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They Think I am a Woman! - Part 15
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 16:02:39 +0000 UTC** CHECK OUT THE NEW AUDIO VOICE ......
‘Oh, Derek, don’t keep us in suspenders, what shall we do to him?’
‘Well, how about this, I know a lovely little policeman who owes me a favour.’
‘I love men in uniform.’
‘Hush up, Ronald. Now he may just have access to some undercover mike type stuff, and young Toni here could be wired up and get him to confess without knowing what’s going on. What do you think?’
‘You’ve been watching too much television,’ I said with disdain.
‘Don’t knock it, love. I love cops and robbers.’ There was just a touch of sulkiness in the voice and on the face.
I looked at him. It wasn’t a very good idea, but it was the best one anyone could come up with. We did discuss other possibilities, though.
‘Can’t you tell your uncle, dear?’ said Derek after a few minutes thought.
‘No. How will it look, five minutes after getting the job, if I tell my step-uncle that my boss is a pervert and wants to get into my panties and do unspeakable things to me? I don’t want to use my family connections to solve this problem. I need to stand on my own two feet.’
Ronald’s idea of whipping him up with a whisk wasn’t taken too seriously, and my idea about going home and cuddling under the duvet with my teddy was also met with a certain amount of negativity.
‘Do I know this policeman?’ I said, going back to the original idea, and almost knowing the answer before I heard it.
‘’Don’t know, hon, do you? Dave Stebbings 'is his name?’
‘Does he happen to go round with a policeman called Mick Something?’
‘Not Mick Something; Mick Smith.’
‘Bloody hell,’ I muttered under my breath.
‘Why, do you know them?’
‘We’ve met.’
‘There are nice boys,’ said Ronald.
I coughed politely and said, ‘Are they, um, ah, gay?’
‘Bent as a diesel-driven doughnut, dear.’
‘Oh.’
‘Anyway, the only thing is,’ continued Derek, ‘you are going to have to get back your resignation letter and then go into work tomorrow. I’ll speak to Dave in the morning and see if he can come up with the goods?’
‘Goods?’
‘You know, Mike or wire thingy. I don’t know the technical term for it.’
I thought for a moment. Did I want to go ahead with Derek’s madcap scheme? At least I wasn’t alone in this. I now had Ronald and Derek’s help, and when Sheila found out about what the slime ball did to me, she would want to put his balls in the mincer and feed the neighbourhood cats. I crossed my legs at that thought; not pretty.
I blew my nose on a tissue, wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and squeaked, ‘OK, let's do it.’
‘’Good girl,’ said Ronald enthusiastically.
‘If I didn’t love Ronald, I could fall for you,’ said Derek with a grin.
‘Steady tiger.’ Said Ronald affectionately, whilst I giggled like a schoolgirl.
Well, then I had to go over to the security man and get the letter back, didn't I? Flirting is tough work when you don't mean it and lack match practice.
After saying goodbye to Derek and Ronald, I caught a cab outside (not a black BMW. I’m not THAT dumb) and in next to no time I was home.
As I arrived, I noticed a man in a long brown hooded anorak lurking outside, but I took no real notice. I had things on my mind.
I let myself in and plopped down on my bed, just shy of exhausted.
It had been a turbulent day, to say the least. Now, though, for some strange reason, I was feeling more positive.
I was really more outgoing, if a little wimpy, being a girl than I ever was as a boy.
As a boy, I was a doormat. A wallflower, in short, a non-entity.
I had let my stepfather walk all over me and get rid of me at the earliest opportunity.
Through Sheila, I had found a new life as a girl, and I wasn’t about to let a creep like Roger Pilkington mess with that.
‘Well,’ I said to myself, ‘sod him.’
I was tired, so in no time I was tucked up in bed. Well, not, no time actually. Do you know how long it takes to get ready for bed when you have to scrape off makeup, moisturise, brush your hair, clean and floss your teeth, ya de ya de ya…?
Anyway, eventually I was in bed, tucked up with my little pink heffalump (don’t ask) and was reading a well-thumbed copy of Bridget Jones Diary.
The next thing I knew, there was a crash coming from the kitchen and a muffled, ‘bugger.’
I cracked my eyes open and saw a chink of light from the curtained window and sounds coming from the kitchen.
I glanced blearily at the clock; it was 7.00am.
Muffling a yawn, I got up, scratching my bum in a ladylike fashion, and went into the bathroom to relieve myself.
A few minutes later, I wandered into the kitchen to find Sheila tucking into bacon and eggs.
‘Anything left for me?’
Sheila had her mouth full and vaguely waved her fork at the frying pan.
Not needing a further invite, I grabbed a plate and was soon tucking into my cholesterol fix of the day.
‘Well,’ said Sheila, wiping her lips on a tissue, ‘that was nice. How did your first day go yesterday? Did everyone love you and your witty, sparkling personality?
I finished chomping a piece of bacon before answering.
‘It didn’t go quite like I planned.’
‘What do you mean? You haven’t been sacked already, have you?’
‘Not quite, but I did get to hand my notice in, though.’
‘WHAT!’
‘Well, it was like this…’
After telling Sheila what happened, which took some time because she did keep interrupting with expletives, some of which I hadn’t heard before, she looked at me as if I were nuts or something.
‘So, let me get this straight, you are going to get wired up, go back into the lions' den, get incriminating evidence and get the sod sacked?’
‘Erm, yes.’
She frowned, looked very unhappy, and said, ‘Don’t I get to hit him at least?’
‘No.’
‘Not just a little bit? I’ll go for the body and not leave him permanently damaged.’
‘I don’t want you to go to prison.’
‘Bummer. Did I ever tell you that I was off men?’
Twice a day for the past fortnight.
We cleared up the food plates ,and I was just about to change out of my nightie when there was a knock at the door. Sheila was in the shower so I answered.
‘Who is this at this time of the morning?’
I opened the door and there were my two favourite plods, Mick and Dave.
They took one look at me and went a stereotypically bright red.
I joined them as I realised that I was wearing one of my more flimsy concoctions.
I quickly grabbed a robe and hastily put it on, whilst the two policemen looked everywhere but at me.
‘Sorry about that,’ I said, ‘come in, please.’
They walked in just as Sheila came into the room wearing her birthday suit and drying her hair.
‘Oh shit,’ she said, running into the bedroom and slamming the door shut.
Dave coughed and said, ‘Erm, we had a conversation with a couple of bikers we know called Derek and Ronald.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘They said that you may need our unofficial assistance.’
‘Um, did they tell you why?’
‘Yes, said Dave, ‘they did. It’s highly unorthodox and frowned on by the powers that be, but we don’t like people like this on our patch, and you did assist us with that effing BMW driver, so we are willing to help you out.’
‘As long as it’s understood,’ said Mick, ‘that we didn’t help you in any way, shape, or form and if this goes tits up, er, sorry. If you get caught, you take the wrap, we won’t go down with you.’
Did these people have their own clichéd language or something or do they watch too much TV? Both I guessed with just a tinge of pique.
Dave handed me a Tesco’s carrier bag.
‘When you finish with it, give it to Derek or Ronald, and they'll get it back to us. It’s straightforward, putting it on and that. The instructions are in the bag.’
‘Yes,’ said Mick, ‘Even I can work it, so it must be dead easy. Now, if the perp plays you up or is still a threat to your person after you have the goods on him, let us know, and we’ll make sure that he has a little run-in with the law. Perhaps a bit of porridge will do him good. He wouldn’t like it in the stir, no way.’
Years of watching police programs got me through that, and I was able to struggle through with some sort of interpretation of what they were actually saying. I realised in their strange way, they were trying to help me.
Dave clasped Mick’s hand somewhat affectionately, I thought.
‘That’s enough, Dave.’
He let go of Mick’s hand as if he were being scalded.
‘Sorry, love.’
‘Shh, not in front of the public.’
‘Oops!’
With that the two ‘buddies’ left in a hurry.
‘Thanks again,’ I said to their retreating backs.
I looked at the clock. It was time to get ready for work.
Before doing that, a little light went on in my head. I had an idea. Who said blonds were daft?
I texted Bridget from the salon and sent a message, ‘a matter of life and death, can you do a quick 20 min makeover before work?’
‘Be here in 30 mins and I’ll see what I can do.’
Lucky she started early.
I put the mobile down and proceeded to run around getting dressed and behaving sort of like a slightly demented headless chicken. At least I didn’t have to put my face on.
I chose my clothes carefully. I wanted to have an efficient yet sexy look. I think I did OK because Sheila didn’t comment, but to be fair, she was looking slightly comatose by now.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ said Sheila, yawning and ignoring my frantic attempts to get ready.
‘Get some sleep; I’ll text you to let you know how I’m getting on.’
‘OK, but don’t take any prisoners. I have taught you well, grasshopper. It is now time to change from a caterpillar to a butterfly, spread your wings, little one, and go kick ass.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Oh, go to work, ya daft cow.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Don’t be cheeky.’
‘Bye.’
I rushed out and ran down the stairs. Then I stopped. The last thing I wanted to do was pong and get all sweaty. I know, girls glow, but I didn’t want that either. I took three deep breaths to help me calm down and then strolled out of the house and down the steps.
I sort of noticed in passing that the man in the hooded anorak was on the other side of the road again, but didn’t take much notice. I had a lot on my mind.
As luck would have it, a bus was just arriving at the stop when I arrived, so in no time I was outside Bridget’s salon.
I walked in and there was Bridget, sipping coffee with an inquisitive look on her face.
‘Well, you don’t look like you are dying. What’s the prob?’
I explained in some detail what had happened to me with Roger and the wire and everything.
She laughed after I had finished and just said. ‘Wow, you do lead an interesting life. OK, what do you want, smart and sexy or slutty, and I’m ready for anything?’
I gulped, undecided about what I should do.
‘Um, something between?’ I squeaked.
‘In between it is then. Put this cape on and let’s get to work, grasshopper.
'Christ, what's with all this bloody grasshopper stuff? All they do is mess up your windscreen on country drives.' I thought, rolling my eyes.
It took her 25 minutes to transform me. I looked in the mirror and immediately little Percy perked up, reminding me that I was not all girl yet.
I looked like any man's dream of heaven. My eyes were huge with the effect of the slightly heavy eye shadow and several layers of mascara. My blushed and blond face looked like I had spent several days in an expensive hot resort. My lips were about twice as big and pouty as before. They looked as if they had been stung like a bee, or was that by a bee, well, you know, all swollen.
My hair, I had no idea how she teased and shaped it like that, but it looked nothing like before. I struggle to put it into words, but it looked like, erm, glamorous but slightly on the wild side.
She had used gel, back combing, rollers, and other tricks of her trade, and she finished it all off with industrial-strength hairspray. I think that my hair would hold together in a hurricane if it didn’t break off, and I hoped that I would be able to do something with it after I got round to washing it. I might need a chisel.
Damn, chisel or not, I was hot. I was wearing a pale pink satin blouse and black leather knee-length skirt, black sheer stockings, a suspender belt, and calf-length, highly polished black boots. Sheila had taken me shopping the other day and persuaded me to get some clubbing stuff. This was the result.
‘Bugger me,’ I whispered.
‘Someone will, with you looking like that, dear. Not bad in under half an hour, eh?’
‘Thanks, Bridget, you are brilliant.’
‘Can you let me know what happens?’
‘Can I ring you tonight?’
‘OK. Hon, don’t forget.’
I gave her a quick kiss and a hug, and I was out of there.
Once again, the travel Gods were on my side, and the bus turned up a few seconds after I got to the stop.
I climbed on and paid my money to the driver. He was drooling, I don’t know why.
I found an empty seat at the back.
As I sat down, I was aware that my skirt had ridden up a bit and I was showing more of my legs than I wished. My suspenders were showing, and I quickly stood up, adjusted myself with a contortionate wiggle, and sat down again.
I looked up and half a dozen people were looking at me. The men with glazed looks and the women with a combination of envy, disgust, and hostility.
I blushed under my somewhat heavy makeup and just looked out of the window.
People got on and off at various stops, most of them looking at me as they did so.
One time, a small boy and his mother got on and sat opposite me.
I smiled at the bo,y and he smiled back. He then whispered to his mother in a voice that was loud enough to be heard in the front of the bus.
‘Mummy, why don’t you look like that lady?’
The woman, who looked like she went to bible reading classes, ate whole-grain foods and drank tea out of dainty cups with matching saucers, took one look at me and whispered back.
‘My dear, that is no lady, and I would NEVER look like that.’
I could have died of embarrassment, but I pretended not to hear, despite the titters coming from several others in the bus.
Luckily, my stop was the next and I hurriedly picked up my Tesco’s bag and got off.
It was a five-minute walk to the office, and I had time enough to spare for a quick coffee at Starbucks.
I paid for the extortionate milky concoction and walked over to an empty table.
As I sipped my drink, I considered my plan of action.
I was looking like this as I wanted to tempt Roger into an indiscretion. If I could look like one of his wet dreams, all the better and more likely that this would happen. I hoped that he would think with his penis rather than his brain and be the architect of his own downfall.
I was dressed uncharacteristically for me. I still preferred not to be noticeable, you know, blend into the background sort of thing. Still, it was nice to be wearing something like this and to look so sexy. It made me feel feminine to the extreme.
A thought popped up in my head from somewhere. I wondered how my hunky neighbour at home would think of me like this, and he would like it. I thought of his good looks and muscular body, and Percy started twitching again.
I quickly got off that subject, looked at my watch, finished my drink, and left.
In no time, I was at the office. I held my head up high, thought of England, and went in to hopefully sort out the Roger problem once and for all.
Comments
My Freeze
Toni is on the war path ready to scalp a pervert.
Brianna Demonet
Go get em, Toni!
