You meant it for evil - 21 by Maeryn Lamonte Hot and steamy moments ahead, but nothing that nasty this time. “You were wrong, and now I have the most delicious of revenges for you. You wanted to change me into a girl against my will, not let me do the same for you. Let me turn you back into the man you once were.” I was struck by paralysing terror as he moved in towards me, his lips parted slightly in preparation for the kiss I knew would shatter all the wonders and delights my new life had brought me.

-oOo-
All my terror condensed into an ear-splitting scream and, with its release, I found my body obeying my commands again. By then it was too late though, Paul had closed on me and was holding my wrists in a vice like grip. He had planned this out well. First incapacitate the other two through his little monologue and the transformation of his mother, then come at me with his renewed male strength. Well he still had one weakness.

Fear was draining the strength from my body and I had to act quickly while I still could. I brought my foot up between his legs with all the force I could find, wishing for something a little more battle-worthy than than the soft leather of my flat slip ons.

Paul imploded under the attack, his grip weakening enough for me to pull my arms free. I twisted out from under him and backed towards what I hoped was a door. He recovered more quickly than I hoped he might and cut me off, steering me into a corner.

“You fucking bitch. I am going to screw you before I turn you now.”

He lunged at me, pushing me down onto the floor. My legs collapsed under me and I fell heavily, tears of helplessness and hopelessness streaming down my face. Rough hands reached under my dress and tore away at my underwear. All I could see was the savage glee in his eyes. This couldn't be happening. I was going to lose everything. I succumbed to the despair of my imminent doom; the violent, tearing violation that would rip my soul more deeply than it could ever tear my body, then to be forced back into being Ken even before the blood stopped flowing. The world caved in around me and I heard myself screaming all over again.

How could I go back to being Ken now? What would be left of my life with Mike, with Karen, with Aaron and the others?

There was a loud crash and the front door all but flew off its hinges. The room filled rapidly with dark blue uniforms.

“Armed police. Back away. Hands where I can see them.”

The commands barked out, filled with such authority that even Paul, lost in his vengeance, froze momentarily. He saw his chance at the revenge he wanted slipping from reach. With a snarl of rage he made a last desperate lunge at me. I twisted under him, managing somehow to bring my arms up between us, to twist out of reach of those questing lips. It would only keep him from me for another second. The last of my strength had all but fled from me and I had never felt so vulnerable, so completely unable to help myself.

I can only be thankful for the police presence that day. When we'd first arrived, I'd felt the same as Doctor Marston , that an armed response and in those numbers was completely over the top for the apprehension of a single, unarmed, non-violent (until this evening that is) little girl. The policeman nearest me, having taken the time to assess that e didn't need to use his firearm, ran forward, barrelling into my assailant and jammed him against the wall. The air was knocked out of him and he collapsed in a stunned heap beside me.

“Are you alright miss?”

The policeman offered his hand, the gentleness in his voice and manner so much at odds with the violence of the previous moment.

“Just get me away from him. Don't let him come near me.”

There was hysteria bubbling in my voice. When I thought how close I had come to losing everything, just on the twisted whim of someone I had thought of as a friend, even a sister.

“Don't worry miss, where he's going, he won't be able to touch you for a long time.”

“You have to keep him away from women. Not just me but all women. Please promise me, you have to keep him away from girls.”

I was shaking, unable to stand by myself, unable to turn my mind from imagined horrors of what my life had almost become.

Another policeman took advantage of Paul's stunned state to pull his arms behind him and handcuff him, after which he was hauled to his feet with little regard for his comfort. The look of pure venom he gave me as he was propelled past me caused me to shrink into the policeman's protective embrace. He spat blood at me.

“This isn't over you know.”

The officer who had cuffed him steered him firmly towards the door, talking to him as he went.

“It is for you my son. Here we go, you listening? You have the right to remain silent, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence...”

They receded into the night leaving me in a small living room with the four remaining armed officers, a catatonic Doctor Marston, and a distraught and weepy man in an ill-fitting skirt and blouse.

Funny how the needs of others can galvanise you into action when, left to yourself, you would otherwise collapse into a useless heap. I pulled away from the police officer who had saved me, whose rough riot vest had provided an all too welcome pillow, and went over to the former Mrs Bailey. I eased him... (her?) into a seat and put my hands on hers. It was still Mrs Bailey, regardless of the body she was wearing now.

“Let me get you some tea.”

She nodded and I disappeared into the kitchen behind the lounge, glad of the distraction, and set about looking for things to make tea. I was still rummaging through the cupboards looking for the necessary when the sergeant come into the house and looked around.

“Would anyone mind please telling me what the fuck just happened?”

I couldn't respond any more than my two companions in the other room. He listened to one of his officers, my most recent saviour I think, giving him as full a report as he could manage — heard screams, broke down the door, found young man assaulting a young lady, used appropriate force to take him down, done deal — then he must have heard my nervous clattering because he came through to the kitchen.

“Miss... er... Raeburn isn't it?”

I nodded mutely.

“Miss Raeburn, I have no idea what happened here. My men reported that there are two women in this house, then you and that doctor turn up and go in. Next thing I know there are screams, I send in my unit, and when the dust settles I have a cross dressing parody of the hulk in custody and an elderly gentleman in the other room wearing a skirt. Where are the two women my men first spotted? And don't try to tell me that they mistook the two blokes I've already mentioned 'cos I know they have better eyes than that.”

The kettle finished boiling and I warmed a teapot before putting a couple of tea bags into it and leaving it to stand. The mundane, ordinary actions helped my body find a calm again. My mind was still racing, still shying away from all too terrifying memories. I forced it to stop, to think. There was no way I could clean this mess up without some help. Ken might have tried, but the girl in me didn't have anything to prove; knew the value of seeking help when needed.

“Sergeant I wouldn't know where to start. Perhaps you could get in touch with a Detective Inspector Chubb though. He told me, when he interviewed me a few weeks back, that his remit was to deal with awkward and unusual cases like this one, and these events are related to something we discussed.”

“And how do I get in touch with this Detective Inspector Chubb?”

I gave him the name of the police station where I had been interviewed. I was pretty sure Chubb wasn't stationed there, but they'd at least have some idea of who he was and how to contact him. The Sergeant talked briefly into his radio then settled back to wait. I finished off the tray of tea things, mugs enough for everyone including the sergeant, and rather unsteadily carried it back into the living room.

I poured out the teas and invited the boys in blue to grab one each while I offered an overly sweetened one to Mrs Bailey. She grimaced at the taste.

“I don't take sugar.”

“It's alright Mrs Bailey. Drink it up, it'll make you feel better.”

I did the same for Doctor Marston, holding the cup to his mouth and try to make him drink until he responded by taking the mug out of my hand, after which he just held it and carried on staring blankly.

“Miss Raeburn I'm not sure you should be doing that.”

“They have no physical injuries Sergeant, just the memories of a horrible experience.”

From his frown he didn't like me challenging him. In an attempt to reassert his authority he gestured at Mrs Bailey and addressed the room.

“Could one of you rustle up some more appropriate clothing for this gentleman?”

Mrs Bailey began to cry. Her face was a stiff mask to hide her feelings, but the tears sliding silently down her cheeks betrayed how upset she really was. I gave her the comfort of human contact, not sure what else I could offer, but she turned out to be made of stronger stuff. She stood up, trying to smooth the skirt down over her new and obvious bulge. I stood with her.

“It's alright I still have some of my h... I still have some 'more appropriate' clothes upstairs.”

You could actually hear the quotation marks.

“Would you like me to go with you?”

“I think under the circumstances that would be inappropriate, but thank-you.”

She walked rather stiffly and awkwardly out into the hall and up the narrow stairs.

I took advantage of her absence to check up on Doctor Marston who was still staring into space. He still held his mug of tea, but it was remained untouched. I gently eased the mug out of his grasp and placed it on the table. Saying his name did nothing to bring him back, neither did shaking him or tapping him gently on the cheek. I was on the verge of slapping him harder when the sergeant's radio squawked.

“Sergeant I have DI Chubb for you. Patching you through now.”

A familiar voice — if slightly distorted by the radio — came through. It wasn't pleased.

“Sergeant. What can I do for you that makes it worth you interrupting my Saturday evening, and why me in particular?”

“Sorry sir, but I have situation here I really don't know how to deal with. One of the individuals involved mentioned your name, said you'd interviewed her recently and that this was related.”

There was a short pause.

“Her name sergeant?”

“Er, Miss Raeburn sir, er, Elizabeth Raeburn I think.”

Another short pause, but this time you could imagine the expletives at the other end.

“Put her on please sergeant.”

The sergeant walked across the room to me, detached his mike from his vest and showed me briefly how to use it. I pressed the button.

“Good evening Detective Inspector. Sorry to disturb you.”

“That's alright Miss Raeburn. Under the circumstances I wouldn't expect you to do anything different. What can you tell me?”

Not what happened, but what can you tell me. Other ears listening in.

“Er Paul Bailey's back. Came out of nowhere and seems to have picked up where Mary left off. Emily's gone and Paul's mother isn't herself anymore.”

Was that telling him enough. Was it giving too much away? Certainly the sergeant was giving me odd looks. This pause was the longest yet, but when DI Chubb's voice came back, it seemed some decisions had been made.

“Sergeant, I'm coming over to you. Grays South I think dispatch said. I'm not going to tell you how to do your job, but I strongly recommend you listen to anything Miss Raeburn tells you. And no interviews until I get there. Understood?”

“Yes sir. And yes, confirm it is Grays South.”

“I should be with you within the hour. No interviews 'til I get there, I mean it.”

The sergeant clipped his mike back on his vest and gave me a hard look.

“Ok, so what is it you're supposed to tell me that's so important?”

“I think at the moment, just that Paul Bailey, your prisoner, should be kept in isolation. Minimum contact with other people and absolutely no contact with women.”

“Right you are, but I'd bloody better get some answers by the end of the evening.”

He turned away to pass the necessary information along to the station, just as Mrs Bailey came back downstairs. She was wearing a grey suit with white shirt and was carrying a tie. She walked over to me.

“You know, these things were always so much easier to tie when I was doing it for... someone else.”

I sympathised with what she was going through. Having to cope with the changes on her own and at the same time having to act as though nothing had happened.

“You could tie it on me then loosen It to go over your own head. Personally I never much liked wearing them.”

Her eyes widened as the implications of that revelation sunk home.

“You're the same as...”

“If you think about how Paul looked when he first arrived and how I look now, surely you can't be that surprised.

“We should have a long talk later. For the moment though, just try to keep things quiet. There's a detective inspector coming to who knows a lot more about the situation. Once he's involved things should get easier.”

I let her tie the tie around my neck and hair, keeping the loop large. She then settled it around her own neck and tightened it, folding the collar down over the top. I couldn't resist reaching up to straighten it. There was nothing wrong with it, but it just seemed the thing to do.

A short while later the sergeant started organising things. Leaving two constables to secure and tape off the house, he ordered the rest of his troops out to their vehicles and back to the station. Paul — as Emily — had brought my handbag with him and left it on the table, so it was natural enough for me to pick it up. I checked the contents briefly — mobile phone, purse, car keys, usual girly bits; everything seemed to be there — and followed the others out of the house.

The police van was gone, presumably with Paul in the back, so the doctor, Mrs Bailey and I were squeezed into the back of one of the squad cars. I spotted my roadster a little way down the road, behind where the police transit had been, but thought better of mentioning it.

-oOo-
As it turned out, the trip to the station was only half a mile and would probably have taken less time to walk once we had finished fussing about getting everyone into the cars. We were given a quiet room to wait in and left to ourselves. I led Doctor Marston over to a chair and eased him into it. He sat and continued staring sightlessly, his mind, for the time being, lost in the great yawning chasm that had been torn between his perception of the world and his beliefs. His continued lack of response worried me and I stuck my head out the door looking for help.

“Excuse me but where d'you think you're going miss?”

Apparently the sergeant wasn't taking chances and had assigned someone to keep an eye on us.

“I'm worried about my friend, the doctor. He had a really nasty shock back there and he's been unresponsive since. Is there any way we could get someone to come give him a look over?”

The constable called the sergeant over and I repeated my request. He told me he would see what he could do and asked me to sit back in the room and wait.

Mrs Bailey was trying to ease the collar of her shirt with her fingers when I came back in. I tried to suppress a smile.

“I had no idea these things were this uncomfortable. I mean I've worn high necked blouses and the like, but nothing like this.”

“I know what you mean. Look you don't have to wear it if you don't want to.”

“Harry would have.”

“Is that the name of your...”

“My husband yes. He passed away three years ago. I haven't been able to bring myself to get rid of his things.”

“I'm sorry, but I suppose it's just as well given present circumstances. He was about the same size as you are now?”

“It seems so, except I think his feet were a little smaller. These shoes pinch.”

“You could take them off. I mean we're not going anywhere for a while and it's just the three of us.”

“No I shall be alright dear, but please could you tell me what's going on here? I mean how is all this possible?”

“I don't honestly know, but this is what I have found out.”

I didn't think that there wouldn't be any listening devices hidden around the room to record our conversation so told her the story as best as I could, starting with my first encounter with Mary and finishing with this evening's events. It didn't worry me that Doctor Marston was sitting there too. After what he had witnessed that evening, he should be far more open to the whole truth than he had been in the car. In fact, assuming he was able to take in any of what I was saying, it might even help him put things back together in his own mind.

It took me about forty minutes to go through everything. I had done explaining and was quietly answering Mrs Bailey's questions when the door opened and DI Chubb walked in.

I stood up to greet him, then made introductions, explaining Doctor Marston's unresponsive behaviour as a result of the shock he had experienced. The inspector looked at the doctor, then at the way I was holding myself, and headed back to the door.

“Sergeant, where's the doctor? You have the victim of an assault here as well as a man in evident shock.”

“I've called for one sir. I asked for a female doctor in light of the circumstance and think they must be having some difficulty locating one.”

“Would you be good enough to check up on it please.”

DI Chubb's dangerous voice. The sergeant made for his phone.

“I am sorry Liz, we're normally a lot more efficient.”

“As you said earlier, under the circumstances...”

He asked me for details on what had happened and once more I found myself talking about the unreal events of the evening. It didn't take long to go through what DI Chubb didn't know, and ten minutes later we were discussing options.

Doctor Marston chose that moment to return to us, shaking his head gently.

“Impossible, this is impossible. Explains everything, but how can it be true?”

“Doctor, thank goodness. I was getting worried.”

“Like you said in the car. Strongly held beliefs, hardest to adapt to changes. Still not sure I believe all you've said, but can't ignore what I saw.”

He looked over at the still very male Mrs Bailey.

“Never expected to see such a thing. Still can't believe my eyes.”

There was a knock on the door and the long awaited doctor came in. I insisted she check Doctor Marston first, but since he seemed to be talking lucidly and otherwise responding correctly, there was little to be done for him. The doctor led me out to a different room where a WPC stood by for moral support and the fulfilling of the law.

The doctor was careful to explain what she wanted to do with each step of her examination, asking my permission at each step. She asked me to remove my tights, badly laddered at the crotch where Paul had pulled at them, and my knickers, also torn but less so. I then let her examine me in my most intimate area, squeezing the WPC's hand hard enough to make her wince while she did so. Apparently there were some minor scratches down there, but nothing worse. I could have told her myself, but I suppose first hand examination and a correct report made more compelling evidence. She kept my clothes as evidence and found me something to wear in their stead; torn jeans and a faded sweatshirt, along with some fresh underwear which was just a little too big. Eventually I was returned to my companions where plans were being laid out and parts being assigned.

The fiction involved giving Mrs Bailey the name of Geoff Hammond, a made up friend, who was looking after the house while she spent a few days away with friends, and had been caught out indulging in a very private fetish when everyone had started arriving.

Paul's appearance out of the blue would have to be the mystery it was, as would his wearing a torn designer dress and a full set of women's underclothes. Hopefully , along with his violent behaviour, this would go some way to helping Doctor Marston convince the police that he should be held in the doctor’s mental institution, at least for the time being. The explanation as to the doctor's and my presence would be a continuation of the lie that had brought us here in the first place; that Emily had known and drawn close to Mrs Bailey when she was younger, and since she had called her earlier in the week — institute call logs available to prove it — we had come here expecting to find her. She hadn't turned up though, so her whereabouts was still unknown.

Chubb spoke to the sergeant and a short while later, he, Doctor Marston and I were led down to the cell where Paul was being kept. Following my earlier suggestion, he had been given a cell to himself with solid steel door with a small hatch at eye level, barred window and good solid walls. He wasn't going anywhere. The duty officer opened the small window and immediately Paul was up against the door looking out at us and shouting.

“I want a lawyer. I know my rights, you can't keep me here. Get me a lawyer and make sure it's a woman. I don't like dealing with men.”

He spotted me amongst the uniforms and his attitude changed dramatically for the worse.

“You bitch. You fucking bitch. You did this to me. You come here and get what you fucking deserve. You bit...”

The stream of profanity was cut off as the duty officer slammed the small hatch closed. Everyone was looking at me.

“That's the man who attacked me. He was trying to rape me when your men came in.

“There was no provocation, I mean I never saw him before tonight. If your officer hadn't been there then, well I don't want to think about it.”

I shuddered with genuine revulsion; no play acting necessary.

We headed back upstairs to an interview room where I made my statement explaining how Paul had attacked. Doctor Marston added his own to the same effect, saying it seemed obvious that Paul had suffered some psychotic break and needed psychiatric care.

DI Chubb took responsibility for the handover. It took a while to make things legal — paperwork and all that — but eventually we it was arranged for Paul to be transferred to Doctor Marston's institute via secure transport later that evening.

Interviews over, we were allowed to leave. DI Chubb offered us a lift back to the Bailey residence, which we readily accepted. We parked up outside the house and agreed the next stage. Mrs Bailey would collect a small suitcase of her husband's things and accompany Doctor Marston back to the institute, where she was to be given a room so she could stay close to her son. Doctor Marston, still a little shaken, assured us that he was well enough to drive home.

I just wanted to climb into my car and head for home, but the detectives inspector reminded me that Emily was still on the loose and supposedly driving around in the roadster. There would almost certainly be police watching my flat by now, and if I turned up driving the car, I would almost certainly be detained.

On further reflection he suggested that perhaps that might not be such a bad idea after all though. Emily needed to be caught if I was going to get my life back, so we hatched another plan. I would pretend to be Emily and go back to my place where, if all went as it was supposed to, I would be apprehended and taken back to the institution. Doctor Marston would be there for the rest of the night settling Paul and his mother in, so should be able to have me released and back in the real world before the night was over. DI Chubb would follow me home to make sure the police found me.

I reluctantly pulled my engagement ring off and handed it into Doctor Marston's care once more..

Decisions made, I headed for my car while the other three approach The policemen on duty at Mrs Bailey's house. Under DU Chubb's supervision they all went house so Mrs B could collect her clothes. This gave me the window I needed to drive away without being noticed. I parked up two streets down and waited for the detective inspector to come and find me.

The respite gave me the opportunity to call Mike and explain a little of what was going on. He didn't like it, quite understandably, but agreed to wait for Doctor Marston's call before coming to collect me.

Eventually the DI appeared and led me on a nervous couple of hours trip around and into London, supposedly via routes less frequented by the police, back to my place.

-oOo-
As predicted there was a car waiting on my street and two plain clothes policemen approached and took hold of me while I was fumbling with my keys. I protested and did my best to convince them I was Liz and not Emily; well ok, not quite my best. They didn't believe me and I spent the next few hours making my back to Doctor Marston's care via a cell in yet another police station. Being locked up wasn't so bad this time because I knew it wasn't going to last. Eventually, with dawn not far away, I was helped out of the pack of a patrol car and into the familiar surroundings of the institute.

A show was put on for the policemen who brought me, orderlies wheeling me away to Emily's room while the doctor on call filled in the necessary forms. I had time to change out of the borrowed clothing and into something of Emily's, feeling more comfortable in new underwear and better fitting jeans and sweatshirt than the things the police had found me. Doctor Marston turned up a few minutes later and gave me back my ring and handbag.

“Already called Mike. He's on his way.”

He led me back to his office where we passed the time discussing the real events surrounding my own transformation and those of Paul and Charley. Being both a psychologist as well as a psychiatrist, he was fascinated by the concept of having three people under his roof with such marked experiences in gender change.

“You do realise that you won't be able to write this up Doctor?”

“Not bothered. Get insight now, maybe publish something later with different observations. You're right though. Start spouting off about transformations and I'll end up in one of these cells.”

He shook his head again, as though the simple action could help bring his old reality back to him.

“How's Mrs Bailey?”

“Settled in ok. Taking it hard as you can imagine. More concerned about her son than herself. Bonds of parenthood and all that. Very level headed person though. Should be alright.”

“Can I see her before I go?”

He checked the clock on the wall.

“Five thirty a little early. Needs sleep to help adapt, recover. Sure you'll understand, would rather leave her be for now.”

Doctor Marston's office looked out on the front drive so he noticed Mike's arrival a few minutes later. He stood and held out a hand to help me to my feet.

“Do me a favour Doctor?”

“You can ask anything. Feel I owe you rather a lot.”

“Yeah about that. I'm not going to be talking to my solicitor on Monday after all. Do what you must to tighten up your procedures, but be forgiving if you can?”

The doctor's face was unreadable. It took him a second to recover.

“May I ask why?”

“Mainly I'm just grateful still to be me tonight. It puts everything into perspective. Besides I have to shoulder a fair bit of the blame. Allowing Emily to swap identities with me was beyond stupid.”

“Like to think it was more misplaced trust on your part. Still, once more, have my gratitude. Still haven't asked though.”

“What? Oh, the favour, yes. Actually two spring to mind now. The first was that perhaps you could put Paul and Charley into the same room for a bit, see what happens.”

“Already thought of that. Had it in mind to do so. The second?”

“Well I'm hoping to put together a home for transgendered and homosexual street people and wanted to run clinics for them. You know help them understand and accept who they are? Help them make decisions about how they should live their lives? I have some promise of help, but would value input from a well established and respected institution like this one.”

The doctor suppressed a smile.

“Better for you if we don't have any blemishes on our record, just as it is for us?”

“Doctor, this isn't blackmail. Whether you agree or not I won't be looking for restitution for what happened here yesterday. Clean slate and you decide for yourself if you want to get involved.”

“I'll give it some thought. Pretty sure we can do something. See you next Saturday?”

I nodded.

“As long as you can promise me a quieter day than today, and to keep Paul away from me.”

The long winding corridors came to an end at the reception area. The doctor opened the front door and we shook hands as we stepped out into the cold morning air. The birds were shouting their territorial claims as a low, patchy mist dispersed to reveal the dawn light illuminating a fresh new day full of promise.

Mike stepped out of the car and I ran to him burying my face in his chest and hugging him tightly enough to squeeze the breath out of him.

“What the...”

“Just hold me.”

He did. Something I remember about dealing wit girls as Ken. When in doubt do as you're told. Now so much more understood and appreciated from the other side. Mike's arms went around me and I felt his strength encircle me. I felt safe and all the fears and horrors that had haunted me through the night evaporated with the mist. I cried out my relief into his chest and held on tight with all the strength I had.

“Never leave me Mike.”

“I wasn't planning on it. What's got into you Liz? What's the matter?”

I was about cried out for the moment, so released my death grip on him and reached up to kiss him. Short, then long, then longest ever.

“I'll tell you later. Everything's alright now though. Now you're here everything's alright.”

He led me round to the passenger door and helped me in before climbing in himself.

“Back to yours?”

I nodded.

“Except I don't think I have much food in. I've been running things down ready for my trip on Monday.”

That reminder brought a pang of regret. Now more than anything, I didn't want to go away from him.

“That's ok, we only need breakfast at most. We’re taking Sharon and Phil out to lunch remember?”

I smiled and curled up in the seat looking across at him in my usual manner. He glanced at me and shook his head.

“I should have known it was Emily.”

I placed a hand on his arm.

“No recriminations, no regrets love. We all made mistakes yesterday, but it turned out ok. For the most part.”

I thought of poor Mrs Bailey and felt a treacherous tear escape and trickle down the side of my nose. I wiped it away with my sleeve and reached my hand out to touch him again.

All the way home I drowsed in and out. When I was awake, I couldn't help myself touching the man sitting beside me, resting my hand on his arm, his leg, his hand. He was my reality, my rock. He brought me back from the edge and grounded me in this world I wanted to inhabit. He did keep giving me worried looks, which I returned with as reassuring a smile as I could manage, all the while abandoning myself in the all too brief glimpses of his kind eyes.

We made our way swiftly through the light early morning traffic. Between my drowsing and the swift passage it seemed almost no time at all before we were pulling up behind my little yellow car.

“Come up with me? I don't want to be alone right now.”

“Don't worry, I don't want you to be alone right now either.”

A brief fumbling with the keys and we were through both the doors. I turned to Mike and all but climbed up him to reach his mouth. A sudden insatiable need overtook me and my hands were all over him, undoing the buttons of his shirt, caressing his chest, my lips seeking his. He backed away.

“Liz, I...”

“Don't you dare stop this now. If it'll make the difference, Mike Paston, before the eyes of God I take you to be my one and only, in all things and forever.”

It was the longest I could bear to keep myself from him. I went back on the attack, easing his shirt off and kissing his chest as I reached down to his belt buckle.

“Liz I don't have any...”

Bless you Sharon. I had never expected to need one, but it was part of her emergency kit, therefore it had to be part of mine. I pulled away from him long enough to tip the contents of my handbag out onto the coffee table, retrieved a small foil packet from the debris and slapped it into his hand, dragging him towards my bedroom in the same motion.

“Are you sure...”

“Never more certain.”

I pulled off my sweatshirt and bra, then went back to his belt. With that loosened, I guided his unoccupied hand up to one of my breasts, while fumbling with his flies with the other. Electric jolts of delight went through me as he massaged my breast. I threw my head back and gasped with the pleasure. I took hold of his waistband and pulled him with me towards the bed, pushing down his trousers and pants as I settled backwards onto the covers.

He followed, more willing now. I rested a hand on his chest.

“Don't you have anything to say?”

How he understood me I don't know, but he got it immediately. He smiled.

“Elizabeth Raeburn, before the eyes of God, now and forever in all things, I am yours.”

He reached forward to kiss me and I retrieve the little foil package from his hand. Irritating interruption, but I wasn't on the pill yet. I pulled the foil apart and pulled out the slightly moist piece of soft rubber. The acrid smell of it assaulted my nostrils. I resented the necessity, but accepted it even so. I reached down and rolled it onto the one part of Mike's anatomy I wasn't yet acquainted with. Well endowed? Not quite a horse, but certainly enough to satisfy. I bit my lip and squeezed my legs together as a warm, moist sensation ran through me.

Mike's clumsiness grew with his eagerness and I had to help him undo my jeans and ease them off. The moment had come. Mike stared at me as if to ask if I were really sure. In answer I spread my legs, inviting him in. Again a nervous fumble, his hands and mine guiding until... There. Slowly, gently, he entered me, his eyes constantly looking to mine, constantly seeking approval. There was a moment's discomfort, then he was in. All the way.

I held onto him with arms and legs, willing him to be still for a moment, a long moment, as I savoured the feeling of having the man I loved inside me, filling me, completing me. Slowly he began to move, back and forth, sliding in and out. After a moment he paused, a look of exquisite agony on his face. He managed to hold off, and we lay together, embraced, connected, one person, for a while longer until he felt able to continue.

Each thrust brought a heightening of tension within me, each gentle caress, a new electric spark leaping through me. It didn't last much longer, but I was as ready as he was and, before he let out his own shuddering sigh of release, I felt the most exquisite sensation pass through me, like a cascade of fireworks exploding through my nerves, starting in my very centre and passing through me in all directions.

Mike settled beside me, then reaching down, withdrew his latex covered member before it deflated enough to make a nonsense of our using the protection. I regretted his absence, but focused on the new feel of my body now that he was gone. I felt his having been there and that was special in its own right.

“Back in a sec.”

Mike's naked form bounded off toward the bathroom to dispose of a certain something and to clean up a bit. He was only going to be a few seconds, but I felt abandoned, aching with the loss his absence brought. I diverted myself be reaching over to the night stand and using some tissues to clean up my own aftermath. By the time he came back, I was under the duvet and holding it open invitingly. He didn't take much persuasion, and seconds later, I was wrapping myself around him, skin against skin. Mike gave me a worried look.

“Are we going to regret this?”

“I don't know about you, but I don't plan to. Thank-you Mike, I so needed that.”

“I wanted to wait 'til we were married.”

“I know, but I meant those words Mike. The wedding's just a formality now.”

“Oh I doubt that very much.”

I chuckled, thinking about all the planning that had already gone into it.

“Ok, maybe you're right, but this is the moment, this is the day that I give myself to you Mike. I needed you today and you were there. You ground me. You make me real. Complete.”

“I'm not going to pretend to understand that Liz. Except the last part. I have never felt so complete as I do right now. You make me so much more than I could ever be on my own.”

We lay for a long while as the morning grew old. We heard Sharon close her door and knock on mine, but we kept quiet, suppressing giggles at the ridiculousness of avoiding her. She gave up and left and I snuggled in closer to Mike, if it were at all possible to be closer than we were now. It would have been nice to go again, but I'd only had the one. In any case, Mike had his own ideas.

“Can we not do this again until after we're married? I mean I don't know about you, but it feels right to wait.”

He was right. Besides, August wasn't that far off.

“As long as we can make this morning last long enough to make the wait worthwhile.”

I stroked the hairs on his chest and carefully avoided that part of his body that might make lying still a challenge. Eventually, with the morning all but gone, I propped myself up on an elbow and looked down at him. I planted a kiss on his lips and climbed out of bed, slipping into my dressing gown.

“I'm going to take a shower and get dressed, then I'll put the coffee on while you do the same. I imagine Sharon will be back soonish. You did book somewhere for the four of us to have lunch didn't you?”

“Just outside Guildford, table booked for two o'clock. I imagine you'll get round to telling me what happened last night in your own time.”

I gave him an appreciative smile.

“I will, but that's not for now. I feel too good right now to want to spoil it with those memories.”

-oOo-

Some time later I heard Sharon on the stairs and stuck my head out to greet her.

“Hiya. Sorry about earlier. Had a long night last night. Fancy a coffee? We're about ready for our second cup.”

“Ooh ta. Give us a second to drop a few things off and get changed.”

Old faithful was huffing and puffing away in the kitchen by the time she arrived. I managed to disentangle myself from Mike and head into the kitchen. Sharon followed leaving Mike to commune with the telly.

“There's something different about you this morning. A sort of a glow.”

I didn't quite manage to bite back the grin. It was true, all morning I had felt warm and fuzzy both inside and out. Sharon's eyes widened to saucers and her voice descended to a strangled whisper.

“Oh my God, you didn't. You did, didn't you?”

I nodded helplessly and she ran over and took my arms.

“Come on, details.”

“Too long to go into here and now. Last night was a nightmare, but Mike was there at the end and as soon as I was with him, everything made sense again. He drove me back here and I just couldn't keep my hands off him.”

“Regrets?”

“None. He's the man for me and if we could set the wedding for today I'd do it.”

“What was it like?”

“Oh you can't imagine. He was so gentle and concerned, I wondered if he'd ever get started. When he did, it was wonderful. I mean I never expected anything the first time but...”

“Oh you lucky cow. No wonder you have that rosy glow about you. What about... You know?”

I didn't need to say anything, the answer was dancing in my eyes.

“What are you two conspiring about back there?”

Mike's voice broke the shared reverie, and we broke down in giggles.

“Nothing darling, just girl stuff.”

I quickly gathered mugs, milk and biscuits onto a try and poured out the coffee so we could re-join Mike. I ignored the pointed looks he was giving me and plonked the tray down on the coffee table. After all that's what it's for.

“How long will it take to get to this place Mike?”

“About forty-five or fifty minutes if the traffic's not too bad.”

“And Phil knows where he's going?”

“Well I texted him the time and place and he seemed to think he'd be ok. He has a satnav doesn't he?”

“Yes.”

“Then no problem. We should be going in about ten minutes if we want to be sure of making it.”

So coffee was a bit rushed, but we made it out of the door on schedule. I was going to sit in the back with Sharon and keep her company, but she wouldn't let me, so instead I sat up front next to Mike and we kept a three way banter going all the way. Traffic wasn't kind and we were about ten minutes late arriving. Phil was already sitting at the bar with a pint in his hand. He took drinks orders from us and tried to wave down the barman, who was doing his best in the Sunday lunchtime rush. I turned to Mike.

“I'll help Phil bring the drinks. You and Sharon go and get the table sorted.”

I smiled at the barman as he went past the next time and he faltered in his stride long enough for me to give him our order.

“I guess I can see some advantages to being as you are now.”

“Oh there are more than some advantages Phil. But other subjects, I wanted to grab you on your own before we sat down together. Can I be blunt?”

He shrugged.

“When have you ever been subtle?”

I let the jibe pass. Shortage of time didn't allow me the luxury of defending my own corner. The barman had already brought the drinks and wandered off with Phil's twenty pound note.

“I was wondering when you were going to get round to proposing to Sharon again.”

Ok, so maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't do subtle. He was looking sheepish and evasive. Warning bells started to ringing at the back of my mind.

“Actually, I've been giving that some thought, and I'm not sure I'm going to.”