Spies are Maid not Born by Rachel Ann Cooper © 2000
Part 1
It was the dawning of World War II. For us, the Americans, our first true year of involvement in 1941. We had been standing by watching Adolph Hitler maneuvering in Europe with interest since 1939 and then the Japanese decided to put in their two cents worth and bombed us at Pearl Harbor. So now, we were IN it, like it or not. My aid and I were stationed in London, attached to the British Embassy albeit not in uniform. I am Captain Frank Schwartz and my young friend is 2nd Lieutenant Robert Baird. We share a flat within walking distance of the Embassy and a few good restaurants which makes living in this atmosphere somewhat bearable even in war time.
We had been stationed there for about a year since the outbreak at Pearl, and had made the best of the situation, fixing up the meager furnishings and giving the place a more homey atmosphere. We did have to share the same bed room but not the same bed so it was no worse than the BOQ and we found the solitude a welcome comfort after a day of negotiating solutions to various diplomatic/military problems.
On the way back to London from a weekend pass, we encountered two gentlemen on the train. They seemed affable enough and we struck up a conversation in the dining car.
Their names were Mark Elridge and Ernest Conrad. They represented themselves as being Brits in the retail trade but something made me suspicious. Perhaps it was my training, the timing, the way the younger one moved, I don’t know. They sounded British but after being there for almost a year, I could feign a pretty good Brit accent myself and had adopted many of their quaint word usages. I wondered at the time why two seemingly fit young men would not be in the service of their country at a time like this and this continued to gnaw at me.
Mr. Elridge was perhaps in his late 20s while Mr. Conrad was rather in his early 20s. It was not unlike the situation with my aid and me. They were both smallish men however; Elridge being no more than 5'9" and Conrad not over 5'7" if that. Both were trim and looked to be in good physical condition and, considering the times, I again wondered why such fine young men were not in the British military preparing to defend their country.
I on the other hand stood about six feet and Robert was about 5'11" tall. I was not here by choice but rather birth as was my aid as well. Both military brats following family tradition, living up to what was expected of us, we forged ahead. Sharing a flat, we had come to know each other rather well and so had exchanged views on many subjects including, but not limited to, the war and how we felt about conflict in general. Although I was Rob’s superior, we dropped that when at home. We agreed as how we were both probably pacifists at heart and would be pleased when our enlistments were over. Of course, with the Nazi’s bombing London, our LIVES could be over any minute so we always knew where the nearest shelter was at any given moment. We shan’t dwell on that for our story.
Later:
We struck up an acquaintanceship with these two gentlemen and made a date to meet for drinks at a pub a few nights later after spending time with them on the train. They seemed like good chaps and we hadn’t been doing very well with the ladies of late so a little companionship of any sort was welcome.
After much talk of the events of the day and the war, women and sports and many Guinness stouts, (days and SEVERAL meetings later as we had taken to meeting them on a fairly regular basis at the same pub) I was SURE they were German and probably spies. Robert and I had discussed this in great detail and had planned a trap. It took us about three weeks to fall into exactly the right circumstances to spring it however. When Mark and Ernest were rather bloody drunk, I said to Ernest very casually, "I’ll bet you’ll be glad to get back to Germany, won’t you?" He perked up a bit and fell for it replying, "Ya Wohl Frank." Ernest and Mark exchanged furtive glances in panic.
Robert and I smiled. We HAD them. I could see the fear on their now sobering faces but, being basically a pacifist, I had a plan. It was a bit bizarre but I felt it would work and how much choice did they have? They now knew WE knew and could have turned them over to the Brits or worse, the Americans. My plan was kinder, gentler, sweeter if you will. Attached to the Embassy, we could get them visas easily under the right circumstances. My plan was forming to turn them completely to our side.
"Well, Mark and Ernest, I believe we have a few things to discuss now, don’t we?" In his refined British accent Mark answered, "Well old chap, you seem to have the upper hand. What do you plan to do with us?" "Truthfully, not what you are expecting at all. You see, we don’t really support this war and you two have been in deep cover here for what, three years now?" "Yes."
"Well, here is the deal at the moment. The secrets of the American and British plans of attack and
defense that you were no doubt sent here to get will be given to you so that you may stay here and continue to live away from the terror in Germany. Of course, they won’t be entirely accurate. On the other hand, you will supply US with genuine information concerning the assaults and air raids. I’m sure you have a radio hidden, right?"
"Yes, of course," replied Mark. "Good. Well then, we shall go on with our friendship as usual. We may have to make some...adjustments along the way but I’m sure we can all take those in stride and make the best of them. We know you don’t want to be double agents but a double agent is better than a dead agent, am I right gentlemen?" "Yes Mark" replied Ernest. I’m too young to die, even for the Fatherland." "I agree, Ernest," said Mark. Since we have been found out, I confess I am glad to be away from that madman. He wants to be another Julius Caesar!"
"Well then gentlemen, since we are going to keep this civilized unless you force us to do otherwise, what are your true names and ranks?" Mark replied, "Marcus Kraus, Major, cipher division." "And you Ernest?" "Ernst Mueller, 1st Lieutenant, cryptographer." "Well, gentlemen, I’m sure we can find some valuable information for you to discover from time to time that will appear accurate if not somewhat after the fact. Aside from this, we expect that you will keep us informed at a minimum of when the air raids are due. Clear?" "Clear." "Good, because your continued good health depends on it. . Then let’s continue to enjoy each other’s company for the duration of this nasty business." <smiling>
Chapter 2
"Now Mark, we want you to both come to the Embassy under cover of darkness and in disguise and we will provide you fake ID and disguises that will be delivered to your flat and then you will have your initial debriefing. It will not interfere with your jobs at the department store. We’ll have you back in plenty of time to get to work. After that, you may pass whatever information you have directly to Robert or me. The loo in a public place might be a good idea. All right?" "Fine."
So we arranged for this to happen in two days and spirited them into the Embassy where they were photographed, cataloged, fingerprinted and generally debriefed of everything they knew up until then. They were being amazingly co-operative. Well, as Ernst said, he was too young to die.
Phase ll of plan 1
It was the dead of winter in England and diversion was scarce. In our spare time we four took in plays and movies and played cards but mostly, we spent a lot of time in the pubs and played a lot of darts. We all liked a good mug of stout and it was fortunate that we all lived so close that we could walk to our flats although on some occasions, that was not practical due to our state of drunken camaraderie. I’m afraid we had a penchant for singing in this state and some of them were German drinking songs, a bit dangerous on the street OR in the pub.
One Friday night Ernest mentioned he had heard of a club downtown that had quite elaborate shows and showgirls. It was called ‘The Gilded Mirror’. "Well, I’m all for showgirls," I said. "Let’s have at it then"said Mark And off we went.
One would have expected that a show bar would have a different type of atmosphere and this one did, right from the moment we laid eyes on it. The windows were all one way mirrors as we found upon entering. On the outside were signs of show times and photos of girls in gowns, very curvaceous girls. We entered eagerly and paid our cover charge. A waiter led us to a table, took our order and informed us that the first show would be in about half an hour. As we waited for our drinks, we all took in the scene. At first glance, there seemed nothing out of order but, upon closer examination we discovered that a few of the ladies in the audience were very much NOT ladies but men in drag. In the dimly lit room it was hard to tell but I’d seen a few of these places before and apparently so had Ernest. He seemed to be having a good time as we tried to guess who was what.
Once the show began, it was easy to see that my suspicions were correct. This was a Friday night and these were professionals but these were definitely male show girls. Most of them lip synched their songs although one did not and the star of the show was called Leila. She was a magician and hypnotist and aside from her choice to do her act in drag, presented a rather good show of slight of hand and prop illusions. The thought crossed my mind I remember, where did these guys get these BODIES? They’re so soft and feminine and just look at all that cleavage. I should BE so lucky as to find a WIFE who’s built that well. And just then Leila was asking for a volunteer from the audience. Funny, it didn’t take two shakes before Ernest was up on stage as Leila’s assistant for a trick.
Leila was taller than Ernest in ‘her’ heels (we shall for the most part skip the emphasis on gender from now on) and he seemed somewhat in awe of her. She fawned over him a bit telling him how cute he was. Of course, the trick included Ernest being subtly hypnotized and sending the rest of us howling. When she was done using Ernest, she bent over and whispered something in his ear. Then to the audience, she said, "please give Ernest here a round of applause.. She’s been a wonderful assistant." Ernest tripped lightly back to the table and sat down beaming.
Mark quickly asked, "well Ernest, what was THAT all about and what was with that reference to ‘she’ as Leila’s assistant?" "Oh, nothing Mark. Leila just said that she’d like to have me come back and assist her again some time. It was fun. I think I might." "And what was that she whispered in your ear?" "My ear? I have no idea! I don’t remember it."
The plot thickens:
It was then that Captain Schwartz received the second seed in his garden of plans and schemes. Here was the means by which he could make sure that, at the proper time and place, he could discredit the Nazi spies and turn the situation entirely to his advantage. It was just a seed and would need caring for but if he nurtured it, he knew it would turn into something worthwhile. At this moment he didn’t know exactly what however. He decided to let things play out for a while. Winter was on the wane and April would soon be here.
Once back at their flat, he and Rob discussed the evening’s events and Frank laid out the rudiments of a plan not yet jelled. Rob thought it was a ‘neat’ idea and so they went back to the Gilded Mirror again the following Wednesday night, which was amateur night. A few of the regulars were there like Leila but mostly it was just amateur queens who wanted to get up and show off their talents. We managed to get Leila aside and talk to her/him at length about our little plan.
The more we discussed it, the more she got into it and started making suggestions to make it even more effective. This was wonderful. I had no idea such things could be done. Well, we insisted on paying Leila for her services and she accepted, somewhat reticently at first, but she took the money, a substantial sum. We now had an Allie to help us with the plan.
Chapter 3
When we met Mark and Ernest for drinks on Friday, we went to our usual pub but before the evening was out it had been decided, after some discussion, that on Saturday we would return to the Gilded Mirror. Rob and I arrived early to talk with Leila. She had been asked to involve one other friend and she had chosen Ebony, a beautiful and petite black drag queen. When Mark and Ernest arrived, all was in place to begin. When Ebony sang her songs, she seemed to be singing them to Ernest. She was also the one who used her own voice. When Leila came on, she beckoned to Ernest to come up and help her whereupon she spoke a few words in his ear again and he was "under". She essentially gave her same performance but after the set, came to our table and sat with us. She had whispered a few words to him before discharging him again.
At our table we praised Leila and her performance and the question came up of why, since she was so obviously talented and could probably do her act ‘straight’ in a larger string of cabarets, why did she choose to do it in drag? "Well dears," she said, "it’s quite simple. I just LOVE dressing as a girl. I mean, who wouldn’t? I get to wear all these fabulous clothes and makeup and pretty shoes and furs and I live full time as a woman. Oh, I didn’t tell you that did I?" Ernest was beaming for some reason. I asked her how this was possible and was she still not a male after all?
"Oh yes, I am male in sex but not in my heart. I just love everything about being a woman, wouldn’t YOU Ernest?" "I...uh...don’t know Leila. It DOES look like fun though." "Oh, of course you would darling. You’re the perfect body type for it, just right and an attractive face too. We should have you try out for amateur night as soon as possible. You’ll love it." "Well, perhaps, if you really think so Leila" he replied shyly.
At this point, I could see poor Mark having a mild heart attack and THAT was an inspired observation. I would think on that later. In the meantime, we had to encourage our little Ernest into skirts and high heels. It wasn’t difficult to do as Leila had already planted the idea and desire in his head and had given us a catch phrase to trigger him. Leila told us she would take good care of her new protege and so it was planned that Ernest would come back on Tuesday for rehearsals and to be fitted and taught about makeup. I don’t know what Leila said to him but he was fairly bursting to get up on stage in drag and could talk of little else the rest of the evening. We hailed a taxi and all went home tired but happy, all except for Mark. He was clearly disturbed.
When THEY got home, there was a domestic argument the likes of which had probably not been heard in that building before with Mark raising his voice and little Ernest fairly screaming and then crying and then finally, Mark gave in and put his arm around his comrade and held him as his sobbing subsided. "You don’t understand Mark. This is something I really want to do. It will be such fun. Leila says I’ll make a pretty girl. You’ll see." "Exactly what I am afraid of Ernest. Exactly! What if the Colonel hears of this?" "What will he hear, that I’m going deeper under cover?. He should be pleased. The club will be a good place to get information from loose lips, don’t you think?" "Yes, I suppose so, yet this is quite a departure from our usual methods." "Mark, if I can help our cause and have some fun at the same time, please don’t begrudge me this." "Very well Lieutenant, if this is really what you want. It may be interesting after all."
Ernest had to get time off work on Tuesday to go to rehearsal but since his boss was Mark, that presented no problem. He arrived at the club around 2 PM for his fittings. Then he was taught a routine which he learned quite easily under hypnosis while more feminine feelings and emotions were planted into his subconscious in the process. They gaffed him and shaved him and plucked and powdered and painted and corseted and slipped him into a skin tight gown complete with cleavage and high heels and presto, Monique was born. Fortunately for Monique, Ernest also spoke French as well as he did English so the illusion was perfect. ‘She’ rehearsed her act in her own breathy, sultry French accent and even included La Vie en Rose in French.
When the three of us got there on Wednesday to see ‘her’ first performance, we had not a clue what to expect and we were all floored, especially Mark, when out walked this gorgeous red head with her hair piled high, dangle earrings, form fitting gown and walking perfectly in ‘her’ 4" spike heels and she sang to us, to Mark actually, in French and English. It was truly comic just to sit there and watch Mark’s expressions as he watched his Lieutenant perform. Monique was a perfect lady, a true delight of femininity, flawless in every respect. Her moves were fluid, her walk glided like silk, her bosom invited and there was no hint that this was ever a male. Leila had done her job very, very well.
She came over to our table all bubbly after her performance and swivelled her way into a chair.
I’m afraid we all just stared for a moment. Ernest had completely disappeared. Monique had long red nails, perfect skin. It was almost too much for poor Mark. Robert and I were getting quite a kick out of it though. Mark seemed to be enchanted with Monique on some level. Finally the silence broke and we all started to talk at once showering compliments on the new performer.
Of course, she was just lapping it up and never for a moment got out of character. Ernest had, at least for this evening, become Monique with a woman’s thoughts and inclinations. She flirted with us and teased and joked and was a lot more fun than Ernest had EVER been or perhaps was capable of being.
Frank said to her, "well, I certainly hope this won’t be the last we see of you my dear. You are quite lovely and a fine performer." "Oh, remercia te monsieur, she replied sweetly. That is so kind. If you liked my performance I will surely come back and expand my repertoire for you."
"We most certainly did Monique. Please do continue to perform for us."
And so, this part of the plan was set in motion. Leila gave Ernest a bottle of little white pills which he began to take religiously twice a day. He also began to get a shot in the rump before every performance on Friday nights. How Liela arranged that, we did not ask. About two weeks later, Leila took Ernest shopping after fixing him up to look like Monique. They went to ladies shops with Monique using her sultry French accent and Monique began to build a feminine wardrobe of lovely dresses, foundation garments, makeup, hose and heels and suddenly, Mark had a new roommate, a girl who came and went as she pleased, was recognized by shop keepers and doormen and catered to at every turn.
Mark didn’t quite know what to make of all this but accepted the fact that his aid was taking extreme pleasure in emulating a young woman ALL the time, not only during his performances.
This being said, he did his best to ignore the young woman he now shared an apartment with or rather, the fact that Ernest seemed to be changing sex right before his eyes.
While at work, of course, Ernest was as much Ernest as he could be under the influence of Leila’s hypnotic suggestions and his new hormones. Over the ensuing weeks, as he became more feminine in all respects, he actually got a raise and a promotion to floor manager in ladies wear.
What a revelation and a lovely break for Monique. She now had even more money to spend on lovely girlish things. She had her salary from Germany, her salary from the store and her salary from her nightclub performances.
Chapter 4
On the nights when Monique was not performing and perfecting her craft, she became busy performing the rituals of femininity like doing her wigs or shaving her legs or plucking her beard. She had for some time been allowing her hair to grow beyond the strict military length and now she could wear a short bob with makeup and the appropriate clothing and waltz right out the door of their flat. She began to frequent a local beauty shop.
Mark was beginning to see his collegue in a new light. He began treating Ernest more like a lady, the lady he was becoming in mind and body. There was no mistaking the swellings of Ernest’s bosom nor his hips nor the mincing walk of someone who spent hours in high heels. Finally, it happened.
Robert, I’m afraid, was falling for Monique. I had hoped, PLANNED that perhaps MARK would. This was definitely NOT in the plan. Rob never, ever went to her place of employment because he didn’t want to see her pretending to be Ernest and spoil the illusion. But WAS it still an illusion? Rob fancied women and Monique was definitely a woman. April was passing with May soon upon us and Monique and Robert were DATING. If our C.O. knew about this, he’d have a fit and shoot us both. Monique was right though. She did pick up some interesting tidbits at the club and passed them on to Robert.
Robert showed me a picture of Monique in a rather revealing bathing suit except that nothing was revealed except her charms-about a size 8 to 10 I’d say and with a small unnoticable exception, all girl. There were other pictures of them together both at the club and in street clothes. Amazing. I had to talk with Liela about this and she told me of the powerful mental and physical conditioning that Monique had been undergoing.
Ernest could NEVER return to Germany now, not and LIVE anyway and how would Monique get past the border anyway? She didn’t have a passport anymore, not one that looked like her now. Well, I thought, at least we put ONE spy out of commission even if poor Robert has caught the backlash. He seems to be happy. I wonder what kind of relationship they have? Oh, well, not my business. Poor Robert had to be considered collateral damage for the moment. We had the mission to consider. What WAS my business was putting the other one out of commission as well. To be quite honest, I rather fancied Monique myself or would, had I not known the truth. Would I mind having a beautiful girl on my arm knowing she wasn’t exactly all girl? I didn’t know.
My mind slipped back to Mark’s reaction to seeing Monique for the first time. My thought was, "he almost had a heart attack." That was IT. A heart attack. No, I actually liked Mark a lot by this time despite our differences so that was out of the question but...if I could make him THINK he was having a heart attack...hmmm!!!!!!
<ring> "Hello Liela, yes, Frank. Listen, I need to ask a little favor. Can we meet for lunch? Yes, I know the spot. Twelve sharp. See you there."
Chapter 5
Now, every time that Liela performed, she had to have an audience volunteer. I’d gone up a few times myself. The next time we all went to the cabaret, it was Mark’s turn to assist and she whispered something in his ear too. The following night we were all playing cards at Mark & Robert’s when suddenly, Mark gripped his chest and sank to the floor sliding right out of his seat. I rushed to his side and told Robert to call Dr. Westhall at 549115. The doctor rushed right over and administered to Mark giving him an injection to calm him down and told him it was just a mild attack and to come around to his office the next day. Mark was a bit beside himself over this of course. This could render him unfit for duty and he could be sent home.
Dr. Westhall did a thorough exam and told Mark he must watch his diet, get more exercise and take the pills that he gave him on a regular basis. He also gave him pills to take for when he had chest pain and another shot. Robert seemed quite worried about his friend Monique at this point but I assured him that all would be well. This was the part of my plan that I did not share with Robert as his main preoccupation was Mark’s roommate who was now a beautiful woman. Monique had let her hair and nails grow in and we thought she could be close to losing her cover job at the department store. I needed to give that some thought.
Dr. Westhall of course was a ringer in my plan; a legitimate doctor of sorts but he did services for the gender confused crowd all over London and beyond. He had even done surgery on some of them to make them more feminine. One night Robert came home from a date and was beside himself. I asked, "what’s the problem Rob?" "It’s Monique. She wants to get rid of....you know, she wants to be a real woman. They can’t DO that, can they? It would be wonderful but they can’t, can they?" "I don’t know Rob. I’ll ask Dr. Westhall though. He might know."
Actually, I already had the answer to this one and the answer was that it was extremely dangerous and life threatening to try and create a vagina but as to removal of the telltale signs of maleness, that was easy. It would be probably another ten years before a complete operation became feasable although there was work going on in that area.
As the summer progressed slowly, Mark was having other problems besides his heart. He was beginning to resemble Monique in physical attributes. His features softened. He was less aggressive and his body began to take on the shape of a woman just like his roommate. Monique of course was delighted to see these changes and gushed over all the wonderful experiences that MARSHA could have as a woman. Mark continued to see the doctor, got an occasional shot and kept taking his heart medicine. By July, about the 15th I think it was, I began to see a definite shift in Mark’s thinking patterns and Monique had begun calling him Marsha and he did not object. He was walking, talking and acting much differently than the Mark we had met.
Monique told Robert that Mark was now sleeping in a lovely gown and acting rather feminine in private. This femininity was re-enforced every time we went to the club as Liela would trigger him and whisper in his ear either at the table or on stage. This was a thing of beauty. Not only had we turned two enemy agents into our obedient servants but now we had reduced them both almost to second class citizens–women. After this last time, I began to see real visible changes in Mark.
Monique had succeeded in getting Mark to sit still for some beauty rituals like taking care of his nails and hair, letting them grow. His breasts were now obvious through his shirts if he didn’t have a suit coat on and Monique had succeeded in getting him to shave off all his body hair. I finally let Rob in on what I was doing to Mark and he asked Monique to help us further, which she did willingly. "Will I help you turn my Captain into a lovely lady? I’m sure she’ll love it as much as I do. Of course I’ll help you. Oh, this will be such FUN!"
In their flat one night:
"Marsha?" "Yes Monique?" "You know dear, you are becoming quite a fetching creature yourself these days." "I...well, thank you. I suppose it is this horrible heart medicine but there’s nothing to be done for it or die I fear. What can I do?" "Well, you might just embrace the inevitable Marsha and let me take you shopping for some appropriate clothing. I think you’ll be lovely." "Do you think? Really? You think I could pass as a woman now?"
"Don’t you love the gown and high heeled slippers I bought you?" "Yes, of course." "Well? There is SO much more to experience Marsha. It’s really quite wonderful." "And I suppose Robert is quite wonderful as well,"Marsha asked grinning? "Of course he is darling. How could he NOT be? I’d gladly give up my manhood for him, wouldn’t you?" "I don’t know if I’d go THAT far Monique but he is a handsome young man and very sweet I must admit."
"And so is Frank, tall, dark and handsome, don’t you think?" "Well, yes, I suppose he is at that."
"Don’t you think it would be fun for the two of us to be escorted to fine restaurants and plays and such by two such handsome men?" "Look Monique, I understand that I am changing, beginning to look quite womanly, and I’m having REAL problems thinking like a man lately but I’m already wearing panties and a gown and women’s slippers and this damned bra that you said I needed and I do but..."
"But nothing dear. It’s obvious that this life saving therapy is giving you the body of a woman too. It’s a lovely experience. I wish I’d thought of it myself. Anyway, we must get you into proper clothing and the sooner the better. I think we should take you to the club on Tuesday and have you fitted for a gaff, borrow some street clothes and then we can go shopping at the department stores. All right?" "Must I?" "Don’t you just FEEL that you must dear?" "Oh, Monique, yes, I DO. Heaven help me, I DO! I’m dying to see how lovely I can be. Whatever is to become of us?" At this point came a few tears from Marsha and Monique hugged him/her girlishly. The decision had been made. Marsha would accept her femininity.
So, the conversion at the club was again arranged through Liela who would further indoctrinate our new young lady. Monique and Mark went in. Monique and Marsha came out, and Marsha looked lovely according to Monique’s later description. They made the assault on the shops and Marhsa then had her own beginnings of a complete feminine wardrobe. She seemed especially enthralled with high heeled shoes of every description. Liela went along to give advice and, at Frank’s suggestion, had a talk with the store manager at Ernest’s department store.
She did, of course, hypnotize him thoroughly and told him that he should hire Monique to be his floor manager in place of Ernest. We told Monique and she went and applied for the job and was hired. Ernest had to go to work the next day and be fired though, poor lad. So now, Monique was recognized as a real person and had her store ID badge to prove it and could support herself when the war was over as well as now. I thought that was rather a humane gesture on my part.
Tuesday , a regular night at the local pub came and with it the sudden disappearance of our friend Mark. Monique said he was working. Wednesday nite, Rob was going to see Monique at the club and invited me to tag along, so I did. When we arrived, Monique was waiting for us at our favorite table with an attractive blonde woman who looked to be in her mid twenties. Yes, she was quite attractive indeed, quite pretty actually. My first reaction was, by George, I could really go for this girl. I wonder who she is?
Monique waved us over and we sat down as Monique introduced the new girl as Marsha, Marsha Elridge. I confess I didn’t pay much attention to her name. I was too busy drinking in her beauty and charm. I reached over the table in a very continental manner, lifting and kissing her lovely hand. On closer inspection, she was truly extraordinary. Perhaps I’d finally found something to do besides play darts and drink stout!! ELRIDGE? DID SHE SAY MARSHA ELRIDGE? Oh my gawd! I’ve fallen into my own TRAP!
End part one
© 1997-2000 No work herein described may be reproduced or distributed in print or electronic media without the author's express consent. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, to actual names that may exist or to circumstances which may have occurred or to other stories in this genre is purely coincidental.
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