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They Think I am a Woman! - Part 5
🕑 Added 2025-06-10 13:49:29 +0000 UTCAs I went through the swing doors of the restaurant into the cold night air, it hit me. I was homeless again, and I didn’t have a clue as to what I could do about it.
I was out on the pavement. It was cold and quite dark.
I knew that I had a long walk home, so I started down the road. As usual, I was in a panic over whether anyone would see me, realize that I was not all girl, and shout for the police.
I could hear the clatter of my heels striking the pavement. The noise was almost as loud as my heart, which was thumping away as if I had done a marathon or something. I had done it again. I regretted pouring lager over the head of the hated Davis. Not because he didn’t deserve it—in fact, I really enjoyed doing it and seeing the look on his pockmarked face but because I was now without a home. I was deep in the doo-doo, surely; things couldn’t get much worse, could they?
The wind blew up my skirt, and I screeched out a little ‘eek’ as I tried to keep my Marilyn Monroe impression to a minimum. As I continued, I noticed that the streetlights were well-spaced out, and for most of the time, it was quite dark.
A stone or something had somehow gotten into my shoe, God knows how, as I felt as if I was on stilts in these things.
I stopped by a lamppost, put one hand up against it, and using the other one, I took my shoe off and emptied it of the offending object. It was a tiny bit of stone but felt like a boulder.
I gratefully put my shoe back on and was just about to move off when a car drew up. I looked over, thinking that it might be a taxi or something. It was a man in a black BMW. The window silently swished down, and the man leaned over to me and said in a whisper, ‘How much?’
‘Pardon?’
‘How much?’
‘Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Are you up for anything?’ He whispered. Perhaps he had a sore throat.
‘I’m on my way home.’
He smiled, ‘Is it far, sweetheart?’
‘Um, no, it’s about a mile down the road.’
‘Do you want to get in then? We’ll go to your place and talk prices as we go.’
‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘it must be a taxi then. Funny, no sign-up. It must be a posh one if it’s a BMW.
I got in the car, and we were off.
‘You look nice, love.’ Said the man in a normal, if a bit smarmy, way.
‘Erm, thanks, I said as I attempted to do up my seat belt.
I swear I could smell whisky or something on his breath. Getting in this car was not one of my brightest ideas to date.
‘So you’ve been doing this long?’
‘Doing what?’
‘You know, the streets.’
‘Oh no, I’ve just left the restaurant.’
‘Used to be a waitress, eh? You will make more money doing this.’
‘What, taxi driving?’
‘Eh?’
My skirt had ridden up my legs a bit, and I was in danger of showing a bit too much of my panties, so I wriggled my bottom a bit in a vain attempt to pull my skirt down. The man couldn’t keep his eyes off me for some reason, and the next thing I knew, he put a hand on my leg and was pushing his hand up my skirt!
I screamed, and to be honest, it did sound a bit girly.
Out of the blue, there was a crash and the sound of tinkling glass, and I went forward against the seat belt. There were two other banging noises, and all of a sudden, a balloon surrounded me. For some reason, I thought of the number six, but in a flash, that thought was swallowed up as I struggled to release myself from the belt and the cloying plastic of the erupted airbag.
Eventually, I struggled out of the car, and I sort of fell onto the pavement, landing heavily on my botty. The man was still trying to untangle himself from the seat belt and airbag in a vain attempt to get out of the car as I heard the now all too familiar sound of a police car, eee-ooring its way towards the stricken car. The flashing blue lights shone brightly as the police car screeched to a halt behind the badly dented BMW.
I knew it, just knew that the policemen were the same ones who had pulled Sheila and me over. You know, Mick and Dave, I think their names were.
Anyway, they were in full, save-that-man mode as they pulled the car driver’s door open and helped untangle the man from his seat belt and airbag.
Once they had managed to untangle the man, the policemen started asking questions.
‘Right, sir, can I see your license?’
‘Er, sorry officer, it’s in my other wallet.’
‘Can you tell us what happened?’
‘Um, a cat ran across the road, and I swerved to avoid it.’
I couldn’t help it. I should have kept my mouth shut. But remember, I had just had a very fraught day. I opened my big mouth and said, ‘You bloody liar, you were touching me up!’
Both Mick’s and Dave’s eyes swiveled towards me. I had made a boo-boo. I realized that.
‘Don’t I know you, Miss?’ said Dave.
I stepped back slightly, into the gloom.
‘Erm, I don’t think so, officer.’
‘Can you substantiate your statement, Miss?’
‘Sorry, I don’t understand.’
‘Do you have any witnesses to your alleged assault?’
Why do policemen have to talk like that? Can’t they just speak plain English?
‘How could I have a witness? He was going about 50 miles an hour when he groped me!’ I was getting angry now at how stupid these coppers were being. I was forgetting that I was a girl with extra baggage, as it were.
‘Are you sure that we haven’t met?’ said Dave to me, frowning.
‘She’s talking rubbish,’ said the MW man, suddenly.
Mick and Dave turned back to the man, and Mick said, ‘Have you been drinking, sir?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t mind blowing into this little bag then,’
‘I don’t need to do that, Sergeant. I’m perfectly sober.’
‘It’s a constable, sir, and I think that you should just blow into the bag, just to confirm what you have just said.’
The man looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an approaching car. He did a very stupid thing; he ran for it. The two policemen immediately gave chase, leaving me, for the moment, alone.
At this point, I showed a rare bit of intelligence as I quietly slunk (is that a proper word?) away before Starsky and Hutch got back.
I took my shoes off to avoid breaking my ankles and ran around the corner as fast as I could in my stocking feet.
As I ran, the damned skirt kept lifting up, so I had to use one hand to hold it down. With my other hand holding my shoes and me trying to run in virtually bare feet, I must have looked a bit of a strange sight.
Unfortunately, since I was a child, I have suffered a bit from asthma, and as such, unless I use my inhaler, I run out of breath very quickly.
Eventually, I ran out of steam, and I slowed to a walk. I sat down by the edge of the curb, gasping for breath, and put my shoes back on.
There was a call box on the next corner, so I wheezed over, put 20p in the slot, and rang Sheila.
After a few rings, Sheila answered.
‘Hello?’
I still couldn’t catch my breath properly, and I just wheezed into the mouthpiece.
‘Sheila.’ I croaked.
‘Sorry, who is this? Hello?’
‘It’s me.’ I gasped.
‘Who is this? Look, I hate you dirty, filthy, heavy breathers. If I catch you, I will put your tackle into a mangle and turn the handle real slow. Now get lost, pervert, before I ring the police.’
The phone went dead.
I looked through my purse for more change and realized that I didn’t have any more cash.
I slammed the phone down in frustration and wondered why I was being picked on like this. Perhaps God had a sense of humor, but if he had, I didn’t think it was a very good one.
Just then, I could hear sirens coming my way. I hid behind the phone box, just in time to see Mick and Dave flash by in their police car, and I swear that I saw the man who owned the BMW in the back, gesticulating wildly and shouting something.
I carried on down the road as my breathing slowly returned to normal. The clouds had parted, and it was now a clear evening. The stars were shining, and it was a full moon.
The roads were quiet and thankfully free of dirty old men, women, and children.
I was now about a 20-minute walk away from home, and I went as fast as I could in my heels. How women could wear these damned items of torture regularly, I would never know. They should get medals for endurance above and beyond the call of duty.
Anyway, I had to cross the road. I didn’t see the drain cover. My foot landed in one of the slits, and with a loud bang, one of my heels broke off.
I said loudly.
This was definitely not one of my best days.
I hobbled on, listing to starboard and contemplating whether I should break the other heel to even things up when, just then in the distance, I heard engine sounds. It was a… no, two motorbikes.
In seconds, I was bathed in the glow of headlights as the bikes roared up to me.
The bikers took their helmets off, and to my surprise (not really, after all that had happened!), it was Ronald and Derek.
‘Ullo, luv, got problems again?’ said Derek eloquently, his chains clinking melodiously.
Yes, I mean yes. I’ve broken my heel, and I’m trying to get home.’
‘What’s a lovely gal like you doing out alone?’ said Ronald, scratching his armpit.
‘Um, I had a row with my date.’
‘Want us to go and sort him out, love? Said Derek, grinning evilly.
‘Um…no thanks, I just want to go home.’
‘You shouldn’t be out here, all alone like this, at night, love. There are a lot of strange people about.
Looking at Derek and Ronald, in their black leather, chains, and wild hair, I wondered what they considered strange. I was brought out of my musings by Derek.
‘Got a spare lid with you, Ronald?’
‘Yes, Derek. We’ll give you a lift home, ducks.’
I looked at the big throbbing machines and quaked slightly.
‘No, that’s OK, I can walk from here.’
‘Don’t worry, love. You’ll be home before you know it.’
In seconds, I was hoisted behind Ronald, wearing a crash helmet, which had seen better days, smelling slightly of stale sweat and something else not very nice.
I found myself clinging on for dear life as we roared down the road. My skirt was up around my face, and my delicate regions were getting the full force of a 60mph gale. I was glad that Mick and Dave were not around to nick me for indecent exposure. Now that would have been fun!
True to their word, I was outside my place in no time.
Ronald lifted me bodily off the bike.
‘There you go, luv, nice and safe. Now remember, a nice girl like you shouldn’t be out alone.’
‘That’s right, Ronald, you tell her.’
‘Um, I’ll remember. Thanks for the lift, boys.’
I handed the helmet back to Ronald, who attached it to his bike.
The two bikers roared off, and as they went, I noticed that they had different leather jackets on this time. One said in studs, ‘I Luv Sex,’ and the other one said, ‘I’ve got a headache.’
I limped up the steps, opened the peeling front door, and went into the house. I wondered what the hell I was to do now, as I walked up the tastefully uncarpeted staircase to my room.
I went in, shut the door with a bang, and went to sit on the bed and put my head in my hands.
Just then, there was a quiet knock on the door.
I wearily got up and opened the door. It was Sheila standing there with a quizzical look on her face.
‘Well, you’re back quick. How did you get on?
‘Come in,’
Sheila sat on the bed next to me and looked at me hard.
‘Rough was it?’
‘Rough isn’t the word. Disastrous would be nearer.’
‘Tell Auntie Sheila then.’
I proceeded to tell Sheila all that had happened. For some reason, she got a smirk on her face when I told her of the incident with the BMW man, sniggered when I told her that I had rung her, and laughed out loud when she was told about Derek and Ronald.
‘The long and short of it,’ I said rather testily, ‘is that I am being chucked out tomorrow and I have nowhere to go.’
‘Now don’t worry about that, I.
Just then, there was a series of loud bangs on my door.
I opened the door, and there, in all his splendid finery, his lime green shirt and orange spotted tie stained with beer and looking like murder, was Davis.
He looked angry, very angry. His little piggy eyes were puffed out. His face was redder than beetroot. The veins on his bulbous nose seemed to stand out more than usual, and his hands were clenching and unclenching like he wanted to do serious damage to someone’s neck, probably mine.
In a flash of intuition, I realized that he was not happy with me and that I would not be on his Christmas card list.
‘YOU BITCH!’
'Sorry, do you mean me?'
Of course I do. How dare you leave me looking like a plonker in that restaurant?
I was kind of speechless. Luckily, I heard a voice from behind me.
'Mr Davis, how nice to see you; lovely tie, by the way.'
'Never mind my sodding tie. I want this cow out of here tonight, now, in fact, and she
can take her sniveling brother too.'
Sheila pulled me away from the door and stood in the doorway.
'Now, Mr. Davis, I'm a nurse, and I can tell by your red-looking face that your blood pressure is way too high. Why don't you go home and give yourself time to cool down before you hurt yourself?'
It was now that Davis, the hypochondriac, kicked in, and he went from red to pasty in nanoseconds.
'Do I look ill?' He squeaked anxiously.
'Well, you are a trifle overweight, with signs of insipid crappiness, not to mention
halitosis and other disturbing signs. You should go home and go to bed. You will feel
better in the morning.'
'OK, I will, but I will be here at 11 o'clock, and I want to see her and her brother.
gone.'
With that, he left the building.
I sat on the bed, head in hands.
'What's wrong, honey?' Asked Sheila anxiously. 'You don't look like a happy
bunny.'
I looked up at Sheila.
'Look at me; I'm dressed as a girl and have had to go out in public looking like this.
I've been to McDonald's and had an incident with a flaming pickle. Then I got picked.
On the police force. I've been out to a restaurant with the slimeball from hell. Then I got picked up by a lecherous taxi driver, got groped, and had an accident. I had to run from the scene of an accident. I got picked up by some gay bikers, and now, to
To finish off the perfect day, I am being chucked out of this place, which I laughingly call
home. To say I'm an unhappy bunny would be an understatement.
'Saying that, it hasn't gone all that smoothly, has it?'
I just grunted. I had run out of things to say.
'Now Toni, don't give up yet. Remember the main thing is that you look all girl, and if you get that job, you will be able to find another place with the money you will be getting.'
'I haven't gotten the job yet.'
'So, you will go to the interview then?
'I suppose I have no choice.'
'That's true. The only thing isNoo, I won't talk about this tonight.'
'What?'
'Well… Don't be annoyed, but I think that it would be best for you to keep in character until the interview. It would give you time to be more girly.'
'More girly! Look at me; I'm more girly than the girliest girl could be. Bloody hell,
I'm even turned on when I look at myself, and I have a great deal of trouble walking sometimes.'
Sheila looked at me with concern and then smiled.
'Oh, getting a bit stiff down below?'
I was somewhat embarrassed and just mumbled, 'Sort of.'
'It's a small price to pay to get a decent job.'
'If you say so.'
'Look, I'm going back to my flat now. My big hunk of a man is coming home soon.
And I want to show him some new moves. Mind you, I'm knackered, what with you and the job, so I might just lie back and think of England. I will see you tomorrow at about 8. Will you be up?
'Yes, I have to pack, remember?'
'Don't worry; we'll sort it. Are you OK to take your makeup off? I left some stuff in
the bathroom to use.'
'I'll be OK; bye.'
It took me about an hour to clean the gunk off my face and hands. I then had a bath. And must admit that I felt a bit better after that.
In no time at all, I was in my jim-jams and tucked up in bed.
In moments, I was asleep.
The next morning, I woke up with a start. I could hear a noise outside, so I wearily got out of bed, scratching my rear end absentmindedly, and sauntered over to the
window. There was a police car outside, and there were Mick and Dave, asking
questions of one of my Spanish neighbors. I quickly hid bravely behind the curtains and inched open the window. I could just about hear what was being said.
'Can you tell us if a young lady lives near here?' She is about five feet seven, with blond hair. Hazel eyes and goes by the name of Toni something or other.'
'No entiendo.'
'What?'
'No entiendo.'
'Do you speak English?'
'Cómo estás?'
'Pardon.'
'No entiendo.'
'This is no good, Dave; let's go have a cup of tea.'
With that, the policemen got into the car, put on the siren and blue flashing lights, and screeched off down the road, leaving a trail of dust.
I quickly got dressed and rushed downstairs. My neighbor was still outside, cleaning. His car.
'Hi, Carlos, I heard what those policemen were saying.'
'Hello, Tony; they were being nosy.'
'Why didn't you speak English? Your accent is better than mine!'
'A little immigration problem; if I started talking to them, they may ask for my details
'Sorry?'
'I'm not strictly here in an official capacity.'
'Oh, I see. See you later, Carlos.
'Adios.'
I went back into my room and had a quick wash. I didn't need a shave. I noticed some eyeliner still in the corner of my eye, and I hoped that Carlos hadn't noticed it.
After crunching my cornflakes, I started packing my meager possessions.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
Thinking it might be Davis, I didn't answer it.
There was another knock, and I could hear the sound of Sheila shouting something.
I carefully opened the door and saw that, indeed, it was Sheila, an angry Sheila, in fact.
To be precise, a downright, over-the-top, steaming, and fuming Sheila. I could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears.
'That bastard.' She shouted as she exploded into my room.
I shut the door quietly and stood in the corner away from the human tornado that was Sheila.
She was ranting and raving, not making much sense. I heard a few new swear words. Some of them were quite new, which I made a mental note of, just in case I needed them.
After about five minutes of this, she sort of ran out of things to say and burst into tears. And threw herself on my bed.
I went over to her and tried to comfort her.
'What's wrong, Sheila? Has something upset you?
As you can see, I am very good at stating the obvious.
Sheila sat up and looked at me. Her eyes were puffy, and her makeup, which looked as if she had not taken off since last night, would have looked a bit pandarish. Her hair was in some disarray, and her clothes were crumpled. In short, she was a mess.
'The bugger's buggered off.'
'Pardon.'
'My bloke, mate, boyfriend, lover, or whatever; he's gone off, done a runner, pissed
off. Do I need to paint a picture?
'Oh, you mean Steve. I am sorry, Sheila, for what happened.
I gave her a tissue. She blew her nose loudly (it sounded a bit like an elephant in
distress) and then proceeded to tell me the whole sorry story.
I waited for him to come home last night. I had cooked him a lovely meal, you know.
Candlelit supper, wine, the works. I even put on my sexy red Basque and fishnet.
Stockings. I was tired, but I still fancied some rumpy pumpy. Anyway, he didn't turn up, so I threw the food in the bin and went to bed. It was funny because he normally rings if he's going to be late. Anyway, I woke up this morning to the phone ringing.
It was his best mate, Phil. The dirty bugger didn't even have the guts to tell me himself.
Phil said that Steve had gone away with his girlfriend. Evidently, this girl, Sharon,
name is, and Steve have been going at it like rabbits for months, and Phil caught them. Got out last night and chucked them both out on the street. The only good thing about it was that she was in a flimsy see-through nightie and he was just wearing his birthday
suit.'
She stopped for a minute, blew her nose again, and continued her sorry tale.
'They were pulled in by the police for exposure and lewd behavior and only got out
this morning after their solicitor got them some more appropriate clothing. Steve actually had the gall to ring me up just after I spoke to Phil, asking for a lift home!
I told him to piss off and that I was burning his stuff, and if I ever saw him again, I
would make sure that he would sing falsetto for the rest of his life.'
I immediately crossed my legs as she said this. The mind boggled.
'You're better off without him. At least you didn't marry him.'
'That's true; he was the sixth man to let me down, and I'm beginning to think that I
might be jinxed. Anyway, now that I've got that off my chest, I will never speak about him again. Thanks for listening, Tony.
'That's OK.'
Sheila looked around, looked at my packed cases, and then said,. 'Oh God. I forgot.
About you having to move out, you have problems too.'
'Yes, I have to find somewhere fast. I suppose I could doss down under a bridge.
Somewhere until I find somewhere more permanent. The weather's not too bad at this time of year, and the meths will keep me warm.'
Sheila looked at me. She had a thoughtful expression on her face.
'What?' I said.
'I have a brilliant idea. You can move in with me.'
'I can't; I'm a man, remember? And anyway, what would Davis say?'
'Sod Davis, what he doesn't know about, he doesn't worry about. Anyway, you will
Be living with me as a girl, not a man, and when you get that job, we can share the
rent.'
'I'm not living with you as a girl!'
'Why not? If you want that job, you will need to really get under the skin of being a
girl. If you are good, I'll let you wear trousers occasionally, but let's face it, kid, you make a much more convincing girl than a boy. Look, I'm going upstairs to sort out and then throw Steve's stuff in the dustbin. If you want to come and stay in the flat, just come up. But if you do come, I want to see Toni the girl, not Tony the boy.'
She left me to sort my thoughts out. I sat on the bed and tried to work out what I
would do.
I felt that fate or whatever was corralling me into doing what didn't come naturally to me. Ever since I started this girl thing, things have happened to me. Nasty things. I was an emotional wreck; up a creek without a paddle, and would probably have to spend the rest of my life in therapy.
Then I remembered how I looked and felt, dressed as a girl. The silky fabrics, the way the dress swished as I walked, and the fact that I looked so pretty. I got up and went over to the cracked mirror over the sink. I looked at the rather plain face in the mirror.
It was a face that didn't look too manly, to tell you the truth. A single tear ran down my face as I realized that the only way forward that I could see was trying to pretend I was a girl. The trouble was, if I became a girl, what would happen to Tony?
Just then, there was another knock at the door. I went over and opened it.
It was Davis.
He had a smirk on his spotty, ugly face.
'Not gone yet?'
'Um, I'm just packing.
'Where is that sister of yours? I want to give her a piece of my mind.'
'She's er… gone back to live with our mum.'
'Pity, anyway, I'm just going for a nice healthy fry-up breakfast, and I want you gone. When I get back.'
'What about returning my deposit?'
'What deposit?'
I gave you £500 when I came here.'
'Where's the receipt?'
'You didn't give me one.'
'Tough titty then. Anyway, you owe me for back rent, so I will be kind and call it
quits. Remember, be gone when I get back, or I'll send one of my nice boys around to break a few of your fingers.'
With a final smirk, he turned around and left.
Ten minutes later, I was outside Sheila's door.
I knocked, and she opened the door, smiling.
'Hi Toni, you look nice. Come on in. We are going to have so much fun!'
Comments
Jerry
That was traumatic(Toni’s experience). I’ve had an anaphylactic response to my living situation before too. Very “cathartic”. Just graduated. Loans looming. Car accident. “Legally” evicted from a rental house they were selling out from under us, lost my room mate, lost my job because the co-owners relocated. Homeless for a moment. Sexual and gender confusion a bonus side note. I love that for Toni. Am I better for having actually experienced it. Certainly more empathetic. Can’t save the world from itself though, when we are struggling to help ourselves. I loved the early 2000’s
My Freeze
I love the tale. Every detail is vivid in my mind. I felt bad for the guy but laughed at the antics of the girl. God send for Shelia, may the fun begin.
