Stephanie's Scheme

Alamo Preacher

  

Part Nineteen (continued):

Bill strolled straight in, I hadn't locked the door, and I followed sheepishly behind. As soon as she saw him, Chérie gave a little squeal of delight.

"Oh, Billy, thank god. Oh this is fantastic. I'm all ready for you."

Bill looked over his shoulder at me and gave me a little smirk.

"Sit the fuck down, wimp." He said. "And not a peep out of you. I don't want your faggoty hands anywhere near me or her. Understand?"

I nodded. I sat in one of the comfy chairs to the side of the room. He looked back to Chérie.

"So, couldn't wait to see me, huh?" He said. "New hubby not up to snuff in the bed department? Come too soon for 'ya did he? Or was he just too small? Surely he was able to get it up for you. Or is he a fag?"

"Oh Billy, don't be silly. He's not a fag. It's just that he want's me to be happy, and he knew that getting a good fucking from you would really make me happy."

She said this with a throaty rumble that made me quiver. She was standing in front of him now, her hands beginning to snake over his chest, caressing his upper arms through his thin white shirt.

"Oh yeah. I bet he doesn't know how to make you happy, like I can." He sneered, and shot me a meaningful glance.

Chérie looked surprised and shocked at the look in his eyes.

"Oh no, Billy, not that. You said you wouldn't, no Billy."

I didn't know what she meant, but some sort of hidden message had passed between them, something in what he'd said. It was odd, but something in her tone, made me think her protests were just for show though.

"I would, and I will. You're a bad girl Chérie. You know it. I told you before. Aren't you a bad girl." His hands curled around her waist and pulled her closer, his hands mashing her ass and pressing her against his crotch.

"Aren't you a bad girl?" He said again, but softer, though still tinged with menace. And then he drew her to him and kissed her deeply. She resisted for a moment, but then, like a fifties movie heroine, her arms moved around him, and she dangled weakly in his arms, letting him press his mouth against hers and possess her. For a long minute they kissed, and when he released her, she whispered.

"Yes, I'm a bad girl."

A look of triumph spread over his face and in one movement, Bill sat at the edge of the bed, facing me, and pulled Chérie over his knees, lifting her dress and exposing her legs, stockings, garters and her panties, the flimsy triangle sliding over her beautiful ass cheeks.

He gave me a contemptuous look.

"See, you couldn't even imagine doing this, could you? How can you hope to satisfy a woman like this, much less control her."

As if only just regaining her senses and realising what was happening, Chérie squealed and drummed her feet on the floor.

"No, Billy. No please, oh please don't. No."

He just laughed and caressed the cheeks of her ass, roughly pulling at the fabric of her panty.

"Please No. Oh help me Ken, please help me, don't let him spank me."

I couldn't tell if she really meant it or not. I suspected she didn't but still, the thought of seeing her spanked in front of me here was terrible. But how could I stop him? Any idea of even trying would seem totally ineffectual. But how could I let this happen. Billy laughed.

"He's not going to help you. For fuck's sake Chérie, he invited me in here to fuck you, d'you really think he could stop me, even if he wanted to? Now, I'm going to spank you and then fuck you like you want. Because that is what you want and you'll thank me for it, and so will he.

"No..." screamed Chérie, but her protest was immediately stopped by the sound of Bill's hand smacking hard against her ass. SMACK! She squealed, and he laughed again, giving me another look.

"Well, wimpo, how do you like this? What you expected? Fuck, I can't even bear to look at you there, getting off on seeing this."

He smacked her again, and I caught Chérie's eye as she darted me an accusing look, before her eyes closed again as he smacked her a third, hard slap on her reddening ass. He spanked and spanked, as I just sat there and watched, unable to tear my eyes away. As he spanked her protests grew weaker and weaker, and he spanked slower and slower, until he stopped altogether, and looked over at me again. In the silence of the room, the only sound was Chérie's heavy breathing. Bill smiled just as she twisted in his lap and gasped,

"Please don't stop."

He just smiled his cruel smile at me.

"Oh Bill, more, please more. Fuck, I'm so wet."

"Later." He said, and slowly, lowered her to the floor in front of him. With practiced hands she reached into his lap and undid his belt and tugged his trousers and boxers down. His huge, limp cock lolled out, and Chérie lowered her sweet mouth to it, sucking the head into her mouth and rolling it around on her tongue. I gasped in shock at the sight of it as it began to stiffen and swell in her mouth. She twisted a little to see me, and winked. I couldn't tell if she was smiling, his cock stretched her lips too much, but my heart leaped.

Soon, her head was bobbing rhythmically in his lap and she was straining to keep her lips around it as she plunged his cock into her mouth again and again. I could see it distend her throat as her head descended, Billy's hands grasping her head firmly as he fucked my wife's willing mouth. He seemed almost impassive, only a hint of concentration on his face, as she serviced him, kneeling in front of him, her dress still hitched up behind, letting me see her red ass cheeks through the sodden material of her panties. After a long while, during which the only sounds were the slurps and smacks of Chéries lips giving her lover this long, passionate blow-job, Billy pulled her up and pushed her onto the bed.

"Assume the position." He said, and she immediately scooted onto her back, spreading her legs wide, and catching her ankles in her hands. The heels of her wedding shoes pointed to the ceiling as she made herself ready for him.

Billy undressed slowly, dropping his trousers onto the floor and removing his shirt, watch and shoes. His cock swayed from side to side. I watched Chérie closely, her eyes never left it, gazing hungrily at the swollen head. It was ten inches long, nearly double the size of my own, and seemed heavy as well as hard and thick.

When he was fully undressed, he turned to me.

"Now." He said. "I'm going to fuck your bride."

He got into position on the bed, and positioned his cock at the gaping entrance to Chéries pussy, then paused, his fingers pressed into her, as she gasped and arched her back.

"Shit. You never fucked her at all. No wonder she's so hungry for it. What's wrong with you, man? How could you not at least try to fuck her. Man, now you'll just be getting sloppy seconds for the rest of your life."

"Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." Interrupted Chérie, pressing herself against him, ignoring me completely, and with one hard, deliberate thrust, Bill buried his cock into her.

"Nnnnnngggghhh." She groaned and then gasped as he withdrew again, not letting her draw breath before he pressed into her again, forcing another grunt and gasp and then he was pounding her, her legs bucking, and her ass being pistoned into the soft mattress with the force of the fucking.

"Aahhhhh" Her gasps became a long exhalation broken only by the rhythm of the ferocious pounding that Bill was giving her.

"MMmmmm. Your pussy is just as sweet as I left it, Chérie." He said, seeming not to expend any breath on the bucking thrusts he was fucking her with.

"Oh Bill. Oh Bill. Oh God, I've missed this. Oh Fuck! Oh Fuck! I'm coming already. Oh Bill, Oh Bill. Oh Jesus Fucking Christ. Gaaaaaahhh." and her head twisted from side to side, as she came, still bouncing off the mattress as Billy continued his pounding, relentless thrusts."

My hand snaked into my panties. I finally allowed myself to stroke myself once, realising how close the unbelievably erotic sight was making me to coming. Chéries moans were softer now, but building again.

"Ahhh, Ahhhh, Ahhh. Oh, that's so good. So good. Oh Billy, yes, yes, yes. Ken? You see how good he is? You see? Oh Oh, this is so good. Oh yes. Ken? I told you I needed this. Oh yes, I can't live without it. Is it good for you too. Are you enjoying watching? Are you? Oh yes, Oh yes. Don't worry Ken. Aaahhhh. Oh Billy. Ken, come on, pull it out Ken, wank yourself Ken. Wank while you watch. Oh that's so good. Oh I'm sorry Ken, but I just can't help it. Come on. Look at me getting fucked and pull yourself off into your panties Ken. Come on."

Wordlessly, Bill suddenly withdrew, and taking Chérie in his arms, flipped her over onto her hands and knees, facing me, and then gathering her hips in his powerful hands, shucked his cock into her pussy again. She winced at the pain of it, and then bucked against him.

"Come on Ken. Pull it now. Oh Bill, yeah. Oh, I'm going to come again. Oh that's so deep. Agh. Oh yeah. Oh yeah, I love it. Mmmmm. Come with me Ken, come with me. Wank yourself off into your pretty panties while your wife is fucked and fucked and fucked."

And I came, jetting stream after stream into the waiting tissues, the imagined scene melding with the images of Chérie spread out in the lingerie catalog in front of me even as I reeled at where my mind could take me.

After I'd come, as usual, my first thought was to clean up, change into my own (boy's) clothes as quickly as possible and suppress any feelings of guilt I might have. This time though, I determined not to waste the time that I could spend dressed, and so, after cleaning up and carefully replacing the dress, I simply got changed into panties and a silky chemise from the "Stephanie" stash and waited for the post-orgasm rush of emotion to subside.

Soon, I was feeling more normal again, and, since I still didn't feel like going to bed, I decided to tidy up. I replaced the psychologists report back in Dad's closet where I'd found it, and checked that nothing else was out of place. I tidied my own room, making my secret clothes hiding places more secure and less obvious, and putting all my make-up and hair stuff away.

As I busied myself around the house, I reveled again in the feel of the lingerie, and longed for when I might be able to wear it again. I fantasised about living with Ellen in a college apartment, and swapping underwear and other clothes when we were alone together. It was silly, and unrealistic I knew, but it was a pleasant fantasy, and I was lost in my own little world when the phone rang, startling me a little.

There was a phone in the master bedroom, and so, rather than go downstairs, I answered it there. It was Chérie. I had kind-of been expecting her.

"Hi Ken. What are you up to?" She asked.

Once again, I felt more than a little odd talking to her, sitting on what was to be her bed, wearing nothing but panties and a chemise.

"Nothing much." I said, noncommittally."How are things there?"

"Great. Your dad doesn't want to come home." She said, and then added. "I mean, he misses you both, but we've had a really great time, here, we've really got, eh ...." She trailed off a little. I suspected that she'd been going to say "Really got to know each other, but had decided that that sounded strange, considering they'd just got married. I wondered what they really had been up to.

"So, is Stephanie there?" She asked.

"No, you always seem to call when she's gone out. She said she'd be back late, I'm afraid. Will I get her to try to call you at the hotel tomorrow?"

"No, that's okay. It'd just, eh, that I was wondering if you'd had any visitors?"

It sounded like she would rather have asked Stephanie this. She'd said something about it before.

"Well, no. Except my Mom I suppose. She came by and picked up some stuff."

"Ah. Right." Said Chérie. There was a pause.

"Is there something wrong, Chérie?" I asked.

"No, no no no no. Actually your Dad said that she might call in. I was just wondering if she had at all. That's fine. That's fine. So, how was she? I mean, I suppose. Do you mind me asking you this Ken?"

I wasn't sure how I felt.

"Eh, it's okay. She was okay, I guess. I mean, you-know. She and Steph talked a bit. We're going to stay with her for a weekend at the end of the Summer. She just picked up her stuff and went. That's all. Was there something you wanted to know particularly?"

Chérie sounded off-balance, not so self assured as usual. "That's all. Just wondering how you're all getting on. So, nothing else strange?"

"Nope. We've both got Summer jobs since, so we've been pretty busy."

"Right. So, we'll see you on Sunday evening then."

"Yeah, I know. Don't worry. Eh, Chérie, is my Dad there."

"Eh, no, I'm sorry Ken. He stepped out to go to the shop a minute ago. Did you want him? I could get him to call when he gets back."

"No, that's okay. I was just going to say Hi, but we'll see you both in a couple of days anyway. Bye then."

"Bye."

We hung up. She always called when he wasn't there, I noticed. What had she wanted to know about Mom? Probably nothing. I supposed it must be hard for her, to set up a new life with her husband's ex-wife still around. Except she wasn't around that much. I frowned. Maybe Chérie didn't know that. I supposed she might think that things would be different now that she and Dad were together. Maybe she thought Mom would start to take more of an interest. I wondered if they'd ever met.

Of course they had, at least they had when she was still Mrs. Burley - the phonograph that I had found showed them together. She seemed nervous. I wondered if they'd got on before. They probably hadn't been aware of each other much. Despite the photo, I don't think that Dad and Gordon Burley had known each other that well. I got the impression that they worked in very different parts of my Dad's firm, and I suppose it was unlikely that Mom and Chérie had known each other that well either, beyond chitchat at work functions like that one.

Still, I wondered if Mom had been surprised when she discovered that Dad was going out with Chérie. I wondered how Gordon Burley had felt about it. I began to think about dates, and think back hard to the time when Dad and Mom had first begun to talk seriously about splitting up, and then the separation, and the divorce. I got out a notebook and a calendar and began to try to sort it out on paper. I had a theory, an idea, but it wasn't fully formed. After a while, I got up, fetched out the printouts from the internet searches I'd done. Then, I went downstairs and fetched the photocopied divorce papers. By the time I was finished searching it was completely dark outside and I could see the lights of the town off in the distance.

I tidied away my notes, putting them into an envelope folder, with the two key pieces that I'd found. I hadn't really been able to work out for sure what I suspected, but I had discovered something else that was important. Something that I suspected no-one else knew. For the moment though, I was going to keep it to myself.

The following morning was fairly uneventful. Since it would be my last day at the office, I decided to dress a little less conservatively. I wore a much shorter black skirt, and flesh-coloured pantyhose. I put on a shiny satin blue blouse and wore my hair moussed up, with a large silver barette that I'd borrowed from Steph's jewelry box earlier in the week. As I ate my breakfast with my much-bedraggled and grumpily silent sister I pondered what the coming term would mean for me. I found that I was really looking forward to it. I knew that if put in just a bit more effort that I could improve my grades enormously, and for the first time ever, I was determined to do so. I knew now that I really wanted to get sufficient grades that I would be able to get into the University of my choice. I resolved too, that I would join the swimming club, put in as much practice as possible, and try out for the swimming team. If I would manage to get decent times then being on the swim team would keep me off the hated football or rugby pitch forever. Maybe I could get a job? Now that I had all these hard-earned secretarial skills, I ought to be able to get something to get me a little extra money on weekends or evenings. Dad had often hinted that he could find something for me in his firm if I wanted to. I would ask him about it when he got back.

Steph. jolted me out of my musings. "Don't forget that you need to change as soon as you get home. We need to get around to Ellen's by six o' clock."

I nodded. "What about the agency?" I asked. "Will they need to talk to me about today about where I'll be working next week?"

Steph. shrugged. "Dunno. You should ring them. Don't forget to try to sound like a man on the phone, not some sissy."

I gave her a look, but not enough to let her think she was getting to me. I was tired of her hung-over moods. I rinsed my breakfast things and got ready to go to work. There was no point waiting for Steph. She was still in her pajamas, and I didn't want to be late on my last day at this job

Before I left Steph called out after me. "Did anyone ring for me last night?"

I frowned. I didn't want to get into telling her about Chérie's call, and I knew she'd want me to repeat the whole thing verbatim, picking apart each word for hidden meanings.

"No. No calls." I shouted back. I didn't really want to lie to her. I decided I'd tell her later, and claim that that the call had slipped my mind in the morning. So, with a light heart, I stepped down the road into town, feeling very pleased with how I looked and feeling very happy with the world in general.

The day flew by. I had a few pangs in the morning, remembering my spying of the night before, but nothing was out of place or unusual. I returned to my usual duties and by four o clock, I found myself at a loose end, with nothing left to do. Even Mrs. Clark was stumped.

"I don't know Phil. You seem to have finished everything here. Actually, we usually finish a bit early on Fridays, so if you like, you can too. Just ask Mr. Furze if there's anything else he needs you to do, but if not, you can go home.

I thanked her and went looking for Furze. He wasn't in his office, but one of his clerks told me to look in Field's office. My heart jumped a little. I hadn't seen Fields so far that day, and had thought I would be able to avoid him. I knocked on the office door and walked in. Thankfully, Furze was there on his own. Fields either wasn't in, or had gone home already. Mr. Furze was sorting through the 'lost' files that I'd found during the week.

"Ah. Phil. Our little detective." He said, looking up. "You've done very well. I hadn't thought you'd be able to find as many as you did, and our files are now all ship-shape again. Are you finishing up now?"

"Yes." I said, blushing a little at his compliment. 'Little detective' was a bit too close to the bone. "Mrs. Clark says that she doesn't have anything else for me to do. Do you?"

"Nope. I'm finishing up here myself. Myself and a few of the other are going over the road to Grainger's Pub if you want to join us?" He picked up the files and crossed over towards me.

"Eh. I might just do that." I said, hesitantly. I fancied a drink, and had no need to hurry home at this early hour. I considered perhaps seeing if Carol was nearly finished for the day too. I felt guilty about neglecting to call on her for lunch. But first, there was something I had to do.

"Mr. Furze. Would it be okay if I rang my agency from here? I need to speak to them about my assignment for next week."

"Of course." He replied. "Be our guest. Use Simon's phone. He's out of town today. See you across the road." And he left with the files.

I sat down at Simon Field's desk. I had the William's agency number in my handbag. After closing the door I dialed the number.

"William's agency."

"Hi, this is Ken Carter." I said. "Stephanie Carter spoke to you during the week about a job for me next week?"

After some rummaging and checking, the girl at Williams told me that they had some assignments for me at another firm in the Davies building. An insurance agency on the floor below. She took some details and asked me to call in on them on Monday morning to sign some papers. I would start at the insurance firm at ten.

"Actually Ken, could you also collect your cousin Phil's paycheck? It'll be ready for her next week, and your Sister said she was staying with you. Can you pick that up on Monday too?"

"Sure." I replied, and after saying good-bye I hung up, elated. That was a stroke of good luck. I dialed Image's number, and asked for Carol. I was told she was with a client, but would be finished soon. They said they'd pass on the message about Grainger's and I hung up. My phoning done, I skipped out. I said my good-byes to the others in the admin. office and went downstairs. In the lobby, I went into the ladies toilets. Luckily, there was no-one there. I tidied my makeup and brushed my hair, finally, adding another coat of lipstick. As I finished, I started, as someone came in behind me. I closed my eyes in relief as I saw it was Steph.

"Aha! Caught you, you pervert." She said. "What do you think you're doing in the ladies?"

"Shhh." I whispered. "What if there was someone in one of the cubicles?"

"There isn't." She said. "Are you finished for the day? I'm done too." She went into one of the cubicles and we continued talking over the door.

"Yes." I said. "I'm going to go over to Grainger's for a quick drink. I rang Carol, I'm meeting her there. Want to come?"

"Oh, yes." Said Steph. "It's the best drink of the week, the first on Friday after work."

Soon, we were pushing open the door of the busy pub. It was packed with shop and office staff, finished for the day. Thankfully, my own office crowd didn't have a table, but were just standing in the crowded open space, so I could talk to Steph without having to make introductions and make a lot of small talk. Soon, Carol came in and we chatted and laughed for an hour or so before Steph started to make 'Come on' eyes at me. Carol whined at us, but we explained that we had to go or else we'd be late for dinner. Before we left she forced me to agree to go shopping with her on Saturday afternoon. I agreed, under duress, not wanting to have to explain that this would have to be as a boy.

Steph rolled her eyes at me as we made arrangements to meet up. As we left, she said. "Are you sure she remembers that you're actually a boy? She seems a bit dizzy sometimes."

"I think so." I said, grimacing."I mean, she's seen me, she did my hair and everything."

Steph. laughed. "And what about Ellen? What would she say if you knew you were going shopping with another girl?" She laughed again at my pained expression. It was true, life was complicated. I would not miss this aspect of returning to an all-male existence.

We walked home - Steph hadn't brought her jeep with her that morning. We chatted and laughed on the way, looking, as far as anyone would be able to tell, like a couple of girl friends, or maybe sisters, sharing a chat and a private joke. It struck me, as we walked along, that we had come a long way from even a few weeks before. I wondered if Stephanie would always have preferred to have a sister than a brother, or what things would have been like if she had been born a boy and me as a girl. I would miss her when she went into the sixth form, and then off to some University. It was odd to think that we would see each other less and less as the years went by. I would miss these times, even as brief as they had been.

At home, I changed as quickly as I could, putting all my girl clothes away in their hiding places. I had a shower and then went downstairs to put on a clothes wash. Steph took a long time to change but emerged eventually looking rather uncharacteristically sheepish in a smart navy dress and jacket. I didn't say anything, apart from commenting on how late we were. She gave me a shy smile. It was odd how her manner changed so dramatically with the clothes she wore. When she dressed in jeans or combats she was her usual aggressive, bitchy self. Dressing for work, even in quite feminine clothes seemed to bring out an even bossier and forceful personality, but when she put on a dress or a casual skirt she seemed to be unable to prevent her latent femininity from coming to come to the surface, making her seem vulnerable, almost submissive.

We called a taxi to take us to Ellen's. While we waited I did a quick tour of the house, looking for anything that might betray my life as a girl over the last couple of weeks. We would not have much time the next day before Uncle Ken checked up on us, and then Dad and Chérie would return home. I didn't find anything incriminating. I checked the video cabinet and made sure that "Mom's" video was in it's original hiding place. I made a mental note to put all of Dad's papers and that copy of "Gent" back in their room as soon as possible.

The taxi arrived and ten minutes later, we were standing in front of Ellen's apartment pressing the buzzer. I checked my appearance in the left on the way up. I wished I had better clothes. I decided to get some advice on what to wear from Carol when we went shopping. I'd ask Ellen to come with us if I got a chance that evening. I was still thinking about this as we stepped from the lift to the lobby and it took me a moment or two to comprehend what was happening. As soon as the loft door pinged open, a man who had been standing in the lobby whirled around and confronted us. I had only a moment to recognise the scowling face of Kurt Andrews before his fist slammed into my face and everything exploded in pain.

I fell backwards into the lift, hearing Steph scream and Kurt roaring something at me. The pain from my nose and cheek expanded, blotting everything out. I could feel the rough carpet tiles of the lift at the back of my head and then, the lift doors closing gently against my body. Steph was gabbing at my head and shouting and beyond her, it seemed someone else was shouting at Kurt. I tried to speak, but my lips felt funny and as I grasped for something to pull myself up with I felt the loft floor move beneath me. The sound of shouting receded and I thought "Ah. The lift is closing and bringing me back to the ground floor." This seemed like the best thing to happen under the circumstances and I felt pleased as I fell asleep, amazed that I could manage to nap when the pain was so intense. Of course, as I realised later, the lift couldn't close - I was stuck in the door. They had to carry me inside and splash my face with cold water before I began to come to. I'd only been unconscious for a minute or so, but Mrs. Purdue was determined to call an ambulance. Only Steph's insistence that they should wait "Before wasting the emergency service's time." Convinced her to hold off dialing 999.

My senses came back pretty quickly. The actual incident in the lobby seemed very distant, but I quickly realised what had happened. While Steph and Mrs. Purdue whispered angrily at each other, Ellen dabbed cold water at my swelling bruises and explained quietly. It seemed that Kurt and Gordon Ansell had had a conversation during the week. Gordon had insisted that Ellen and Steph's cousin Phil were an item. Kurt had been furious at the suggestion that his ex-girlfriend was a lesbian, and claimed that she was seeing me. He'd worked himself into something of an angry rage, and after having quite a bit too much to drink earlier that evening had marched over to Ellen's to have it out with her.

He hadn't got past Mrs. Purdue. She'd stood in the door and threatened to phone the police if he didn't go and stop causing a scene in her lobby. In the end, she'd told him that, yes, as far as she was concerned, Ellen was going out with Kenneth Carter and that she (Mrs. Purdue) was quite pleased about that. Kurt had been waiting in the lobby for the lift when we had arrived. What had prompted him to hit me nobody knew, but they were all agreed that he was very drunk. He'd left pretty quickly after that and I had been dragged into the Purdue's living room by the three angry women. Ellen seemed very concerned. Despite the pain I smiled at her.

"Don't worry." I said. "It's just a punch. I'll be fine."

"Mum want's to phone the police." She whispered. "She was going to already before you even arrived. Now she's determined to. She's going to tell them everything."

That wouldn't do. The police would take a statement from Kurt. He might mention the mysterious cousin Phil, which could lead to further complications. I sat up.

"Mrs. Purdue." I said. "There's no need to call the police. I'll be fine, and I have no intention of pressing charges. I don't want to have to go through all that, and Kurt would get into a lot of trouble. Let me sort this out myself."

"Look Ken." She said to me, her arms folded and her mouth set into a determined line. "That boy has to be taught a lesson. He can't go around thumping people just because of his wounded pride. It's not just you either. He was extremely rude to me, and you didn't even hear the things he was saying about Ellen. Horrid, untrue things."

She gave Ellen a look. I could probably imagine what he'd said, and from the look on Mrs. Purdue's face, this may have not been the first time she'd heard such things. Suddenly, I realised that this evening may have had an ulterior motive. She hadn't wanted just to check me out, but also to see if what she'd heard was true about her daughter. This situation had the potential to blow up in all kinds of unpleasant ways. I gave Steph a look.

"Mrs. Purdue, I understand, and I can understand your anger at all this being dragged onto your front doorstep, but involving the police won't help. They'll drag all of this all around the town, asking questions, taking statements, raising no end of fuss and innuendo."

I let that sink in a little before going on."And no matter what you say, I won't bring charges. It's my right. I'm sorry, but I would rather just leave all this to settle itself."

Steph chimed in. "Yes, Mrs. Purdue. Our parents will be back tomorrow. We'll tell them all about this obliviously, and our Dad will no doubt want to talk to you."

"Oh! Your parents" She said, suddenly remembering that they were away on honeymoon.

Steph cut her off. "Exactly. Let us talk to them first. My Dad will decide what to do. He may want to just talk to Kurt's father himself, but if Ken doesn't want to go to the police, I think we should leave this up to him."

That was a trump card. Our Dad's primacy where his own children's affairs were concerned took precedence over Mrs. Purdue's outrage over her home being invaded. I could see her weighing the different competing imperatives in her mind before her shoulders sagged in resignation.

"All right." She said. "But I will be talking to your Father as soon as he comes home."

We agreed, and then looked around awkwardly. With the crisis passed, or at least deferred, we were unsure what to do next.

"Right, well, I'll finish setting the table." Said Ellen, and after giving my hand a squeeze, she went into the dining room.

Mrs. Purdue fetched me another cold compress from the kitchen. My cheek throbbed painfully. Before sitting down to eat I had a look at my face in the bathroom mirror. I would have a bruise and, probably a black eye. It was just as well that I didn't have to go to work the next day. Still, I felt proud of my wound. Despite the fact that I hadn't even tried to land a punch on my attacker it felt wonderfully manly to have had a fight over my girlfriend. Coming off the loser didn't seem to detract any from the experience, and I'd managed to look pretty heroic and staunch in the aftermath. Ellen had looked at me with a new respect, I thought as I'd told her mother not to call the cops. Still, it would be better if it didn't hurt so damn much.

I found it easier to forget the incident as we ate than the others. I caught them looking at my blackening eye as we chatted. Mrs. Purdue was fairly gentle in her questioning, and probably asked fewer probing questions about myself and her daughter than she might have otherwise. Steph was quite subdued too, and on her best behavior. Ellen wasn't exactly skittish either, so I found myself making most of the running in the conversation. Mrs. Purdue offered myself and Steph a couple of glasses of wine. "In the circumstances." Which we gladly accepted, although I found that it just made the pain worse rather than better and by the time it was nine o clock, I was ready to go. I'd taken a couple of paracetamol earlier, but they were wearing off, and I wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep.

Before going, I made arrangements with Ellen to meet and go shopping with Carol the next day. She gave me a little frown at the mention of the leggy hairdresser, but let it pass. At the lift, out of sight of her Mum and Steph, she gave me a deep kiss.

"I love you." She breathed into my ear, and I felt my heart pound hard.

Later in the taxi on the way home, Steph laid her cool hand on my cheek to feel it's warmth. I was reminded of the last time she had done that, soon after she'd given me all her old lingerie. She looked into my eye, possibly remembering the same incident.

"You'll have a shiner tomorrow, little Brother." She said.

"Yes." I replied. "I'd say something about kicking Kurt Andrews's butt, but we both know that won't happen." I said ruefully.

"Hmmm. You leave him to me." She said.
I gave her a quizzical look. I didn't doubt that she could make life unpleasant for someone that she'd decided to get even with, and if I was honest, I wouldn't mind if she made the big lump suffer but I was surprised at her.

"Best to let it lie, Steph." I said. "We don't want this to blow up into a big scandal. This is a small town."

But she just looked out the window of the taxi and refused to reply.

I woke in the early hours of the morning. I'd taken another couple of painkillers before going to bed, but when they wore off the pain drove away my troubled sleep and I came awake, gasping and sweating, aware that I'd had a nightmare but unable to remember anything of it except a feeling of terrible dread.

I felt my face in the darkness. My cheek was tender and my eye was swollen. I got up, feeling cold in my skimpy nightdress and panties. I pulled on a jumper and padded downstairs. I moved in darkness into the kitchen, not wanting to sear my eyes with the light. I felt my way to the medicine drawer and then to the sink, downing three paracetamol with one draught of cold water.

I sighed, and sipped more cool water. I padded over to the fridge to fetch some ice.

Could I hear something? I thought so. Voices coming from the lounge? I crept over to the hallway. I could see from the blue flicker coming from the doorway that the TV was playing, with the sound turned down very low. I crept nearer and moved so that I could look in without being seen.

Stephanie was sitting on the floor of the lounge, right up in front of the TV. The sound was very low. She was watching a video tape of Mom dancing. Dad had taken it a few years before at a competition in London. The focus was off and the camera wobbled and shook as it tried to track Mom's graceful sweeps over the dancefloor in the arms of her partner, and probably lover, of the season.

I crept away, and back upstairs, deciding to forget the ice. Bac,k in bed, I lay awake, waiting for the painkillers to take effect. What I had discovered in Dad's papers and the files from Field's office was something very simple, but shocking, at least to me, and I suspected it would shock Steph too if she knew. What it was, was this. Chérie had had an affair with another man while she was married to Gordon Burley. My Dad. The grounds for their divorce had been infidelity, on Chérie's part. I had discovered a note in my Dad's interview file. The note referred to a another interview, the transcript of which had been removed from the file. The note referred to a statement by my mother which acknowledged the veracity of the details contained in my Dad's interviews, and also to the details of his affair with a "Mrs. B." The "B" was Mrs. Burley - Chérie. It had to be. This affair seemed to have triggered the deterioration of my parent's marriage, certainly, things seemed to have gone wrong from that date. It was amazing, my Mother seemed to have been prepared to carry on with a series of men, albeit with my Father's approval, but not to have been able to tolerate my Dad's affair with Chérie. It seemed so unreasonable. Was it because Chérie was younger and prettier? Had my Dad hidden the affair from her? There was an infuriating lack of detail in the dry legalese of the divorce papers. What was clear though, was that My Dad had attempted to stave off the divorce. He did not want Mom to leave, but she had insisted and forced the split. How could she have been so hypocritical?

What was also clear however, was that she had not insisted on many rights that she might otherwise have been able to contest - she could have had custody of us, but she had waived that. She could have kept this house, but she had waived that too. In the end, she had agreed to a very small once-off payment and some of the effects. That was all. No house, no kids, no alimony. She'd just broken away from her family, leaving the way clear for Chérie.

I didn't know what to do with this information. I had wondered about telling Steph. Now, I felt that I shouldn't tell her. I didn't know how she would react, or even if she would believe it, accept it. Did she have a right to know? Maybe, and I felt guilty keeping anything from her. But I just could not see how it would help. More and more, I thought Mom was right. We should try to get on with our lives, forget the past and make the most of our new stepmother. Try to help her to become part of the family. In the end, as I'd told Steph, there was no actual evidence at all that she had anything but love for our Dad. If Mom could get over this, then we should too. I closed my eyes, tried to think about sleep, but something other than the pain was keeping me awake. I got out of bed and went over to my desk drawer, unlocked it. Along with all the copies of Chérie's divorce papers I'd found another document. It was strange - an invoice to a company called "Stars UK" for film processing. There were no other details on the invoice, except that the addressee's name on the invoice was "S. Smith, c/o Stars UK" which had an office in London. What had it to do with Chérie and Gordon Burley's divorce. Nothing it seemed, but there was a lot of seemingly unrelated papers in there, which could have been anything. Not all of them were obviously to do with the division of assets or the agreement that Field had drawn up for them. The name, "S. Smith" had intrigued me though - could it be Sadie Smith,one of Chérie's US-based pornstar aliases? It was. At the very bottom of the page was a tiny legend - a standard disclaimer of legal responsibilities for Stars UK Ltd. but which referred to another company. "Gladiator Productions, trading in the United Kingdom as Stars UK....."

Gladiator was Chérie's agent's company in the US, which had owned copyright on a lot of her work that I had found on the 'net. The invoice was dated only four months ago. It could only mean that Chérie was working, in the UK, and that Field was her unnamed agent, or at least involved with her adult modeling career.

So what? I asked myself again. When I'd first worked out what this piece of paper meant, I'd almost rushed to Steph to show her. But,as I'd thought then, after a moment - so what? I could hardly take up a superior moral position, having just wanked over pictures of her - while wearing her wedding dress no less. And if she was working - did that really matter? Was it likely that she was keeping it secret from our Dad? Possibly, but I'd no reason to think he would mind. He'd managed to live with an unfaithful wife for years - this was mild in comparison. What about Field though? He was involved with her in some way at least. But despite what I or Steph might suspect, there was no evidence that they were lovers.

I put the document away and got back into bed. I would do nothing, wait and see, and try not to upset anyone, least of all Steph.

I closed my eyes, sure that I would find it very difficult to fall asleep, but I was so tired, I must have drifted off very quickly. Whether it was from the painkillers or the thump to my head, my sleep was filled with vivid dreams. Most were just confused and chaotic, but when I awoke the last dream was still with me. It had been wonderful, and I regretted waking up and losing it. In it, I the feeling I had had before had returned with almost the same intensity. The details were already fading from my mind, but I could remember that I had been working in some sort of clothes shop. I had felt the same of contentment and simple happiness, but it seemed that where before the feeling had been associated from wearing female clothes, now I knew that there was some other reason for it. It wasn't the clothes, despite the fact that I was surrounded by them, it was something else. It had seemed so clear in the dream. In fact I could remember thinking while I dreamed - "Ah, now I know why I'm so happy, it's because…" but now, it was gone. It had faded with the dream as I'd awoken.
Suddenly, I realised that I could hear voices downstairs. It was Uncle Jack talking to Stephanie. I looked at the clock. It was after nine! I leaped out of bed and stripped off my silky nightie and panties, stuffing them under my pillow. I dressed quickly, and after a quick look around, I went downstairs.
Uncle Jack was having a coffee with a rather chipper-looking Stephanie in the kitchen. They gave me knowing smiles at my tousled appearance as I joined them for some late breakfast. Jack chatted away, mostly about school - he was a teacher at another school in a nearby town - and about the imminent return of our Dad and our new Stepmother. He asked me about my office job and I tried to give him answers without sounding too evasive but giving as few specifics as possible. He mused about the possibility of me working for my Dad during the term, or the during the holidays, and reminded me about the need to study for my exams that year.

He asked Steph if she'd show him the garden - and I hurried back upstairs to shower and get ready to go out to meet Carol and Ellen. By the time I returned downstairs, he was on his way out the door. Steph and I waved good-bye with a feeling of some relief. When he'd gone, I noticed that he'd left a large bouquet of flowers with a note welcoming Chérie and Dad home. It was a nice gesture, I thought, but Steph. scowled at the spray of blooms.
"Hmmmph. He told me to put them in water for her." She said. "Fuck that, she can do it herself when she gets back." And she left them on the hall table and went back upstairs.

I thought for a moment, and then picked them up and brought them through to the kitchen. I filled a vase and arranged the flowers as best as I could. I put them in the porch so they would see them when they returned tomorrow. Steph. came back down as I was finishing. She had her coat on. She gave me a look that told me what she thought of my gesture.

"I'm going out now." She said. "Greg and I are driving over to Swansea for the day - I should be back around nine this evening."

"I'm going out too." I said. "Shopping, remember?"

"Yes, I remember." She replied, testily. "Be careful about where you go and what you say - don't let those girls let you leave a trail of gossiping shop assistants behind you. This town is too small to get away with that kind of thing."

I nodded.

"And another thing - there was a letter from Mom that arrived yesterday. We missed it when we came home yesterday, but I found it last night."

I frowned. It sounded a little fishy, but I wasn't prepared to start questioning my sister.

"Where is it?" I asked.

Steph. looked a little put out by the question.

"I have it here." She said, patting her inside breast pocket. "It's just making arrangements for us to visit her at half term."

"Is it addressed to both of us?" I asked. "Can I see it?"

She looked for a moment, as if she was going to refuse, but relented, and, reluctantly produced the letter and handed it to me.

"Okay, see you later. Remember, be careful." She said, and strode out the door.

I noticed that she was wearing a skirt, her legs bare. She looked great. Swansea was by the sea - I hoped she and Greg would have a nice time. The weather looked like it might either be one of the last really good days of Summer, or else the beginning of real Autumn weather. As I pulled out Mom's letter, I wondered if it had prompted Steph to take out that old video last night.

The letter was short and to the point. Mom had rented a French holiday farmhouse in the North of France for our half-term holidays. She said that she had already sent a letter to our Dad to ask if we could go and spend a week with her in the half-term holidays. This was great news, I thought. I'd really enjoy a holiday with my Mom and Stephanie.

In the meantime though, I had some work to do. There were still some chores to finish before Dad and Chérie returned - laundry especially, and I hadn't completely finished the gardening I'd promised Dad that I'd do. I wouldn't be able to dawdle with the shopping. I locked up the house and headed into town to the shopping centre where we'd arranged to meet.

It was a warm day, and though it wasn't far, I was pretty hot and sweaty by the time I arrived. From the doorway, I spied Ellen and Carol at the bottom of the escalator, chatting while they waited. I was slightly relieved. It was silly, but I had been apprehensive about telling Ellen that I'd also invited Carol on the shopping trip. Thankfully, now it was obvious. Ellen and Carol were both better dressed for the late Summer weather than I was. I looked enviously at Ellen's light summer dress and bare legs and Carol's miniskirt and blouse. She was wearing very sheer flesh-coloured pantyhose with a lot of lycra. They looked fabulous, and her platform heels made her look very tall next to my more petite girlfriend. I was right beside them before they noticed my approach. Ellen looked a little surprised when I tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled round, eyes wide before recognising me.

"Oh Ken It's you." She said, and then gave me a wide smile that made my heart beat faster.

Carol eyed me with a cold eye. "Geez. You really don't know how to dress as a boy do you? No wonder you spend your time dressed as a girl."

I blushed, partly at her all-too-true comment, but also at the mention of my girl-self. Strangely, it was more embarrasing to admit to now that I wasn't wearing a dress or skirt. I had no protective camoflage, I just looked like myself - Ken,rather shabby and unnatractive.

"Yeah, I suppose." I said. "I have a little money, I want to get some new clothes."

"Well, lets do that first." Said Ellen. "Then, we can get a coffee or something before starting on the girl shopping. "At that, they looked at each other and Carol giggled a little.

"Seriously, guys." I said, trying to sound earnest. "Don't mess about. It wouldn't be funny if my secret got out. Seriously"

Carol took me the arm. "Oh, don't be so wet Ken. We'll be careful." And they giggled again, as we started off down the mall together.

Ellen must have given a lot of thought to what she wanted me to get, as she lead us straight to a couple of clothes shops where she pounced on jeans, tops, shoes and tee-shirts, and bundled me into changing rooms without much disucussion. Carol selected some items too, but I found myself left out of the decision-making process pretty much altogether. I didn't mind though, I trusted Ellen to pick good stuff, better than I would have myself, and she was very good at finding bargains. I was surprised that she was able to buy effectively three complete new changes of clothes, and a jacket from my savings. The clothes were stylish and cool but quite masculine. I looked much like one of Steph or Ellen's older friends from school.

As I tried on the last outfit in a cubicle, I reflected that the change in my appearance would be very obvious to my friends at school when the new year began. For a moment, I wondered if I would try to ditch the guys I used to hang out with in school. None of them had girlfriends, not like Ellen, and they were all really geeky. I felt a pang at my callousness. I wouldnt cut anyone, that would be an assholeish thing to do.

When we were done, I bundled my own clothes into a carrier bag, and kept the last outfit on. It was a striped cotton top with dark chino-type slacks. Kind of preppy, but pretty cool too.

"Thanks girls. " I said, and gave Ellen a peck on the cheek.

There was an old-fashioned ice-cream place at the mall, and Carol wanted to go there. We ordered coffees and ice creams and chatted about work and school and tv shows while we waited for our order.

"So where is Stephanie today?" asked Ellen.

"She's gone to Swansea with Gregg for the day." I said.

"Oh, right. I think she mentioned something about that before."

"Stephanie's your sister, that I met before?" asked Carol.

"Yup. She's been working too, and she wants to make the most of the weekend before our parents get back."

"What's with that?" Asked Carol. "Isn't it going to be weird having a new Mother who's not a lot older than you?"

"Well, maybe." I answered, and then reddened a little, catching Ellen's meaningful glance. "It's not like she's actually going to be my Mother, she'll be more like my Dad's live-in girlfriend."

"And do you see your real Mom often?" Asked Carol.

"Sure, she was around just the other day. Actually, she wants me and Steph to come on a holiday with her at half-term."

  

  

  

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