Double Trouble

by Paula Mortenson

 

The insistent ringing of the telephone intruded into my sleep like nagging toothache. I loathe being disturbed and I could only manage a grunt into the receiver.

"Is that Mr Robinson? Mr David Robinson? "I recognised the voice of officialdom at the other end. Having established he had not unnecessarily woken me the voice explained he was

from York police enquiring about my brother, John. You have to understand that my twin brother and I were not particularly close. Since our parents died in a car crash six years ago we hadn't spoken more than three or four times but we still exchanged Christmas cards and the like. There had been no argument; just our lives had gone in different directions when I had married. Since then my, now ex wife had departed and I spent my life in London working, playing football and cricket and going to the pub. I presumed he was doing the same but 200 miles away.

I was trying to concentrate on the words from the receiver. It seemed there had been a break in at John's flat and when they had gone to investigate he wasn't there and hadn't been seen for several days. It was now shortly after Christmas and my card to him had been delivered by mistake to a neighbour who had reported the break in and suggested he was missing. My new phone number was on the card so they had rung me. Didn't they have any concept of time in Yorkshire? It was well after midnight and I had been fast asleep. Apparently the concern was despite telling this nosy neighbour he was spending Christmas at home he had not been seen since Christmas Eve. It was now the day after Boxing Day. What was I supposed to do? I certainly didn't have a key to his flat and I had no idea where he was.

Since I was made redundant from my menial office job two weeks ago I'd spent very dispiriting time job hunting but that had been cut short by the Christmas break. Fortunately, my divorce had been fairly financially painless and with the money our parents had left us I was not destitute. Not well off but I could last a few months. The policeman droned on about my responsibilities. Partly out of a desire to get back to sleep, partly out of a half remembered brotherly love and partly out of boredom I agreed to travel up the following day.

I really hadn't a clue what I could do but I was desperate to get back to sleep. It's strange but when I've had a disturbed night I always wake early. So there I was at seven the next morning, feeling totally inhuman, stuffing things into a bag. Being the holidays all the trains were on Sunday service that meant the first train left at nine. Just before midday my train trundled into York. The weather was damp and grim, a wretched welcome to my hometown. Well, city, really. Saving money has become a way of life since I lost my job so it was another hour before I walked into the police station, very cold, very damp and in a mood to match the weather. My temper was not improved by having to wait a further hour before anyone took an interest in me. Despite my late night promise they were surprised to see me. I hadn't expected them to put out the red carpet but I had travelled 200 miles.

Eventually a young policewoman took an interest. There were the usual questions. When was the last time I had seen him? Was I expecting him to be away? Did I know where he might be? My answers were as unsatisfactory as the questions. I realised I didn't know my own brother. His life was a complete mystery to me. As mine was, I was sure, to him. We were strangers connected by our childhood memories.

After the questions I was again ignored. Then it was suggested I went to the flat to see if anything was missing. The weather had been bad when I travelled up and was now getting progressively worse. I retorted that since I was returning to the scene of a crime perhaps I ought to be accompanied and more particularly driven. There was a frown, which spoilt the policewoman's pretty face and I smiled helplessly. I've always been good at smiling in a winsome manner. She took pity on me or it might have been the chance to escape the boredom of the station. She drove us through a windswept and practically deserted town centre, despite the post Christmas sales.

I was surprised to find John lived in a very smart development overlooking the river. There was no doubt he was doing very well for himself. I'd always been lazy at school but he'd been a real swat and had qualified as an accountant. I didn't mind he was welcome to the responsibility. I had always concentrated on enjoying myself. Well, up to now I had but things were going to be more difficult as I approached thirty. You can't be an office junior all your life. That's all I did. Running a few messages, a bit of typing and other dogsbody jobs no one else wanted to do. I'd become too expensive and had been replaced by a girl with a computer on a third of what I'd earned. It was definitely time to get a grip on my life.

There was a security lock, at the entrance to the flats proving no problem to the policewoman. That gave me no confidence. We wandered up to the third floor. My brother's flat was easily identified. It was the one with its door hanging off the hinges. Inside a whirlwind had blasted through. Furniture was overturned; lamps smashed and the single bedroom looked distinctly the worse for wear. It was a shame as it had been beautifully decorated in pastel shades with matching soft furnishings. My brief experience of married life told me this was a room designed by a woman, for a woman. One with good taste, too. The fitted wardrobes hung open and clothes were scattered everywhere. Both men's and women's. That was strange I hadn't realised John had a female in tow. But then again, why should I even know?

Quietly both of us regarded the devastation with horror, the silence only broken as my companion knelt to scoop pretty underwear up from the floor.

"A girl could kill for these. You do realise they're all silk and satin, don't you? They're expensive. You didn't mention there was girlfriend."

I shrugged and picked up a frothy cocktail dress. Very attractive, I thought. The touch of the material reminded me of my wife. I hadn't thought of her for ages. A familiar longing came over me. I realised I missed the feel of women's clothes and the memories that went with them. I mean what went inside the clothes, of course. We walked around the flat, depressed by the devastation, straightening this and that as we went.

We began to chat and introduced ourselves properly. Julie, the policewoman, turned out to be quite human and didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry to get back to the station. I began to think at least our policewomen were wonderful.

"Hello, is anyone there?"

We both turned to find another female peering into the flat.

"I thought I'd heard someone. My name's Rachel. I live next door. You must be John's bother. You look so alike."

No one had said that in years and I looked the neighbour over. Another female in her twenties. This was turning out to be my lucky day. She chatted on, in a gossipy way, revelling in the excitement of the mystery on her doorstep. She explained that my card had been put through her door by mistake and she'd opened it. Wanting to apologise for her error she'd kept on coming round until she'd discovered the smashed door. In a lull in her incessant chatter I enquired about John's girlfriend.

"I don't think he had one. Well, not one I ever saw. The only girl I met was your sister and I didn't really meet her, I only saw her leaving the flat. I never spoke to her. You could see they were twins, though. They were so alike."

With very little encouragement she told us how John had explained that his sister visited occasionally after Rachel had seen her one evening. Recently his female twin had been a more frequent visitor. She was always attractively dressed but never had time to stop for a chat. When Julie suggested John might be staying with her I was a bit stuck. I was John's twin and we didn't have a sister, never mind about a twin sister. I didn't want to admit this in front of Rachel so I muttered something about us having lost touch.

Julie sensed my discomfort and ushered Rachel out on the pretext of me making a formal statement to the police. We leant the door into place to give us some privacy. By now we had righted the chairs in the living area and she sat down, indicating that I should do the same. As I sat she raised her eyebrows at me, silently enquiring. I explained I had no sister and that I was John's twin. In all innocence I expressed my puzzlement both why my brother should lie and who the girl was in reality. From Rachel's description it was apparent she had considered the mysterious female attractive.

"There is an explanation, you know."

"What's that?"

"Do you really not know?"

I had no idea what she meant and I was offended when I realised she was suggesting my brother, my twin brother, wore female clothing. I had to agree it was a possible explanation. But weren't men like that so obvious? Surely they could not fool another woman? The only ones I had ever seen were drag acts at strip shows, absolute travesties of femininity. Enormous breasts with heavy make up hardly disguising a 5 o'clock shadow, big beefy men who revolted rather than being described by a female as being attractive. I sat aghast as Julie, in a matter of fact voice, told me of their world and the lengths that some went to in order to create the impression of femininity. I decided in comparison to her I had led a very sheltered life. Even so I was not entirely convinced.

With some reluctance she returned to work, enquiring where I was staying. I had given it no thought at all. I had imagined I would travel up this morning, sort things out and return in the evening. It was apparent that things were not quite so simple. John was still missing and the door needed repairing. I decided it was easiest to stay at the flat. The worst that could happen was if John turned up during the night and I had to sleep on the floor. She said her goodbyes, promising to drop in the next morning, leaving me to search the flat for a tool kit. It was a rough and ready job, I didn't have a replacement door but at least it locked. If John didn't turn up tomorrow I'd visit the sales and buy a cheap replacement.

So I settled down for the evening on my own. There was no point going out, as I had no key to get back in. If I had to go out tomorrow I'd have to sort something out with Rachel. The television worked and there was food and drink in the fridge so there was no problem.

My problems started later that night.

 

Chapter Two

There were no problems at first. Earlier I had glanced in the fridge and seen there was plenty of food and drink but it was all salads and cooked chicken and the like. The foods' women moan about when they're on a diet. It was annoying but, after all, I was eating at my brother's expense so I could hardly make a fuss. The drinks were all diet soft drinks with a couple of bottles of white wine. I could remember the days when he wouldn't drink anything other than best mild and that by the gallon. There was nothing like that and I had inspected the entire flat.

Anyway I settled down to my chicken salad, washed down by the wine and as I began to get interested in a film on television the telephone rang.

"Mr Robinson?"

Without thinking I agreed.

"Have you been unwell, not coming in today? I've left the report you wanted on your desk."

It was my brother's assistant from work. She was horrified to find she was speaking to the wrong Mr Robinson and that her boss was missing. Her concern for his welfare and what seemed to be a shared fear with him was very apparent. That she was frightened, there was little doubt and only John could resolve the problem She hinted he, and she, were in very considerable trouble and that her report, if read by others, might make their difficulties even worse. I offered to meet her to find out more and help in anyway I could but her response confused me. She was afraid for herself and for John but neither was doing anything wrong. The problem was at work but it seemed to be something they had stumbled across rather than anything they had done. As we spoke I calmed her growing hysteria and though she did not dare to meet she agreed to post her report to me at John's flat.

The whole conversation had had an air of mystery and intrigue about it, tinged with the mounting panic. A dread that an unknown person might discover she had put the report together for John. It appeared to involve the company's accounts and large sums of money. Large enough to make unknown individuals very angry if they realised John and his assistant had been poking about. The one thing I had learned about business was the accountants were all seeing and all knowing. No one moved in the business world without consulting or gaining the approval of the accounts department. And my brother was the head of the accounts department. What had he got himself into? The little mysteries nagged at me. There was a sister who I'd never had, my brother's disappearance, a break in and now a problem at work. I began to wonder whether they all might be connected.

As I went through to the bedroom with the idea of making the bed the telephone rang again. I picked up the receiver and was greeted by a click and the dialling tone. I set off for the bedroom again and it rang again. The result was the same. The third time it rang I simply left it off the hook.

It's difficult in someone else's home when you're there on your own. Normally I would never dream of rummaging through draws in such circumstances. I had to, though, just to put things away. As underwear went in this draw and nightwear went in another I realised there were far more women's clothes than men's. The only male attire was three suits, white shirts, socks and shoes. Essentially only work clothes for an office worker. There were no male casual clothes. No pullovers, no trainers, no casual shirts. There was no male underwear, other than socks either. Feeling guilty at my intrusion I checked in closed cupboards and drawers, hoping to find football boots or a cricket box or something distinctly masculine. But there was nothing. I found three or four of those all in one stretchy things that women wear for aerobics, in bright pink. I found ladies` slacks, cardigans, everything a woman accumulates. As I searched I was reminded of packing my ex wife's things up, after she had left me. The more I cast about the more female and less male attire I discovered. It was as though John was the occasional visitor and our mythical sister was the permanent occupant.

I found things I failed to understand. In a wardrobe I found three wigs on stands plus a stand that was bare. In a draw my hopes were raised as I discovered what appeared to be a cricket box but it was encased in a pretty lace jockstrap. The photos were the final straw.

They were right at the back of a wardrobe, hidden away under a rather fetching leather coat. Should I look at them? When I did, I came face to face with John's twin sister and the magazines with them left no doubt that Julie had been right!

The telephone calls, the clothes and my strange discoveries had unsettled me. I listened for every creak, every unexpected sound from the adjacent flats, half anticipating the next surprise. Though logic told me I was alone I found myself peering into the lounge before hesitantly flicking through the photos. They were all of one person. Unmistakably John's twin sister, if I could still believe that. She was slim, well dressed and quite good-looking, when you remember she was not only John's twin she was also mine. Under other circumstances they would have been an unremarkable collection, perhaps waiting insertion into some girl's photo album but they were a record of a world that frightened me. They revealed innermost secrets people rarely disclose to others.

The magazines I hardly dared more than flick through. They seemed to fall into two categories. The first, glossy and devoted to TVs, TSs, CDs (I had thought they were compact discs, but I appeared to be mistaken), she males and advertising for specialist clothing and services. Some contained stories and articles but these were in the minority. The second category was books and leaflets about diction, make up and style and included some women's magazines. It was, basically, a mini library on how to be female. Tucked away at the back was a bundle of letters but I hardly dared even to glance at them they might prove too personal. I felt obliged to help my brother through half forgotten family ties but how much did this allow me to enquire into his apparently secret life? I was torn. Was I being gratuitously nosy? I had to respect his privacy but if he was in trouble I had to know where he might have gone or who he might be staying with. What if I had got it entirely wrong and there really was a girl who looked exactly like our twin? I might easily make an idiot of myself and poke my nose into things that did not concern me.

I made up my mind and thrust everything back into the wardrobe hoping that no one would notice things were mixed up. I decided I was definitely going back to London by the first available train in the morning when the next problem rang the doorbell. It was now after ten and I vaguely hoped it might be Julie or even Rachel. It wasn't.

I had hardly unlatched the door before it was thrust brutally open and I was knocked to the floor. There were two of them. Big, beefy bully boys, totally confident in their physical superiority that I was certainly unable to dispute. They were like a pair of hunting dogs, sniffing the air and seeking their prey. One contemptuously placed a foot on my chest to remind me not to interfere while the other hunted around the flat; tipping furniture over and recreating the mess I had spent hours tidying.

"Where is he? " They were looking for someone. A puzzled frown passed over my personal assailant's face. Thinking was not obviously his strength.

"Who are you and what you doing here? You're not Robinson." They were looking for John.

What was I to say? It's a bit lame, saying I was his brother, I decided. I just couldn't think what to tell them. I was petrified, in both senses of the word. I was incapable of thinking. It was clear they would be happy to reduce my body to the same state as the flat, without a moment's thought.

The searching one reappeared from the bedroom and with terrifying ease hauled me to my feet, breathing foulness into my face as he forced his close to mine.

"Where are the files? You got them?"

I was now more afraid of the consequences of not answering than speaking. In terror I stuttered out a half-baked and half true story of travelling up from London at the request of the police to secure the flat and that I was returning home the next morning. At the mention of the police a string of threats was issued, describing exactly what would happen to me if I let on about this visit. They were uttered with graphic descriptions of the injuries to be inflicted upon me by the foul-mouthed intruder. I was left in no doubt that if I didn't leave town by the first train in the morning, without contacting the police, I was mincemeat or was it dog meat? I was too scared to take in every word but the message was unmistakable. Having satisfied themselves that what they wanted was not there they left as quickly as they had arrived, leaving me relatively physically unharmed but a total mental wreck.

I had been unceremoniously dropped to the floor as they left so I scrabbled to my feet, trembling with fear and jammed two chairs against the door. Sweat was pouring from every pore of my body. I know they say hot, sweet tea is best for a shock but I wanted to forget, even obliterate, the memory of what had happened. So I found the gin bottle and hit it hard. This was becoming a nightmare and I was desperate to wake up. Nothing was going right but worst of all I was getting involved. I had no desire to be the crusading detective but John was obviously in deep trouble and I had to help. By this time I was getting maudlin, I think the gin and the wine I had drunk earlier was getting to me so I checked the door once again and retired to bed.

Clothes, now including my own, were scattered everywhere and as I tidied up another silly problem arose. In my early morning bleariness I had forgotten to pack either pyjamas or a dressing gown. Lying in a corner I came across a pair, not mine, in dusky pink. It was far too late and I was too drunk to care when I later discovered they didn't have the usual fly arrangement and I simply flopped into to bed, luxuriating in the silky sheets and the musky aroma that enveloped me.

 

Chapter Three

Gin and white wine do not mix I found next morning as I woke with the most appalling hangover. At least I had slept solidly through the night. I staggered out of bed, grabbing the robe matching my pyjamas and stumped into the kitchenette. Two coffees and two aspirin later I was ready to think about packing and catching my train home. I hate the stubble of my beard first thing in the morning so, as I began to feel human, I escaped to the bathroom for a shower and a shave. At least I hadn't forgotten my razor. As I contemplated getting dressed the doorbell rang. It brought the memories of last night rushing back and gave me the shakes. Standing there naked, I felt vulnerable, as you do so I slipped the pyjamas and robe back on and illogically standing behind the bathroom door called out to enquire who was at the front door. The relief, when Julie called out, made me forget how I was dressed as I dashed to pull away the chairs and let her in.

The knowing look she gave made me realise how I must have appeared. I should explain that both John and I have very blond hair and despite the current fashion I have continued to wear mine long. Goodness knows what she was thinking though later she told me. Her comments were not unkind and I did blush at the compliments.

"Well, I see you are like your brother, after all. Mind you they do suit you. Are you OK? You look as though you've had a shock. And why are you stacking those chairs back against the door? You don't have to worry the police are here to protect you, now."

We sat on stools, the kitchenette while I made coffee and explained what had happened after she had left me. It was only as I handed her coffee over I realised she was not in uniform. We were about the same height and other than the obvious differences we were about the same build. She was showing an interesting amount of knee and thigh beneath a very tight black stretchy skirt. As she hooked her heels onto the cross bar of her stool I noticed how her tights stretched and shimmered in a way I found disturbingly fascinating. I'd never really noticed that before. She explained she was now off duty until just before New Years Eve having worked most of the Christmas holiday. My description of last night's visitors didn't mean anything to her and only with some difficulty did I persuade her not to call for reinforcements. She made it clear she expected something in return.

"You are going to have to find your brother, you know. Do you have no idea where he might be?"

I shook my head and we descended into silence. After a moment she raised her eyes to search my own.

"Let's have a look at those photos. I have the inkling of an idea where he might be or rather how we might find him. It's a bit unorthodox but short of calling in the whole force to nose around the flat I think it's the only chance we've got."

I had begun to be enthralled by Julie but I had a suspicion she was one of those people who got everyone else into peculiar situations. Nevertheless, I hurried off to the bedroom and returned with everything. Photos, letters, magazines, the lot. Since it now seemed to be at least semi official I forced myself to read the letters while Julie glanced through the photos with a critical eye. From time to time she held a photo up and gazed thoughtfully at me. By now, I had entirely forgotten I was still wearing silky female bed wear with matching robe, all in a very fetching dusky pink.

I struggled with my hangover and the appalling handwriting of the letters while Julie moved on to the magazines and leaflets. As I read I heard her laughing and commenting to herself. Originally I had been afraid to read the letters as, if John turned out to be what seemed increasingly likely, I was convinced they would be full of sex. That they would reflect a sexual preference I was not comfortable about. Hell, I was afraid they'd be about gays. I suppose most people work it out, don't they? If he wears frocks, he must be gay. Anyway, they weren't about sex at all. They were gossipy and bitchy at times but concerned meetings, I presumed, between "like minded people". They were all addressed to "Andrea". It wasn't until the third or fourth letter I realised that was probably John's female name. An envelope addressed to Andrea Robinson at the flat confirmed that.

Tucked away with a letter was a calendar of events. It was for a club or organisation called YTV. No, not Yorkshire Television but York Trannies. Their next event was to be a New Years Eve Ball. Now at that there might be someone who knew him. I was surprised when I saw the hotel hosting the ball. One of the best in York and right in the centre of town. Admittedly it seemed they were using a private function room but apparently one of the senior staff of the hotel was a member so they were getting good rates with cheap accommodation as well. I supposed it saved having to stagger home in the early hours of the morning. It wasn't safe for women to be out at that time. Goodness knows what a mugger or attempted rapist would make of a TV. They would at the very least be putting themselves at risk. But I couldn't wait the two, nearly three days until then. The prospect of another visit from last night's thugs was beyond what I could cope with. There was a telephone number that gave me the idea of calling but when I looked up to speak to Julie she had disappeared.

As I waited for her I thought how Julie was dressed. Other than the small heels and a shorter skirt she was almost exactly in uniform. I've always noticed policewomen in summer, with their white, crisp blouses showing their bras so clearly. It had always intrigued me, the way women, almost proudly, showed off the badge of their femininity. I had liked my wife to wear white blouses and the suggestion of her underwear had always excited me. She moaned that I seemed more interested in her underwear than her body. I had denied it but my thoughts about Julie made me wonder.

I snuggled comfortably into my chair, suddenly realising my legs were tucked beneath me and despite the horrors awaiting me outside I felt at ease. Was that Julie? Or perhaps it was the caress of the silky, attractive pyjamas? I hurriedly pushed those disturbing thoughts away.

 

Chapter Four

Julie appeared from the bedroom, interrupting my disturbing thoughts. I was relieved, in a way, which she had. My relief, however, was short-lived. She was and is a great organiser. Someone who's always getting other people to do things for their own good. Usually things they don't want to do but somehow it always turns out right though perhaps not as originally intended.

She went on about finding John.

"If he's a TV, or whatever, and he wanted to disappear then the obvious place for him to go is to his friends and probably as Andrea. " She'd read one or two of the letters and had come to the same conclusion as me. That was no problem but what she said next, horrified me.

"I've seen these YTV people, around the town. Most of them are lovely people but they keep very much to themselves and are shy to the point of being suspicious of strangers. If someone came along asking about John or Andrea they wouldn't tell them anything. But they might just tell you. If....", she trailed off, gazing intently at me. It was as though she had never looked at me before.

"You do look sweet sitting there like that. With your hair trimmed and a touch of makeup no one would ever guess."

"Guess what?"

"I mean, well, that you're not a woman. You look so feminine. With very little help you could walk down the street and you'd be absolutely natural. They'd believe you were John's brother, which you are and they'd tell you. It would be easy."

 

My reaction was pure outraged masculinity and bearing in mind what I was thinking as she came in, my outburst was fuelled by not a little shame about my meditations. It was pure childishness, I admit, but to be told a trim of your hair and a touch of makeup would turn you into an attractive girl was more than my male ego could stand. What made it worse; I secretly desired the confirmation that what she had said was true. So having exhausted my initial tantrum I went into a massive sulk, slamming into the bedroom to find clothes that didn't disturb my self-perception.

I scrabbled around the floor for my familiar grubby jeans, T-shirt and trainers not to mention my boring Y fronts and sweaty socks. As, with regret, I took off the caressing silkiness I spied clothes laid out on the bed. Julie must have chosen an outfit for me. The pretty, crisp underwear challenged me from the counterpane. It was white and shone and sparkled at me. It lured my eyes and tempted my hands; so pristine I felt I would have to wash before I dared to touch. But I feared it would entrap me, changing my destiny, forever. With an immense effort I turned my eyes away and what I saw made me groan.

There, right in my view were the outer clothes she had selected for me. A long, roll necked jumper that would cover my bottom, together with stretchy ski pants and matching black ankle boots. They called to me, pleading to be worn. They spoke of comfort and a rightness that had always seemed beyond my reach. They seductively offered a world to be explored, to be experienced to which I had been blind all my life. In a final plea to my petrified masculinity they confirmed that Julie could not resist me, dressed this way. I was torn between the twin fears of the secret self the clothes might unleash and a second visit from the thugs.

I felt smug as my tantrum combined with my fear of the thugs to let me resist temptation and slip on my male clothes. After all, I was in the middle of a sulk of major proportions. Bursting through the lounge I grabbed my mucky anorak and set off into the town.

The sight of one of my nocturnal visitors, waiting opposite the flats brought me back to earth. As I crossed the road hoping fervently I would not be followed I noticed the other thug. They knew I had seen them. Indeed, they allowed me to see them so I knew I could not escape. Over the next hour they were always there, smirking at my failure to shake them. However, much I dodged into shops, crossed roads or tried to disappear down the alleyways in which York abounds the result was always the same. Their leering faces were there, mocking my failure.

As I became increasingly desperate and depressed the weather became worse. A fine, driving rain soaked into my clothing. Everywhere I looked there were women, armed with umbrellas, hurrying from one shop to another, seemingly impervious to the weather. Even my pursuers now looked distinctly bedraggled and it was apparent their tempers were not improving, which boded ill for me. As the damp squelched in my trainers I spied a particularly attractive girl clip clopping her way along the street. Her heels were higher than normal, on a day such as this but she seemed totally at ease in the conditions. She glanced aloofly at me, tossing her head at the wretch she saw. Defeated and depressed at my failure to escape I turned back towards the flat.

What was I to say? I had a half formed line of discussion but Rachel was there and I was too embarrassed to raise the subject in front of her. I carried on silently through to the bedroom. My temptations were still there, now beckoning even more strongly. Julie appeared at the bedroom door.

"Here, this came for you. It's the stuff you were expecting. It looks important. And for goodness sake, get those clothes off and have a hot bath. You'll catch your death, if you stay like that." I only did as I was told because I was going to anyway. I soaked in the bath reading the files. If I had been afraid before by the time I had read and understood a fraction of what was there I was in fear for my life. I mean my life not a beating or other indignities. I stood a very good chance of being killed. I now knew why John had disappeared assuming he had gone of his own free will.

It seemed he had part of the information, probably the identity of who was involved with him but these files were records and bank statements of movements of vast amount of cash. Millions from one country to another. At the close of business each day the accounts had nothing in them. It was clear the company he worked for laundered cash. There was no doubt where it came from. The names involved all had a Latin American ring to them. Even now I cannot bring myself to say what the cash came from. I must leave you to work it out for yourself. In that business and for those amounts of money an out of work office boy could be disposed of with no more thought than you might give to crushing an ant.

I shivered in fear and from the now cold bathwater. Totally distracted I dried myself and wandered into the lounge having returned to the comforting silky caresses of the pyjamas and robe. My thoughts were interrupted by a gasp from Rachel and Julie's raucous wolf whistle.

 

Chapter Five

I was cornered. Unthinkingly I had shown them what they apparently regarded as my potential. To my bemusement they kept on using that word, potential. Amidst the exciting chatter, that initially ignored my presence, the telephone intruded again. Still trying to listen to what was being said about me I picked up the receiver.

There was no mistaking who was at the other end. The threats were not even implied or subtle. They were simple, brutal and very personal. If I was not going to leave, and that chance had now passed, then I must be in contact with my brother and when I met him, they would be there to deal with both of us. There was no escape. I had better find him quickly or my body and soul were in mortal danger.

The actual words were more graphic and cruder but the message was unmistakable. I was certain Julie being a policewoman was no protection. The words made it clear whoever got in their way or obstructed them was mincemeat, done the slow and painful way with the juicy bits of your anatomy stuck in disgusting places. Impossible places if you were still alive!!

The girls shot enquiring glances in my direction as I replaced the receiver. Feeling the colour drain from my face I stuttered, "Our friends, the visitors. " I was now well and truly stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. There was no escape from the brutalities of the thugs but equally the only vague hope was to entrust myself to the tender and unknown mercies of Julie and Rachel. I stood no chance with the pursuers I already knew too much so I was left with little choice. My fear was what the appearance of Susan might entail and where it all might lead. Hang on. Who was Susan?

The sudden intrusion of the unknown female name froze me into silence. Why had the prospect of my escape, disguised as a female, forced this name into my thoughts? I blushed as I realised there was a secret part of me looking forward to this adventure as Susan. I tried desperately to remember from where the name had come. Julie smiled comfortingly at me and asked, in a businesslike tone, "Come and sit down, dear. Now what would you like to be.....?" In a reflex reply I muttered, "Susan."

Fortunately, the pressures on all of us and the shortage of time prevented any questions how I had been able to name the female me, so promptly. Like giggling schoolgirls they immediately set to work. Andrea's clothes were quickly transferred to Rachel's flat and my few clothes were scattered around John's wardrobes and drawers to hide the deficiency. Even so the wardrobes looked very empty. As a final touch Rachel, before she slammed the door on my masculinity, scribbled a note from John's fantasy girlfriend. It basically said she had dropped in, collected her clothes and was off to stay with her mother, in London, implied was she had not seen John for several days and was leaving him. It seemed the girls had worked out a plan of action before I had returned.

As we piled into Rachel's flat I realised I had reached the point of no return. I was now entirely at their mercy. I had no male clothes and was dependant on them for everything. I had little money, having intended to go to the bank, while I was out but now I couldn't use my chequebook or credit card, as they were both in the name of David Robinson. When I raised this with them all I got was a smile and an assurance I'd be all right as long as I did as I was told. I groaned to myself. I was at the mercy of two females I hadn't even met 24 hours ago.

The whole plan depended upon our pursuers not being aware of Andrea/John. Julie turned to Rachel.

"Right. As we agreed. I'll be Andrea. I'll use one of her wigs and take all her clothes with me. Susan?"

I didn't react, momentarily forgetting my new name.

"Susan, you're going to have to get used to your new name. After all, you did want it. It's a nice name it does suit you. You've still got your return rail ticket, to London? Good. Give it to me. That's right. Now Rachel's is going to get you ready, while I change. Now, don't argue, we're only doing this for you."

I watched, in amazement, while Julie hurriedly stripped as Rachel packed most of John's things away in the cases we had brought from the other flat. I noted the clothes that had tempted me earlier were left to one side. Rachel nudged me, indicating I should start to undress as she finished the packing.

"Now stop gawping at Julie. Nice girls don't do that sort of thing. Don't worry about anything. I am a beautician and quite used to making people appear prettier than they really are."

A business like sense of urgency pervaded the flat. As I stood, ashamed of my nakedness Rachel regarded my body with a disinterested, professional eye and tutted to herself. A panty girdle was thrust in my direction and Rachel returned to her packing, leaving me to struggle with it. She turned back to find me with it stuck at my hips. Flapping my hands out of the way she hauled its tightness over me with a refined brutality that brought tears to my eyes. Tights were thrust towards me with only the briefest of instruction but I managed to slip them on without too much difficulty. Self-consciously I stood waiting to be told what to do next before she hauled briskly at girdle and tights to bring them over the bottom of my ribcage. I was, by now, certain my testicles had retreated far inside my body for fear of further damage.

The bra, cami top, knickers and ski pants I donned without more scathing remarks about my competence. She tutted here and there over me, ensuring everything was straight and tucked in correctly before producing what must have been John's spare falsies. I detected just a tinge of jealousy from Rachel as she fitted them to give what I discovered was an attractive shape to my body. In fact, as I regarded myself in a mirror, it was something of a surprise to find my outline was so proportionately feminine. As I twisted this way and that to appreciate the full effect I realised I was getting distinctly funny looks from both Rachel and Julie.

Rather impatiently Rachel commented, "Yes, yes, you do look good. You'll look even better once the wig's on and you're wearing a little make up."

There was a tension in the flat, perhaps from the danger lurking outside but there was more to it than that. Each of us was affected in a different way. Julie whistled to herself and kept darting glances in my direction with a look in her eyes I couldn't understand. I felt sure they should be telling me something but I had never been subjected to such looks. I smiled nervously back at her and then she blew a kiss to me. That reduced me to a jellied confusion and I could only reply with a helpless smile as unfamiliar tingles ran up my spine. All my senses were being assailed by the danger, the unfamiliar grip of the clothing, the caress of the silky underwear and those looks from Julie boring into me as though I was dreaming.

Rachel was grimly intent upon my wig and make up. She seemed most affected by the danger, using most unladylike language when the eyeliner went wrong. Her hands shook as she tugged my wig into position. In my dreamlike state the danger seemed far away not realising my new feminine self was entranced into a serenity that belied the risks I was now running. Suddenly we were all ready. Rachel and I were to set off first in her car and Julie had ordered a taxi to catch the 14.33 to London. At the very last moment Rachel telephoned to a hotel, to book a room but I had no idea where we were going.

Julie nodded nervously to us to set off. A leather coat appeared as if by magic for me and with a peck on the cheek from Julie and exhortations to keep my shoulders back and take tiny steps I ventured into the hallway. Rachel kept up a constant stream of comments and instructions as we made our way to the lift. By the time we reached the ground floor I was in a whirl. The jiggle of the artificial breasts and the grip of the ski pants were the most physically confusing. As I learned to hold my shoulders back the breasts became part of my own body that was weird and I was grateful for the tight grip of the panty girdle. At each step the ski pants stretched and grasped erotically at my thighs.

I never had time to worry at my first steps into the outside world as the sensations occupied my attention together with the need to concentrate on keeping a handbag on my shoulder and trying to avoid overstepping. I realise now I didn't sit very elegantly in the car but I don't think Rachel did either. We were both so relieved to have reached its comparative safety. It wasn't until we had been driving for a few minutes I had the wit to ask where we were heading. But Rachel was uncommunicative. The whole journey passed in long silences interrupted by my questions but she told me nothing. Hysteria was already building inside me as we drew into the short stay car park at Doncaster station. I had no idea why we were there or where we might be going. There was a feeling I was being betrayed; perhaps being delivered to the very people I thought I was escaping.

The afternoon was miserable; darkness had already fallen as we left the car. I just followed Rachel as she walked to the ticket office to buy two single tickets to Newcastle. I was puzzled. Why drive south to take a train going north? I was certain trains from York went to Newcastle. I had little choice but to continue following Rachel as she headed for the stairs down to the platforms. As we descended I spotted Julie coming the other way and only her warning look prevented me from speaking. I realised her train from York would have just arrived but why was she now dressed differently and why couldn't I speak to her? Rachel walked briskly on leaving me to trot desperately behind her, carrying her overnight case.

Finally I caught up with Rachel and tugged at her arm as we ascended another set of stairs. Still she wouldn't tell me anything and hissed at me to accompany her to the Ladies, on the platform. I had dreaded this, the inevitable need for the toilet. Well, I could hardly go to the Gents, could I? I was propelled unceremoniously into a cubicle and told to be quiet. The platform had been deserted so we were alone as we waited. The unmistakable clip of heels came towards us and as the owner entered the echoing chamber Rachel flushed the toilet. In reply to the signal there was a discreet tap at the door and Julie whispered Rachel's name. As the door was opened Julie thrust the pair of suitcases containing Andrea's clothing towards us, smiled briefly and left as suddenly as she had appeared.

"She's taking my car. Come on you've got to change. There's only twenty minutes before our train."

So there I was, in the Ladies, on Doncaster station, stripping off in a cubicle to dress in Julie's "uniform" of white blouse and stretchy black skirt. The combination of the cold and my terror left me shaking and shivering uncontrollably. My situation was not helped by Rachel snapping at me to hurry up. My unfamiliarity with the task, the pressure of the situation and the need to avoid trailing anything on the none too clean floor didn't improve Rachel's temper.

   

Chapter Six

As we struggled along the platform now weighed down with cases I began to understand part of the plan. Doncaster is an open station so no one would have examined her ticket as she left the station. Anyone who had followed her at York would have assumed she was on her way to London. She now had Rachel's car and hopefully she was driving to a pre-arranged rendezvous, wherever that might be. Rachel's mood had not lifted and with my uncertainty whether I could speak to my mode of dress I was left to stew in my own thoughts as we waited for a train. The cold and damp of the afternoon attacked in unfamiliar places. Despite my thick tights my legs felt naked and exposed. The leather coat kept the weather out beautifully but an attempt to turn my collar up met with a disapproving look from Rachel.

Rachel offered me neither comfort nor encouragement. As I stood there, I had no idea what our fellow passengers thought or saw. I dare not even glance up for fear of meeting an unfriendly eye. Surely they would see a man in female clothing. Having adopted a pose I thought was suitably feminine I froze in it, not daring to betray myself with a potentially masculine movement. I longed for a cheery word of encouragement from Rachel but she seemed lost in her own private world, hardly even glancing towards me. As we waited my body ached from the tension of the unfamiliar pose and I could feel that hysteria welling inside me again. My helplessness left me wondering whether I might be better off locked up in a police cell and appearing in court, disgraced, for whatever transvestites are charged with.

Lost in my private thoughts I didn't notice the train drawing into the platform and it was only another sharp remark from Rachel that awoke me from my reverie. I discovered one advantage of being dressed as I was. An older man, obviously short sighted and with a misplaced sense of chivalry huffed and puffed to get our cases onto the train. It was left to me, blushing with embarrassment to smile thanks to him as I felt a young lady should. Rachel seemed to consider such an act to be her natural dues. He tipped his hat to my thanks as I steeled myself to walk the tightrope of the open carriage. Surely now I was so close to people some observant passenger would see through my flimsy disguise.

I sat opposite Rachel my increasing uneasiness burning like a furnace into my frozen face and legs. Barely had we left the station before I was desperate to remove my coat. But dare I? As I fumbled with the wrong way around buttons my companion stirred herself to a fierce look of admonition. My whispered plea was met by an exasperated flick of the head and the explanation we were to get off again, shortly. Would that be York? It was all so frustrating, I could cheerfully have throttled Rachel to extract a reason but I dare not draw attention to myself.

Without the chivalrous gent to help us with our cases our descent from the train at York was a shambles. As a male I could have handled them comfortably but the restrictions of a tight skirt and my unfamiliarity with even tiny heels helped me to lose my balance. My troubles had started as we walked down the aisle with the train slowing. A woman looked up, catching me unprepared and I watched in horror her initial smile of friendliness turned to shock as she realised I was not all she thought. With that I lost my concentration and stumbled forwards. Rachel recognised what had happened and the train had hardly come to a halt before she opened the door turning to urge me to hurry. It is not the time to hurry when you're wearing two inch heeled boots and you've never been used to anything higher than a pair of football boots. Fortunately, the cases broke my fall but everyone in the carriage stood to peer at the comedy routine. The more I hurried so as not to be noticed, the more I scrambled and dropped the cases and the more the passengers stared. Rachel was mortified and though she was silent I could feel her disgust burning into me.

If she had been silent up to now she was positively frosty as we travelled in the taxi. She seemed to have decided that since I had been "read" as a man I might as well serve the function of a man and carry all the cases. Of course, that in turn made my amateurish femininity even more transparent and I came close to total panic. I'm not proud of my behaviour that afternoon it probably looked like a "Laurel and Hardy" cartoon but my fear of being back in York would not allow me to give up. Even if I did surrender, where could I go? Or do? I had no money. No clothes. Nothing. I just had to see things through. It might all sound very "British stiff upper lip" but it was the terror that kept me going.

I hadn't heard where we were going so I was astounded when we drew up outside the very hotel where the New Year Ball was to be held. A modern hotel in the centre of York with the dining room on the ground floor alongside reception. My feelings of isolation were increased as Rachel rushed inside leaving me penniless and with the taxi to settle. I was forced to trip up the steps after her to plead for funds. As she stared stony faced and uncomprehendingly back at me I momentarily thought I had been the victim of an elaborate practical joke. As she searched in her bag for money the silent spell that had enveloped her all afternoon broke and she seemed genuinely concerned as she slipped a note into my hand. I was thrown completely when the taxi driver offered me change. The masculine response is to thrust the money into a pocket but this option was not open to me. I began to panic until I realised this was what my handbag was for but I was all fingers and thumbs trying to release the tiny zipper to drop the change inside. That was another mistake. I didn't tip the driver and he had helped with our bags so he left in a squeal of tyres and unpleasant remarks shouted from his widow.

I had to suffer one last indignity before I could escape to the privacy of my room. Rachel had already checked in and proffered her credit card against us not paying but now I had to complete the registration form. Name? I remembered "Susan" but "Susan", what? The address, what could I put for that? I know it sounds so idiotic but you try to think up a name and address at a moment's notice. Fortunately Rachel's registration card was still on the desk so I used her surname and address. As I completed the form I realised Rachel must have given a false address as it was in London and I knew she lived next door to John. Also it was odd she paid with a very exclusive credit card despite telling us she was a humble beautician. But I thought nothing of it, at the time.

To my consternation we were to share a room. So many strange things had been happening that the prospect of sharing a room with a very attractive young lady was a worry rather than a pleasure. Additionally I was a little saddened that Julie had apparently connived at this. I had been very attracted to her and I had hoped she might have felt the same.

Any thoughts of relaxing on our arrival at the room were soon dispelled. On the excuse I had to be familiar with my new wardrobe I was instructed to unpack the cases, given to us by Julie at the station and to put everything away, tidily. I was surprised by how much there was and its variety. I filled two draws with underwear. Silky confections, in all colours, of bras, knickers, in many styles and slips, teddies and nightwear. The skirts, dresses, tops and even trousers fascinated me, even more. They were all so light, even that cocktail dress I had picked up, was it only yesterday? A dusky feminine aroma hung around everything. There were shoes, some practically low heeled and couple of pairs that seemed impossibly high, at the time. As I put them neatly away I wondered and glancing to ensure Rachel was not watching I slipped a hesitant foot into a court shoe and then the other. It suddenly struck me how all these clothes fitted me and I was confident the shoes would fit. I smiled to myself. John and I were twins. Even as youngsters we had confused our parents by swapping clothes. When had never worried whose was whose, everything was ours, to be swapped and switched according to the whim of the moment. Nothing had changed. My twin wore female clothing, so it would fit me. And it did, too.

I finished off the unpacking by setting out bottles of perfume and creams on the dressing table, struggling initially in the heels. Gradually I became more confident in them and it wasn't until I stopped to admire the effect on my calves in a mirror that Rachel awoke from her private thoughts.

"You must have worn heels before the way you're coping in those so you'll enjoy the New Years Ball. Julie's decided it's the only way to find your brother. Go and take a bath and then we'll see whether we can make you even more convincing. You managed very well today. Surely it can't have been your first time?"

My protestations were brushed aside as I was ushered into the bathroom. As I lay relaxing in the bath I imagined myself enjoying such luxury more permanently. Rachel had poured perfumed oils into the water and sat on the bath edge closely examining my face. The comparative hairlessness of my body and my light beard seemed to please her. She tutted over my eyebrows and as I lay back, not daring to say anything, she plucked them to the desired shape. Before long I found my legs and other bits shaved bare and I escaped from the bath in fear of her becoming over enthusiastic with the razor. I sat with the toilet seat down, wrapping the towelling robe around me when Rachel reappeared.

I thought my eyes mislead me for I was certain she carried a gun and the grim determined look on her face convinced me I was in danger. There was no escape.

"This is for piercing ears. Now just a dab of anaesthetic and you won't feel a thing."

I heard the words telling me my life was not in danger but my gaze was fixed in terrible fascination on the terrifying instrument. I sat, petrified, as she reached to one ear and then the other to implant a stud in each lobe. Not a word passed between us until she smiled as my hands rose to rub at the throbbing.

"Now, that didn't hurt, did it? By New Year you'll be able to wear Andrea's earrings. She's got pierced ears. They're much more convenient than clip ons. They don't slip off."

She just left me to my thoughts not seeking to explain or excuse her actions. I felt like a poodle that had had its tail docked or a calf that had been dehorned by a caring but determined owner. This thing, distasteful and painful as it was had to be done and it would only be uncomfortable for a short time. I had not been consulted nor even considered. What else were they planning to change, without so much as consulting me?

There was a tinkle from the telephone and my natural curiosity led me to investigate. As I walked into the bedroom Rachel turned, saw me and with a combined look of surprise and guilt replaced the receiver. Contrasting with her confidence while she pierced my ears her stumbling explanation of trying to contact Julie appeared a flagrant and guilt-ridden lie. It took several minutes for her to recover her composure and reassert herself that she did with a vengeance. I was bossed this way and then that. Told to try this dress on, that body, this skirt until almost the entire wardrobe was scattered untidily across the bed. All those things I had so recently carefully put away. Eventually my attire for the evening was settled upon. I had no say as though a doll dressed and undressed by a young girl. It was interesting, from an objective point of view, to note the differing effects created by each ensemble. I had finally become a business type, clad in a long charcoal jacket with a matching below the knee skirt. The control of a boned body gave me shape and the jacket only touched at shoulders, bust and hips. It gave an impression of a more feminine shape than reality. A flame red blouse, black patent leather low heeled shoes and barely black stockings completed the outfit.

That had been another surprise, stockings. Rachel had tutted over tights and when she discovered that only a pair of stockings were of the required shade I had to stand patiently and compliant while she fumbled suspenders into place on the body. Then she merely handed me the stockings and waited impatiently while I struggled to fit everything into place and keeping the stockings taut and straight. Eventually I succeeded to her satisfaction. As I paraded around for her approval she decided I needed knickers and a half-slip. Carefully she instructed me in the correct manner to put on the slip under my skirt. I found the whole episode puzzling and a little disturbing. I only needed to hide for a couple of days until John reappeared so why did I need to know how to do these things for myself?

By the time my makeup had been done, part by me but principally by Rachel it was nearly eight o'clock. Looking me over one last time Rachel thrust a handbag into my hand, took me by the arm and propelled me out of the room with the remark, "Well, I don't know about you but I'm starving. It's time to go to dinner." By now I was so shell-shocked I didn't have the will or the wit to resist.

 

Chapter Seven

It was only as we arrived in reception I realised what I was doing. I was unnecessarily exposing myself to discovery and in drag instead of quietly eating my meals in my room. Here I was flaunting my inadequacies recklessly in public.

I had even foregone my chance to protest for we were now in a public place and there was no chance to escape. Where could I go? Rachel had both keys to the room and any argument would be overheard in the busy reception. All nature of nightmare scenarios flashed before my eyes. Being asked to leave or being dragged screaming from the dining room by the police or even worse by our pursuers. Having to face the choice of exposure or a fate worse than death, or was it death, itself? Rachel, for the first time, muttered words of encouragement. I was flattered. She whispered how good I looked but urgently reminded me to keep my shoulders back and take tiny steps. The final instruction was not totally necessary as my skirt though not of the pencil variety cut my steps to more ladylike proportions.

As we picked our way through the dining room I noticed, with horror, the full-length windows revealing us to the outside world. Again my confidence drained away until I saw a figure grinning t us from the table where we were heading. Julie stood to deliver pecks on our cheeks in greeting and to whisper puzzling exotic compliments in my ear. I blushed, as any young lady would at such personal and overtly sexual innuendo. We sat, with Julie facing Rachel but alongside me. My back, to my relief was turned to the window. Within moments I became aware of a hand squeezing my knee and later it travelled to more intimate and exciting parts of my thigh. There was no doubt Julie was intent upon enjoying herself and my body and her comments and glances throughout the meal told me she was wooing me. Her raised eyebrow and the glint in her eye when her secret exploration discovered a suspender intimated her intentions for later.

By the time coffee arrived she was yawning and jokingly suggesting it was time for bed. During the evening I had noticed her regularly topping up my wine glass and her insistence on my having a final drink made it clear she expected to share my bed. Julie and Rachel were discussing the loves and lives of a television soap and it gave me the first opportunity to examine her face closely, that evening. Her squarish face spoke of strength and this was further emphasised by her dark short hair, brushed back mannishly above her ears. Once again she was dressed in a dark trouser suit, contrasting with the white of a shirt. A touch of lipstick and eye shadow enhanced her undoubted femininity. When she had welcomed us I had noted, with approval her high heels, making her an inch or so taller than me.

Her strength I found attractive and now I wanted to reach out to touch her. While I struggled with myself she turned sensing my admiring gaze and her eyes held mine. Strange emotions pulsed through me. My heart pounded and I was entrapped by her stare. My masculinity, my predatory instincts melted away. I knew I could hint at my desires, whatever they might be but I was certain, in that instant that I was hers to do with as she wished. And I longed for her to demand anything of me! For a breathless moment nothing was said but an unspoken command brought my hands to the table to be enclosed and fondled by hers.

"Rachel has to visit friends this evening. Would you like me to stay with you, for the night?"

The question hung in the air and I was barely able to squeak my acceptance. Rachel reached into her bag to hand over the keys, to Julie! In turn she dangled one set in her fingers and with an enigmatic smile handed them to me with the comment I should ready myself for bed. She would be along in ten minutes or so. That simple statement asked so many questions of me and without words we understood the answers. Was that enough time for me to get ready? I would be there in bed, ready and waiting with all that implied. A tremor of devotion and adoration shuddered through me. I knew I was making an unspoken commitment to her, without any idea what she might demand of me. I was in such a state that I would have given myself to her there and then in the dining room if she had asked so I knew in the privacy of our room there would be no question. I secretly longed for her to dominate me, utterly.

We waited, together, for the lift. Now I felt I was teetering on the very edge of a new life and that in the coming hours a decision might be made to entirely change the course of my life. The unfamiliar caress and grip of femininity had seduced me into a desire to experience more and Julie was definitely part of my future. Necessity had brushed aside my fears and objections to wearing women's clothes and now they provided me with an inner calmness that prevailed despite the dangers still lurking. Julie was wooing me and I was enjoying every moment of the fluttering in my chest as she gazed at me. Her look was so intense I momentarily feared my bra strap showed or a stocking had laddered but no, her eyes shone with lust. I had seen that look this morning when I had appeared, unthinkingly in those silky, dusky pyjamas. Did the clothes change her perception of me? I certainly felt different. There was a calm vibrancy within me and my natural male coarseness had somehow softened. The prospect of having to commit myself to femininity to keep Julie was suddenly strangely attractive.

As the lift doors opened she smiled and leant forwards to gently kiss my lips. Until that moment I had not realised her arm had rested proprietarily around my waist, it had all seemed so natural. She ushered me into the lift and waved me off with a significant look in her eye. As I meandered down the corridor to my room I became aware of a nagging ache in my ankles and calves from the unfamiliar heels I had now worn for nearly a complete day. So I kicked off my shoes to pad in bliss. As I approached my bedroom I noticed a package by my door that proved to be addressed to "Susan". It was several moments before I realised that it was for me and I laughed in joy as I ripped it open inside the room to read the note attached.

"My Darling Susan," read the note, "I saw this while I was shopping today and knew immediately you'd looking ravishing in it! My love, Julie. PS Wear it tonight, for me."

Like an excited child I scrabbled at the wrapping paper to rip it open. I gasped at the contents. It was a simple satin mini shift with delicate straps, hardly long enough to cover my crotch and obviously designed to be worn in bed with all that implied. The colour was a breathtaking emerald green and as I caressed the silky material I discovered tiny tie sided bikini briefs to match.

Despite my inexperience I undressed and cleaned my makeup off in a trice. As I slipped my present over my head and smoothed it revealingly into place I realised how the colour contrasted attractively with the auburn of my wig but equally I was now disappointed with my lack of feminine shape. Suddenly I recalled the strange bra I had put away that afternoon. It had intrigued me, being strapless and obviously designed to go under a cocktail dress, leaving the shoulders bare. As I struggled with the unfamiliar catches the door rattled and I dashed into the bathroom, afraid of spoiling the effect for Julie. I remained in the bathroom adding a few final touches of makeup before she called to me that she was now in bed, awaiting me. She had dimmed the lights and as I entered there was a gasp of admiration from the bed and her voice, husky with desire whispered," I was right, you do look ravishing. Or should I say ravishable? You do like it, don't you?" Hesitantly I drew back to bed covers to slide in beside her, aware of my flimsy attire and the mixture of fear and anticipation as her eyes followed my every movement.

I lay still, not daring to move. As a male I would have reached for her, taking and exploring to the limit she would allow but now our roles were reversed and I was uncertain and unwilling to break the spell pushing us to the edge of desire. Our mutual fantasy that she was the pursuing male and I her female quarry. Julie was equally uncertain and I knew now was the time to practise my nascent female wiles.

"The present is gorgeous. However can I repay you?"

My invitation needed no prompting as her hand reached forward to stroke my cheek. Undecided what to do next I leaned back invitingly. She accepted the encouragement by taking my lips with hers. A brush of her lips against mine escalated to become demanding subservience from my whole being and electrifying my senses. Willingly I allowed her tongue entry and then she explored every crevice of my body, refusing any hesitation on my part. It was breathtaking. Her excitement and demands were insistent but I did not want to resist her. I wanted her to possess me in any and every way she desired. It was the mirror image of what I had felt as a male. Where there had been taking there was giving, where there had been the male ego centred on personal satisfaction there was now a desire for us both to succeed but it was all in Julie's hands. As a male I could never allowed a woman to take charge but now, as Susan, I was silently willing Julie to master me completely.

Her enquiring and demanding hands played around my neck and I blushed with pleasure. My falsies were cast aside as her fingers so deliciously caressed and excited me. The unfamiliar eroticism made me long for my own twin peaks for my lover to fondle so inflamingly. The thought, no desire, just popped into my mind and it was surely the most important thing in the world. My nipples stood in pleasure demanding even more attention. As her teeth craftily teased me a hand ran down my body to explore her compliant plaything. The straps of my nightie had slipped from my shoulders, I was totally at her mercy and I was in seventh heaven.

The exploring hand reached my tie sided briefs. I held my breath as I longed for her to put me entirely at her mercy. Suddenly there was a sharp tug and I knew, now, there was no going back. I wanted to please her in whatever she wanted. She stopped, momentarily, to kneel and remove her own nightie then in one movement she was astride my chest. Her eyes burned into mine and I knew in an instant what was expected of me. In my first positive move of the entire evening I wriggled my body down between her legs. Her thighs clasped around my head and my tongue snaked upwards to be drawn inside her. She rode me as a man rides a woman, concentrating on herself as she satiated her lust. Her breathing became irregular and suddenly she was bouncing, out of control, extracting every moment of pleasure from me. Hidden in the depths between her thighs the screams of her climax were muffled but I was certain that my precious Julie would want me to experience the same heights.

First she needed me to repeat the performance, as I did twice more. Finally she slumped against the headboard of the bed and slipped under the covers with me. Her satiated smile pleased me, in a way I had never before experienced and her fingers and tongue played with my body with an increasing insistence. My fate was to be whatever she decided. Whatever she wanted or desired from me I would give gladly and then some more.

A voice spoke with a gentle urgency that I only realised later had been mine, "Take me, darling. I love you and I'm yours. Love me. Love me, NOW!! "I was aghast at the words but it was true. Whatever she wanted of me I would gladly give. I had never felt like this before. Strangely, I desperately longed to be possessed by her but it was important that it was in the manner of her choosing. She was the master and mistress of our relationship.

Adoringly, I gazed up at her prepared to give myself in any way she wanted. After our initial lovemaking I knew my role was not to be totally masculine and remarkably, even at that early stage, I would have been disappointed if it had. Her fingers touched my eyelids to gently close them and then explored my body again.

I wanted to be able to give myself in equality to Julie. I had, so quickly, come to appreciate the delicacy of feminine clothes. I wanted breasts so that we could pleasure one another in equality and longed for the ultimate sign of femininity so we could lay top to toe and mutually pleasure each other. All this flashed through my mind as she brought me to the most rewarding climax of my life. I screamed for her not to stop as my tongue played with her engorged nipples but finally we slumped exhausted but happily satiated into each other's arms. After the screams came the tears. There were tears of joy welcoming me to femininity and tears of sorrow as I bade farewell to masculinity. All the time I was safe in Julie's arms

 

Chapter Eight

We awoke the next morning in the comfortable private world of our bed. Our bodies were entangled and as I opened my eyes I found she was regarding me with an enigmatic but protective smile. Her fingers gently stroked my cheek and I felt so safe and protected. There was no hesitation in repeating our efforts of the previous night with the same pleasing conclusions now we were more confident of our respective roles. My only regret was my lack of a more feminine body as I longed for her to explore me as I explored her. The thought momentarily embarrassed me. Surely I had not suddenly discovered I was gay? No. I wanted to be soft and comforting, to be able to press my ample breasts against hers. I longed to shyly spread my legs and invite her into me, into my essence. My feminine essence. Surely to do such a thing was the ultimate expression of intimacy and commitment. It was not right to offer such a thing as a male and I felt cheated.

Julie sensed my discomfort and gently cajoled the whole story out of me and much more besides. I was relieved at having told her but equally ashamed at my denial of my masculinity. After all, I was male and she was female but our lovemaking and our relationship felt so comfortable and "right".

"It's all happened so quickly, I know. When I first saw you at John's flat you were only vaguely interesting as a male. I've never really had serious boyfriends. I've had boyfriends and girlfriends but somehow neither felt absolutely right. I'd always assumed I hadn't met the one for me, whoever that might have been. When you appeared yesterday with your hair all shiny and so prettily brushed and those sweet pink pyjamas I knew, straight away, you were the one. I desperately wanted to touch and caress you. I got quite wet at imagining what our first night might be like." She smiled broadly. "And I wasn't disappointed, either. I've never really wanted to take charge like this before but you do so need looking after. Apart from wanting to be more..... Well, you know what I mean. Was everything OK for you, too?"

I nodded shyly and we fell into a silence reflecting on our confessions and wondering what would happen to us. We had both admitted our passion, not unusual but everything was upside down. I made my excuses to retire to the bathroom and found myself dreamily running the bath, filling it with delicately perfumed bath salts feeling as if I had been doing it all my life. Unconsciously I had washed my hair while the bath filled. It was only as I emerged I realised how gorgeously feminine I smelled and that in my dreamy state I had dried my hair and wrapped the robe hanging behind the door around myself. How had 24 hours changed my life so completely? Julie glanced up and smiled at the figure before her. She confided later she had feared I might have been revolted by my feelings and bolted, convinced it was a one-night stand. My own feelings, as I had entered the bathroom had been similar but various shocking thoughts had wafted dreamlike into my consciousness.

The longing for her to be able to explore what I did not have was equally intriguing and exciting and occupied much of my fantasising in the bath. I yearned to know how it would feel and I had become convinced it was the only way to fulfilment and satisfaction. But not only physically, it had become an end in itself. John/Andrea obviously led a dual male and female existence. Since we were twins if he found it satisfying then so would I. We had only really grown apart when I had married, when the bond between us had been deliberately broken by me.

We lay on the bed, chatting, discovering more about each other. Our likes, our dislikes, our favourite foods, music and all the things lovers need and want to know of each other. I found that when our likes did not coincide Julie's alternative might be fun. I made coffee and discovered that black, with no sugar wasn't unpalatable, after Julie's remark about watching my figure. Yes, I did want to have a nice figure but was it for her or for myself? In the first flush of passion there is little difference.

Time passed without us noticing and it was only a knock on the door from the chambermaid that brought us back to the real world. It was now noon. Rachel was late, she should have been back by ten and Julie was due on duty by two, that afternoon. I couldn't remain in the room alone with the maid. What was I to do? Panic began to grip me, again. The memory of the half forgotten bullyboys and the prospect of being apart from Julie reminded me uncomfortably of the events of the past days. My missing brother. The sinister implications of his report of the laundered money were reminders of the dangers of my situation. But it was the threats that remained so vividly in my thoughts. There was no doubt my pursuers would carry them out and with considerable relish. Amidst all this I had discovered a penchant for women's clothing and was acting like a lovesick teenage girl. The helplessness of my situation appalled me. Julie, as always, came to my rescue with her practicality and organised me. Yesterday I had objected to being told what to do, today I welcomed her every word.

I was to dress as Susan and visit the exhibition in a conference suite of the hotel run by York Trannies. Where better for a man dressed as a woman to hide than at a transvestites' convention? It gave me the chance to discover what I could of John and Andrea. A note, for Rachel, at reception would ensure she could find me. Julie promised to be back by eleven tonight, at the very latest.

It was yet another strange experience to dress alongside Julie, each of us keeping time with the other, almost synchronised dressing. Knickers, bra and tights were donned facing one another. No couple stripping could have experienced the eroticism that engulfed us. Julie waited patiently while I inserted my silicon breasts and struggled into a high waisted panty girdle. Neither dared help the other nor dared to touch as that would have led to an inevitable delay and Julie had little time to spare before she was due at work.

She chose both our outfits. Hers, the standard whit blouse with black stretchy skirt. Mine, a pleated calf length navy skirt, matching shoes and a green cami top. Once a hip length cardigan and handbag were added I began to feel secure against the world. Today I had to apply my own makeup under instruction from Julie, but with no physical contact. My false nails had survived intact but their length made every action doubly difficult. Julie only touched me to style my own hair, snipping the excess away and moussing and brushing it into an attractive but simple creation. This was only possible because of my former over long style and it was an irony that Susan's hair was so much shorter than David's. As she worked, Julie kept up a stream of invaluable hints and advice, which I gratefully noted. Her patience gave me confidence and swept me deeper into love with her.

As we stood together before a full-length mirror I realised I was now to face several major tests at once. Even a moment away from my beloved Julie was going to be a strain but I was also to step into the world as Susan on my own for the very first time. And I had to face strangers not knowing whether they might be hostile. I trembled under the dual fear of being read and being recognised by the bullyboys. Far more seriously my twin was almost certainly in deadly danger and in searching for him I was exposing myself to the same perils. I wondered, too, about Rachel. Where was she? What had happened to her? Had our pursuers captured her and if so, were we in imminent danger of discovery? A random thought entered my head. There had been something, last night that I had seen or was it heard? Concerning Rachel that was important. However hard I tried I couldn't bring it to mind.

Julie and I made our temporary farewells, which took longer than they ought but not near long enough for either of us. We stood together as the lift descended to the ground floor smiling wistfully at one another. Her arm rested in a proprietorial manner on my waist and it comforted me. The wrench of our parting masked my panic as she hurried off to work into the damp afternoon.

We had already decided I should visit the tranny exhibition being held in a conference room off the reception area. Hesitantly I made my way over to the doorway. Inside the room there was an air of activity as stalls were being erected and displays lovingly laid out. I was far too early but almost immediately I was approached by a tiny figure, a good four inches shorter than my five foot seven who engaged me in conversation. Jenny, I learned later, was waiting for her `op` but it wasn't until I realised she was involved in organising the event that it even occurred to me she wasn't all she appeared to be. My hesitation and uncertainty identified me as a `first timer` and she immediately took me under her wing. My vagueness about what I wanted, after all I had hardly come to terms with the new me in the past 48 hours, meant I was treated with a certain wariness at first. But as she chatted and encouraged me to describe my emotional confusion I discovered I was not alone in my aspirations. My relief at finding a soul mate made me forget entirely about the purpose of my visit and, indeed I was disappointed when Jenny was called away to attend to a problem with a display.

There was, as yet, little for me to see and everyone was involved in their own tasks leaving me little alternative but to wander off into reception. It would be at least another hour before the stallholders would be looking for customers and so I stood, alone in reception. The security of the conference room was now lost and I felt so exposed, uncertain what to do. Dare I sit in reception and ask for a coffee, as I saw a number of females doing? As yet I was not sufficiently confident of pitching my voice convincingly and longed for Julie to take charge of my indecision. I couldn't just hang around, that was asking for trouble and exposing myself to the twin dangers of challenge and the bullyboys. I had to do something and it was with considerable trepidation I dared to escape the confines of the hotel, temporarily.

As I strolled away from the hotel I felt sure the clip of my heels on the pavement drew attention to me so I huddled my cardigan protectively around myself, as I had seen another female do. My shoulder bag seemed to have a will of its own until I managed to rest my elbow on it to prevent it swinging uncontrollably. My head bent forward to avoid the eyes of passers by and watch where I was treading. Despite the cold dampness of the late December air and the apparent flimsiness of my stockings I was surprised to find only occasionally did the cold reach my thighs and upper legs? There were so many new sensations. The cool caress of the calf length skirt against my stockinged legs, the pull of the bra straps at my shoulders, the gentle bounce of my breasts, the tap of the shoulder bag at my hip were all unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. Not only did I feel smart but I also felt comfortable and right and buzzed with feminine vitality, contrasting with my previous male scruffy, apathetic lethargy. I had never taken any interest in how David looked but Susan was so different. She wanted to look her best, wanted to be slim, cared about herself and looked forward to the future, if with a little trepidation. Was this love or was it the discovery of the new me? I had an inkling that it might be both.

Suddenly there was a sharp squeal of tyres and I froze, my terror returning. The sound of a two-tone klaxon drew my eyes up as a massive fire engine swept past only feet from me. The firemen in various states of undress called and waved to me. Their words, the usual mixture of the complimentary and the lewd both frightened and cheered me. As I walked on, leaving the fire station behind me I took heart from the reception I had received, I had at least convinced them of my femininity but it also showed me how potentially vulnerable I was as a woman.

That moment of insecurity brought it all flooding back. The memory of the threatening bully boys and being at their mercy at Andrea's flat, my fears for my twin and the missing Rachel made me long for the security of Julie's arms. As the panic rose in me I bolted for the comparative safety of the hotel but I spied a car, two figures huddled in the front seat, one speaking into a telephone. Was this the moment I had dreaded? I ran, as fast as I dared, conscious of the need to remain relatively ladylike and as I gained the haven of reception I turned to watch the car speed away, apparently uninterested in me.

The telephone had reminded me of what I had half heartedly tried to remember earlier. It had been Rachel on the telephone, the night before. There had been her guilty look as she had hurriedly replaced the receiver but there had been more than that. There had been half heard words, which I had not understood at the time. Now I remembered, "New Years Eve." that was only part of what I had overheard. I stopped uncertainly in reception, trying to remember and to decide whether to visit the exhibition again. Rachel's words hadn't made sense and she'd been whispering and I had been preoccupied. It had sounded like, "Heesk". Was it a name? A place, or what? The mystery and her disappearance left me feeling uneasy and it was at least seven hours before I could expect my beloved Julie.

I decided for the familiarity of the exhibition and wandered in, comforted by the smile of friendly welcome from Jenny, who I had spoken with earlier. Now the displays were open for business, though there were more being set up. As I approached one stall after another the welcoming smiles and total acceptance gradually settled my panic, not to mention the array of specialist underwear, clothing and services that were on offer. Each of the stallholders treated me to their individual sales pitch and I stared in wonderment both at what was offered and the range of femininity that presented it. It ranged from the beautician, who was a real girl and looked as any model to the towering tatooist whose deep voice and broad shoulders betrayed him despite skilful makeup and a pretty dress, which suited him. I quickly discovered they were all seeking their own style of femininity and wanted to tell me all about it. I had struggled with finding I was calm and comfortable as Susan and had wondered what I had become but everyone I met seemed to be at ease with themselves and their world. The lady I met at the wig display was disappointed to find I no longer had need for her wares but was more than happy to stand and gossip.

My ignorance puzzled her but she still launched into a detailed and fascinating explanation of the gender problems she had met and how customers had achieved their aspirations. Her question about my needs and desires completely floored me but she just smiled and commented, "You're an absolute natural, dear. Don't you worry? A lot of transsexuals aren't sure until their late thirties, or even later so you've got years. I do think that's a shame, you do miss so much. Mind you, it won't be so long before you take the plunge and I'm sure you won't regret it."

I did not dare mention I'd only dressed for the first time the day before. Well, excluding that school play when John and I had played twin sisters and that time we had swapped clothes with a pair of twin girls. That had all been very innocent; I think we'd only been seven or eight at the time. I got the feeling that having progressed as far as I had, in such a short time and told the wig lady she'd have offered to do the operation there and then with her crimping irons. I nudged the conversation away from myself to the society and its members and more particularly Andrea. She regarded me suspiciously and suddenly her eyes flashed in recognition. She knew him, I mean her. She knew Andrea/John and he had mentioned he had a brother. Well, she commented apparently we were twin sisters. Amidst the gossip and compliments about Andrea was the confirmation she had been in touch to say she was away for a couple of days but she would definitely be there for the New Years Eve ball. So he, sorry she had been safe last night, at least.

The afternoon passed all too slowly. I moved from one display to another, learning the terminology of my new world, relaxing into my new role and seeking more news of my twin. Now, it was fast approaching six in the evening and despite a number of visits to reception there was still no news of Rachel. I suddenly realised I was hungry but where was I to eat? I decided to order something from room service and eat in my room rather than brave the dual exposure of the dining room.

As I strolled, glowing with the compliments from the stallholders and my calf muscles aching from the unfamiliarity of my 2-inch heels, towards the lifts my blood suddenly froze. Swaggering into the hotel were the two bullyboys, their loathsome cocky walk struck terror into my heart. They had the confident air of those who revel in their physical superiority and wanted all to scatter in their path. I scuttled inside the lift, glad to be out of their sight but afraid of their dangerous proximity.

As I fumbled to open my door I wondered whether this was the safest place or was I locking myself within a trap from which there was no escape? Perspiration trickled uncomfortably between my breasts as I locked the door behind me and rested against it as if that would make me safer. I could feel terror and panic rising and I longed for the security of Julie's arms. But there were at least four hours before she was due to return.

I lay on the bed, cowering, unable to think or even move when suddenly the shrill ring of the phone shocked my from my terrified trance. It was then I understood, for the first time in my life, how people wet themselves with fright. Should I answer it? If I did, would it be my tormentors sneering at my feebleness? Undoubtedly, their perverted sense of superiority would lead me `girls` to be subjected to unimaginable terrors. On the other hand it might be one of the bullyboys I had chatted with my spirits rose with the thought it might be my beloved Julie. I had begun to think of her in such terms. I desperately desired to be safe and secure in her arms. The precious hope that it could be her encouraged me to lift the receiver so very cautiously. I listened, not daring to breathe a sound.

In that instant I made a decision that has changed my life irrevocably. The comfort, the love and sheer ecstasy that throbbed through as I heard her voice defied adequate description. I instantly resolved to go anywhere, do anything she asked of me. If I had to spend my life as her female companion, cooking and cleaning and washing for her and she deigned, just occasionally to favour me with a kindly word then I would be in seventh heaven.

As usual she sorted everything in a trice. A police car was despatched to the hotel and I was certain she would find a way to come, too. She did. There was another, more senior policewoman, an inspector and despite Julie having failed to report everything earlier the inspector readily agreed to Julie being assigned to protect me. John's files were examined and I had to go over the events of the past two days.

It was only as I was asked for clarification on one or two points that I realised I had no idea whether the inspector thought me male or female. I was just `Julie's friend`, not even a name but surely at some time she would want a name and address? What was I to say? I fervently hoped Julie would save me from saying the wrong thing.

 

Chapter Nine

The question of my identity strangely never arose. Julie explained later that her boss assumed my enforced visit to York had given me the opportunity to attend the ball and meet TV friends. Our relationship was never discussed and a sinking feeling came over me in case Julie regarded the whole thing as a one-night stand. By the time we settled down to sleep that night it was at least a two-night stand.

In addition to Andrea we were now concerned for Rachel. We had heard no word from her and neither had the hotel reception. By now it had been confirmed that Julie was assigned to watch over me until I left York, which was at least until New Years Day afternoon.

As we breakfasted in bed together on New Years Eve morning we chatted about Andrea and Rachel and the deadly information the police were now eager to acquire. But we skirted around what both of us desperately wanted to discuss. Us. I had already decided the night before I wanted to be with her and that I was prepared to go as far as she wanted me to go, down whatever road. Our lovemaking had been as incredible as the first time. But still, for me was a need to offer my most intimate crevices for her attention but unfortunately most particularly the one I did not possess.

We bathed in turn. First, I lazed in the deliciously perfumed warmth with Julie sitting of the floor beside me. Then we reversed roles, me wrapped in a bathrobe. We washed each other's hair, ending up tumbling and squealing in delight on the floor. We laughed and relaxed together, getting to know each other better. By the time we had dressed it was lunchtime. We dressed similarly; we certainly smelled the same having shared the same perfumes. Once again Julie attended to my hair, our proximity leading to caresses that so nearly satisfied one hunger but leaving us in need of food. Instinctively we seemed to understand that there were years ahead for us.

Lunch was a leisurely affair. We were surrounded by cross dressers of every type. There were wives, with their feminised husbands, groups of TVs chattering and gossiping amongst themselves, TVs playing up outrageously to male partners and the occasional solitary TV, glancing furtively around to ensure they were not being noticed. Or perhaps it was to be certain they were noticed.

We talked of everything except the one thing we were both desperate to discuss. I momentarily feared I was making too much of a passing phase but eventually I dared gaze deeply into her eyes across the table and dared to ask the question that was so much more than the simple words.

"What's to become of us?"

Julie frowned and for a moment I thought I had dared to hope for too much. This wasn't the usual girl meets boy thing. It was more girl meets boy who wants to be girl. That was the problem. Did she want the boy who wanted to be a girl and how far did she want me to go along that route? Our blossoming romance had developed from a slightly kinky one-night stand to at the ultimate both of us entering into what only could be described as a lesbian relationship. I wanted to go further and was prepared to be what she wanted for me but what did she want?

"I do prefer girls, really. In fact I'm surprised with myself but even the way you are you're as feminine as some girls I've known."

There was so much unsaid in her words. I had to be certain. I had to know if I was to commit myself. There was an uneasy silence between before I could bear it no longer.

"Would you prefer it, if I was totally female?"

"You know what you're saying? What it involves? There would be no going back and there would be so much to learn and go through. Would you really do that for me?"

This was my big test. This was the big decision. I had only experienced femininity over the last forty-eight hours and yet it had seemed so natural, so right, for me. And I knew I couldn't bear to be parted from her. I shivered with pleasure as her hand held mine. Her eyes gazed into mine and there was no doubt in my heart as I shyly nodded my agreement.

Once again she had worn slightly higher heels than me so as we dreamily meandered back to our room my head rested on her shoulder and her arm rested comfortingly on my waist. The hours as we prepared for the Ball were the calm before the storm and we took advantage of the privacy of our room to slake our loving lust. As I finally slid into the bath Julie made her excuses to do some last minute shopping.

I lay back in the bath wondering about my body as I lovingly touched the first love bite she had imprinted on my shoulder. "Just to remind me", she had said and we had laughed. With my eyes closed I ran my hands over my groin desperately trying to imagine the smoothness I longed for. Barely a moment had seemed to pass before I heard the door and Julie's head appeared at the bathroom door. By the inane grin I knew, just knew there was a surprise in store for me and I hurried from the bath wrapping a robe around myself. Her face was flushed with the cold of the afternoon and I sensed nervous excitement. She urged me to sit on the bed and she dropped to one knee as she drew a tiny box from her coat pocket.

My hands trembled as I lifted the lid and I gasped as I saw the solitaire diamond ring sparkling before my eyes. It must have cost a small fortune! Hesitantly I raised my eyes to hers. There was a look of uncertainty in them almost a pleading.

"It's.... it's beautiful. Is it for me?"

She nodded and after a moment added, "It's my commitment to you. After what you said this afternoon, it's so inadequate."

She held my hand and gazing hypnotically into my eyes she slipped the ring onto the third finger of my left hand. This was it. We were now set on a course that could lose her job and would lose me my now unwanted masculinity. There were tears from us both as we kissed and held each other. Despite the shortness of our acquaintance there was never any doubt in our minds. As Julie bathed I sat dreamily on the bed lost in my thoughts. That I had gone from an outwardly red blooded male to an unwilling cross dresser and then to desperation to achieve complete femininity in such a short time left me in a whirl but there was never any reservation or doubt on my part once Julie had given me her love. Yes, I was under her spell but the incredible inner calmness that had come with my adopted femininity had allowed me to cope with the bizarre and deadly occurrences of the last couple of days.

We painstakingly prepared for the evening, each of us determined to be a credit to the other. Julie was sublime in a lilac trousered 3 piece in a loose fitting style. Her trousers hung neatly just to the floor concealing her 4 inch heels. The camisole top I knew concealed her unbrassiered breasts which doubly teased me as she showed off by striding around our bedroom. A lilac long sleeved jacket hung loosely to her hips and a matching scarf draped around her throat completed the ensemble.

She had unashamedly teased me as she had completed my final preparations by wearing neither jacket nor camisole, insisting she didn't want to get make up on either. My tight, fishtailed, cocktail dress had a halter neck that concealed my breasts but left little to the imagination. The hemline revealed my knees and a cropped jacket in black velvet helped me feel not so exposed. We wore matching earrings, another thoughtful purchase by Julie that afternoon and they dangled and bobbed in unison. And, of course, I had my engagement ring. There is no other way to describe it and if any girl felt half as happy on her betrothal day then I cannot imagine how.

We dabbed a final spot of perfume at our wrists and behind the other's ears, made last minute checks to our make up and stockings, topped up our bags with female necessities and with nervous smiles set off into the unknown.

 

Chapter Ten

No words passed between us as we descended to reception to join with our fellow revellers but each felt the comfort of the other. As we stepped from the lift a kaleidoscope of colour and a cacophony of sound from a whole range of femininity assailed our senses. Everyone was in high spirits, chatting and laughing with a neighbour. The staff remained safely behind the reception desk wary of the sights before them. There were perhaps seventy or eighty present with every imaginable dress style represented. Here was a mature `lady` in a traditional full ball gown. There was a leather mini skirted rocker and in a corner was a French maid whose tiny frilled skirt clearly revealed taut suspenders and tiny knickers. Skirts were long and short and every place between. They were tight, full or petticoated in every conceivable way. Hairstyles varied from the short mannish cut which so suited my Julie to the most outlandish colours, shapes and lengths. Footwear, if possible, was more extreme. My 1 inch heeled slippers seemed to be the dullest style on view. Heels went to 6 inches or more in court shoes, ankle strapped sandals or boots.

At a word we were ushered into a private suite and you could almost hear the sigh of relief as reception returned to near normality. Places had been already allocated at the tables and it was pleasant to find ourselves on a table with two married couples, though all six of us were attired as females. As we introduced ourselves it was apparent that Shirley delighted in embarrassing her husband Derek, who was the only one at our table without a female name. She constantly berated him, her criticisms contradicting themselves almost within a single breath. His dress was too young for him, too old; it was too short, too long. He looked fat, which was certainly untrue as in the next breath she sent him off to their room, in the middle of the meal, to change into a skin tight stretchy dress which was at least two sizes smaller. As he reappeared she ushered him off to the ladies to draw his corset, which was already severely constricting a few painful notches tighter. On their return she humiliated him further by recounting, for all to hear, his pleading as she had drawn the laces tighter and then insisting he displayed, to our embarrassment, the constricting pink rubber knickers that squeezed viciously at his manhood. We never did find out whether she had some hold over him or whether he secretly revelled in the humiliation she constantly heaped on him.

The other couple relaxed both with each other and us as the meal progressed. The husband, Greta was about my age and initially his wife, Pam, was bemused by the whole affair. Their devotion to each other was apparent and it transpired that Greta had only recently confessed his hobby to his wife. She, anxious to understand her husband had agreed to come along and meet Greta in all her glory. As the evening progressed her interest in her feminised husband grew and barely had the coffee arrived before they sneaked off to their room muttering something about welcoming the New Year in matching nighties.

Julie and I were constantly on our guard watching out for Andrea and Rachel but we were disappointed. The meal passed in a moment and we all retired to a private bar while the room was prepared for the ball. The management had thought of everything, we even had our own private toilets but these quickly became hopelessly overcrowded so Julie dragged me off to the more public ones, just off reception. We shared a cubicle and I did reflect I would be happier once I had the indisputable right to be there. As we emerged from the ladies Julie suddenly grabbed my arm and dragged me back inside. There was no doubt, there was Rachel enjoying a drink at the nearby bar. We were relieved she was safe but it had been her companion who had sent shivers down our spines. The foul-mouthed pursuer was sat beside her and he was not restraining her in any way. Had she been working against us, all the time?

As another girl dashed into the ladies we pretended to repair our makeup at the mirror while deciding what to do. Suddenly that mysterious phone call made sense. `Heeze` was the start of the phrase, `He's coming on New Years Eve. Rachel must have been in league with whoever was pursuing Andrea and me but she had helped us so one puzzle had been solved only to create another. Now the pursuers were close enough to harm my twin and my beloved Julie.

Just at that moment the woman police inspector from yesterday appeared from a cubicle. I must say that in her long slinky gown and so attractively made up you would never guess her occupation. She confirmed the police had been hunting for the bullyboys for the past 24 hours and now they had appeared, exactly where we didn't want them. The inspector soon solved the mystery about Rachel. She was wanted for a string of offences, ranging from the untimely death of her lover to petty fraud and she was known to have an addiction for certain substances our pursuers might find easier to supply than most. So she was being blackmailed or bribed or perhaps a little of both but there was the possibility she had not told them everything. They certainly knew where to find Andrea and us but not necessarily how we looked. Rachel knew our room number but had obviously not revealed it otherwise the bully boys would not, I was convinced, been able to resist the opportunity to humiliate us with their physical superiority. The memory of the leering satisfaction on the face of my foul mouthed assailant as he had me at his mercy at the flat left no doubt in my mind he would have taken great pleasure in brutalising a feminised me. I shivered as the prospect of such an encounter briefly reduced me to jelly before I was comforted by Julie's arm around my waist. She nodded to me and assured me she would keep me safe.

The inspector ushered us across reception, unnoticed and as I looked up I recognised a dress similar to mine, hurrying into the hotel. Intrigued and just a little annoyed I stared at my competitor to find I might have been gazing in a mirror. I heard Julie's gasp as she compared us. She told me later we were like two peas from the same pod.

"John? Andrea? It's Susan, I mean David, your brother. I mean twin."

As we moved together I saw a movement from the very corner of my eye. Before we could move the bullyboys had grabbed at us and pinned us, both, against the wall. I stumbled, dropping my bag and before we were pinned against the wall Andrea handed it back to me. The bullyboys regarded us, the double vision before them leaving them in confusion.

"Rachel, get yourself over here. Which bloody one is it? You didn't say there were two of them."

If they had difficulty coping with twin sisters then the revellers, resplendent in all their finery, congaing from the private suite was too much. A little tipsy and in full party mode they whirled and swirled around us, shouting and laughing at the tops of their voices. Finally, after what seemed an age, one thug grabbed Rachel and the other lunged forward to grab John. Despite the valiant efforts of the inspector who split her dress even higher they dragged their victims outside. Within moments there was a screech of tyres followed shortly by the wail of the pursuing police sirens.

As the hotel filled with scores of police Julie and I were hustled off to the comparative safety of a nearby police station. There the questions became more insistent until, after a cutting remark from a policeman frustrated at having the precious information carried by my twin snatched from under his very nose I burst into tears. I was puzzled to find my bag did not contain my handkerchief, indeed the bag was not mine but Andrea's and contained the information my brother, the accountant, had originally uncovered. To my embarrassment the policeman glanced at the papers, smiled and leaned over to plonk a wet kiss on my cheek, in thanks. From then on there was very little interest in either of us and we were hustled off to the canteen for a well-earned cup of tea. It was there we heard, from the radio of an off duty officer, of the crash to the south of York. The lady inspector came to confirm the news that all four passengers in the car had been killed and my last recollections of the evening were of sobbing my heart out into Julie's beautiful lilac suit and finally fainting.

 

Chapter Eleven

I remember very little of the week following New Year. The strain of my pursuit, the death of my twin and the prospect of having to return to London, leaving behind my precious Julie, had taken its toll. There are vague recollections of a doctor asking me masses of questions and prescribing rest and tablets to help me sleep. I have misty memories of sobbing and screaming about not wanting Julie to leave me and that I was Susan and why had I lost my woman's body and turned into a man. Things were very confused.

Julie persuaded me to go to the funeral and of course she was right, as always. She arranged everything even ordering matching black tailored suits for us to wear to the ceremony. Our first pictures together were those appearing in the local papers of the grieving girlfriends of the kidnapped twins, John and David Robinson. Julie had warned me that it had been decided, by whom I'm not exactly clear, that it was safer if David Robinson disappeared and was publicly reported as being dead. As we were whisked away from the cemetery it all became too much for me again and I fainted. It was strange; there was no shame fainting as Susan and I wondered whether I might be allowed to take Susan as my new name. After all David was dead.

It was more than a week before I began to take an interest in the world again. I knew, by now, that Rachel had been buried under David Robinson's name and that Julie had reaffirmed her commitment to me. I was also aware we had moved from the discrete hotel where we had been hidden away but I had been very sleepy when an ambulance had come to collect me and move me, to what Julie had assured me was to be our home for some time to come.

Julie popped her head around the bedroom door and smiled as she saw I was awake, While I struggled to sit up, I was still very weak, I realised the bedroom was familiar. The pastel shades I had so admired in Andrea's bedroom were so comfortable as Julie sat at the foot of the bed.

"We bought it today."

"What?", I replied dreamily.

"This flat. Well, I knew it was on the market and it was going so cheap. Oh, I'm sorry there's been a mix up and all David's clothes have gone missing." There was a mischievous grin on Julie's face.

I smiled. I knew Julie would look after me and I was certain those boring Y fronts and the like would never be found and, indeed I would have been heartbroken if they had been.

"Susan, dear. Don't forget to take your tablets, will you? And those new ones I picked up this morning."

"What are they for?"

"The new ones? Oh, they'll help my little girl be a big girl, very soon!"

And we lived happily ever after.

  

  

  

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