Chapter Six – End Game
A well known online resource defines ‘dogging’ as: the British English slang term for engaging in sexual acts in a public or semi-public place or watching others doing so. There may be more than two participants; both group sex and gang banging can be included. As observation is encouraged, voyeurism and exhibitionism are closely associated with dogging.
David had not heard from the Quizmaster for over three months and, except for the few days over Christmas that David was allowed to see his daughter Rachael, had spent all that time as Petra. David was really almost a non-entity, bought out only on the rare occasion that his presence was required.
And then the Lavender envelope turned up like a bad penny; slipped under the door in the dead of night.
‘Happy New Year David, or should I say Petra,
You seem to be enjoying your banishment; playing dressups almost every day, bending over or lying on your back, letting those two gentlemen you call boyfriends poke you in the pooper. But let’s not get too crude too quickly; you have another dare my lovely.
Do you know what ‘dogging’ is Petra? Google it and find out. You are going find out all about it tonight regardless. Check your Petra Pantsdown email and don’t forget the consequences if you do not play The Game by the rules.
It was barely ten o’clock in the morning, Mick had not left until 4am and Petra was still dressed in laddered stockings, squishy panties and bra with empty cups. Her makeup and hair were a mess. She was sore and her breath reeked of stale alcohol, cigarettes and semen. She rinsed out her mouth with a half glass of warm Chardonnay that had been left on the coffee table overnight and refilled the glass with cold Chardy from the fridge. She pulled on a black nylon dressing gown, and sat down at the desk. She pulled out the retractable shelf and fired up her ‘Petra laptop’.
She took a big draught of wine and lit a cigarette; her eyes squinting from the smoke as she opened a link that the Quizmaster had sent to her which took her to a Craigslist posting in the Personals section under the NSA category.
‘Hot Tranny for NSA Dogging Session
Hot, mature, feminine and passable 40s transvestite will take on all comers or just stick around and watch. Duke’s Meadow carpark Chiswick from 7pm to midnight tonight. See my pics to see what’s on offer.
Your dogging slut,
A number of provocative pictures of Petra were attached to the post. The advertisement linked to her Petra Pantsdown email address and, using a simple alphanumeric, the Quizmaster had embedded her mobile phone number in the posting. Providing phone numbers in Craigslist personal ads was not allowed but was easily accomplished substituting short phonic phrases for numbers.
She typed ‘dogging’ into Wikipedia which provided her with an answer that she had half guessed and then she checked her email inbox and although the ad had only been online for an hour or so it was filled with responses. When she turned on her mobile phone it lit up with new text message alerts but she didn’t bother opening either emails or the texts; there was no need. The messages would be from sad little sods asking for more pictures or vowing to be at Duke’s Meadow carpark Chiswick tonight to take advantage of her. Either way the messages were moot; she was obliged to satisfy whoever turned up or fail the dare.
What riled Petra was that she didn’t actually think of herself as promiscuous and definitely not a slut; she had really only had three boyfriends. Gray and Mick she saw regularly, except for the one or two nights a week she kept free for herself, and of course there had been William. Billy Wallace in Edinburgh didn’t count; he was a one-night stand. The other men she had been with had been with sexually were all the result of the dares she had had to complete as mandated by the Quizmaster, she was forced to have sex with them.
“Oh well; nothing I can do but comply with the Quizmaster’s mandate I suppose. How long is this going to keep going on? Just when I thought I was out, he pulls me back in! I’ve half a mind to come out to everyone; if it wasn’t for Mom and Dad and Marie and Rachael I would!” Petra crushed out her cigarette.
But Petra knew there was more than just her family at stake; so was David’s career. David’s novels were working their way up the Best Seller list and Warner Brothers had optioned Lady In The House. Publishing short stories under the non-de-plume Petra Pantalon-Baissē had been a hoot; David was not the first author release works under a pen name of the opposite gender. But David wanted to be a successful and respected novelist and if pictures of him dressed as a woman sucking cock and being fucked got out, it would likely ruin any chance he had.
She finished her wine, tightly closed the curtains, turned out the light and went back to bed; it was going to be a long night.
Waking late in the afternoon Petra felt a lot better. She checked her email account and her phone messages; they were both full to capacity. If even one tenth of the men contacting her turned up tonight she was going to be a busy girl.
Just like the railway bridge challenge, dressing dowdy for tonight’s dare would be considered cheating, she guessed that the Quizmaster would be watching. Hell! He could be one of the doggers for all she knew.
She douched, shaved her legs, showered and slipped back into her black nylon dressing gown. She hardly needed to shave; she had never been hirsute but her body was now totally bereft of hair, her legs needed a light shave once a week but facial hair was almost a thing of the past. She had decided to experiment with female hormones bought online and after nearly four months of treatment the effects were becoming noticeable. She was experiencing the first signs of breast development and nipple and areolar enlargement.
She poured a drink and smoked a cigarette clearing her email cache, message bank and text inbox without bothering to read a single message. Of course she checked for email or texts from the Quizmaster first in the vein hope that he might cancel or change the dare but no such luck.
Time to get ready.
She brushed out her hair which was now nearly shoulder length and recently styled and highlighted and started on her makeup. Petra no longer needed the heavy concealer, just a few dabs on the odd blemish; an application of liquid foundation that matched her skin tone and a dusting of finishing powder made her face the perfect palette for what was to follow. She needed heavy makeup tonight, almost slatternish given that she would be outside in the dark and had been advertised as a slut.
She applied thick, jet-black eyeliner above and below her eyelash-line, tapering a wing in the corner of each eye. She opened a palette of shimmer eyeshadow that she did not often use. She applied metallic blue to her eyelids with a medium, flat shadow bush, purple to the crease and outer corner of her eyes, then mauve along the brow bone to finish the look. Happy with the result she touched up the eyeliner as necessary and applied several coats of mascara.
She rouged her cheeks and applied several coats of Maybelline SuperStay 24 Hour Lipcolor lipstick; she doubted she was going to get time to touch up her lipgloss during the evening. She gave her face another fine dusting of finishing powder; sprayed herself liberally with Poison perfume and took a step back to check her handy work.
Yep! She did look like a slut! She accessorised with earrings, a necklace, bracelets and rings; cheap costume jewellery as she fully expected that some would get lost during the frenzy she was expecting.
She walked over to the small closet-come-wardrobe. David’s collection of clothing had diminished and was relegated to a couple of clothes hangers in one corner whilst Petra’s wardrobe had grown exponentially and took up nearly all of the hanging space and all of drawers and floorspace. David's meagre collection of underwear and two pairs of shoes were assigned to a small cardboard box in the corner. Petra selected a satin leopard-skin bra and panty set and a black satin and lace suspender belt.
“Slutty enough,” she held the items against her body to check the effect.
She opened a packet of black, fully-fashioned fifteen denier stockings, which she fully expected to be ruined early on in the evening. She selected a white leatherette miniskirt and red satin longsleeved blouse. It would be cold out there so she also took down a short black leather jacket. She topped the ensemble with black patent leather ‘fuck-me’ heels that she could hardly walk in but she figured she wouldn’t be doing much walking tonight.
Petra didn’t bother gaffing, she slipped on the suspender belt and pushed her testes into her inguinal canals, then pushed her scrotal sac and penis between her legs and pulled up the full-cut panties to hold them in place. She straightened the garter straps smoothing them out from the leg-holes of her panties. She sat down and as always luxuriated in the sensuous feeling of the stockings sliding up her freshly shaved legs, clipping the welts to the silver clasps on the garters. She stood up and straightened her seams.
She forwent breastforms and filled the A-sized cups of her bra with her budding breasts. She donned and buttoned the blouse stepped into the skirt, tucking in the blouse and zipping it closed. She straightened her clothing and looked at herself in the mirror. She carried her heels; she would drive in stocking-feet and put on her shoes at the car park.
“Perfect. You whore!” she looked at her handiwork in the mirror.
She sprayed herself with more perfume, and gathered some essentials: bottled water, mouthwash, condoms, lube, tissues, handwash, and a couple of blankets. She threw them in a big bag and grabbed her purse and as an afterthought grabbed a bottle of Shiraz and threw that in the bag with a plastic glass. She picked up her heels and her keys and headed out.
During the drive to Duke’s Meadow Chiswick once again the spectre of the Quizmaster haunted Petra. She had all but eliminated the rest of The Gamers but there was an outside possibility it could still be either Timothy or Bethany using a trusted agent on their behalf but once again the question had to be asked, why?
She had been thinking recently about something Timothy had said: ‘It’s as likely I’m the Quizmaster as it is that William returned from the dead and is the Quizmaster’.
William could not of course return from the dead; but… was he ever dead? His body had never been recovered from the crash site and the surviving family members refused to belief that he was dead. But very few bodies were recovered from the sea.
Was it possible that William had never boarded that plane? If so; why had he been hiding all these years and why blackmail David and torment Petra?
All thoughts of William disappeared as Petra drove into the carpark. Her first instinct was to look for a black Mondeo but it wasn’t there. There were a few cars parked in the marked bays, most had men sitting in the driver’s seat. Petra swallowed; it was going to be a busy night. She could think of no valid reason why these men would be sitting in their cars in a carpark next to a public preserve at this time of night. A few heads turned when she drove past.
She parked her blue Honda Civic away from the other cars in an area that was served by the glow of a streetlight but not directly underneath. She popped the hatch and got out of the car. By the time she had taken off her jacket and made her way to the back of the car a few of the car doors had opened. She lifted the hatch and arranged a blanket over the rear deck sill and put another folded blanket on the ground next to the car; three men were purposely walking her way.
The first of the men said nothing; without any compunction he stopped in front of her, unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. Petra took the semi-erect phallus in her hand and began to stroke it. A second man approached, he already had his cock out and Petra stroked that one too. She felt quite absurd standing in a public car park wanking off two strangers. A third man approached but he stood removed from the others, content to masturbate while he watched.
A car pulled up right beside hers and a small rotund man got out.
“Hey, hey, hey! Looks like I’m just in time for the party!” the man called out jovially as he approached.
The other men looked daggers at him and he blushed and gave them an apologetic little smile to indicate that he was sorry.
Petra had no idea of the etiquette of dogging but obviously being loud and boisterous was not acceptable.
The man eased himself between the two men that Petra was masturbating; their cocks hard and throbbing in her hands.
“Can I have a bit of a suck love? I haven’t got long and I have to get home to the missus,” he had the cheek to ask while unbuckling his pants and unzipping his flies.
Petra knew the rules; she must take on all comers.
She got down on her knees on the blanket without releasing the penises she was stroking. She was glad that she had remembered that the brasses at the railway underpass had old pillows that they used when they had to get on their knees to give fellatio. The rotund man stepped forward and guided his stubby cock into Petra’s mouth. She suckled on the member whilst she caressed the phalluses in her hand. She used her tongue on the fat man’s fraenulum and he held her face still and ejaculated, moaning as he filled her mouth with bitter semen.
This triggered the man in her right hand to discharge his load, she felt his cock throb and worked her fingers over his glans. His hot spend shot along her arm soaking into the red satin blouse; her fingers were sticky. The fat moved away from her and she had only just finished swallowing his load when the man she was still wanking ripped his penis from grasp and poked it at her face.
She gripped it tightly and sucked; but not for long before it swelled to full tumescence and released its load. It tasted better than the fat man’s come and she eagerly swallowed it. All three men stepped away from her and put their penises away; the fat man got into his car and drove away and the others walked off to their cars leaving Petra and the man wanking himself left alone.
Petra stood up and opened her handbag and foraged around removing tissues, handwash, and water. She dabbed at the semen on her blouse and rinsed out her mouth. She washed her hands and was giving serious thought to opening the wine when she heard a noise behind her.
“Ahem,” she turned around to see a rather handsome young man who had a rather appealing appendage poking from his pants.
As she got down on her knees she noticed a couple more cars pull into the carpark.
She addressed the cock in front of her, working her lips along the shaft and using her tongue on the glans. The man who was wanking himself stepped in closer to get a better look. The man she was sucking loosened his trousers and dropped them to his knees along with his briefs. He reached down and eased Petra to her feet. Petra heard the crunch of gravel as more men approached as the young man turned her around and pushed her towards the hatchback.
“Ok luv?” he asked?
Petra nodded; she knew what he wanted.
She bent over the hatch and reached in her bag for the condoms and lube but before she could find them the man had lifted her skirt, pulled down her knickers and was probing at the puckered winkle between her cheeks. Petra had prelubricated as part of her toilette and the man was able to slide inside her with ease.
“Oh jeez!” Petra gasped in surprise.
“Is this ok luv?” the man asked, but he had already started to fuck her.
Once again Petra nodded and held onto the side of the hatchback while the man soundly fucked her tight cleft. She was going to complain that he hadn’t put on a condom but she was starting to enjoy the fucking. She wriggled her bottom invitingly and adjusted her stance so that the man was pressing on her prostate and the man understood what she wanted and gripped her hips and began to fuck her with steady strokes.
Petra heard the gravel scuff behind her and the sound of subdued voices, she turned her head and saw that a small crowd had gathered. Most had their cocks out and were improving their erections as they watched her being fucked.
The man behind her dug his fingers into her hips and gripped her tightly as he pressed himself against her and emptied his scrotal nectar deep inside her. Petra squirmed her buttocks to extract all of his semen; she was semi-tumescent and her testes had descended back into her scrotum.
The man turned her head and kissed her quickly on the lips than he pushed himself off her.
“Thanks luv; that was great,” he said as he buckled his pants.
“Out the way mate, let a bloke take his turn,” Petra heard a gruff voice behind her and then another penis poked her buttocks.
“Come on mate; turn her around and let’s all get at her,” another man said brusquely.
Two men turned Petra around and lifted her bodily into the hatch so that she was half in and half out; her buttocks resting on the blanket she had put over the sill. Petra saw that there had to be at least five men and possibly more gathered around the back of her car. She was definitely no longer in control of the situation. A big man with an equally big erection opened her legs; before he obscured her view she was sure that she saw a black Mondeo parked across the way.
Petra grunted as the man pushed himself inside her.
“Oh yeah, that’s good!” he began to fuck her.
Two other strangers stepped forward and guided her hands to their erections; she had no choice but to masturbate them. Another man tried to climb into the hatch and put his cock in her mouth but he couldn’t maintain his balance. She was reminded of a wildlife program she had seen about wild dogs where a bitch in heat was surrounded by a mating group of six or seven males, all trying to copulate with a bitch at the same time.
The man with the big cock held her by her thighs, lifting her legs and opening them wide so that he could fuck her like a woman. Even with the blanket under the small of her back it was uncomfortable. She was glad when she heard him grunt and felt him grind against her, ejaculating deep in her anus.
The man who had tried to force his cock in her mouth had become impatient and had resorted to masturbating himself while watching her being fucked and wanking off the two strangers.
“Take that you tranny slut!” he hissed and spent himself over her face.
His semen was scalding as it splashed across her face and into her hair. Some of it seeped into her eye and it stung, almost blinding her temporarily. She felt more hot semen soak her blouse; one of the men she was wanking had come over her too.
She was really just a sex toy; to be used as the crowd of men saw fit.
While she was still half blinded the other man she was masturbating took his cock from her hand.
“Give me hand mate,” he growled to one of the onlookers.
They lifted her out of the car and put her down on her hands and knees on the blanket. Petra wiped the scalding semen from her eyes just as she felt another penis invade her anus. The man was in no hurry and fucked her with long hard strokes while another knelt in front of her and waggled his penis in front of her face. Now that she was relatively comfortable, she had to admit that the man fucking her knew what he was doing; he was working his penis so that it stimulated her sphincter and pressed on her prostate.
She was erect in her knickers and she began to rock back and forth on her knees in time with the thrusting cock. She opened her mouth and swallowed the cock in front of her face and went to work sucking on it; working her tongue expertly on the throbbing organ. The man pulled his cock from her mouth and ejaculated on her; spraying his seed over her back and in her hair.
These doggers obviously had thing for bukkake, she felt another splattering of come on her buttocks and legs but it wasn’t the man fucking her; he still held her by the hips and was working his cock expertly in and out of her anus.
“This bitch knows what she’s doing,” one stranger commented.
“She fucking loves it, the slut,” another interjected.
A big black penis pushed itself into her mouth; she looked up to see a line of men wanking themselves and waiting their turn. The one positive thing about all these men masturbating themselves while they watched was that they were close to orgasm when they took their turn. Most didn’t last long.
Petra used her talent on the big black cock in her mouth and was rewarded with a mouthful of creamy semen; that cock was quickly replaced by another; another stranger stepped forward and came all over face while she was fellating this stranger. Somewhere in her primeval self, a seed of gratification and ascendancy grew. Yes she was the one being used; but all these men wanted her, she was really the one in charge. She had the power to pleasure or disappoint these men.
The man fucking her had developed a nice steady rhythm; drawing his cock out so that it stimulated her sphincter and then easing it all the way inside her and pressing his glans on her prostate. She wished that all the men who fucked her were so well accomplished; they thought that jackhammering their cocks in and out of her anus gave her enjoyment, which it did, a little, but nothing beat a long slow sensuous fuck!
The man ripped open her blouse and put his hands inside her bra and massaged her breasts and tweaked her hardening nipples.
“Oh god!” Petra moaned like a slattern.
She was fully tumescent and dripping pre-ejaculate when the man she was sucking orgasmed and filled her mouth with come; simultaneously some stranger blew his load over her buttocks. This triggered Petra’s own orgasm.
“Look! The tranny’s coming!” some lout guffawed.
Someone reached under her and wrapped her cock in her satin knickers and milked her like a cow, draining her into her panties.
The man behind her gripped her tightly by the hips and ejaculated as he continued to fuck her with those lovely long slow thrusts. He fell on top of her and she collapsed under his weight. The man ground against her, pushing her into the blanket as the last of his ejaculate flooded her anus.
After a beat he climbed off her and Petra heard the ominous sound of someone behind her unbuckling his pants.
“No! That’s enough for a little while fellas; let her take a break,” The stranger who had just fucked her helped her to her feet.
“You ok luv?” he seemed genuinely concerned.
Petra just nodded and turned her back on the small crowd of men and found her big bag in the back of her car.
“Is the party over luv?” a man asked; obviously disappointed.
“Just give me five minutes ok,” Petra called over shoulder.
There was a murmur amongst the small crowd but no one left. Petra wiped her face with a face wipe and fixed her makeup; she figured brushing her hair or trying to fix her clothes would be a waste of time. She opened the bottle of water, rinsed and spat and then lit a cigarette. She opened the bottle of wine and didn’t even bother with the glass, she chug-a-lugged one third of the bottle. She put the wine back in her bag and turned around.
Under the wan glow of street light she could see there were five or six men gathered around and two more cars were pulling up.
She flicked her cigarette into the dark, pulled off her knickers and threw them in the hatch and got down onto her knees on the blanket.
“You blokes gonna keep wanking yourselves all night or is one of you going to fuck me?” she raised her derriere, presenting herself for the next punter.
The man in the black Mondeo had seen enough; he dropped his camera on the passenger seat and started his engine.
There was a knock at the door; more of an insistent banging than a knock really.
Petra was sitting at her desk writing a short story for a magazine.
“Who is it?” Petra called, annoyed at being disturbed.
“David it’s Marie; let me in please,” came a muffled voice from beyond the door.
“David isn’t here,” Petra called back, hardly taking her eyes off the screen.
Marie hammered on the door, harder this time.
“David please let me in; we have to talk!” Marie demanded.
Petra got up, stormed across the room and wrenched open the door.
A startled Marie stood there with a brawny man in his early fifties standing just behind her. He was carrying a large briefcase.
“I fucking told you David isn’t here!” Petra growled.
Petra looked Marie up and down petulantly. Marie was wearing black Lycra leggings and matching sports top that clung to every curve and crevice of her body and with her full makeup her appearance was an obviously a brazen attempt to get David’s attention.
Marie was stunned. She had seen pictures of David dressed as Petra but Marie was not prepared for the visage that was presented before her. Petra was wearing her navy blue business suit, silk cream blouse, flesh-toned sheer pantyhose and black high heels. Her makeup was more subdued than usual, but perfect, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail because she was working. She looked stunning; so feminine, nothing at all like David.
“I need to talk to David,” Marie tempered the tone of her voice.
Marie figured that arguing with Petra was not going to help.
“I told you he isn’t here, but you and your goon might as well come in if only to keep my nosy neighbours from being entertained,” Petra turned her back on her visitors and walked back into her apartment.
“So you’re Petra. I’ve heard about you. And now I’ve finally met you,” Marie decided the best course of action was to deal with Petra as if she was a real person; separate to David.
Marie had had a long to talk to a psychiatrist friend of hers who had advised Marie not to confront David but to try coax and encourage him to seek professional help from a mental health specialist. Her friend had advised against Marie talking to David whilst he was in the guise of Petra; but that was now impossible. David had disappeared.
“So. The Quizmaster told you about me,” Petra proclaimed.
She pointed to the two chairs set against the window, and Marie and her associate took a seat; he put the briefcase on the floor. Petra remained standing but she reached for her cigarettes and lit one and paced up and down the small room. She offered the pack to her guests but they both declined.
“There is no Quizmaster David,” Marie said defiantly.
“If you call me David one more time I’ll throw you out!” Petra snapped.
“Ok Petra; let me deal with you then,” Marie tried her best to sound calm and in control.
“Don’t you understand Petra? You invented the Quizmaster, you're delusional, you're psychotic,” Marie tried to explain..
“I’ve spoken to a psychiatrist who says that you are in a dissociative state. Because of your schizophrenia you are suffering from limitations of free will. Any control you think you have over your actions is a meaningless illusion. Your fate is dictated by your dissociative identity disorder during your psychotic breaks.”
“I am not delusional! It’s the Quizmaster! He is blackmailing me! Forcing me to do things against my will!” Petra screamed.
“No he isn’t Petra. It’s you! You have taken my husband captive; slowly but surely you are eroding his existence and replacing it with your own,” Marie construed.
“You say that you’re not delusional; let’s go through it then shall we?” Marie tried to reason with Petra.
“First let me introduce you to Daniel Arnott. He’s a private investigator with my law firm but I hired him to work for me confidentially after David and I separated and I became concerned for David’s wellbeing. I’ve had him investigating everything about you Petra,” Marie explained.
“This all began on the twenty first of September last year; exactly twenty years after William died but you were already dissociative by then; you just had your psychosis under control. You never gave up the lease on this apartment; you continued to pay the rent on this flat and kept it decorated just like it was back in 1987, you never changed a thing. David never told me about it and I doubt you knew yourself except in your subconscious. Can’t you see; this place is a shrine to Petra and William,” Marie said.
“The flat is in my name, not David’s” Petra retorted.
“David put it in Petra’s name around the time she, that is you, reappeared in September last year,” Marie countered.
“Almost everything that was once in David’s name is now in Petra’s, that was easy to do. You fast tracked a deed poll changing your name to from David to Petra so that all of your identity documents are now in Petra’s name. You even submitted a renewed passport application,” Marie went on.
“Non of this disproves that the Quizmaster exists,” Petra barked, deflecting the conversation.
“You needed the Quizmaster to exist so that you could get rid of David. David cannot exist if it is becomes known that he is a crossdressing sexual deviate; the humiliation would kill him. But it’s ok for Petra to be a promiscuous transsexual; you can live with that can’t you Petra?” Marie retaliated.
“What about the pictures? The pictures the Quizmaster sent to me; and to you! Some of those pictures go back to the nineteen eighties, how could they be faked?” Petra insisted.
“They aren’t faked; you took them Petra. You took pictures of yourself and William and you kept them all these years and twenty years on you started to use them to blackmail yourself. Mister Arnott please,” Marie waved her hand towards the small closet-come-wardrobe.
Daniel lifted his considerable bulk out of the chair with a little difficulty and strode over to closet. He opened it up and reached up to the very top shelf and pulled down a camera case and tripod.
“Cannon EOS; best camera available back in the 1980s; auto focus SLR fitted with a self timer capable of repeated exposures. By studying the angles on the pictures of you on that bed with William I’d say you had it set up right here in the closet, secretly taking pictures. You’d only need the door open a crack,” he put the camera case down and strode over to the desk.
“These used to be hidden up there on the shelf as well I’d guess but now you keep them here,” Daniel opened the bottom drawer of the little Officeworks desk.
“Hey get out of there!” Petra tried valiantly to stop him but she was no match for the large men.
He opened an envelope and waved the incriminating pictures of Petra and William circa 1986 and 1987 in the air as Petra vainly attempted to snatch them for his grasp. He dropped the pictures on the desk and reached into the drawer again and pulled out a ream of lavender writing paper and matching envelopes.
“You! You’ve been here before! You broke into my flat!” Petra shrieked at Daniel.
“Of course I broke into your flat; your security is shite! I hacked your computer and your phone too. David bought them in your name the very day you received the first letter from the Quizmaster; I have a copy of the receipts. The Petra Pantsdown email account and Craigslist advertisements are also your doing; no one else’s. You are obviously writing the letters from the Quizmaster to yourself on that paper,” Daniel nodded at the lavender paper.
Petra was about to respond when Daniel held up his hand.
“You see that lens set into that imperfection in the wall there across from the bed. You’ve been filming yourself with your lovers; the video is on the hard drive of your computer, doubtless to blackmail yourself in the future or maybe to blackmail the men who come here to see you. You’re so crazy; god knows what you’re capable of,” Daniel declared.
Petra appeared to have run out of excuses to respond to the allegations against her.
“But, but, but,” she stuttered.
“But nothing Petra; the evidence speaks for itself,” Marie interjected.
“You’ve seen the pictures Marie? The video?” Petra looked shocked.
“Yes and more. Show her please Mister Arnott,” Marie sounded disheartened.
Daniel Arnott reached into his brief case and bought out a series of stills. He threw them on the table one by one: Petra with her boyfriends Gary and Mick, Petra the prostitute at the railway underpass, Petra in Edinburgh with Timothy and later with Billy Wallace, Petra dogging in the carpark. There were also some pictures of Petra walking down the street, shopping, eating in restaurants, and just doing normal everyday things.
“The black Mondeo! You!” Petra turned pale.
“Me! There is no Quizmaster; you’re blackmailing yourself,” Daniel looked disgusted.
He sat back down and took out his own cigarettes and lit one up.
“Do you have to?” Marie looked annoyed.
“Yes I have to; dealing with this shit. I need a drink too,” Daniel said, the disgust evident in his voice.
“But The Game? The dares? Why?” Petra’s voice was shaky.
“Simply to humiliate you and by association David. I know the vile things you’ve done pretending that they were dares imposed on you by the so-called Quizmaster; the depravity you engaged in to imprison my husband!” Marie sounded disgusted.
“Don’t you see there aren’t two personalities inhabiting your body; there’s effectively three. David, Petra, and when necessary, the Quizmaster,” Marie tried to explain.
“Really. You really expect me to believe that I’m blackmailing David so that he has no choice but to spend the rest of his life as me!” Petra screamed, her face turning from pale white to vivid red.
“There’s even more sorry,” Marie nodded at Daniel.
He put his cigarette down in the ashtray and took out a file containing a small number of documents and photocopies and a small plastic canister.
“With the deed poll that you used to change your name from David to Petra you obtained a passport in the name of Petra Cashmore. You couldn’t change your gender without a transgender recognition certificate so you are still legally male in the passport. But the picture in the passport is you Petra, looking just like you do now. You can travel as a transgender even though you’re identified as male in your passport. David Cashmore no longer has a passport,” Daniel pointed to the file.
“We also know about the royalties from Warner Brothers for the film option on your book; you’ve been putting the money to good use haven’t you?”
Daniel put an empty vial on the table.
“You’re taking female hormones. You are actually altering David’s body,” David pointed accusingly at the little bottle.
“I was experimenting; that’s all!” Petra was still in denial.
“Really? What about these?” he pointed at the documents.
“You booked yourself into a hospital in Bangkok for breast augmentation surgery next month; the Thai’s don’t care about British legalities regarding sex reassignment surgery. I also have copies of your first class airline tickets and your booking at the Bangkok Hilton, three weeks of luxury while you recover from your getting your new tits fitted,” Daniel dropped the file on the table disgustedly.
Petra stared down at the file speechless. She suddenly became dead still; almost trancelike; her eyes glazed over and she stared out into nowhere.
“That will be all for now Daniel; I’d like to speak to my husband alone please,” Marie said.
“Are you sure that’s wise Misses Cashmore? I think this woman is totally mad and possibly dangerous” Daniel shook his big head.
“That woman has my husband locked away somewhere inside her and I want him back,” Marie countered.
“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Daniel packed up his briefcase and left.
“Petra? David? Are you there? Petra? David?” Marie shook Petra gently.
Petra slowly came out of her trance and a wry smile crossed her face. She walked into the kitchenette and poured herself a drink and lit a cigarette, ignoring Marie.
“Oh. You’re still here,” Petra said offhandedly to Marie.
“I can get you help David. I know you’re in there! I can get you to a doctor, a psychiatrist if necessary; we can work through this,” Marie pleaded.
“I keep telling you David isn’t here!” Petra replied angrily.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” Petra pointed to the door.
Marie fell to her knees and took Petra’s hands in hers.
“Please David! Please!” she begged.
Petra looked balefully at the woman on her knees beseeching her. She entwined her fingers into the shoulder-straps of Marie’s Lycra sports top and dragged Marie to her feet so that their faces were only an inch apart.
“If you don’t leave now I’ll bring your husband back from Bangkok with a cunt!” Petra hissed malevolently.
Petra violently pushed Marie towards the door.
Marie was sobbing when she left the apartment.
With Marie gone Petra once again entered into a dissociative state. Still in the trance she went back to her little desk and loaded a sheet of lavender paper into the printer and then bought up Microsoft Word on the computer. She began typing.
Well wasn’t that quite the scene this afternoon with Marie? But let’s not get distracted from the task at hand; I have one more dare for you to complete before you leave for Bangkok….’
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