In this chapter. Khatia gets to know bennie better and things move forward as bennie proposes.

NEW SPACETRAN 16.

Spacetran 16

List of our children and their friends.

Girls,

Wendy, William’s twin.
Jessica and Charlotte, Ben’s (AKA Bennie’s,) twin sisters.
Dave and Eddie , Sherriff Jack Johnson’s boys.
Linda and Sandra, Sherriff Jack Johnson’s daughters.
Ray, Wendy’s husband, (Our son in Law.).
Khatia. Bennie’s secret Muslim wife.

“What time do they finish serving lunch?” Khatia asked.

“This is the village Khatia,” Bennie explained. “You can eat almost round the clock.”

“Have I time for a shower?”

“Okay, be quick. I’ll phone them and tell them I’ll be a little late today.”

Khatia slipped into her own bedroom, ‘funny how she had already come to think of it as ‘her’ bedroom’ and whipped her own bra off the shower rail where she had washed it through. She put it on the radiator to finish drying and quickly ‘scrubbed up’. By the time she was clean the bra was almost dry and she called to Bennie to fetch her some clean knickers. She was doubly pleased when a new pair still in their cellophane, came flying around the door. She grinned as she recognised the subtle change in the relationship. Yesterday she had stood stark naked except for a pair of boots in front of Bennie. It was funny how a little bit of skin and gristle could so change a relationship. She smiled to herself. ‘Bennie was a perfect gentleman, or was that a lady?’ She wondered.

She slipped easily into her own properly fitting bra and stepped into her knickers. Then she had a licentious thought. ‘Should she appear like this and raid Bennie’s extensive wardrobe?’

She smiled to herself and decided to risk it. It would be both a test of Bennie’s intentions and a statement of her own perceptions about where this relationship might be going.

Bennie was checking something on her lap-top as Khatia emerged. She looked up and Khatia was gratified to notice that her eyes just briefly scanned Khatia’s breasts before being snatched up to meet her eyes.

“I saw you,” she scolded with a gentle smile, naughty boy.”

“Well they are nice,” Bennie replied without removing her eyes from Khatia’s gaze, “and I am a bi-boy.”

“But a transsexual bi-boy, that’s a bit of a handful.”

“I told you, God took all the left-over bits when I was made.”

“Now I see what you mean. Can I raid your wardrobe?”

“It’s the only wardrobe on the block; be my guest. Just remember this is Sunday afternoon, look how I’m dressed.”
Khatia wagged her head and smiled.

“Going to Church are you?”

“Going to meet my dad. Much the same thing.”

Khatia nodded and set about burrowing through Bennie’s wardrobe. She found a lovely woollen royal blue two-piece suit and set it off with a pale cream cotton body. Some neat pearl ear-rings and a short pearl necklace completed the outfit then she chose some brown court shoes and a brown bag. She would have chosen the cream heels but her choice of shoes was directed by fit. Bennie’s feet were a size larger and she knew she would have to get some more shoes; her old trainers had been excellent for the street but this was different. She stuffed some tissues into the toes and determined herself passable. Her usual stunning looks needed little make up and she chose some understated dark red gloss lip enhancer. She emerged to receive an approving look and a broad smile from Bennie.

“That’s beautiful darling. Lovely choice and you do it so much justice. Come on, I’ve ordered the fixed lunch for two, I hope you like it, there’s a choice of meats, lamb, beef, pork or chicken. The Taj caters to all tastes and faiths.”

It was again just a short walk around a corner and one block to The Taj so the overlarge shoes proved no problem.

‘This apartment was just soo-oo central!’ Khatia surmised as Bennie exchanged pleasantries with the staff who knew her for a regular Sunday customer. The doorman studied Khatia appreciatively despite his sexual preferences.

“Ooh hello Bennie, you have company I see.”

“Yes Rhaj, what d’you think, pretty or just plain stunning!?”

“You have an excellent choice in companions; this way ladies.”

Once they were seated Khatia asked Bennie.

“Do they think we’re lesbians?”

“Let them think it, we’re both bi anyway so they’re half right.”

“They don’t seem to mind.”

“They’re all gay in here. Tarique the chef is gay so they understand. He owns the place. Khatia can’t you get it? This is the gay village. If we can’t be safe here where can we be safe?”

A tiny tear leaked out of Khatia’s eye. She had never felt so happy, or safe. Bennie passed her a tissue then realised there was no real problem. Khatia wasn’t wearing any makeup save her lip-gloss. Khatia dabbed her eyes and smiled with a deep sigh.

“This is just so nice. A lovely restaurant, a beautiful meal and a really beautiful, kind companion. This is how it should be; this is how I always wanted it to be.”

They reached across the table and squeezed hands, ignoring the knowing but compassionate eyes that looked on from several other tables. Bennie and Khatia looked for all the world exactly what they were, two companions who were discovering something deeper, something more meaningful. Something that transcended sexuality, race, faiths and backgrounds. That something was love.
The staff added to the ambience as they realised Bennie had brought a very special guest. Even Tarique came out to speak to them.

“I’m so happy and honoured that you have brought her here. Are you going to propose?” he asked loudly.

Bennie giggled nervously, afraid she might offend Khatia by declaring.

“I’m sorry Tari’ I didn’t think to bring a ring.”

Khatia defused the tension by adding.

“We’ve only known each other a few days, what would our parent’s think?”

The whole restaurant had been eves-dropping and a soft titter rippled around the tables. Almost every diner present had had issues with their parents.

Bennie’s smile almost split her face as she squeezed Khatia’s hand even tighter.

“Would you even consider such a big step?” She whispered.

Khatia caught her breath.

“Is this an offer? An offer of marriage?” She replied in the same low whisper.

“Is that an acceptance?” Asked Bennie continuing in the same silent vein.

“You’re saying you want to marry me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Oh Allah! This is just so sudden.”

“Never mind God, go with your heart. Do you love me enough to marry me?”

Khatia hesitated and for a dreadful moment Bennie thought it was a refusal, possibly because of the Wahabist strictures preventing a Muslim woman marrying out of the faith.

Then Khatia slowly nodded her head and Bennie’s heart leapt. Bennie gave a short squeak of delight but the people on the immediate tables sensed what had just occurred and the mood quickly spread around the restaurant. A party atmosphere soon ensued and the neatly laid out tables were quickly re-arranged into a long double line. Bennie and Khatia were placed at the head and congratulations were offered from all quarters. Tarique had a quick word with Bennie and a celebratory menu was quickly prepared. Indian restaurants were nothing if not flexible.

The meal lasted into the evening when Bennie had to finally make his farewells. The job called and he had to attend in New York on the Monday morning. Khatia stood by Bennie’s pul and frowned as Bennie made ready to leave from the roof garage.

“I’ll be back by Tuesday morning, use the flat as if it’s your own. Here’s some cash and the spare pass key. Do yourself a bit of retail therapy.”

“I wish I could come with you. Can’t you tell me anything?”

“No darling. The less you know, the less danger you can be put in. Bye now; I’ll be back Tuesday.”
Khatia watched the pul rise with a soft hum, thread its way into the local traffic then ascend to the higher commercial levels and promptly slide away to the west. She turned to face the empty flat. Already she was missing Bennie and she hadn’t been gone a minute.

Monday found Khatia taking Bennie’s advice. She made herself some breakfast then took herself around to Jasmine’s studio to see how the portrait was coming along and to spread the news about Bennie’s proposal. Jack was in the garret in the loft painting in the figures so Jasmine invited her up.

“Won’t Jack mind? Being interrupted that is.” Khatia wondered, having heard numerous tales of artists hating to be watched while painting.

“Heaven’s no. Any friend of Bennie’s is a friend of Jack’s.”

They climbed the narrow spiral stair until Khatia’s face emerged through the floor to surprise Jack. He turned slightly startled then smiled.

“Oh hello Khatia! Lost for something to do?”

“I’m going shopping but I just had to tell you the news. Bennie’s proposed to me!”

“And did you accept?”

“Yes.”

“Good. She’ll be a very happy girl. She must really love you; she’s never proposed to anyone else.”

Khatia sighed wistfully.

“I just wish she was here. D’you know what it is she does on these monthly trips?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to tell you. I found out by accident and it’s been a strain keeping it secret. It still is a strain so please don’t ask me, it will only upset me to refuse.”

“Just tell me, it’s not illegal is it, you know, drugs or something?”

“No Khatia. It’s definitely not illegal.”

“Then in that case I’ll ask no more.”

“You’re a wise girl,” Jack counselled.

With the issue agreed Khatia stepped behind Jack to join Jasmine studying the painting. She was very impressed.

“Gosh you’re good. Somebody in the Rembrandt said this was your very first portrait is that true?”

“Yes it is. It’s a special one off for my best female friend, Jasmine. It’s a thank you for organising the exhibition. I’ve received over thirty commissions.”

Khatia did the mental maths and gave a silent gasp.

“But how can people afford that sort of money?”

“They’re mostly corporate commissions. You know, the company factory or some such thing showing their industry in a particularly good light; or the street where the bank’s head office sits showing the busy street scene, that sort of stuff.”

“But this portrait’s good,” Katia pressed, “and you’re quick. Why don’t you do more portraits?”

“Nah, it’s usually a sop to people’s vanity. If the public ever see this one of Jasmine and ‘the gang’ I’ll be harried from pillar to post by hordes of people wanting a ‘Jack Seymour Original portrait’.”

“Is that what you’re going to call it, ‘Jasmine and the Gang’?”

“Well it is isn’t it,” Jasmine replied, “the gang was there wasn’t it.”

“So I’m included in ‘the gang’ now am I?” Khatia smiled at the thought of genuinely belonging because she was liked and treated as an equal and not regarded as some sort of breeding property to be matched to some revolting relative for family purposes and politics.

“You’re in the picture love, though only we know it,” Jack added then continued, “and don’t worry about it. Bennie’s also plainly in view over Jasmine’s shoulder. She’s also got issues with being recognised as well. This picture hangs in private on Jasmine’s wall.”

Khatia turned to Jasmine and the agent nodded a vigorous confirmation of Jack’s words. A closer look confirmed to the nervous Asian beauty that the girl, who sat three-quarter turned to chat to Bennie, was indeed her but it would only show to somebody who had an intimate knowledge of Khatia’s left ear and the tiny mole on her neck just behind her left ear. Normally this mole was invisibly tucked away behind her ear and covered by Khatia’s thick lustrous hair but Jack had portrayed Khatia casually flicking her hair as she laughed at Bennie’s remark. In the background, illuminated in the side window by the outside street lights and just coming into view, was a recognisable Jack with a tray of drinks. It was a rare ‘self portrait’ of Jack that gave the whole picture a rare and valuable provenance as well as telling a story.

Khatia could sense Jasmine’s excitement and it was infectious. Khatia wondered if she could ever have such a picture to hang privately on her wall; her and Bennie’s wall. She debated whether to risk asking then decided against it. So much depended on Bennie’s agreement. After sharing a cup of tea up in Jack’s loft, Khatia finally went shopping.

She saw lot’s of beautiful stuff but had to ‘cut her cloth’. Bennie had only given her a thousand credits cash. Khatia wondered if this was to keep the purchases untraceable. She was in a bit of a quandary should she go for lots of cheap stuff or a few classy expensive items.

Finally she chose cheap and cheerful. If Bennie wanted her to look good then she could shop again, with Bennie’s credit cards. Besides her immediate needs were a useable wardrobe for everyday wear. Towards the end of the day she remembered to stock up the fridge. Bennie had previously lived alone and didn’t keep much in her larder. Khatia was grateful to have enough left to hire a taxi to get all the stuff home and further grateful that the front door opened directly onto the street. She only had to cross the pavement with her purchases and she was safe behind the security door. For the rest of that evening Khatia indulged in an impromptu private fashion show as she indulged her feminine feelings and matched her outfits. She was ‘between outfits’ and sitting in a skimpy bra and panties when the phone rang. She hesitated nervously until the digital pad identified the caller as Bennie then she snatched the phone up eagerly. To her surprise and amusement the screen on the wall behind the phone table suddenly showed Bennie’s smiling face as it turned into a salacious grin and he spoke.

“Darling, if you’re going to answer the phone dressed like that, might I advise you to press the red button to switch off the camera. You can see me and I can see you, - all of you!”

“Oh shit! You can see me!” Squealed Khatia as she cast around for a shift to cover herself.

“Yes, and you’re very beautiful!”

“You are not offended then?”

“No, provided you haven’t got another boyfriend or something with you.”

“No! No! No I haven’t.” Khatia squealed nervously.

“Okay, okay, calm down girl. I was only joking. You can stay like that if you wish; it’s a pleasure for my eyes only.”

Khatia relaxed and slumped with relief onto the settee then asked when Bennie was coming home.

“I’ll be there in the early hours of the morning darling, ‘bout fourish’.

“I can’t wait. Hurry home!”

There followed a series of passionate electronic kisses then the line closed. Khatia debated having a breakfast ready for her new partner but decided a cup of tea and toast would suffice. She had no idea where Bennie had been or whether her ‘body-clock’ would be on morning, afternoon or night. Mind you she had only been gone for a little over thirty six hours. She would be on Manchester time. She decided to go to the village and check out all the clubs. Her previous visit with Bennie had emboldened her and additionally she had got to know a few people on the doors.

Monday night was relatively quiet but she was pleased when one of the doormen from Rembrandt’s recognised her and bid her a pleasant ‘good-evening’. She had no idea that the crazy ‘wild-west’ atmosphere of the weekend could change so dramatically into a pleasant ‘continental style’ bourgeois neighbourhood. She took a cup of tea on one of the pavement tables and savoured the quiet evening traffic. She was thankful for the ‘designer label’ coat that Bennie had bought her in the LGBT Charity shop for it kept her warm from the chill Manchester wind. The village was just such a friendly place and everybody seemed to be walking around with smiles on their faces. Khatia was truly content for the first time since learning she was to be married off to her revolting first cousin from Pakistan. The village had become a sort of sanctuary. She particularly liked the situation where she could sit alone at a table and watch the passing traffic while the doorman from the Rembrandt just kept glancing her way occasionally to see she wasn’t being hassled. Later she was pleased to get chatting to a gay couple who had taken the next table and soon she was chatting away safely whilst still enjoying the watchful gaze of the friendly doorman.

‘Where else could a girl sit alone on a busy street full of clubs and music and enjoying her tea without getting all the usual hassle?’ She kept asking herself.

At two in the morning she strolled happily and safely back the few yards to Bennie’s apartment and let herself in. It had been a wonderful evening and put her in the perfect mood to receive Bennie later that morning. She borrowed Bennie’s bathroom and took a shower then savoured the luxury of a long hot soak with bubble salts. Eventually her toes and fingers started to dimple and she had to climb out of the bath. A quick final rinse with the shower and then she chose the special lingerie she had bought that afternoon and prepared for her fiancée’s homecoming. To her chagrin she fell asleep on the settee and woke with a start to find Bennie bending over her as her delicate kiss disturbed Khatia’s slumbers.

“Ooh! You’re here. I’m sorry, I had your homecoming all planned.”

Bennie smothered Khatia’s lips with a passionate kiss and they fell into a desperate embrace right there and then on the settee. It was several minutes before the pair emerged from their embrace and Khatia finally got to preparing a meal.

“What d’you want to eat?”

“Nothing darling, my pul has got its own kitchenette. I ate on the way over.”

“Ooh. You shouldn’t have. I’ve got stuff ready so you only had to ask.”

Bennie recognised Khatia’s crestfallen expression. The girl had done what most normal Muslim girls would do and prepared a meal for her man when he came home. Bennie decided to accept a meal and they decided what they would eat together. Khatia was glad to feel useful and eagerly prepared a full English breakfast including black pudding, bacon and kidneys. Bennie waited eagerly then wondered why Khatia did not join her.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you eating?”

“I will, after you.”

“Let’s not start that nonsense darling. You eat with me not after me or even before me. We are equals in this partnership. Just because you’ve learned that I’ve got a teeny-weeny bit more than you in my knickers does not make me better than you or higher than you. We eat together.”

Khatia could have kissed her and promptly produced her own plate as Bennie poured them each a cup of tea. They sat down at the breakfast bar and Khatia kept gazing into Bennie’s eyes like a lovesick ewe.

“Will you be sleeping after we’ve eaten?”

“Please, yes, it was a hectic session.”

Khatia smiled then blushed coquettishly.

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Bennie smiled softly and gently stroked her cheek.”

“Why d’you need to ask. We are engaged now, it is your right but only if you wish. Are you not worried about waiting until we get formally married? I mean; the Islamic strictures and all that?”

“Huh! I have left all that cruelty behind me. Grandfather will never bully me again. Other girls sleep with their boyfriends before they wed so why shouldn’t I?”

“Are you on the pill Khatia?”

“Uuuhmm, no.” She confessed.

“Are you sure you want to risk sleeping with me?”

“What d’you mean risk?” Khatia pressed.

“Well, the risk of getting pregnant for one thing.”

“Is it not my duty to get pregnant?”

Bennie was flummoxed. ‘This girl was severly constrained by primitive Wahabist mores.’ He explained softly.

“Look Khatia the girl I marry becomes my equal and I become her equal. Now that means equal in everything.”

“But you are a man, you are stronger.”

“Uuhhm, not me Khatia; look at me, I am a woman in all respects save one.”

Khatia studied Beverly and slowly nodded.

“Okay then, so you are a womanly man but Allah gave you those manly parts and the Koran says,-“
Bennie put her finger to Khatia’s lips.

“Stop right there darling. Listen, we are equal. If Allah, or God as we call the deity, made us then we were all made equal.”

“But we are not equal are we? Look about you.”

“I cannot speak for others and I won’t speak for others but this is what I think.

Man and woman if God created them then God created them equal and good. God does not judge the flesh for if God designed the different flesh then God chose it to be that way and God would never judge that flesh just for being the flesh. The flesh has no say in its existence and therefore no God could judge their own creation. The flesh can be neither good nor bad; the flesh is simply the flesh!

If there is a god then the only possible thing that god could judge is the soul, that is if there is such a thing as the soul.
Now if men or women make laws and create a society that differentiates in any way between man and woman, that effectively differentiates between the flesh and then that society is setting itself above the very god that same society worships. Ipso facto, that society is setting itself above its god.

If you want it in primitive Biblical or Koranic words my feelings would run something like this, that is if I actually believed in your god.

Man and woman, god created them both, equal and good in the eyes of god because god judges the soul not the flesh.
They that would judge the flesh have set themselves above god and are therefore blasphemers. That is by their own primitive mores. I can’t put it clearer than that.

A silence descended as Bennie stirred her second cup of tea thoughtfully and Khatia studied her. Eventually Khatia spoke.

“You’ve thought about this a lot haven’t you?”

“I have a lot of time to think.” My dad used to influence me a lot.”

“Yes,” Khatia agreed, “parents do that, - and grandparents. It’s hard to shake off.”

“When did you start to fall out with them?” Bennie asked.

“When I saw my brothers going out enjoying themselves and doing nothing whilst I became a drudge at home, never going out except when the whole family went out. I was chaperoned everywhere like some sort of prize specimen. I got to hate it and I ended up escaping through my bedroom window. I’ve never been back.”

“Yeah, that figures. My father ran away. He learned a lot and he’s taught me loads.”

“But he doesn’t know where you live though.”

“He doesn’t need to. I see him once a month and if he’s got any issues we resolve them then.”

“Has he asked?”

“No, he respects my needs for privacy because of my transgenderism.”

“What about your mother?”

“She’s the same as my dad. I meet her when I meet dad. She’s also got my phone number. Mother’s are always that bit closer to their daughters.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yes and they all know about me. So no problems there either. No bullying by my brother and my sisters treat me like one of their own. As I said, I’ve been very lucky. I had a wonderful childhood. Now no more questions please. If you want to come to bed with me you’re more than welcome.”

Khatia felt a warm gooey feeling surge through her body as she wondered what it would be like sleeping with a man. Then she did a double take. ‘Bennie wasn’t a man in the physical sense, she had the soft rounded feel and shape of a girl and two beautiful breasts not to mention the fine delicate features of a girl. Her hands and feet were also small. The only part of her that was a man, apparently, was her male bits and those Khatia had never seen.’

In fact Khatia had never ever seen a set of adult male organs only those of her brothers when they were small. Anticipation tingled through her nerves.

They cleared the table and put the dishes to wash in the machine then Bennie gave a sigh and a long yawn as she delicately put her fist to her lips.

“Ooooohh. I’m ready for bed darling, are you joining me?”

Khatia smiled, turned a deep scarlet and nodded bashfully.

“If I get frightened will you stop?”

“Darling, I won’t even start unless you make the first moves. Besides, I’m bushed. It was a busy meeting. Now I’m going to shower. By the way, in my overnight case you’ll find some presents. Couldn’t go all that way and not bring you back a memento.”
Khatia’s eyes widened with delight and she grabbed the case eagerly while Bennie slipped into the bathroom. Bennie smiled as she heard the squeals of delight coming from the living room. As she savoured the hot soothing spray Khatia stepped into the bathroom.

“These are lovely. They must have cost the earth. There’s no receipts or anything though. Where did you buy them?”

“You don’t need to know, that’s why I removed the price tags. If you want, put them on and tantalise me.”
Khatia needed no second bidding and she swooned as she savoured the silky sensations of the perfectly fitting bra. The matching panties also hugged her curves as though tailor made. She studied herself in Bennie’s full length mirror then slid onto the bed and waited for Bennie’s appearance. She didn’t have to wait long and she grinned appreciatively as she noted that Bennie had a similar pair in a different colour and bra size.

“Snap!” Khatia giggled as she slid under the duvet and stared up at Bennie.

Naturally her eyes were drawn to the incongruous ‘bulge’ in Bennie’s panties and she smiled again as she gazed into Bennie’s eyes.

“You’ll not hurt me will you? I’ve heard some awful tales amongst my cousins about the first time.”

“No. I’ll not hurt you. I’ll most probably not even do it tonight. You are the one who must decide when you’re ready. It’s bad idea to let the first cuddle be the ‘first time’.

Khatia smiled gratefully then her eyes were drawn again to the ‘bulge’

“Can I look at it? — And I mean just look.”

“Be my guest,” Bennie replied, “shall I remove my panties or do you want to?”

Khatia nodded slowly then motioned with her head for Bennie to sit up. As Bennie rose to an upright kneeling position, Khatia gently peeled down the panties and stared transfixed at the soft fleshy appendages.

“So that’s what a cock and balls look like. They don’t seem to be all that dangerous.”

“Not yet,” Bennie smiled, “you might see the dangers another night, or more likely feel them. Come on lets cuddle up, that’s always nice and no sex for now, just cuddles.”

Khatia reached out to touch the flaccid, vulnerable bits of flesh but Bennie pulled away.

“Ah, - ah, - aah. Don’t tempt fate darling. Let’s just cuddle tonight.”

Khatia peeled back the duvet invitingly and Bennie accepted her invitation into what had previously been Bennie’s bed. Bennie pulled up her panties as an indication of her honest intent and Khatia reached up to kiss her. They burrowed under the duvet and Khatia spooned herself into Bennie’s tummy where she sighed thankfully as a tear came to her eye.

“Thanks Bennie, your sweet.”

An arm gently reached over and rested lightly across the crest of Khatia’s hip and down her thigh. It remained there neither inviting nor rejecting further ‘progress’ except at Khatia’s express desire. She let her own hand rest beside Bennie’s and savoured the gentle squeeze on her fingers, especially the ‘third’ finger.

“We’ll get a ring on that this afternoon.” Bennie whispered as she kissed Khatia’s neck.

Khatia had never felt so happy. There had been none of the fear, or the pain or the tears that her cousins had talked of when clumsy, brutish bridegrooms had virtually raped them on their first bridal nights.

‘This guy is really special,’ she concluded blissfully as sleep overtook them both.