh go to work ya daft cow.’

‘Yes Mum.’

‘Don’t be cheeky.’

‘Bye.’

I rushed out and ran down the stairs. Then I stopped. The last thing I wanted to do is pong and get all sweaty. I know, girls glow, but I didn’t want that either. I took three deep breaths to help me calm down and then strolled out of the house and down the steps.

I sort of noticed in passing that the man in the hooded anorak was on the other side of the road again but didn’t take much notice. I had a lot on my mind .

As luck would have it a bus was jus arriving at the stop when I arrived so in no time I was outside Bridget’s salon.

I walked in and there was Bridget, sipping coffee with an inquisitive look on her face.

‘Well, you don’t look like you are dying. What’s the prob?’

I explained in some detail what had happened to me with Roger and the wire and everything.

She laughed after I had finished and just said. ‘Wow, you do lead an interesting life. OK what do you want, smart and sexy or slutty and I’m ready for anything?’

I gulped, undecided in what I should do.

‘Um, something between?’ I squeaked.

‘In between it is then. Put this cape on and let’s get to work grasshopper.

'Christ, what's with all this bloody grasshopper stuff? All they do is mess up your windscreen on country drives.' I thought, rolling my eyes.

It took her 25 minutes to transform me. I looked in the mirror and immediately little Percy perked up reminding me that I was not all girl yet.

I looked like any mans dream of heaven. My eyes were huge with the effect of the slightly heavy eye shadow and several layers of mascara. My blushed and blond face looked like I had spent several days in an expensive hot resort. My lips were about twice as big and pouty as before. They looked as if they had been stung like a bee, or was that by a bee, well you know, all swollen. My hair, I had no idea how she teased and shaped it like that, but it looked nothing like before. I struggle to put it into words but it looked like, erm, glamorous but slightly on the wild side. She had used gel, back combing, rollers and other tricks of her trade and she finished it all off with industrial strength hairspray. I think that my hair would hold together in a hurricane if it didn’t break off and I hoped that I would be able to do something with it after I got round to washing it. I might need a chisel.

Damn, chisel or not I was hot. I was wearing a pale pink satin blouse and black leather knee length skirt, black sheer stockings, suspender belt and calf length highly polished black boots. Sheila had taken me shopping the other day and persuaded me to get some clubbing stuff. This was the result.

‘Bugger me,’ I whispered.

‘Someone will, with you looking like that dear. Not bad in under half an hour, eh?’

‘Thanks, Bridget you are brilliant.’

‘Can you let me know what happens?’

‘Can I ring you tonight?’

‘OK. Hon, don’t forget.’

I gave her a quick kiss and a hug and I was out of there.

Once again the travel Gods were on my side and the bus turned up a few seconds after my getting to the stop.

I climbed on and paid my money to the driver. He was drooling, I don’t know why.

I found an empty seat at the back.

As I sat down, I was aware that my skirt had ridden up a bit and I was showing more of my legs than I wished. My suspenders were showing and I quickly stood up, adjusted myself with a contortionate wiggle and sat down again.

I looked up and half a dozen people looking at me. The men with glazed looks and the women with a combination of envy, disgust and hostility.

I blushed under my somewhat heavy makeup and just looked out of the window.

People got on and off at various stops, most of them looking at me as they did so.

One time, a small boy and his mother got on and sat opposite me.

I smiled at the boy and he smiled back. He then whispered to his mother in a voice that was loud enough to be heard in the front of the bus.

‘Mummy, why don’t you look like that lady?’

The woman, who looked like she went to bible reading classes, ate whole grained foods and drank tea out of dainty cups with matching saucers took one look at me and whispered back.

‘My dear; that is no lady and I would NEVER look like that.’

I could have died with embarrassment but I pretended not to hear, despite the titters coming from several others in the bus.

Luckily, my stop was the next and I hurriedly picked up my Tesco’s bag and got off.

It was a five minutes walk to the office and I had time enough to spare for a quick coffee at Starbucks.

I paid for the extortionate milky concoction and walked over to an empty table.

As I sipped my drink I considered my plan of action.

I was looking like this as I wanted to tempt Roger into an indiscretion. If I could look like one of his wet dreams, all the better and more likely that this would happen. I hoped that he would think with his penis rather than his brain and be the architect of his own downfall.

I was dressed uncharacteristically for me. I still preferred not be noticeable, you know blend into the background sort of thing. Still, it was nice to be wearing something like this and to look so sexy. It made me feel feminine to the extreme.

A thought popped up into my head from somewhere. I wondered how my hunky neighbour at home would think of me like this and would he like it. I thought of his good looks and muscular body and Percy started twitching again.

I quickly got off that subject, looked at my watch, finished my drink and left.

In no time I was at the office. I held my head up high, thought of England and went in to hopefully sort out the Roger problem once and for all.

To be continued

Working Girl 20

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

I was accosted by Ronald and Derek the instant I walked through the doors.

‘There you are, what kept you, we were all of a tizzy thinking you were bottling it.’

I looked at Derek and saw the relief on his face as he said that.

‘Don’t worry Derek, I am not bottling it. How do I look?’

I gave them a quick twirl.

Ronald sighed and said, ‘I wish I was bi.’

Derek slapped him around the head a bit.

‘You look lovely, dear. Now let’s go into the staff restaurant, as we have someone you need to meet.

‘We haven’t got much time’ I sad anxiously.

‘Time enough.’ said Derek, ‘slime ball is going to be late himself. He has a meeting with some area reps and won’t be in until 10 at the earliest.’

We walked into the staff restaurant and went over to the corner where a young girl was sitting sipping some tea or what counts for tea there.

Ronald introduced us as we arrived.

‘Jane, this is Toni, the girl we spoke about.’

She was quite tall, blond, and thin as a rake. She wore a nice white blouse and a black figure hugging skirt. She was very pretty. Perhaps I was bi, because, Percy perked up at the sight of her, though how he could think of things like that at this time, I really don’t know.

We shook hands. She looked nervous and ill at ease.

We all sat down in the leather seats to cacophony of fart sounds. I was getting bloody fed up with these seats!

Derek took charge.

‘Now Toni, we wanted you to meet Jane as she was the secretary to Roger before you arrived. Now Jane please tell Toni what you know about our little libidinous friend.’

She looked around nervously. Apart from us, no one, we were alone in the restaurant.

‘It won’t go further, will it?’

‘No,’ said Derek, ‘we promised, didn’t we?’

‘OK. Roger is the nastiest, dirtiest bastard I have ever met. At first he was nice. He was the model employer. He was considerate and kind. He treated me very well and we got on like a house on fire. Then he asked me out for a meal at lunch time. I went with him. To be honest, I fancied him something rotten so I was very happy to go. Lets face it he is drop dead gorgeous and… no lets not go there. Anyway he takes me to lunch and things were going well. Then the conversation turned more personal. He said I should start wearing more revealing clothes and that we should see more of each other outside working hours.’

‘How did you feel about that?’ said Ronald.

‘I was OK with it. I fancied him and I had just broken up with my boyfriend. Anyway he suggested that we go for dinner that night and we arranged to meet at the little Bistro off Tavistock Square, you know the intimate one where you need a torch to see the menu.'

‘Ooh we’ve been there; it’s nice, but a bit expensive.’

‘Shut up Ronald, let Jane tell Toni what she needs to know.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Anyway, I dressed up in my favourite LBD and when I arrived at the restaurant I was led to a private booth in the corner. The place was fairly empty, it was only 7 so still early and Roger stood up as I arrived, big smile on his face and a single red rose in his hand.’

She stopped and took another sip of tea.

‘The waiter helped me to sit and left us alone.’

“You look ravishing my dear,” said Roger.

‘I merely blushed to my roots as he handed me the rose.’

“I have taken the liberty of ordering some champagne, I hope you like it.”

‘He poured the drinks with practiced ease and I was soon not only drinking the heady champers but also his intoxicating personality. The conversation flowed the same as the wine as I had a fantastic evening. He was warm, pleasant, amusing and self deprecating. After the meal, I had to go to the loo. I was bit drunk but not too bad considering we had shared a whole bottle of champagne.’

Once again she stopped to drink her tea. Her hand shook slightly as she raised the cup to her lips.

‘When I came back, I saw that Roger had ordered us some brandies. I don’t much like brandy, but I wasn’t going to be rude after the nice evening we had. It went straight to my head so as we left the restaurant I was bit giddy. I had a long way home on the bus to look forward to and when Roger suggested I stay in a local hotel around the corner instead, I agreed as I felt that I might have trouble getting home by myself.’

She started crying again. I went over to get her another tea. When I returned, she was blowing her nose loudly into a tissue.

‘Here, drink this.’ I said.

‘Thanks.’

She sipped the hot drink and then continued.

‘Anyway, things got a bit hazy then. Before I knew it, I was sitting on a bed in the hotel room. Somehow, Roger had given me another drink of brandy and told me to drink it down. “Hair of the dog; make you feel better”, he said. I was too bewildered and out of it by then and I just drank it down in one go.’

She wiped her eyes with a tissue.

‘I…. I can’t remember anything else until I woke up the next morning with a huge headache. It took a bit of fumbling before I realised I was wearing a leather spiked dog collar and cuffs on my wrists, nothing else. Also I, ah… was a bit tender and decidedly sticky between my legs and I knew then what had happened. Plus I was chained to the bed and Roger was lying up against me, snoring his head off.’

‘Oh my God.’ said Derek in horror as we all gasped.

‘I shouted out and kneed him in the balls. That woke him up with a yelp and he was off the bed holding his crown jewels as if they were the most precious things in the world and looking at me like I was crazy.’

“You bitch,” he yelled, “why did you do that?”

“Look at me. Look what you’ve done, you sod.”

“But you wanted me to do it. Don’t you remember? You were the one to suggest having some harmless fun. You must remember. It’s your fault that you are trussed up like that. I was only going along with the fun.”

‘I was confused. I could not for the life of me remember what had happened. I began to doubt myself. I mean I'd never really thought about that sort of stuff but perhaps having all that drink, I had gone over the top.’

‘I shouted at him to get the cuffs off me and he slipped the buckles. Grabbing my clothes from the floor where they had been left the night before I ran into the bathroom, crying my eyes out.’

‘As I turned the knob, heading for the shower I could feel that horrible stickiness dribbling down between my legs. I knew what it was without looking and shuddered violently. I washed and scrubbed myself until I was red. I felt so dirty.’

‘After drying myself and getting dressed, I tentatively headed back into the bedroom. Roger had gone, the bastard. He just left a note saying that he had an appointment and would see me in the office on Monday.’

‘What happened then?’ said Derek.

‘I went home, went to bed and slept for 24 hours. I was numb. Unsure of what had happened but blaming myself for getting too drunk and letting my desires get the better of me. I thought that Roger would hate me, thinking I was cheap and open to anything. I convinced myself that I was at fault and decided that I couldn’t face him so when I went back to work, I asked and was given a transfer to another department. Pippa was great; she sorted things out quickly without asking too many questions.’

‘That evening, just as the office was closing for the night, Roger came up to me. He was a bit strange.’

“Jane, sorry you aren’t happy to stay working with me.”

“I was just too embarrassed Roger.”

“I can understand that. Fair enough. I don’t think badly of you. In fact, I had so much fun; I would like to do it again with you.”

‘I looked at him and then something clicked. I realised that he must have had that kinky stuff in the hotel room all along. If that was the case, the room must have been booked and paid for prior to our meeting at the restaurant. I had been set up.’

“You bastard! You did that on purpose. You, you got me in a position where I couldn’t help myself. You must have spiked my drink. Date rape was it? I am going to the police, you shit!”

‘He slapped me quickly across the face and said, “calm down, Jane. You won’t go to the police. It’s your word against mine and anyway, I have some nice pictures of you enjoying our, erm, fun, shall we say. Look, I can see that you don’t want to play so we’ll call it quits shall we? Oh and don’t go putting your notice in as it may make people suspicious of why you don’t want to stay here.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“No dear. You don’t earn enough to make it worth my while. Insurance is a much nicer word. Let’s just say that if you don’t want your family to see those pictures, you will stay quiet.”

“So, I’m not the first?”

“Let’s just say that there have been a few misunderstandings in the past.”

‘With that he walked out and I have been trying to avoid him ever since.’

‘You must go to the police,’ I said, ‘he mustn’t get away with it. We know a couple of coppers who would love to get their hands on a shit like Roger.’

‘No. I don’t want to go to court or anything. I feel stupid enough as it is. Just so we can stop him doing this to anyone else, that’s all I want.’

‘I’ll tell my uncle’ I said, ‘He won’t let him work here after he knows what’s going on.’

‘No please. I’ve been humiliated enough. I shouldn’t have let him do it to me.’

I went over and gave her a cuddle.

'Don’t blame yourself. He was the one who did this to you and he needs to pay, big time.'

‘Cut his balls off,’ said Ronald with conviction.

‘I’m with Ronald on this,’ said Derek, ‘ a blunt knife maybe, then he deserves to be hung.’

I looked at them all, angry at what Roger had done and what he would have done to me too, given the chance. I sympathised, but could not agree to doing him physical harm. No that would be too easy and bring us down to his sordid level.

‘It’s up to me.’

They all turned as one.

‘Pardon, said Ronald.

‘I said that it’s up to me to sort him out once and for all. I need to get him in the position of incriminating himself and then get him arrested for attempted rape.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Derek ‘it’s dangerous, stupid and would never work.’

‘Just listen to me. I need your help and the help of our two tame policemen. This is what we’ll do…’

Twenty minutes later, I walked back into the office, said hello to the other girls and sat down at my desk.

I had some typing to do so I got on with it.

Roger was still at his meeting so I had time to think through what we had agreed in the staff restaurant.

The others had argued with me until they were blue in the face, but I was determined. I had been a bit of a mouse all my life and now it was time that the mouse roared.

The phone rang.

Hi Toni, It’s Pippa, are you OK, hon?’

'Yes, why?’

Well, you didn’t come back to work yesterday after lunch and I was kind of wondering if there was a problemo.’

I thought quickly.

‘Um, didn’t you get my message?’

‘No,’

‘Oh, I left a message with someone about erm , my doctors appointment.’

‘Oh, are you OK; is there anything I can do?’

‘No, it was my check-up, hormone things, you know. I meant to tell you about it yesterday morning. I made the appointment before I got my job and in the excitement of starting I forgot to tell you. I'm really sorry.’

‘Oh that’s OK. Anyway, must dash. I’ve got a meeting about temp staff availability. Boring, you know? Anyway cheeriebye for now.’

With that, she put the phone down. She was a lovely lady, but just a little scattered, I guessed she hadn't a clue about what was going on under her nose.

I continued to work for a bit and got engrossed in what I was doing. Then I smelt aftershave and looked up. Roger was there looking at me with a smile, no call that a smirk on his face.

‘Hi, Toni, what happened yesterday?’

‘Um, I felt a bit sick and had to rush off. Didn’t the waiter give you my message?’

‘No, but you could have told me yourself.’

‘That’s it, I was sick and I got some stuff on my top. I didn’t want you to see me like that so I rushed off. Sorry.’

Roger smiled even more.

'Well I’m glad you are OK now. You look lovely by the way.’ He said looking me up and down as if I was a piece of meat.

I blushed and said nothing, not trusting myself to speak.

‘Can you pop into my office in a minute and bring a coffee for me and one for yourself too if you like? Thanks.’

With that, the smug bugger walked into his office and closed the door behind him.

I was shaking slightly. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. It was a dangerous game I was playing and I wasn’t too sure if I was up to it.

I had been in the girl’s loo a few minutes before and had sorted out the little mike and receiver for the bug thing that I now had on. I switched it on, so it was recording, went to get the drinks.

I took a deep breath as I put the drinks down on a table outside Rogers office and knocked on his door. I picked them back up with trembling hands and walked in.

‘Are, there you are. Put the drinks down and go shut the door please.’

I did as he said and then walked over to his desk.

‘Sit down for a minute, just got a few emails to read and then I’ll be with you.’

I looked at him as he concentrated on his screen. It seemed impossible, looking at his strong manly face, with kind eyes and slight smile on his lips, that he could be such a slime ball. But I had seen him in action myself. Also, Jane and god knows how many other women had fallen under his spell. No, he had to be stopped. I don’t know where my courage had come from, but while I had it, I thought I would use it.

He pressed the enter key with a flourish and then turned to me with a million kilowatt smile.

‘There, all done. Now let’s get down to it.’

He looked at me from my pale pink satin blouse, lingering at my breasts for a moment and then down to my black leather knee length skirt, black sheer stockings and finally to my calf length highly polished black boots. I could see a slight amount of dribble coming from the corner of his mouth and felt slightly sickened as his tongue darted out like a snake and cleaned his lips of the drool.

‘Now, you remember the conversation we had in the restaurant.’

‘Erm, about what?’

He looked slightly annoyed but continued smoothly.

‘I know I may have given you the impression that I was threatening you with blackmail, but it was only a joke. You know I wouldn’t do anything to harm you. I like you too much. My sense of humour is a bit dark sometimes. Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about the future. You are a lovely girl. The fact that you have additional equipment below means that we can have twice the fun. You will like wearing leather and PVC. Look, how about you and I having a bit of dinner tonight. I know a lovely little bistro that isn’t too far from here. We will have a lovely time, let our hair down and enjoy ourselves. We can discuss what I can do… I mean we can do for each other in private. It’s very, um, discrete there. It will be my treat. What do you think?’

I looked at him for a moment. He was beginning to look more and more like a reptile. This was the time to back out. I could just go. Leave the company. Find another job and forget all that had happened to me.

Then I remembered Jane and the fact that she was too frightened to do anything about her rape. Well, this girl wasn’t! (Well I was really but I was not going to admit that to myself, just then).

‘OK, I’ll come but only if you promise to be nice to me and not talk about blackmail.’

Roger beamed at me. I could see the lust in his eyes. I knew that I was in danger. I only hoped that my plan would work and that I would come out of this without harm. Looking at Roger made me wonder if I was biting off more than I could chew. Ooh, yuck, what an image…

To be continued…

Please leave comments, good or bad. I'm a big girl now...I can take it (gulp).

Working Girl 21

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

I was in a taxi on my way to my dinner date with Roger and I was, to say the least, a little nervous. No, let’s not lie about this, I was shit scared.

Knowing what the slime ball had done to poor Jane, I was very concerned about the fact that things could go seriously pear shaped very quickly.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing an even sexier dress than I had worn at work earlier.

I had ‘borrowed’ Sheila’s black leather skirt and red satin long sleeve blouse. The blouse was a bit big for me, Sheila being somewhat, shall we say, more developed than I was; this helped hide my electrical bits and pieces, you know, the mike and receiver whatsit.

My legs were encased in sheer black stockings and I had red satin knickers, suspenders and bra on underneath. In short I felt that I would not look out of place at a hooker’s convention. I had on some heavy disco going makeup and I could feel the wind from my eyelashes every time I blinked.

The taxi driver fell over himself to help me into his cab and I could see from his face that his thoughts were not on the last church meeting he attended.

As the streets went by, I looked out of the window unseeing, remembering the somewhat fraught day that I had just had.

Roger had been the perfect example of someone trying to be nice but not quite making it. Every time I had to go into his office, I felt that I was being undressed with his eyes. By his eyes? Well you know what I mean.

I tried to be pleasant but it was hard and so was his prick that seemed to tent his trousers every time he saw me.

I had spoken several times with Ronald and Derek about what was going to happen and they were extremely reluctant to let me do it.

Derek’s view was that a quick castration would do the trick but I insisted that we must not go down to Rogers’s slimy level; tempting though it might be.

Somewhere along the way to girlhood, I had gotten a bit stubborn and fed up with being used and abused by certain people. Now I was determined to help Jane and all the other girls that had fallen into the Roger trap by fixing him, hopefully for good.

The taxi jerked to a halt. The pink flashing neon light outside said ‘La Romantica Bistro’.

I had arrived.

I paid the driver an extortionate  £24 for the ten minute drive telling him to keep the change out of  £25. I think he expected more but I wasn’t going to help pay for his villa in Spain and anyway he probably earned at least twice what I did.

I stood outside and looked through the window. We had agreed to meet inside, so I took a deep breath and walked in.

The heat hit me immediately, it was like a sauna in there and I could feel a rivulet of sweat, sorry I’m a girl now, perspiration, run down the small of my back.

‘Ah, Mademoiselle ,’ said a waiter in a sort of false Maurice Chevalier accent. He was looking me up and down and sort of hovering around my breast area.

‘Ave you booked a table?’

‘No, I am waiting for a um friend, er Roger…’

‘Ah yes, Monsieur Pilkington is a regular client of ours, he has booked a table and has yet to arrive, may I offer Mademoiselle a drink?’

‘In a moment, could you tell me where the toilet is, please?’

‘Certainement; through there, third door on the left.’

I went where indicated and found myself in the ladies loo and headed over to a stall and locked myself in.

After sitting down to do the business, I checked the position of the mike and the receiver and switched it on. The receiver was also a recording device made by those devilishly cunning Japanese and it could record for a couple of hours in mp3 format without the need to change the battery on anything.

I pulled up my knickers and placed Percy in his go to sleep mode between the legs. With luck, I wouldn’t get a peek out of him tonight. Let’s face it Roger was not my type.

I pulled up the skirt and zipped it up. It was a bit tight over my bum, being somewhat figure hugging, but anything to titillate Roger was worth having on. As you can see, I was desperate to nail the bugger.

I stopped for a second, realising that my language was getting a bit crude. I shook my head; it was being around Sheila all the time. I made a mental note to lay off the naughty words in future and act like an English rose, perhaps a bit wilted but still a rose.

Exiting the stall I went over to the mirror, washed my hands, freshened up my lippy, then brushed my hair and left the safety of the loo.

As I walked back into the restaurant, I saw Roger, using one of those breath freshener things, quickly putting it away as he saw me.

He looked me up and down, his eyes taking in my clothes. I could see that he approved of the look.

‘Enchanting, my dear.’

What, did he think he was Rhett Butler or something? Ah well, I couldn’t give a damn.

Time for the big act.

‘Hello Roger, my you look dishy tonight.’

‘As do you my dear, as do you. Here is a red rose, just for you. Now, let’s go over to the table, shall we?’

I took the rose, trying to avoid getting pricked by a thorn as he steered me towards a booth in the corner of the room. I was surprised that it didn’t have a blue plaque up on the wall to say that 'Roger conquered here' or something.

There were a lot of potted plants about and this helped make the booth feel somewhat private and secluded.

The waiter came over and Roger did the ordering. I couldn’t of course as I was only a feeble minded girl without a brain.

He ordered prawn cocktail followed by steak and chips, which wasn’t very romantic or adventurous and some red house wine. He wasn’t pushing the boat out, was he?

‘The prawns are an aphrodisiac, the steak will help you keep up your strength and the wine will compliment the meal and help mellow your mood.’

‘Whatever.’ I thought, as I gazed longingly into his eyes. Good actress, aren’t I?

As we ate our meal, I tried to get Roger to open up.

‘So Roger, are you sorry for what you said to me at lunch the other day?’

‘Darling, it was a simple misunderstanding. We are both adults and I of course realised that you and I had something special going. You had a few drinks more than you should, but that helped you to relax and you misinterpreted what I said. I wouldn’t harm you in any way and as I said before that thing about blackmailing you and telling Pippa and your uncle about things was only my little joke.’

‘But you also said and I think I remember your exact words, “You see I know people, press and such like. They would love a juicy story like this. How would you like to have your face plastered over all the local papers?” Did you mean that?

‘Of course not…. Let’s not talk of such unpleasant things now.’

He flashed me with a pearly smile and I blinked at the glare.

The food arrived and then our supposed French wine waiter slopped about an inch of wine into the bottom of Rogers glass, to taste.

He tasted, slurped, smelt and swished the wine around in the glass and then pronounced it to be of a vintage and taste that he approved of. My glass swiftly followed by Rogers, was filled to the brim by the waiter

We chatted, small talk. I was trying to draw Roger into disclosing his other conquests.

‘So Roger, you are handsome, charming and all that, why hasn’t some beautiful girl made you hers?’

‘Well, it’s not for the lack of trying. I have the face and personality that seems to draw beautiful women like moths to the flame.’

(Yuck!)

‘So, why hasn’t one of these beautiful moths captured your heart?’

‘Well, I’m sensitive by nature and I feel that until the right girl comes along, I must save myself and not be drawn into a relationship that might hurt me.’

(Is he for real?)

‘Drink up, its lovely wine.’

I sipped and then looked over Rogers shoulder.

‘Ooh, isn’t that David from the office?’

Roger swiftly looked around and I deposited the wine into the nearest convenient plant pot.

‘No, that isn’t David.’

‘Sorry, I must need glasses. Drink up Roger, I’m leaving you behind.’

Roger, being a full blooded ‘man’, could not be seen to be out-drunk by a mere girl, drank the wine back in one pull and then he filled my glass and his one again.

He clicked his fingers and the wine waiter was there at the speed of light.

‘Another bottle, waiter.’

‘Certainly sir,’

The French accent had turned to Birmingham for some reason. I assumed that the waiter had a split personality.

‘So Roger,’ I said getting the conversation back on track, ‘I heard on the office grapevine that there are one or two girls that have fancied you from afar.’

‘Yes, I suppose it’s true. I am cursed with being handsome. It’s a burden I have to bear.’

I took a sip of my wine and looked over to the other side of the room.

‘She’s pretty.’ I said conversationally.

Roger looked around and ogled a girl with size DD cups oozing out of her low cut dress as I deposited another glass into the plant pot. The plant in question was obviously not used to drinking too much, it sort of started to lean a bit to the left.

I coughed delicately and Roger turned back to see me putting my empty glass down.

He frowned, looked at his glass and emptied it with a few manly swallows.

He filled both of our glasses to the brim and clicked his fingers to the waiter.

‘Sweet trolley pleash.’ he said to the waiter. And can we have two brandiesh pleash?’

A few minutes later, we were tucking into some black forest gateaux.

I had another sip.

‘Goodness me, is that table on fire?’

I pointed to a table where some sort of flambé thingie was being done.

Roger lurched around as I toppled another glass of wine into the now pissed, sorry I mean inebriated, plant pot.

‘Itsh a flambé.’ said Roger swaying slightly in his seat and staring at my glass as if it was from some other world.

‘Drink up, Roger. I’m leaving you behind.’

He frowned, did a sort of hiccup and picked up his glass. He took a deep breath and downed it in one.

He tried to put the glass down but missed and it fell on the floor instead. Luckily it was thick carpeting so it didn’t break.

The waiter came back with the brandies and took the dishes away.

‘Well Roger, have you blackmailed anyone else.’

‘Only Jane and Sarah and Michelle and Nicola and they won’t talk. I know too mush I mean much about them.’

He looked sheepish and put his finger to his lips.

‘Shhhh,’ he said ,’thatsh our lickle secret.’

His eyes were beginning to cross now. Here was a man who obviously couldn’t hold his drink.

I drank a small amount of the brandy and accidentally dropped my rose on the floor.

‘Ooh Roger, can you pick that up for me?’

Roger nearly fell off the chair as he scrambled onto the floor.

Not wanting to cause the pot plant any more suffering, I tipped my drink into Roger’s, just before he surfaced again.

He shakily handed me the rose and did a sort of double take as he saw that my glass was empty.

‘I’m feeling a bit thirsty Roger, drink up and then we can have a nightcap.’

His hand actually shook as he picked up the glass, too piss… I mean drunk to realise that he now had a double. He drank the fiery liquid down as quickly as his chattering teeth would let him.

He coughed several times and then seemed to focus again, all be it somewhat blearily.

‘Shall I order one more for the road?’ I said innocently. ‘Or have you had enough?’

To give him his due he wasn’t a quitter, he just nodded.

In no time the waiter was back and this time I ordered.

‘Two doubles please and I think we need the bill.’

‘That is not necessary mademoiselle.’ He said reverting to a form of French,’ Roger has an account with us.’

‘I bet.’

The waiter came back with the drinks and left us to it.

Roger had a slight grin on his face and the look of someone not quite all there.

I sipped my drink and said ‘Roger, are your flies undone?’

He looked down, swayed a bit and played with his zip while I poured my drink into his.

‘No, itsh OK, peter the penishh is all tucked up.’

He looked at my glass. It was empty.

‘Do you want to drink up, and then we can go.’

He looked at me and said. ‘You are waiving about a bit. I think you’ve had too mush to brink.’

‘Oh you are right. What shall we do?’

‘I know a little hotel, hic, around erm corner, look after you til morning.’

‘OK, drink up and you can show me.’

He looked a bit green, but being the testosterone filled creep he was, he downed it quickly and swayed to his feet.

‘Come on, letsh go. I’ll help you, you’re swaying all over the plassh. Hic.’

I helped him to his feet and then after weaving through the restaurant and knocking a few tables over, we managed to get out of the restaurant.

I, of course knew where the hotel was, as Jane had been very helpful in that respect. Luckily, it was literally just around the corner. Any further, and I would have been in trouble, as I was nearly carrying him and he was far from being a lightweight.

I got him up the steps of the hotel with the help of a porter and sort of leaned him against a post while I spoke to the receptionist.

‘Has Roger Pilkington made a reservation?’

‘Oh yes, it’s room 13 on the first floor.’

‘I thought he might have. Mr Pilkington is feeling a bit um unwell, can anyone help me get him up to the room?’

‘Certainly, miss.’

She rang a little brass bell and in no time, we were going up to the first floor, Roger being held up by two strapping bellboys.

He started singing ‘I left my Heart in San Francisco, off tune and we all winced as he missed every other note.

When we arrived at room 13 (unlucky for some), we manhandled Roger onto the bed and I tipped the bell boys for their help.

Soon I was by myself with Roger. He was snoring quietly, overcome by alcohol and well and truly out of it.

There was a knock at the door.

I went over and opened it.

‘Hello.’

I stood aside as Sheila, Ronald, Derek and Jane came in.

‘Is this the bugger?’ said Sheila.

‘Yes, this is Roger.’

Sheila went over to him and looked down with disdain.

‘Did he talk?’

‘Yup, got it all on the recorder.’

‘Good; can I flay him now.’

‘No, Sheila, we agreed to do it my way.’

Ronald and Derek came over to the bed.

‘Ooh doesn’t he look peaceful like that with his thumb in his mouth, Derek?’

‘Yes Ronald, it's a pity he won’t be so peaceful tomorrow.’

Jane just looked on with a bemused half smile on her face not really knowing what was going on. I knew. I wanted her to see him in his humiliation and that might help her to move on.

We all laughed and got to work…

Next morning I arrived at work early.

We had a wonderful email system, you could send out messages to everyone in the building with just a few clicks.

I went to Rogers’s computer and turned it on. I knew the password as he had told me to check on something when he was in a meeting once and he had to give it to me.

The password was STUD; surprised?

I fired up the computer and opened Outlook then put in a pen drive and transferred some stuff onto his computer.

Shortly afterwards an email with attachments went out to everyone in the office and then I shut the computer down and went to have a coffee satisfied in a job well done.

It was some three hours later that Roger came in and called me in to his office.

As I walked in, I saw that he looked very much the worse for wear. He hadn’t changed from the previous night, looked dishevelled and had stubble on his chin

‘Roger, are you OK?’

‘No I’m not. What happened last night?’

‘What, do you mean after the meal? You were unwell, so I took you to a hotel around the corner from the bistro. I left you to sleep it off. What’s happened?

‘I woke up with a blinding headache and realised where I was. I couldn’t remember much about last night. Anyway, after having some strong coffee I went to pick up my car. I just started it when there was a tap on my window. Two policemen had me out of the car and frisked me. Then they had me blow into a bag, I was evidently still over the limit and they took me to the police station. They are going to prosecute me for drunk driving and I’ll lose my licence.

‘Oh dear, never mind.’

‘Never mind! I need a car for my work. I’m in marketing and I travel thousands of miles every year. I’ll have to appeal.’

‘There, there Roger, can I get you a coffee?’

‘Yes, three sugars.’

I went to the door and opened it, pausing before I left.

‘Oh Roger, I think you need to check you’re email.’

He looked puzzled as I quietly shut the door behind me.

I didn’t bother getting him a coffee, just went over to my desk humming ‘I left My Heart in San Francisco’; I couldn’t get that tune out of my head for some reason. Still humming I looked at the email that everyone else had now received and clicked on one of the attachments to open the picture.

Roger was naked on his stomach, tied to the bed with leather straps on his wrists, studded leather collar around his neck and a single rose strategically placed in the crack of his bum. You knew it was Roger as there was another pic of him from a more flattering angle on his front again, this time with a dummy in his mouth.

Also attached to the email was an mp3 audio file. In that mp3 he could clearly be heard to implicate himself in blackmail and other nasty stuff. The names of the girls involved had been bleeped out.

Roger left the company by mutual agreement one hour later and more than one of us cheered at his parting. Rumours around the office whispered that at least two girls were going to the police about what Roger did to them.

I carried on working in smug mode as if nothing had happened. Pippa said that I would be reassigned to work with someone else. I hoped that he or she would be an improvement on Roger.

I got back from lunch and there was a hand written note on my desk.

Toni,

Please come and see me as soon as you are back.

Uncle Peter.

‘Oh Gawd what now!’

To be continued…

Please leave comments, good or bad, ta.

Working Girl Final Chapter

By Susan Brown

Once again my thanks go to Kristina LS for knocking this into shape

Now is the time to say goodbye
Now is the time to yield a sigh
Now is the time to wend away-eee
Until we meet again
Some sunny day.........

Goodbye! Goodbye!

We wish you all 'Goodnight'

Goodbye... Fa ta ta ta.. Goodbye!

Peter Cook and Dudley Moore

I stared at the note, wondering what my Uncle was going to say, or perhaps do to me.

‘Oh well.’ I thought, ‘it can’t be much worse than what dirty Roger had in mind’

I got myself a quick cup of mud from the alleged coffee machine; drank it, shuddering as the glutinous liquid trickled down my throat and then girded my loins for the ordeal ahead.

As I shot up in the lift, leaving my stomach several floors below, I gripped the handrail in tense anticipation of my meeting with Uncle Peter.

He hadn’t been around much lately. The rumour was that he had been out of the country for some reason.

The lift came to a halt with a slight stomach wobbling lurch and the doors opened silently.

I got out of the lift and bravely went down the corridor to meet my fate, abruptly turning left into the loo when I realised that I was dying to go wee wee. I always want to go when I’m nervous.

After doing my stuff, washing my hands, checking that my skirt wasn’t in my knickers and that I didn’t have lipstick on my teeth, I was ready to face the firing squad.

I knocked on the door and went into his outer office.

Sasha was there. As usual, she looked impeccable with, as usual, sun glasses perched on top of her head. The clothes she wore could have paid for several years’ food for a family in some third world country and her hair had been brushed to impeccableness.

She was typing something on the keyboard, concentrating with some intensity as she was the original one finger typist and obviously didn’t want to tie her fingers in knots over the big words.

She stopped and pressed enter.

‘Bugger, I’ve deleted it again, ah well.’

She looked up and gave me an expensive; I’ve had my teeth straightened and whitened smile’.

‘Hi Toni. Can I help?’

‘Um, Peter wanted to see me?’

Sasha looked at the desk diary open in front of her.

‘Ah yes, it says urgent. Don’t know what you’ve done but it must be something. He rarely puts urgent on appointments. Anyhoo, he’s on the jellybone at the minute, take a seat and I’ll let you know when he’s finished. OK ya?’

‘Ya, I mean yes, OK.’

I walked over to a settee and carefully sat down; surprised that it didn’t fart at me. Everything I sat on lately seemed to.

Sasha didn’t seem over inclined to work and wanted to chat.

‘So, Toni, did you here about that rat Roger?’

She didn’t give me a chance to answer.

‘Well, I heard that the police are after him. What a rat eh? He tried it on with me once, but I told him that he wasn’t my type. I mean I only go after chaps with at least half a mill a year salaries, like my Duncan.’

‘Duncan?’

‘Yes, he owns half of Shropshire, or is that Essex. I don’t know, anyway, he’s a sweetie.’

I looked at her feeling a bit envious. She was the type of girl whose toast always falls butter side up.

I sighed; will I ever meet someone who would love me for what I was? You know, a transgendered unsnipped person who doesn’t know whether to finish off the job and go full time, in your face girl or stay as I am as a sort of half way house. If truth were told, my encounter with Roger had left me somewhat bleak in attitude towards men in general. The only men I liked were Ronald and Derek and they had the hots for each other and I wasn’t their type anyway.

Then I remembered that hunk that had moved in to our flats. Now that would be something, going out with him. Dinner perhaps, followed by a romantic walk down by the river. Then we would return back to the flats He would ask me into his room, fold me in his arms and kiss me passionately. We would end up in bed. I would strip him, slowly and then he would do the same to me…and then he would scream blue murder when he saw Percy and that would be that.

‘He’ll see you now.’

I jumped as Sasha spoke, coming back to reality with a start.

I stood up and went over to Peter’s door; knocking timidly I heard a mumbled, ‘come in.’

I opened the door and after quietly closing it behind me, heart in my mouth, I walked across the ten acres of carpet until I reached his desk.

He was writing something down, probably signing my letter of dismissal. Why did I get so involved with that freak Roger? I bet he’s to blame for all this. Perhaps his last bit of spite before he left in humiliation was to tell my uncle about me.

Peter looked up and smiled. Hmm would he smile if I was getting the chop? Psychopath-executioner type smile maybe?

‘Sit down Toni.’

I sat, only trembling a teensy bit.

‘Now, I am sorry I haven’t been around, I have been in Australia.’

‘Australia?’

‘You know, wallabies, kangaroos, Castlemaine XXXX, lost to us in the rugby?’

‘Yes, I get the picture.’

‘And, I have to apologise about that scumbag Roger Pilkington. I must have been blind, deaf and dumb not to realise what he was like. I thought that he was an OK guy. Just goes to show.’

I sat sort of mute, just nodding and shaking my head, as required. I still didn’t know why I had been summoned to the august presence.

‘Now, back to business. I would like for you to work with Pippa in HR. I know your forte is computers and I realise that you haven’t any experience in that line, but Pippa has needed help for quite sometime and I think that you will like working for her. Would that be OK?’

I liked Pippa, she was a bit scatty but I was sure that I could work with her and hopefully not make too many mistakes.

‘Yes, I’d love to work in HR.’

‘Great. Now the other thing I need to talk to you about is David, your step-father.’

‘My step-father? What about him?’

‘Well. You probably don’t know this, what with all that has happened to you lately, but David skipped bail in the UK and went back to Australia. I had a local private investigator trace him. The fool thought that he could retrieve some ill gotten money that he had hidden somewhere and then run off to a country that didn’t have extradition.’

I was amazed as my face probably showed and the fact that I knew nothing of this made it something of a shock. Then I considered that things had been a bit fraught for me and I hadn’t had much time to look at the news.

‘Anyway, he was recaptured and is at this moment on his way back to the UK. Now, this may upset you, but you need to know.’

My heart sort of flipped. What was he going to tell me?

‘The police are very suspicious of the, ah, circumstances of your mothers’ death. They think it’s possible that it may not have been an accident. Also, what I told you before about David committing bigamy was true. This means that he had no legal right to your mothers’ estate. Your mothers’ house and all her property and cash will, almost certainly revert to her only living close relative…you. ‘

I must have looked like a fish. My mouth was gaping open and closed at what I had heard. I couldn’t speak. My gob was well and truly smacked.

‘Your house was put on the market by David and in fact, he had a buyer. I assume that you want that to be stopped?

I nodded, still mute and in shock.

‘I see that you are a bit stunned. I understand that. It appears that the police have quite a strong case against David. He will almost certainly be charged with murder. They will probably contact you as a potential witness. Now, I want you to take the rest of the week off, now go on home. You can start with HR on Monday. That is if you still want to work with us?’

I nodded.

‘OK, off you go then. Here is my card with my mobile and home number on it. Ring me if you need me. I still consider that I am your uncle even if not officially and I hope you do as well.’

‘Yes, you have been so kind and I suppose that you are as close I can get to family, now.’

‘That’s exactly how I feel. Now, buzz off and if I don’t hear from you before, I’ll see you on Monday.’

I got up and walked over to the door.

‘Oh, Toni.’

‘Yes Uncle?’

‘If you have any problems with the police, or you have any questions about your inheritance, I will give you the number of the solicitor that’s dealing with your case. OK?’

‘OK, and thanks again.’

I left my uncle and quietly shut the door behind me. I think that Phillipa said something but I didn’t hear her.

I was in a bit of a daze and without realising it, somehow, having got my coat and handbag, I found myself on the street.

I walked aimlessly for a while and then realised vaguely that I was down by the river.

Sitting down on a bench, ignoring the greedy ducks that wanted to mug me for bread that I didn’t possess; I was in a world of my own, pretty well oblivious to my surroundings.

I was thinking about my mother. I missed her now more than ever. It was bad enough loosing my lovely dad, but I was always close to my mum. I pictured her smile and the way she looked at me, lovingly when I had done something nice for her like picking flowers from the garden or trying to help or hinder her with the housework.

I remember how we cuddled for hours after we heard that my father had died in the plane crash and how strong she was for me after that, even though I knew that she was in so much pain herself from the loss of the one she loved.

Leaning forward elbows on knees, I covered my face with my hands and was crying quietly to myself when I felt an arm go around my shoulder.

‘It’s OK, Toni, I’m here.’

It was Sheila.

I looked at her through bleary eyes.

‘How… how did you know I was here?’

‘Your uncle rang me, he was worried and I know you come here to think.’

‘Oh, Sheila, my mum was murdered!’

‘I know, honey but at least they have got the miserable sod that did it.’

I cried some more and Sheila was there, holding me and telling me, that everything would be OK.

In the end, I dried up, stopped crying and realised that it was getting dark.

I tried to pull myself together.

‘Here,’ said Sheila handing me a hanky.

I wiped my eyes, blew my nose and offered the hanky back to Sheila.

‘No that’s OK; keep it now it’s got your snot on it.’

I laughed at her crudity and stuck it in my handbag.

‘Hungry?’

Yes, I suppose I was. At least having a good cry had cleared my head and made me feel a bit better.

‘Mmm.’

‘OK, let’s go eat.’

Sheila’s car was parked close by and in no time we were off to get a Big Mac.

As we walked into the self same McDonalds where I had had that infamous pickle incident, I realised how I had changed in such a short time. No more was I the terrified cross dresser desperate to get a job. So desperate I had dressed as a girl, just to get an interview. Now I was a reasonably good looking and confidant woman, with a job and prospects and I was probably not short of money. This was a different Toni; I actually amounted to something.

I still needed to see the shrink that Sheila wanted me to go to. What with everything that had happened, that had been shoved into the background.

It was obvious, to me anyway, that I had made a decision to go the whole route and become a girl permanently. Whether that meant saying goodbye to Percy and hello to Percette, I wasn’t sure. I would need a lot of help and advice along the way. Looking at Sheila, I thought that at least I had a strong and friendly shoulder to lean on when times got rough. What with her, Derek and Ronald and not forgetting my friendly, if ernest police chums, I wasn’t short of people who would look out for me.

Then there was my sort of Uncle Peter, I wish he was my real uncle and not an ex one due to bigamy, if you know what I mean.

Perhaps he could sort of adopt my as a niece or something. Can you do that? I don’t know, but it would be nice to have a real relation.

With that new found assurance and the knowledge that I had at last made a defining decision in my life, I took a deep breath and walked purposefully across to the spotty youth behind the counter and said, ‘Two Big Macs please and don’t spare the pickles.’

The End?

The alarm went off, sounding like a amplified version of Big Ben and my head nearly came off with the noise.
After throwing the clock across the room, my heart rate dropped from an estimated two and a half thousand to a mere two hundred. With some reluctance, I cracked one of my sticky eyes open.
 
Working Girl ~ A Day In The life
 
By Susan Brown
 

 
 

Part 1 of 2

The alarm went off, sounding like a amplified version of Big Ben and my head nearly came off with the noise.

After throwing the clock across the room, my heart rate dropped from an estimated two and a half thousand to a mere two hundred. With some reluctance, I cracked one of my sticky eyes open.

I knew that I was not very good with drink so why did I have more than two, claw hammers, or was it an adjustable spanner or a long screw up against a wall? I wished that my memory was a bit better. Perhaps I should eat more carrots–no that help your hearing. Anyway, you don’t want to hear about my alcohol problems.

I sat up in bed, gingerly; it was the last day onboard the good ship lollypop–no, wrong ship, The Chelsy, that was it. The last night gala dance thingy was still fresh in my befuddled memory. A smile played across my lips as I remembered the tonsil massaging snogging that I had had with my Tim.

Stop Toni-rewind.

For those of you not convervant; consignant- erm, aware of what had happened previous to the present thingie, you should read my previous stuff called, Working Girl and Working Girl ~ Life Goes On —soon to be made into a film (Straight to DVD) starring that ex weather girl and B list movie icon Iva Lotton.

For those with a life, who haven’t got time to read my previous epic adventures, here is a sinkopsis:

My name is Tony Summers–or it was because it’s now Toni. My dad died in a ’plane crash and my mum was murdered by my ex step dad. I was chucked out of the family home by said evil step dad who was removed from my Christmas card list. I was forced to live in a crappy flat with only my friend Sheila who is a ninf-nifeo- nico –erm, sex-mad nurse.

I answered an advert for a job and the company thought I was ‘Toni’ not Tony. Sheila made me dress up as a girl to get the job. I had lots of adventures including encounters with pickles, a disgusting landlord who wanted me for my body a non-taxi driver in a black BMW and a sex- mad boss, but in the end, with the help of Sheila, two gay bikers and Starsky and Hutch, not forgetting my lovely Tim, I was able to scrape through everything. There’s lots more, but you should read the stories, otherwise Erin will get cross with me and start mumbling stuff about ‘reader counts and spoilers’ whatever that means.

Anyway, back to the action. Tim, being brave, resourceful and all- English good egg, accompanied me to the dance. I had a lovely time and I managed to shake and wobble bits that hadn’t been shaken and wobbled before. After a few drinks, I tried to recreate Baby Houseman in Dirty Dancing, you know the bit, where she throws herself through the air, to be caught by Johnny Castle; Tim being the obvious stand in. The trouble was, after having a few drinks, I could see two of Tim and launched myself at the left hand one when it should have been the one on the right.

Those of you who have stuck with me through thick and thin will know that my life doesn’t always run smoothly and this is a case in point. Picture the scene, the place was heaving with people attempting to dance. There was me, after a few long-nosed plier’s, not quite with it in all parts of my body; throwing myself at My Man and missing by several yards. I landed on something soft and slightly smelly, wearing a lime green satin shirt and orange tie. I instantly recognised the odour and to my horror, when opening my eyes again , my worst fears were confirmed–Davis. His pock marked face will haunt me for the rest of my days as I was pulled up by Tim and led away to another part of the room to recover. As we left, I noticed that Davis was being given the kiss of life by the oxygenarion waitress that was his true love. I wondered at her fortitude and obvious blind love as she took out her false teeth and got to grips with his flaccid, slightly blue lips with all the enthusiasm of a Death Eater snogging Harry Potter.

I remember little of the rest of the evening, except that I did end up having a rather nice kiss and cuddle with Tim as he managed to get me to bed in more or less one piece. I wanted him to stay and explore my never regions–but he, being the insufferably nice person that he is, wouldn’t take advantage of me even though I begged him to on my stockinged knees. Well, I was flat on the floor at the time, but you get the picture.

So here I was, on the morning of the last full day of our holiday cruise, feeling sorry for myself and having the biggest hangover since, since erm… the last one I had.

I knew Sheila would not be in her room as she had managed to get her clutches into what she called the Mother Lode. She was knocking six bells out of the Captain and she had been inspecting his port hole or is that the other way around, for several days. I did see the captain occasionally; he looked as if he needed to be on life support. I was told that he was only thirty, but post Sheila, he looked about fifty going on ninety.

I went into the bathroom and looked at the mirror; not a pretty sight. On the shelf was a bottle of brown liquid, rather muddy to look at. There was a note on the bottle and it read:

‘Drink this, you will feel better. Patrick’.


Patrick; the friendly, all-knowing and all-seeing barman! If he said that it would do some good; that was good enough for little me.

I popped the little cork stopper and without thinking, downed.

My eyes crossed slightly and I felt things some gurgly things going on down below. I sat down on the toilet as that was the nearest seat available. The room spun to the left and then to the right and I thought that I might bring up the contents of my tummy. I dematerialised and then rematerialised, and after a few breathless moments, the Earth stood still and time began to tick again. My headache went away and the slightly sick feeling left equally swiftly. I felt 85% human again and that’s not a bad fraction after what I had been through!

I stood up and after a few moments, I felt alive enough to be interested in getting ready for the day and not just having a burial at sea.

I took off my slightly pongy nightie and then had an invigorating shower. After drying myself, I put a bra and knickers followed by a strappy pink blouse and shortish white cotton skirt that covered my bottom–just. Looking out of the porthole, I could see that our final day was going to be a scorcher. I was a bit sad that the cruise was nearly over, despite all the problems with stalkers, paparazzi–well the ships weird photographer anyway-and little nose picking boys who just loved to show me up–I still shuddered over the Boobie Incident at the pool!

Talking of boobies, I slipped the little babies into my bra and checked for lateral and horizontal movement. I wanted nothing to spoil my final day on the Chelsy.
I slipped on my white sandals, noticing that my lickle toe nails needed some loving care and attention, the varnish being a bit chipped on a few toes. I promised to rectify that as soon as poss. Picking up my shoulder bag I left the cabin to go for a stroll around the deck.

As I shut the door, I felt a small thump in the side. Looking down, I could see that a small bellboy-shaped person had bounced off me.

‘Sod it.’

‘Hello Arfer.’

‘Sorry Miss, I didn’t see ya there.’

‘Why are you running about like that?’

‘Tryin’ to get away from Old Frozen Drawers.’

‘Oh, the Purser lady.’

‘That’s the one. She’s blaming me for the fact that her boyfriend is angry wiv her.’
‘Why?’

‘Well I sort of told him that I saw her snogging the head waiter the other night.’
‘Was she?’

‘Wot?’

‘Snogging the head waiter.’

‘Well she said that she was helping to get something out of his eye, but they looked more like snogging to me…’

There was a shout coming from down the deck, or is that along from…anyway, the purser lady was coming towards us like a fully armed battleship and with a squeak of terror, the little cheeky chappie got up and ran for it.

I shook my head as she sailed past me and I felt some pity for Arfer as it looked that he may soon be shark bate or whatever it’s called.

Remembering that I still had some money from my step uncle to spend, I sort of gravitated to the shops. As a man…well boy really, I had no interest in shopping, but now as a fully fledged semi-girl with aspera–aspoor…a wish to become a fully fledged girl–with an innie instead of an outie–and boobs that weren’t semi-detached, I felt it my duty as well as pleasure to spend some money on clothes and other things. I had seen–no lusted after, a peach sun dress that was in the window of one of the shops that catered for ‘women of refinement.’

I walked into the shop. There were no customers and the place appeared to be empty. I went over to the window and looked more closely at the dress. Yes it screamed ‘me’. I gulped slightly at the price. Could I justify  £699.99? Well it was less than  £700 and that just happened to be the amount I had to spend. Then I noticed that the tiny label said that it was size 12.

‘Bugger.’ I exclaimed in my best Sheila voice. ‘Wrong bloody size!’

I looked desperately around the shop and all the rails like someone in a desert looking for life giving shampers. I couldn’t see the dress in my size which was a petite 10; well I think that’s petite, anyway. I marvelled at the different types of dress, they all looked like they were for old people of 30 and above and there was nothing for a bright young thing like me. Then my eye caught a flash of colour over in the reduced rail. My heart started beating quickly as I realised that there were several dresses, the same as the one in the window! I rushed over and with what I must admit to my untrained ear sounded a little like a girlish squeal of delight, I picked up the dress I wanted in my size!

I looked around and saw that the shop was still empty, so I quickly went into the changing room, stripped off my old dress that now looked a bit dowdy and plain and tried on the new one.

It fitted me like a glove–well not a glove, because they go on your hands but you know what I mean.

I frowned slightly, because I couldn’t see very well in the gloom of the changing room, so I went out and had a look at myself in one of the mirrors that were dotted about the place.
Even then, the light wasn’t all that great, so I decided that as there no one was about, I should step out of the shop and have a good look in the full glare of the lovely warm sun. I was sure that it would be okay…

As I left the shop, blinking slightly in the bright light, I heard a sort of ringing bell sound behind me. I ignored it as I was more interested in having a good look at the dress.
I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and looking round, there was a severe looking lady standing there and behind her was a security guard. I knew that he was a security guard as his hat said that was what he was. He was about seven foot tall and half as much wide. I wouldn’t want to meet him on a dark night or any other time come to think of it.

‘Excuse me madam, you have not paid for that dress.’

‘I…know. I was just seeing if the light…’

‘Never mind about that; Arnold, take her to the brig. The captain will decide what to do. We have a strict prosecution policy on this ship and I think I know what he will say.’
‘But…’
‘You will have time to put your defence to the captain before he finds you guilty–I mean passes sentence. Now Arnold, take her away and keep a good grip on her, she seems to be a wriggler.’

‘But…’

I tried to explain but the neand…erm, idiot wouldn’t listen.

Imagine my shame as I was toad marched to a place deep in the bowels of the ship, below which even the rats don’t venture and thrown - well gently pushed actually, but I am allowed a bit of artistic license - into a six by six cell with just a bed, a rackety chair and a bucket to do my wee wee and poopie plops in.

I tried shouting at the retreating footsteps as Arnold bolted the door and left me all on my lonesome.

There was a bare bulb that shone dimly from the ceiling. A singe black buzzing fly was circling the bulb so at least I wasn’t alone. I wondered, if he or she got dizzy going around and around like that?

I was already going stir crazy after two minutes and I wished that I had at least a ball and that glove thingie that Steve McQueen had to while away the days in captivity. At least I had on that nice dress, so it wasn’t all bad but, as you can imagine dear patient reader, I was not really a very happy bunny.

To be continued...

Please leave comments...thanks

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.

I stared at the fly going round and round the light bulb. I think it was a she fly but that might just be my flight of fancy.
 
Working Girl ~ A Day In The life ~ Final Chapter
 
By Susan Brown
 

 
 

Part 2 of 2

Previously...

I was already going stir crazy after two minutes and I wished that I had at least a ball and that glove thingie that Steve McQueen had to while away the days in captivity. At least I had on that nice dress, so it wasn’t all bad but, as you can imagine dear patient reader, I was not really a very happy bunny.

And now the dramatic conclusion...

I stared at the fly going round and round the light bulb. I think it was a she fly but that might just be my flight of fancy.

Anyhoo, there I was sitting on a hard bed. I wasn’t too keen on lying down on it as there were certain unmentionable type stains on the blanket that probably made it a health hazard. My mind went back over the previous few hours wondering at first what I had done wrong. I went into the shop, tried on the dress that I would have died for. Then because of the poor light, I stepped outside to have a closer look and I was nabbed by some shopkeeper type person and a gorilla security guard. They wouldn’t listen to me and chucked me into this less than nice cell.

I got quite excited as the fly landed on my leg and sort of looked at me. I was just going to strike up a meaningful conversation with her when I heard a noise coming from the door.

The door crashed open, making me and my fly friend jump.

‘Ello,ello, ello, what's going on ‘ere then?’

It was Mick and Dave, two of the police force’s finest bumblers.

They walked into the cell and closed the door behind them. What with it only being a tiny space, it was now getting a bit crowded what with those two, me and of course my fly.

Dave spoke up as Mick got out a grubby notebook and pencil.

‘Well Miss, looks like we have a situation here?’

‘Pardon?’

Mick coughed and then looked at me with those piercing slightly cross-eyed…erm eyes.

‘On the morning of the 21st inst at 11.05 am, you were observed exiting the shop known as Fashions Boutique wearing a garment that did not belong to you. The said garment is in fact that is the one that you look very nice in at the moment, if I might make so bold…’

‘Mick.’

‘Sorry Dave; you were apprehended by the manager of Fashions Boutique and a security officer. You were unable to give a satisfactory answer as to why you removed yourself from said premises without buying the item in question. Have you anything to say in your defence?’

‘Yes…’

‘I must warn you that you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later reply on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

‘But…’

‘I’m glad you said it like that Mick,’ interrupted Dave. ‘I still get sort of mixed up with the old and the new caution. I think the old one where we say: 'You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so but what you say may be put into writing and given in evidence' was more meaty and straight to the point. Do you remember the days when you could just clip the bleeders around the ears and…

‘Dave.’

‘Yes Mick?’

‘Can I get on?’

‘Right…sorry.’

‘Now Miss, or do you prefer Ms?’

‘’Erm…Miss will do thanks.’

‘Right, can you explain your movements on or about the aforementioned time and at the previously specified place?’

‘Pardon?

Dave butted in.

‘Did you do it Miss?’

‘What?’

‘Nick the dress?’

‘No, I was just trying to see what it looked like in good light.’

‘Sounds fishy to me?’ said Mick.

‘Shouldn’t that be smells fishy?’ said Dave.

‘Probably; look Miss, we know that you’ve helped us with our enquiries on previous occasions and in the past, a quick bribe…I mean donation to the police benevolent fund, would smooth the way and sort out any little infringements, but now things are different and we have to go by the book. We will make further enquiries and in the fullness of time will submit our report to the relevant party or parties for action if and when such action is deemed necessary.’

‘Pardon?’

‘We’ll let you know.’

‘Does that mean that I’m stuck here on bread and water?’

‘No Miss, I’m sure cook can come up with something more appetising like rock cakes or jail bird pie...’

They both laughed at their little joke and with a smile and a wave, left me alone with my thoughts and my little fly.

I tried to hold a conversation with my friend, but she wasn’t very big on small talk and wouldn’t sit still long enough for any sort of meaningful conversation. I ended counting the rivets on the walls and after that riveting pastime finished, I fell asleep…

It seemed like hours later that I once again heard the sound of a key scraping in the lock.

Looking up as the door squeaked open; I saw that it was the security guard.

My legs turned to jelly as he stomped in giving me a look that made me feel that he was going to do me personal harm. I was too young to die. I hadn’t been ravished properly by Tim yet and I needed my plumbing fixed before he could do that.

The fly must have been male after all because it deserted me and flew out as soon as he saw the freedom of the open door. ‘Men have no staying power or loyalty, do they?’ I thought bitterly.

He coughed.

Then he spoke.

‘The captain wants to see you.’

‘Why.’

‘Not been told that.’

‘Okay,’ I said, glad that I would be out of this rat infested, well bed bug infested cell and pleased that would see the sky again before I walked the plank or whatever a captain was allowed to do on a ship — I was a bit sketchy on this as I hadn’t been up in front of a captain before. I knew that he could marry people so he must have quite wide sweeping powers. I just hoped that he wasn’t a Captain Hook clone re the plank possibility.

I wasn’t terribly happy that gorilla man was holding my arm as we walked along. Did he really expect me to escape and where would I go anyway, as there was a lot of wetness between here and the shore. Mind you. I was a very good swimmer as long as I was going straight down.

A few people looked at me strangely as we passed them, wondering no doubt who this hardened criminal was. Eventually we arrived at the captains’ door. I knew it was that because the sign said so.

Mr Gorilla knocked on the door with his hairy fist.

‘Come in,’ I heard faintly.

We walked in and I was confronted by a strange sight. Sheila’s was sitting behind a humongous desk wearing a sort of a sailor suit and a hat that said Captain on it. She was smiling and I kind of knew that something strange was going on here.

‘Thanks Charlie.’

‘No problem Miss.’

The gorilla looked at me and smirked, then chuckling and shaking his head he left us alone.

‘Wwwwhat?’ I said coherently.

Sheila got up and walked over to me.

‘How are you hun?’

‘Hhhow? What…SHEILA!’

‘Not making much sense love,’ she said as she walked me over to a chair and sat me down, ‘it must be the shock of being arrested and thrown into the brig.’

I took several deep breaths and reached into my inner self…I saw it on television once and thought that it was a cool way of calming down. Last time I tried it, I fell asleep.

‘Stella, what the fcuk is going on?’

‘Language Toni!’

She brought me a drink from the drinks cabinet and handed it to me. I took it down in one, not knowing if it was poison or lemonade. After my eyes uncrossed from drinking a tumbler of gin with a mere smattering of tonic, I was ready to listen in a more relaxed way.

‘Well when Mrs Slocombe from the shop came here, I was right in the middle of helping the captain inspect my porthole. Luckily she knocked before barging in so we were able to, shall we say; disengage from our activities before she came in with Charlie.’

She stopped for a brief moment to refill our glasses before continuing.

‘’Captain Peacock,’ she said as rushed up to the desk. ‘We have caught a thief.’ Well to be interrupted by something as trivial as that was a bit annoying. A murder perhaps but a thief…anyway, she explained what had happened. This hardened criminal had been caught red handed outside the shop wearing one of the shops designer dresses and the said thief was now under lock and key in the brig.’

‘I’m not a thief!’

‘I know that; anyway, the old bat had a video of the whole sordid incident and after we looked at it carefully, it was obvious that she hadn’t bothered looking at it before arresting you and that you were stupid, idiotic and clueless, but entirely innocent. After all, you had left your handbag and clothes in the changing room, so you would have had to come back into the shop anyway. I told the captain that you were a dizzy blond and…’

‘I’m not dizzy!’

‘Yes you are, love…but don’t worry it’s one of your endearing qualities, that and the fact that you are simply nice or is that nice and simple..?’

‘I’m not simple, either. My teacher told me I was precosian….precot…pre…clever.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Six and a half; I’d just done a crayon drawing of my house. It had mummy and daddy in it and the sun and…

‘Perhaps we can go down memory lane a bit later love; anyway after viewing the evidence and considering the matter further, the captain agreed that there was no case to answer and he frees you without a stain on your character.’

‘Well I do have a stain on the dress. I don’t know what it is but it looks a bit iffy. Where is he?’

‘Who?’

‘Your boyfriend, the captain?’

‘Erm, in his cabin recovering.’

‘From what.’

‘Never mind; let’s go and get your stuff and did you still want that dress?’

‘Not really, it’s got those stains on it now.’

‘Where from?’

The bed I’ve been sitting on for hours.’

‘It wasn’t hours; it’s only about an hour and a half.’

‘It seemed longer.’ I said, thinking wistfully about my friend the fly and whether he (or she) managed to find happiness.

‘Never mind that now, let’s go and get your stuff.’

The manageress of the shop wasn’t too keen to take the dress back, but as Sheila threatened her with wrongful arrest, she reluctantly agreed to take it back.

I was able to change into my own clothes and we left the shop in a hurry as Mrs Slocombe was shutting up so she could go and see to her pussy, whatever that was.

We went back to our cabin and changed into something more comfortable and half an hour later, we were sitting by the side of the swimming pool drinking something pink and bubbly with fruit and a little umbrella.

I was wearing a canary yellow bikini of all things. I was against it at first as I thought that my optional added extras would show up beneath its scantyness. But Sheila had chosen wisely; the cups were quite full and had little secret pockets in them (for those girls who need help). The pockets entrapped my pink boobies making them look quite realistic in the breast department. Down below, I had pushed my shrivelled grapes up into me without much more than a minor scream and had my somewhat poor excuse for a penis taped up and out of the way so I had a nice smooth crotchy area. I hadn’t tried to do a wee wee with this plumbing arrangement and I hoped and prayed that nothing would come adrift when that happened.

Shutting my eyes, I relaxed a bit, letting the tension drift away and soon I was asleep in the land of nod…

It was a vivid dream. We were on the Titanic and the ship was going down. I was wearing a long satin evening gown and the deck was full of people screaming and shouting. The band was playing a tune called Song D’Automne…I had no idea how I knew the name…anyway, Tim, who was handsome in his evening dress suit and sported a rather full moustache, was pressing me to him and whispering sweet nothings into my shell-like ear.
Then he looked at me.
‘You must go, darling, it’s women and children first.’

‘But what about you? I cannot bear…’

‘Not another word, my darling. , We’ll meet again, Don’t know where, Don’t know when…’

Then I felt something icy hit me on the chest and I screamed…

Waking up, I looked down on my chest and saw a lump of ice cream sliding down and going under my bra. Sitting up suddenly I saw the child…he was picking his nose with one hand and holding the remains of a cone with his other.

Now I like children, I was one myself once, but I strongly think that this little boy was not a normal child and somewhere on him was a birthmark shaped like 666.

Before other devilish thoughts passed my mind, the child’s mother came over.

‘Sorry about that, Little Damien can be a bit of a handful…’

She pulled the screaming boy away and I got up and went over to the cold water shower by the side of the pool. I soon got rid of the sticky white mess and returned to my lounger just in time to stop a young German girl putting her towel on it and claiming it for her own. Sheila was still asleep, no doubt still tired from her Olympic Games with captain and her post-coital drinks.

I settled down again and started steaming slightly as my wet cozzie dried in the strong sun. A shadow fell across my vision, looking up I saw the strong manly body of Tim!

‘Hi, sweetheart.’

‘Hello,’ I breathed, taking in his muscles and well proportioned body as he stood there in his Speedos. In the parofie …parifer… corner of my eye I could see that he either had a large sausage down his trunks or I was going to be a very lucky girl one day.

‘Fancy a dip?’

‘Yes please, where do you want me?’

‘I mean in the pool.’

‘Oh,’ I said, blushing at my Sheila like comment, ‘erm, I can’t really.’

‘Why not, babes?’

I loved the way he said that and I went all goose pimply and gooey inside.

‘Well, last time I went into the pool I had a bit of an accident in the boobie department.’

‘What happened?’

‘They came adrift and the lifeguard had to rescue them.’

Tim, of course knew all about me and the bits that I did and didn’t have, but I realised that we had been talking rather loudly and half the people around the pool were looking at us rather strangely. I dug Sheila in the ribs and she mumbled something about I’m free, Captain Peacock and turned on her side, so no help there.

‘Let’s go somewhere quiet,’ said Tim.

I reached for my robe and stood up leaving Sheila to sleep in peace. We went to the nearest bar and sat on stools looking over the railings to the ocean beyond. It was lovely, not windy and the sun and the sky made the sea a deep blue…it was ever so romantic.

‘May I take your orders,’ said a slightly Irish voice.

It was Patrick, my friendly Irish barman and font of all knowledge.

‘Hello, Patrick.’ I said.

‘Hi, miss, I’m glad that you two young things made it up.’

‘So am I,’ I said taking hold of Tim’s hand and smiling shyly. ‘What are you drinking, honey?’

‘Lager please.’

‘That’s one lager and a claw hammer please.’

‘I assume you mean a screwdriver miss?’

‘Probably.’

Chuckling for some reason, Patrick went off to sort out the drinks while Tim and I stared into each other’s eyes.

Not a lot was said, we didn’t need to talk. We just savoured the moment. Soon the cruise would end and things were a bit up in the air. I wanted to get as close as possible to Tim, but I knew that I had to sort some things out for myself before I could truly, madly, deeply fall for this man. I was close, really close to taking the final plunge and get my plumbing sorted out, but I knew that I had to go through a few hoops before I could do that. Did Tim want to wait and could he accept me and my luggage…I mean baggage?

‘A penny for your thoughts?’

‘I don’t want it to end, and yet…’

‘You are worried about the future?’

‘Of course…I wish the cruise would never end, like the Mary thingie.’

‘Rose.’

‘No,’

‘Tyler-Moore.’

‘No, you know Mary Whatsit…’

‘Celeste?’

‘Gesundheit.’

‘Pardon?’

‘You sneeze…oh Mary Celeste.’

‘That’s the one it sailed on forever…’

‘But, Toni, no one was aboard.’

‘Oh…well anyway you know what I mean. I have issues, you have issues we all have issues.’

I had that nursery rhyme going around my head, ‘An issue, an issue we all fall down’ but shook my head as I realised that I had mixed my metaphors again. I was brought back to the present by the deep sexy voice of my Tim.

‘That’s a bit deep. Look I still want to see you if you want and who knows, things could work out.’

‘You know I hope for that more than anything.’ I simpered.

‘One slight problem that needs to be sorted out.’

‘What's that, my darling?’

‘Technically, I’m still married.’

~*~

I was trying to be very calm, thinking thoughts of daffodils, oceans breezes and stuff like that, I was going to do few of my deep, relaxed breathing exercises but I had no time for that so I just picked up his glass of lager, threw it in his face and walked off in a dignified manner. He bleated something about, ‘wait, I can explain,’ but a girl has her standards. I wasn’t like Sheila-if it moves, hump it. I was a good girl who would have probably been a convent school girl if I hadn’t been born in the wrong body.

I got back to the cabin and flung myself on the bed, crying my eyes out. I came on this cruise to forget my problems at home and have a good time. Since then all manner of maham…mahoon… hang on, that’s right mayhem had happened to me.

I was beginning to think that God didn’t like me. Perhaps he thought that I was an abhorin…abhorating…naughty person.

I jumped slightly as I felt a hand on my shoulder.

‘Toni, are you all right?’

Looking up through bleary eyes, I could see Sheila, looking worried.

‘What's up sweetheart?’

‘He…He…He.’

‘He what?’

He’s a slug.’

‘Who’s a slug?’

‘T…T…T…Tim.’

‘Why, what’s he done?’

‘He’s mmmm…’

‘Mad?’

No, mmmm…’

‘Missing?’

‘No, mmmm…

‘Misogamistic?’

‘N…what’s that mean?’

‘Hatred of marriage, I know all about that one.’

‘No he doesn’t hate it, he is it?’

‘What?’

‘Married.’

‘Married!’

‘Mmm.’ I sniffed.

‘The bugger; I’ll stuff his balls down his throat!’

‘All that would do is get you into trouble. No, I cocked up so I have to take the consequences. I’m now officially off men. I think I’ll go and live in Switzerland and find a convent, I hear that the place is alive with them…’

‘You can’t do that.’

‘Why not, is it because I’m not a real girl? I’ll have the op first and then I’ll go and do a Maria. Let’s face it I’m still chaste and vaginal.’

‘I think you mean virginal; no, you’ll be hauled up in front of the Mother Superior and she’ll make you go and look after some horrible kids…Mind you, you could marry the father and climb every mountain…look this is getting weird, you are not going to be a nun. Just because one bloke slimes you, it doesn’t mean they are all like that.’

‘You can talk.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘How many times have you fallen in love and been engaged?’

‘That’s beside the point. My Man is out there somewhere and if it takes me going through half the population of the UK to find him, I will.’

I smiled, as I could see her doing just that.

‘That’s better; you can smile, now let’s forget about Tim and other men and decide what we are wearing tonight at the Last Night Ball.’

‘I won’t go.’

‘Won’t go! You are going. Everyone goes, it’s obligatory.’

‘It’s all right for you, you have the Captain, I don’t want to be a wall flower.’

‘I won’t be with the captain?’

‘Why not?’

‘That bitch of a purser told head office about us. There is a strict rule about no nookie with the passengers. He’s been given a yellow card, one more hit and he’s out on his elbow.’

‘Sacked?’

‘Yup.’

‘Are you upset?’

‘Not really, he had no staying power. I ask you, what man can’t do it more than six times in one day.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘True, dear, true; mind you,’ she said wistfully,’ he is a nice man, sort of soft and cuddly…’

~*~

After many arguments, tantrums and throwing my dummy (soother) out of my pram, I sort of agreed to go to the ball, being influenced by a certain dress that found its way on to my bed whilst I was in the bathroom.

As I walked back into the bedroom, I stopped dead at the lovely thing draped over the bed covers. How can I explain it…It was a strapless floor length evening dress, teal coloured with a lace-up fastening at the back. It had a waterfall drape at front with crystal details on edge. The dress also had a gorgeous pleat detail across the middle. It was satin underneath with an organza overskirt. It came with a petticoat of the same colour and I couldn’t wait to try it on. There was a little card sitting on top of the dress and I picked it up. It said.

Toni, I hope that you had a wonderful time on your cruise. This is a little extra gift for you to enjoy at the Last Night Ball.

Your loving Uncle.
XXX

On the floor by the bed were some matching high heeled shoes. I sat on the bed and started crying.

‘Crying again, what got into you?’

‘I’m happy!’

‘So you now cry because you are happy. Don’t let anyone persuade you that you are not a girl, you have more mood swings than any girl I’ve ever known.’

It only took two and a half hours to get ready with the help of the salon and, in a limited way, Sheila, who was a bit stuck because she wanted to make herself ravishable for her many admirers and hence took almost as much time as me to get ready.

Eventually we were finished. Sheila looked lovely in her red satin cocktail dress. Her makeup was a bit heavy, but as she said, she wanted to stand out a bit.

I on the other hand looked in the mirror and saw a very pretty girl. Any thoughts of me returning to being Tony flew out of the port hole and it was obvious to me, despite my terrible heartache over Tim, that Toni was here to stay!

My chest felt strange as I had, with the help of Sheila and some special glue, anchored my boobies to my chest. They felt heavy, but much more natural and part of me. Some makeup hid the joins and you couldn’t tell that they weren’t natural. It was a weird feeling having these things sway about like rubber pendulums and it was a good thing I was wearing a dress that had its own bra department that held them firmly in place. The dress fitted me like a glove, well it would have if it had been a glove and on my hand…look you know what I mean. Anyway, the dress looked lovely and it made me feel like a princess.

Everything else was just right too. The salon had given me the full works nails…fingers and toes in a lovely shade of salmon pink. Waxing (ouch) was done without anaesthetic and I was a brave little girl for only whimpering and not screaming the house down. I then had what was called a Deep cleans and massage to tone up and invigorate Madam. Then I was given a luscious, subtle but delicious makeup…makeover. They did things with my eyes and lips that made me look lovely, vulnerable and yet sexy all at the same time. (Getting good at these description’s aren’t I?)

This was followed by a major overhaul of my hair, which had been put up and had lovely cascading curls that shaped my face and made me feel very pretty. I also had a thin diamond tiara in my hair and it sparkled in the light as I moved my head. To complete the picture, I had a beautiful diamond pendant around my neck with matching earrings…a prezzie from Sheila. I don’t think that they were real, but they were a wonderful gift from a wonderful person.

As we entered the ballroom, I could see many pretty women, but I could see that we had not disgraced ourselves by the looks and smiles, some nice, some a bit envious, that we were given as we were led to the captain’s table. The Captain and four other men got up as we approached. One of the men, a rather portly but nice man helped me onto my seat while the captain himself assisted Sheila. I could see his hand linger on Sheila’s arm and hoped that he would not get into trouble for getting involved with her.

There were two other women at the table–both over sixty and dripping with so many diamonds and pearls–I was surprised that they didn’t fall over with the weight of them. It’s a good job I’m not catty!

We had some small talk, everyone saying how lovely or smart they looked, but I wasn’t paying much attention as I was looking around to see if Tim was here. I saw no sign of him and was kind of relieved as I didn’t want any unpleasant scenes.

The meal was lovely and consisted of several courses. With the meal, there were several wines, depending on what we were eating. I was careful not to overdo the drinking as I know that I’m not at my best if I have too much. Sheila had no inhibitions and was drinking like the honorary Australian she is. She was made an honorary Australian after a party of medical students came over on an exchange and she drunk half of them under the table. I’m not saying that all Australians drink a lot, they don’t I’m sure, but those that do drink are rather good at it.

The captain was a rather nice man and he had us in stitches with various stories about life on board ship. It was obvious to me that he and Sheila had unfinished business and I was pretty certain that when the cruise was over, they would continue where they had left off.

Once the meal was over, I detached myself from the dinner companion who had tried to impress me with his money and tales of how wonderful he was. I think he wanted me to go to bed with him, but when I told him that, one I was on, two a lesbian and three, thought he would do better with a horse; he got the drift and drifted off. I was at last getting a bit more assertive. No more was I going to be Little Miss Nice Guy…erm Girl. Then my niceness crept through my tough persona; did I hurt his feelings, was I a bit too strong with my rejection?

Leaving Sheila and Captain Peacock to themselves, I wondered about the room, smiling and nodding at people and all the time looking for the rat Tim, but there was no sign. It was a pity really as I wanted to say a few more cutting things to him. Over in the distance I saw the Hated Davis (my ex-landlord) and his oxygenarian partner smiling and holding hands in the corner. I was happy that Davis had found love but still wondered what she saw in him. I was going to suggest that she got some new glasses and upgrade her hearing aid but I think that it would have been a bit cruel.
The band started up and several people including the captain and Sheila got up to dance. She looked happy and he looked tired. No wonder after what Sheila had put him through. Also on the floor were Ronald and Derek having eyes only for each other. They were sweet couple and I heard on the grapevine from work that they intended to marry in the Seychelles next year; I hoped that I would get an invite!

I found myself a seat away from the noise and just enjoyed watching others dance. I had several requests from men to dance with them but I said no as my feet were aching slightly. I drank something, I’m not sure what, it was fruity and it was called a punch. It did have a bit of a Kick though!

I heard a cough and looked up. In front of me wearing evening dress suits and looking vaguely like a pair or is that a couple of penguins; stood Mick and Dave.

‘I’m sorry Miss; you have to come with us.’

‘Why?’

‘You need to be questioned further regarding the incident of the 21st i.e. this morning.’

‘But it’s all been cleared up, I’m innocent.’

‘We still have the file open Madam I mean Miss and we need to sort out a few details don’t we, Dave?’

‘Yes, Mick, we need to cross the i’s and dot the t’s.’

‘But…’

‘No more questions, Miss, we don’t want a scene, do we?’

I looked around in vain for the Captain and Tennille…I mean Sheila, but I couldn’t see them through the press of bodies gyrating on the dance floor.

I sighed, picked up my wrap, and followed Mick and Dave out of the dance room and into the comparative quiet outside.

I kept protesting my innocence as we went down the corridor. At the end, Mick knocked on a door and motioned me inside. I went through; it was a bit dark in there. I heard the door click close behind me. I turned to try and open it again when I heard a voice.

‘Toni.’

I turned back, knowing who it was. In the dim light I could see that it was Tim.

My eyes were getting used to the comparative darkness. We were in a large state room. He was standing by a table; on the table was a bottle of champagne, two tall flute glasses and a single red rose. He picked up the rose and walked over to me.

‘What's going on?’ I whispered.

He handed me the rose and walked me over to the table, sitting me down. I should have shouted and screamed, but I didn’t. I should have told him where he could shove his rose, but I didn’t. I just sat down and as he sat opposite me and poured out the champagne; I just said nothing. Perhaps it was the shock at seeing him, of being plucked away from the ball by Mick and Dave…

‘Toni, I need to explain things. You left in a bit of a hurry and I gave you the wrong impression…’

‘What do you mean ‘wrong impression’,’ I said finally finding my voice, ‘You told me that you were married; you lied to me, I never knew that…’

‘Please,’ he said holding his hand up, ‘let me explain; if you want to leave after that, I won’t stop you.’

I sat there and waited. I decided that I would give him five minutes and that was it, I was going to slap his face and then go and get those bloody policemen and feed them into the furnace…’

He coughed and then looked at me.

‘I told you that I was technically married… I am, to my job.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know that I work for your uncle?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well part of my job is to be a security consultant but I’m also a bodyguard. In my contract, I’m not supposed to get involved with my employer or any of his staff as it might compromise me in the event of things going wrong. I could lose my objectivity and may affect the way I do my job. It’s a good rule and normally it wouldn’t be a problem. But then I got assigned to you; your uncle was worried, with good cause that you would be a target, that’s why I was assigned to look after you. Then I went and fell in love with you.’

‘So you aren’t married?’

‘No, not even to the job now, as I have resigned and am going freelance and setting up my own company. I’m going to pay other people to take the risks and I’m going to sit back and enjoy my life a bit more.’

‘W…what does that mean for us?’

‘Well, I have to ask you a few questions. Do you love me?’

‘Yes,’ I whispered, my heart beating like a big base drum.

‘Can you bear to be without me?’

‘No.’

‘Will you marry me?’

‘Absolument!’

The End?

Please leave comments...thanks

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.