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A series of stories with TG themes, dedicated to women, and to men who like to be women (which includes me!)


K is for Karla - Caught, with Definite Consequences

by Bethany Jacques


As I rounded almost the final corner heading home I was feeling pleased with myself. Just about my most successful outing ever, it had gone so well, the driving, parking in the shop car park, walking up towards the entrance, then away again, probably about 400 yards in total. And people. Being seen, being there with people, that had been something of a thrill, walking past people, even the occasional smile. I know several had looked at my legs, maybe with vague thoughts of you-know-what in their minds. I'd been doubtful about the shoes, obviously, but I knew I'd carried them off well, my highest high-heels, and not far short of my shortest mini-skirt ever.

OK, I know many 'girls' go much further, clubbing and going out and showing off their assets way more than me. But I'd always been a low-key girl, just having fun in my own quiet way. And that evening had been so much fun. Up until that moment, that is.

As I drove round the corner I realised there was a problem ahead, there was a small white van parked askew across the road. It looked as if it had hit the kerb, it was quite high just there, and been thrown off course, maybe even had a puncture. I didn't foresee a major problem, not just then, I began to move out to pass it. I'd picked that route home deliberately, round the back roads, not too public, I just didn't fancy getting stopped at traffic lights, maybe being looked at by other people in stationary cars and so on.

But just as I pulled out - I had to brake. Suddenly. VERY suddenly. Someone jumped out from behind the van, and from that moment on basically my life changed.

The man who had stopped me moved over to my driver's door, and pulled it open. Only then did I see - he had a scarf or something over his face and some sort of big hat which completely covered the rest of his head, apart from his eyes.

"Out! Come on you bitch, get out! Now!"

I was shocked, obviously. Not what I'd planned, an unwelcome interruption to my secretive quiet drive home by the back roads. He grabbed me roughly by the arm, I had to struggle a little to unclip my seat belt, I did manage to grab my handbag and rather tumble out of the car, having some difficulty keeping on my feet in my rather high heels. I was still dazed when I realised two things.

First, there was no point in struggling, he was quite a bit taller and bulkier than me, and secondly - he had a gun! At least I thought he had, he was pointing something like that towards me threateningly. And there was a third factor - he wasn't alone. Another guy, similarly dressed, carrying a large holdall and again maybe with a gun, came over towards us. I had a brief moment to inspect the scene and realised that there was yet another car there. I could see it in the van's lights. It was a police car!

Before I could properly work things out, both the men jumped into my own car. And drove off! Leaving me alone, or so I thought, and dressed like that, maybe a mile from home on a dark country road. Shit!

But then I was brought back to reality, I heard a noise coming from the police car. I was not alone. I had to think quickly. Get out of there? Start running, or rather walking, no way could I run in those heels and in such a tight skirt. But it was over a mile to my house, the chances of my getting home and down my street un-noticed were vanishingly small, that just wouldn't happen.

Then I heard the noise again, it was a groan, a painful groan. Someone was in trouble. Now don't get me wrong, I'm no goody-goody. Not someone who goes out of his - or her - way to help anyone and everyone, but this was different. The men had waved guns around, and the police car wasn't moving, and someone was in pain. OK, maybe I was about to get found out, that was an important consideration, I didn't want it to happen. But if someone was in serious trouble I just couldn't walk out on them, could I?

I tottered over towards the police car and tried to peer in but the van's light made it a bit difficult. I called out 'Hello?' No response. I pulled at the driver's door, it opened. When I leaned down and looked in, I could see two men, two police officers. The guy in the back was looking towards me, he tried to say something, then closed his eyes and slumped forward. I could see he was injured, there was quite a lot of blood on his tunic. He'd just passed out, the other officer was sitting in the car's passenger seat, he was unconscious. There was blood on his arm but I couldn't make out anything else, he was breathing at least.

I suppose I reacted automatically. Thinking back, OK I was being a bit public-spirited. Obviously in some way these officers had been attacked by criminals of some sort. Probably shot. Maybe they were bank robbers or something, I remembered the holdall as well as the guns. But whatever had happened, certainly the cop in the back was in some sort of serious trouble, the one in the front wasn't too healthy either. They both needed help. But not from me, I wasn't qualified in anything more than very basic first aid. They needed doctors, nurses, a hospital. Maybe I could call for help, on the police radio if I could work it.

But there wasn't time to wait for help, the guy in the back groaned and moved again, I could see more blood in the lights from the van. He was in serious trouble, I thought. I slid into the drivers seat and started the engine. There didn't seem to be any major damage to the car, I had seen the van was in a rut and wouldn't move easily, but this was a police car, and they were both in situ. My car was gone. This was the thing to do.

I hardly remember the next minute or so, I went into some sort of autopilot, backing up a little and driving back down the road I'd just driven my own car along towards the Handsworth bypass. I got there, turned left, and slammed my right foot down, surprised at the acceleration as it shoved me back into my seat. Within seconds I was doing over 80, passing one lorry and one car, there wasn't much traffic.

I didn't have time to think at first, I just kept driving. I reckoned it would take me about 10 minutes or so to get to Queen Mary's. If somehow I'd been able to call the hospital from the 'scene of the crime' it would have taken at least fifteen and then quite some time to actually get the men there. I just kept driving.

Then I realised, as I went round a roundabout at about fifty and cut up a van coming across I really could do with some help, get someone there ready, something like that. I saw the police radio on the dashboard. I picked up the microphone and pressed the small button on it. A small light lit up on the radio.

"Hello. Anybody there?"

There was a pause.

A female voice answered. "This is Mercia Police Control. Who is that?"

"OK. Listen. I'm a civilian, driving a police car. You hear me?"

"Police Control here, you really..."

I interrupted her, I had to, and spoke quickly and clearly and I hoped with some authority.

"Sorry, no time to listen. I'm driving this police car up the A45-something, just gone past the Tesco roundabout and that big B & Q warehouse, I hope you know where. There's been some sort of incident, I've got two officers in the car with me, both unconscious, both injured, shot I think. I know I shouldn't be driving this but I'm heading for Queen Mary's Hospital, get someone there ready. Ok?"

There was a longer pause.

"Look, I don't know..."

"Hey!" I shouted. "I know I shouldn't be doing this but - hell! Get somebody there, call them, I'm turning right at the junction by the Green Lion. Sorry, just do this, sort other stuff later."

There was another pause, then some muttering in the background I couldn't hear. then the same voice came back, calmer.

"OK then look, take it easy. Who's with you? Can they speak?"

I looked briefly across, the other guy on the front seat was still not conscious.

"Sorry, can't be done, not now. His shoulder number is 558, does that make sense?"

Yet another pause.

"OK now, take it easy, don't want you to crash the car, do we? Should be some help there soon."

I released my hand from the microphone and dropped it, having to use both hands to swerve past another lorry, suddenly there was a bit more traffic as I moved into the outskirts of Brum. And on cue I could see a car behind me, travelling fast, blue light flashing and siren sounding. I was doing well over sixty in a 40-limit area but he must have been travelling at nearly ninety, the speed he moved past me and moved in front, slowing to just over my own speed. Thankfully he wasn't going to stop me, obviously he'd been contacted, he'd been told. For a minute or so he carved a gap for me, I could relax just a little as we sped along.

Then just before the turn to the hospital I saw his brake lights come on, I had to slow right down. There was more traffic ahead. I realised this could take time but I knew this bit of town, I had once worked not far away. As the car in front came to a halt I pulled a very sharp right, across the traffic and across a garage forecourt and out the other side, way too fast but we held the road, I whipped left into the front of the hospital A and E department. I could see a group waiting, about ten of them mainly in white coats, by a couple of trolleys. I slid to a halt, drawing up precisely right by the trolleys.

The passenger doors were opened and within seconds they had done their stuff, the 'patients' were gone, the doctors went with them, I was alone for a moment. I know now that if I'd tried to drive off I'd have been caught, no problem. But I didn't. I couldn't. I just sat there, looking down at my thighs, nylon-clad, revealed by the black miniskirt, and I cried. With relief. Not with any sort of fear surprisingly, with relief. Despite the fact that I knew damn well that the stuff was just about to hit the fan.

The other police car pulled up behind me, one of the guys in it got out and ran towards the hospital entrance. The other came over and opened my door. He looked at me. I kept my head down, rather ashamed.

"Sorry, I thought it was a guy. Good driving love...."

He noticed my tears, I really was sobbing by then, and shaking. He reached over to help me out of the car, and then, as only a policeman could I think, took off his coat and wrapped it round me.

"Hey, it's OK, you did really well..."

I looked up at him.

"Oh Christ!"

He knew. I knew he knew. I'd always hoped, but never really believed, that I could be taken for a woman. The skirt, the wig, the make-up,....

"You're a tranny!"

I really didn't know what to say, how to react. Never imagined being in that situation, or anything like it. I had no points of reference, nothing to relate to, I just didn't know what to do. But the officer did, obviously he was thinking way more quickly than me.

"Here, come with me..."

He put his arm round me, hugging his jacket to my body. "Keep your head down. OK?"

We went into the hospital, turned left inside the door past all the people waiting in casualty. I glimpsed a few nurses and a couple of other policemen there, suddenly it was all getting a bit busy. We moved down a short corridor and through another door, obviously into the police office within the hospital.

"Here, sit here" he said, lowering me towards a chair and reclaiming his jacket. He left me for just a minute or so, returning with a plastic cup from the machine I had seen by the door.

""Drink this. Slowly. Calm down, you did really well."

I sipped the sweet tea, funny, I'd seen that on TV and in the movies, I'd always thought 'how silly' - but it worked. I don't have anything like so much sugar in my tea usually but this time, well, it was OK. I stopped shaking so much, began to calm down.

"OK then" continued the officer, taking out his notebook. "I have to get some details."

Quickly and quietly I told him what had happened, from my having to stop when I'd seen the van up to when I got to the hospital.

"OK Mr Harrison. Er - is that Carl with a C, or a K?

"With a K. K-A-R-L."

" I need to call this in. Look, don't worry, I've not mentioned here anything about how you are dressed or anything like that. I'll do what I can to make sure none of that will come out if I can help it."

I smiled weakly. "Thanks"

At which point another officer, a policewoman, came into the room. They muttered quietly to each other for a minute or so, she had a look at the notebook, then he left, taking out his radio as he did so.

"Hello there, I'm WPC Carter. Fiona. How do you like to be called, my dear?"

She put an arm round me, I thought I knew what she meant but I wasn't sure. She looked upset, probably concern at the fate of her two colleagues. But there was something more, I got the distinct impression she'd been crying. Perhaps her consoling me was helping her too, I thought.

"OK, look, it's OK. You did great tonight. You probably saved my fiancé's life!"

I looked up towards her, a bit shocked but still not saying anything.

"I've just seen the doctors, they got the bullet straight out, the officer in the back of the car, that is, James he's called, the one near his heart might have caused a problem but it didn't. Tranny or not, you done good. So what shall I call you?"

"Karla" I muttered, and began to sob a little again. That surprised me but it must have been relief again. He'd looked in such a bad way, so much blood, I thought he might actually have died while I was driving. I'd not really been massively careful, just fast. It had just seemed the thing to do.

Fiona put an arm round me and pulled me closer to her. She kissed my cheek. I'm sure policewomen aren't supposed to do that sort of thing with witnesses and so on, but I realised she was crying a little again. That prompted me to try to help her, to put my arm round her too.

"I'm so glad, what about the other one?" I asked quietly, to take her mind off her husband.

"David? He's my brother, would you believe. Chalk and cheese, we are. He's fine, got a flesh wound, and he got knocked on the head. He's indestructible, David is, he's OK."

We both smiled at this thought, both pulled ourselves together.

"Alright Karla. Do you know, you're the third transvestite I've met in this job, in just over ten years. The first was a real pervert, I was delighted I helped get him put away for a long time .........."

I didn't really realise where the conversation was going, I wasn't too sure what Fiona was going to say, what point she was trying to make.

"But the second, Andrea, she's a lovely girl. Really. Long red hair, looks gorgeous, has a lovely boyfriend. They both do lots of stuff for charity, with her dressed or not. Looks about thirty when she's dressed, it takes over ten years off her. Nice figure, not as good as yours though."

I realised she was being a bit patronising but she was well-meaning, trying to show me that being a transvestite wouldn't be a problem for her.

"Anyway, Karla, come on, let's get you cleaned up. Your make-up is a mess, and that wig needs sorting. Come with me, dear."

She led me across the room towards another door - and into the Ladies!

"You'll be OK in here, don't worry. You don't want to go in the Gents, it's not healthy in there. I've had to a couple of times but - euch. Now, lets slip off the wig, you need a bit of a clean-up."

A few minutes later we emerged, I felt so much better. Fiona had offered me another blouse, there had been a little blood on the one I'd had, even offered to have it cleaned for me but I'd said it would be OK. And she'd helped re-do my make-up, my mascara. I'd clipped my wig back on properly again and refreshed my lipstick. In the Ladies! Wow! That was another first.

Things moved quickly after that. Two or three other police guys came in and left, obviously they were interested, had probably heard about a transvestite helping one of their colleagues or something, wanted to see. They were polite, asked a question or two, but nobody made any nasty comments about me being dressed like that.

"Karla, don't be surprised" said Fiona after the last one had left. "You look great, I expect most of them are expecting some sort of ugly drag queen and are just amazed when they see you. Really, honest, OK, not totally female I have to say but pretty good overall, and that figure, well, it's just knockout. How do you do that? I have to ask, I wish I could have a waist like that, and those boobs, just gorgeous."

I had to laugh too, in a way she was actually asking for advice - from me. I started to tell her, to explain about the breast-forms, and the basque, and all the other tricks I'd tried - when another officer came in again.

"Jim's OK, Fi, he's conscious, wants to see you I should think. Oh, and we got the two guys! The call went out so quickly, they'd stopped to change cars."

Fiona left hurriedly, the cop continued talking to me. "M6 service station, we got them. Your car is OK, sir, no damage to speak of I don't think. Look, we've got your statement, all that stuff. How about I get a car to take you back home? You OK going like that?"

He looked me up and down. Obviously he was referring to the way I was dressed, somewhat incongruously.

"Well, we could probably find you some men's clothes, you could get changed here. You want to do that?"

I thought for a moment. For the first time in my life I'd talked to people, to several people, hell, to several police officers at that, as 'Karla'. OK they all knew I was a tranny, not a woman, obviously, this officer had even called me 'sir'. Probably all the nurses and doctors there knew too by now. But none of them had been at all nasty about it. Maybe they thought I was a bit weird, but of course I was. A bit weird that is, not many men go out for the evening in black stockings and high heels. And not many get to drive police cars dressed like that!

But it would take some time to sort out the clothing and getting changed and so on, maybe it would be better just to get home. If I could get in quickly and quietly at that end without being noticed, that is. I smiled weakly at the officer there, told him what I thought.

"Sure - er Karla, isn't it? No problem, we can be discrete. It's late anyway, not many of your neighbours will be up at this time, I should think. Not by the time we get there. Give me a minute to get a car. OK?"

He left me in that little police room, a minute or two later Fiona came in. With her brother! He was walking carefully, had one arm strapped up already and a big plaster on his head over one eye. Obviously a bit shaken, there was a nurse with him, probably there just in case.

Fiona was holding him by the un-damaged arm. "David, this is Karla. The 'gorgeous busty blonde' you mentioned!"

David blushed, I probably did too. He was still a bit shaken but smiled. "Just to say thanks. It was a big thing you did tonight - er - mate. Not for me, really, I'm OK. But Jim, well, he could have died out there."

I just smiled weakly. The nurse was a bit insistent, she led David away, probably for more examinations and tests and so on.

And Fiona - WPC Carter that is - took me by the arm and walked with me back through the reception area and out into the cold night air. And it really was cold by then, I'd not really noticed earlier.

"Karla, thanks yet again. David was so insistent, he wanted to see you and thank you. I think they'll probably let him out tomorrow."

"What about...?" I couldn't remember his name.

"Jim? He'll have to stay in a few days at least."

We chatted just for a minute more, then another police car pulled up beside us. The officer who'd spoken to me earlier actually opened the door for me. Actually, maybe they always do that. He drove me home and came in after me.

"Just briefly - er. Well. Look, we may need to talk to you again, tomorrow or the next day. Don't worry, after what you did tonight there shouldn't be any repercussions. Just - be careful, OK?"

He was warning me off. His tone said it. Basically 'Dress at home if you like but you really shouldn't go out like that.'

"There's a couple of clubs in Brum, you know. Maybe...." And he left it at that. I considered myself duly warned. He needn't have worried though, after the events of that evening there was no way I was going to go out walking tarted up like that - ever again. Or so I thought at the time.

Nobody did contact me the next day, which surprised me a little. But that evening I got a phone call to say that someone would be bringing my car back the next morning. At about 8 o'clock, just as I was thinking I'd maybe have to catch the bus to work again, a police car pulled up outside my house, followed by my own car. The two drivers did come in, one asked me to give my own car the once-over and then sign for the delivery. There didn't seem to be anything wrong or missing, in fact it was remarkably clean.

"Well, forensics had a go at it straight away, WPC Carter asked them to push that one through, then she had it valeted last night. OK?"

Well, sure it was OK. The car was cleaner, a lot cleaner, than when I'd 'lost' it.

"Right, thanks sir. Better be off." The officer hesitated. "Just one thing, Jim said - you know - are you the...?"

He stopped. Clearly he'd heard ..... but was a bit embarrassed to say anything. I helped him. I finished the question for him, being surprisingly blatant about it. "Am I the transvestite who helped out the other night? Yes, that was me."

"Gee. Wish I'd seen you, I mean, I wish I'd seen that. OK sir, we'd better go."

I finished getting ready quickly and did manage to drive into work that morning. And again there wasn't any further contact from the police. It was a couple of days later that I recognised WPC Carter's voice when I answered the phone.

"Hello Mr Harrison, just to let you know. Jim's OK, flesh wound to the thigh and a nasty bullet wound through the chest but it missed anything important. He's due to be released from hospital tomorrow. I thought you'd want to know. OK?"

"That's good news, I'm so glad..."

"Sorry, Mr Harrison. I have to go. Look, do you mind, can I call round a bit later tonight? There's something else I want to discuss. At about seven, maybe?"

I was rather puzzled, but agreed. Heck, I had to really. I mean Fiona was a nice person, is, I mean. But she is a policewoman after all. And when he is asked to do something perfectly reasonable by an officer of the law, any law-abiding citizen really does have to say yes unless there's a good reason not to. I didn't have time to do anything much about dressing up or anything like that. Fiona was going to have to deal with Karl, not Karla. Actually, though, she had been a bit formal on the phone, hadn't she? Calling me 'Mr Harrison' I mean.

So dressing wasn't an option but I did have to clear up quite a bit of the stuff that I had lying around. Not that I'm untidy at all, you understand, quite the reverse. But the place was not as clean and tidy as I'd have liked, I whipped a duster round and tidied some stuff away.

Just after seven the doorbell rang and I invited Fiona in. She was still in her uniform, probably on the way home from work I assumed. I'd got the impression she had been ringing from there earlier.

"I'll get straight to the point, Karl, isn't it?" I realised that she had never actually seen me 'not dressed' as it were, somehow I felt even more embarrassed than I would have been if I'd been wearing a skirt and high heels and so on.

"There has been a fair bit of discussion at the station in the past couple of days, Karl. People are very appreciative of what you did. You didn't have to, you know."

"Yes I did" I interrupted. "I just couldn't leave those two officers like that. I mean, I've thought since, I could somehow have just walked to the nearest phone or even home. But I had my highest heels on at the time..." I smiled as Fiona realised the humour in even that serious situation ".... so the walk would have been difficult. I mean, half a mile from home at least, I reckon. Anyway, they were in a poor state. I just HAD to help out."

"Well Karl, others might not well have done so. If you hadn't done what you did, and I do realise it was difficult giving yourself away as you did, I might well have a badly injured brother and a dead fiancé."

"Please, really, most people would have ..." I stopped. I'd forgotten. She had told me but I hadn't taken it in at the time.


It was Fiona's turn to smile, in a slightly embarrassed way. "Yes, I couldn't remember I'd told you. Jim and I are getting married next month, he should be recovered by then. He wants to be back at work on Monday but David and I have managed to persuade him to have another couple of weeks off at least."

"Well, congratulations" I said, resisting the temptation to give her a congratulatory kiss. It didn't seem right, not a policewoman, that is.

"But that's not why I came round, Karl. Like I said, lots of the guys at the station are grateful. They think something should be done. To reward you, that is."

"Oh no, really."

"Well, Karl, we can't do the usual thing, presentation from the Chief Inspector, lots of pictures and so on. Like you asked, we've kept all the details out of the papers apart from the very basics. But - well - there is one thing, on Saturday."

I waited, she was obviously going to go on.

"One of the older guys, Neil Miller, he's retiring after his shift. And there's a bit of a party at the social club straight after. David and I thought, maybe, we could do a small presentation to you before Neil's do. We've done a collection and quite a lot of the guys, I mean they know the circumstances, why you don't want a fuss made and so on. But we all thought we could squeeze a little ceremony in. I've asked the Chief Constable, no less, he'll be there, he's an old friend of Neil's. He thinks it would be a good idea. You could just pop in, for half an hour if you like, you needn't stay for Neil's do."

"Well, I don't know really, I mean it's very kind."

"Loads of the guys would be appreciative, I mean most of them didn't meet 'Karla'. I'm sure they'd be grateful, and it is a rather large amount they've collected. How about it?"

I thought for a minute. Not carefully enough, obviously. I agreed to Fiona's request, and she'd rapidly got onto her radio to call the station and say that I'd agreed before I really thought about exactly what she'd said.

"Hang on. You said something about 'meeting Karla'. And about the other officers 'being grateful'. Surely - oh, no, Fiona, I couldn't."

But I did.

I agreed. Fiona had talked me into it, loads of waffle about being driven to the station and being rather hidden in the car, and about getting from the car into the station through a side door, she'd make sure it was open, not being too clearly seen and all that. And about just staying for a short while, it would be fun and for once I'd be able to be open, in a sense, about my being a transvestite.

But it was her offer to help me which had finally persuaded me, when she'd said she liked the way I'd done my make-up but it would look so much better if I did this, or added that, or used this instead of that, and so on. She really did sound as if she could do a much better job of making me look like a woman than I'd been able to myself. It was that thought - of being helped to become even more of a woman - that had changed my mind.

Before she went I just had to ask.

"Fiona. This is very good of you - but why?"

She looked me straight in the eyes. "Karl, I owe you an awful lot, more than anyone. OK, the guys at the station appreciate what you did. But as far as I'm concerned, well it's obvious isn't it? You saved two lives that night. My fiancé and my brother. I owe you so much."

"Well not really, Fiona. I mean your brother was injured, I know, but he'd have been OK, surely."

She thought for a moment. "Maybe so, Karl. But you certainly saved Jim. So when the guys did the whip-round I decided I should give you something else. Not just money, I mean."

I looked her, rather puzzled. She smiled. And such a smile, Jim was a lucky guy, really.

"Remember me telling you about the tranny I met once, the nice one, well I went round to see her this morning. I told her all about your bravery and so on. And I asked her what she thought would be a really appropriate gift. For a tranny in your situation, I mean. I thought she might say shoes, or expensive lingerie or something."

She stopped. "And?" I asked.

"She said 'a day in the limelight as Karla'. Something like that. A chance to be recognised for who you are. And the way she explained it, well, I thought I had a handle on what this tranny thing is all about. But she really did enlighten me. Oh yes, and she'd like to meet you one day. Says would you like to go round for tea one day maybe, with her and her boyfriend? I didn't say 'yes', though I did say I rather imagined you might like to. En femme, or course, as you trannies say."

Fiona realised then she'd have to get going, I was left to ponder what I'd just agreed to. And the next few days were busy, with Fiona calling in after work a couple of times. Her TV friend Andrea had agreed to let me borrow a dress and a few other items for my 'presentation'. Fiona had me try a few dresses on in turn. We finally agreed on a fairly classic TV style, almost a cocktail dress but not quite, shortish, tight-ish, darkish but with just a little glitz in the diamante pattern across the bodice.

And then, the day before the event, she gave me a list of instructions to follow to begin to get myself ready. She'd almost insisted I do the depilation thing, 'so you really can appreciate your lingerie' was how she put it, and she was right. As I began to prepare that morning the whole sensuous sensation of putting on my basque and the stockings and so on was enhanced by the new feelings of sliding the materials across my newly-denuded skin.

Just after lunch Fiona called again, expressing surprise and to some extent delight when I paraded for inspection in my undies - basque, sheer black seamed stockings and my black patent stilettos.

"My gosh, Karla, you really do have a great figure."

I just looked at her and grinned. "Breast-forms and corsetry."

Then she added the finishing touches to my dressing and took control of my make-up. OK so I wouldn't be seen in full daylight in the town centre - much as I would have liked to but I knew I could never be 100% convincing as a woman.

"But hey, Karla. Will 95% do?" she asked as she finished off my make-up, and allowed me to see the results of her efforts in my large mirror.

Like hell it would. She really had done a superb job. I reckoned 90% but who's counting? I looked more female than I'd ever managed to achieve by myself before. I reckon if I'd gone into a slightly darkened room made up like that, maybe in a pub or somewhere, I might well have passed.

Basically, as far as I was concerned, I felt - gorgeous. Fiona used slightly different language , saying I looked 'very good indeed, Karla'. That would do me. She was perplexed at my choice of accessories, one pair of long diamante earrings that Andre had offered to loan to me, and a tiny black clutch bag.

"I just can't imagine myself wearing earrings like that, or indeed heels so high. I mean, they look good on you, really."

I thought for a moment. "I think it's some sort of over-compensation, Fiona. Lots of TVs seem to like the 'glam sexy' style of dressing. Overdoing it, too-high heels and too-long earrings, and probably too much make-up etc. Going to excess with some aspects of female dressing as a compensation for not looking totally convincing in other ways. Like facially maybe, or being too tall. Something like that, I think maybe."

She drove us into town, of course. It was a new experience for me, both being driven while en femme and being out in the daylight, something I'd only ever tried several years earlier and not too successfully. We got to the back of the police station without incident. As I stood there having just got out of the car, handbag in hand, again in full daylight, I began to shake a little. Fiona was in uniform. She took me by the arm.

"Come on girl. Tummy in, tits out. There's a whole roomful of gorgeous guys just waiting to see just what you look like."

Which did absolutely nothing for my confidence.

What did it for me was to see, just as we were about to go into the side door of the building another officer, some sort of high-ranking policeman, walk in front of us and open the door for us.

"Welcome ladies" he said. And he smiled. Obviously he knew what was going on, he was here for the other officer's leaving do but he was going to be involved before that with the presentation to the TV. It was the look on his face. He looked straight at me. No disgust there, no pity or anything, just - some sort of understanding. Clearly there had been a lot of talk in the station over the preceding days.

Fiona spoke quietly in my ear. "Like Andrea said, Karla, your efforts have done the transgender community here a lot of good. Most of my colleagues realise most TGs aren't perverts or weirdoes. Most are good people with a different take on life. That's all."

Then we turned the corner. "OK Karla. Ready for this?" I breathed in. Pushed my 'tits' out - just a little.


The entrance was - wonderful. A bit of a hush came over the room, not surprisingly really. I walked forward with Fiona, feeling every inch a woman in some ways, but totally aware that all the eyes in the room were on me because they really knew I wasn't. There were several glasses of wine on a small table at the side of the room. Fiona took two and handed one to me. I sipped, turned and surveyed my 'audience'.

In one sense that should have been the highlight of the occasion. I mean, it was a first, a very first, for me. Being there, being seen in some sense or other as a woman. Every tranny's dream. I loved it. But it wasn't the highlight.

Neither was the actual presentation, when the Chief Constable called for everyone's attention and made a small speech basically saying lots of nice things about me, about how I'd been brave to do what I did - given the circumstances I'd found myself in. And going on to make comments about the TG community and how we had to all work together and be tolerant and 'respect diversity' and all that.

And my own little speech certainly wasn't the highlight. Fiona had warned me I would have to say something and had advised me to keep it short and to finish with a joke. So I basically said thank you, trying not to force my voice and just hoping my tone had a feminine timbre to it.

"Really I'm just a law-abiding - woman. So next time any of you sees me driving at ninety-five along the Hagley Road, in five-inch stilettos - book me!"

Everyone giggled, and applauded, and then I noticed something special about the scroll-like sheet the Chief Constable had given me, there were two copies, one behind the other. And the second one, well, it was identical to the first, basically a commendation for bravery and commitment to the community and that sort of thing, but with one difference. The name. One letter difference. It said 'Karla'. I saw it - and began to feel just a small tear form in the corner of my eye. I cut the speech short.

"Thank you all." And everyone applauded. And I shook the Chief Constable by the hand once more and - I really don't know why I did it, it just seemed the thing to do at the time, I leaned over - and kissed him gently on the cheek!

Someone captured the moment on camera, I caught the flash out of the corner of my eye and had to smile. I wondered just what sort of ribbing he'd get from his colleagues or indeed whether that picture would maybe end up on the station notice-board on the Monday morning. And I wondered what sort of caption it might be given.

No, the highlight came just after Fiona and I had been circulating a little, chatting just a bit to the groups of officers. The response, to being invited to socialise with a transvestite, was inevitably mixed. There were quite a few who were either not fully pro, or positively anti though with their boss being there they weren't voicing their opinions. We moved on from them, basically I was enjoying myself SO much I just didn't want anything to spoil things. A few were very understanding, very positive, and one guy - well. Fiona had just left me to help Jim, who was coping very well though on light crutches. She was very much hoping they'd be discarded before the wedding.

Which was when one of the officers, a tall rather skinny constable, sort-of manoeuvred me to one side away from the crowd as several people began to move off into the room next door where Sergeant Miller's do was about to start. I realised he was standing between me and the others chatting. He didn't tell me his name, he was probably too embarrassed. But he was 'secretly' holding my hand in a way his colleagues probably couldn't see. And he was looking closely at me, with a much more intense expression than any of the others had.

"Karla, if you ever want a chat sometime maybe, or .... " And he left the sentence unfinished. But the way he said what he said made it clear. He was inviting me on a date! Or maybe more!

But right then I was rescued, by Fiona and her brother David. He'd been delegated to drive me home since she was going on-duty for a while so that some of the officers in the station could join in part of Sgt Miller's farewell party.

"Well done, Karla" said Fiona. "I've been watching you for a minute or two. Even the weird ones in the station are convinced. Not that you're a woman, I mean, but just that you're one of the good guys. I hope nobody was nasty at all to you."

"No" I replied. "Everyone was quite nice. I even got asked on a date."

That surprised her. "What?! By one of the guys, you mean? Not the WPCs? Wow, I didn't realise anyone here was a tranny-fancier. Who is it? Tell me."

"I think I'd better not". I really didn't intend doing anything about it even though I had his phone number on a small piece of paper I'd stuffed down my cleavage. Then David interrupted us.

"Come on - er - Karla. Let's get you home" he said. We walked out, not out of the side door of the station but through the front door to where David's car was parked about 50 yards away. And he took my hand too. It was when we were about half way there that I realised. I was walking through town, fully tarted up in a short dress and my very high heels, and holding hands with a man! OK so it was getting a bit dark by then but - I got away with it! We must have passed a dozen people, men and women, young and old, and nobody made any sort of fuss about it.

When we got to the car, David opened the door for me in a very gentlemanly fashion. For a moment I was facing him, his hand tightened on mine. And, just as I had with the Chief Constable, I kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you" I said, not knowing whether he would really appreciate the reason for my gratitude.

"No, thank you" replied David. And then he surprised me. Shocked me. There and then, in full view of anyone and everyone who happened to be looking at this couple there in the street, he kissed me. Properly. He leant down and ever-so gently laid his lips on mine. And as we parted after a few seconds he smiled.

I just knew what I had to do next. I was surprisingly calm. I hadn't been expecting anything like that but it seemed such a natural thing to do. I kissed him again. Harder and longer this time. Then we got into his car.

I wasn't the only one surprised that weekend.

When Fiona called in to visit her brother early the next morning and found me sat sipping coffee at his kitchen table, she looked shocked too. Specially since I wasn't fully dressed, I was still wearing my basque and stockings, and high heels of course, covered with a police-issue blue shirt with David's number on the lapels.

"Oh my God!" was her first comment. Then David came in from the living room. "David, you dark horse. My brother, I never realised!"

She came over and hugged me, then stood back and looked at my 'outfit'.

"You look just fucking gorgeous, Karla. But you're not wearing that outfit at my wedding!"


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