The Ambassador's Wife - conclusion

The Ambassador’s Wife – Conclusion.
by
Angharad
I couldn’t believe it, here I was once again in the ambassador’s bedroom being stripped of my clothing by his ravishing wife. Unfortunately, they were her clothes after I’d played her in a decoy to try and draw fire from the embassy in which she was hiding.

“I’ve never seen a young man with so thin a body,” she said assessing me.

“It’s me mum’s fault, all her family are skinny, Ma’am, an’ I s’pose I take after her.”

“Hence you were able to wear my clothes.”

I said nothing, just blushed and looked at the floor.

“Right in the shower with you.” I did as requested, it felt good to be clean again. The desert is such a dusty place and combined with sweat tends to make you even dirtier as the stupid dust sticks to your body. “Wash the wig as if it were your own hair. Use the shampoo and conditioner in the pink bottles.”

My dad was a soldier, a redcap—that’s military police to you, I want to follow in his footsteps. I never really knew him, he was killed in Northern Ireland not long after I was born but Mum told me lots of stories and had loads of photos of him, so I knew about him but didn’t know him, if you catch my drift.

I got tired of school and although we have to do lessons as well as our military training, I quite enjoy it though you have to watch one or two of the instructors who seem to like the pretty boys. I had one or two near misses, being one of the smaller boys and I guess now I can admit, one of the prettier ones, being blond and blue eyed with no whiskers or a deep voice. Still, I think Dad was a late developer according to Gran, so I’ll probably catch up the others in time—I hope so.

I had to shave under my arms and my legs as I listened to the drone of trucks of the Jordanian army arriving to protect the compound while sporadic gunfire showed it wasn’t quite sorted yet. As I rubbed the scented lotion into my legs to stop irritation after shaving, I had to smile. Here I was in the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me in my short career an’ I’m in bloody dresses—can hardly tell them about that back at base.

To my annoyance, she took a needle and pierced my ears and after dabbing them with antiseptic, pushed two ear rings in the holes—well studs more than rings, she discounted my protests telling me they’d heal up eventually. Like how long is eventually?

“I don’t even know your first name Collins, do I?”

“Dunno, Ma’am.”

“What is it?”

“My friends call me Speedy, Ma’am.”

“I didn’t ask you that, did I?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“So what is it?”

I hate my name, trust me to be born on 7th of December and be named after the saint whose day it was. I hesitated.

“Come on, Collin’s, spit it out,” she instructed me. Standing there in a pair of pink satin panties I don’t think I was in much of a position to argue.

“Ambrose, Ma’am.”

“Well we can’t call you Rose as that’s too close to my name, I know, I’ll call you Amber. D’you like your new name, Amber?”

“Not really, Ma’am.”

“Too bad, I think it suits you with the blonde wig.”

She rubbed creams into my face and neck and I must admit I enjoyed that bit, no one had touched my face like that since I was a small kid. Unfortunately it showed in something growing in my panties. She noticed and sent me off to deal with it.

Normally pulling on my pudding while thinking about her didn’t take long at all, and in the three weeks I’d been here, I’d had loads of practice as did most of the guys, but while she was treating me as a girl, it sort of made it awkward. I did it, wiped it and tucked it down between my legs as I’d been instructed where it seemed to shrivel down to nothing.

“Right, I’m going to show you how to do simple makeup.”

“Do we have to, Ma’am?”

“Yes, now just watch and listen, then you can have a go.” Oh boy, she was turning me into a drag queen or something. Don’t think about it, just obey orders. Seems I have a flair for applying eyeliner—whoopee doo—not. Then mascara and she shaped my nearly invisible eyebrows and showed me how to paint on some colour stuff to make them darker—like I need to know.

Next came the bra and some more padding. “We’ll have to get you some better things than these balloons, Amber, won’t we?”

We will? Why? As soon as we get to Amman I’m back to boy’s stuff.

She passed me a dress and helped me put it on then she did things to the wig and suddenly I wasn’t a boy in a dress but a fairly attractive woman. I was gobsmacked to say the least. Misting me in perfume she handed me a case and told me to pack things into it. I assumed it was for her, though she was doing the same as well.

Then after packing two or three cases I donned the watch, necklace and bracelet and was taken down to the Ambassador’s office where His Excellency was in a meeting with Plug and some Jordanian major. She interrupted and introduced me as Amber, her escort. Plug and HE smiled but the major bent over and kissed first Rosie’s hand and then mine. Talk about embarrassed in the embassy, I was blushing so much I nearly caught fire.

“Right get your, passport um—Amber,” smirked Plug.

“It was destroyed, sir.”

“See Mr Marlowe, he’ll sort you out,” instructed the ambassador and Rosie dragged me off to his office.

Marlowe was one of the figures I’d seen about at the embassy but I didn’t know what he did, and it appears he didn’t know what I did either because twenty minutes later he’d taken my photo and issued a passport in the name of Amber Collins, female. I was about to correct him when Rosie grabbed me and dragged me off to get something to eat.

“He made a mistake,” I protested my voice going even higher in pitch.

“Just enjoy it for five minutes, treat it like a game, Amber.”

“But Ma’am, it’s an offence...”

“Only if you set out to deceive.”

“Aren’t we doing just that?”

“Amber, your job is to escort me to Amman and then to stay with me until we know what’s happening.”

“But will you need that in Amman, I mean they’ll have security staff in the embassy, won’t they?”

“I’m not sure where we’ll end up, Amber. Have you used a gun before?”

This was news to me, I assumed off to Amman and then back to Blighty as soon as they could organise flights. Seems I was wrong. “I’ve been taught how to shoot one.”

“Good, here put this in your handbag.” She handed me the H&K handgun. Thankfully my bag was big enough.

“Why aren’t we staying at the embassy?”

“Seems like Sheik Yemudi has influence across the border. We’re going to a safe house.”

“Why can’t I wear men’s clothes?”

“Because we’re sharing a house. I don’t want them to think you’re a boy but I hope if anything happens, you fight like one.”

“I’ll do my best, Ma’am.”

She stroked my face, “I know you will, dear Amber.” She smiled and added, “You’d better call me Rosie, once we get out of here, looks like I’m your new best friend.”

I smiled back, “I think I’ll cope, Ma—Rosie.”

“Good girl,” right let’s go and get something to eat and then off to play hide and seek.

The food was okay, though we had to rush it as our helicopter was being escorted by one of the Jordanian Apaches. So Rosie and I plus several suit cases flew off after a hurried farewell by her to her husband. As we were leaving I saw Richie return with the embassy Jaguar and I hoped my SA 80, or I’d be on a charge for losing it. I wondered if I’d had to shoot someone, could I have pulled the trigger? I hoped I’d never find out but living with it seemed preferable to dying because I couldn’t. What didn’t make any sense was that here I was effectively as a bodyguard in a dress being told to stay in role until this was over. I hope to goodness I don’t get killed wearing it; that would shock my family and my mates something rotten and not do a lot for my reputation.

Somehow we were cleared after landing and a Range Rover collected us. My identity proved a bit of a stumbling block. “Amber Collins? I thought Collins was a boy—oh well, I’ll sort it out,” said the man from the Embassy after Rosie’s expression stopped me protesting. “Right Mrs Templeton-Barre, Miss Collins, we’re going to take you to a safe house until we can arrange a flight out of here. Your contretemps with Sheik Yemudi is making things a little edgy here as well. I hope you understand.”

“The man is a total animal, isn’t he, Amber?” I just nodded hoping my surprised expression wasn’t noticed too much.

We were taken to a villa on the outskirts of Amman, which had its own pool. To minimise the security risk, there were no staff, except one male bodyguard who was armed with a handgun. I decided I would try and keep mine with me at all possible times. He was Jordanian, an ex soldier and I’m sure he was good at his job, he certainly looked the part but I just had this feeling, it could all go tits up very easily and would one man with a handgun stop a group of thugs with Kalashnikovs? I had my doubts—mind you neither would my H&K, but at least I didn’t feel quite so helpless with something to shoot back in my hand. Being in a dress was bad enough, that made me feel very vulnerable, the draught blowing up my bum cheeks proving a constant reminder—though in the heat, the lightness of the dress was easier than my fatigues would have been.

The embassy had created an online account for us, so we could order food and one or two other things for ourselves through them. Rosie spent quite some time on the computer as I fixed us some food—it was fish salad, there wasn’t anything else in the kitchen, though the embassy would organise a delivery the next day. At least there were teabags and fresh milk.

Yussuf, our bodyguard ate with us and I could feel his eyes burning through my dress—he’d have shock wouldn’t he. Seems he had a thing about blondes so being stuck with two of us was a delight for him as he kept telling us.

Although we had air-con in the house, I kept looking longingly at the pool. Rosie swam every day. I couldn’t, I didn’t have cozzie neither did she have one which would hide my deficiencies. However, a week later we had some mail via the embassy including a parcel addressed to me from some place in the States.

“Aren’t you going to open it, Amber?”

“It’s got to be a mistake, I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Perhaps Father Christmas has heard you were being a good girl and decided to come early?”

“Oh yeah and perhaps this is for someone else and got sent to me by mistake?”

“You won’t know until you open it, will you?”

I shrugged and used a kitchen knife to break into the tape securing the box, which was about the size of a shoebox. Inside the contents made my brain boggle. I’d never seen things like it before.

Rosie told me to take the box to my room and she’d be along in a moment. I was still trying to work out quite what one did with the contents. Rosie appeared and locked the door. “I told Yusuf you were having women’s problems and he went off to patrol the courtyard like I had plague.”

“Right young lady, strip off, let’s see if these things were worth the money?” It took about an hour but by the end of that time I was sporting a pair of false breasts which were state of the art. Apparently, they were made for me—to match my skin tone—with some darkening makeup paint should my skin go browner in the sun. Also was a false fanny the article which made me wonder the most. Even with the instructions, it was difficult to attach. It took my pudding and pushed it back between my legs and even had some sort of vagina which could be penetrated for sex—not that that was going to happen. My testes were shoved up back into my abdomen and didn’t that hurt, even though they’re small—but so is the rest of me. Rosie then jacked me off—which nearly blew me away—then she wiped me in a flannel, dried me and shoved me into the plasticky-rubbery device. It wasn’t very comfortable but it made me look quite female especially with the breasts glued in place. With a little bit of waterproof make up to hide the edges, they looked quite real and pulled on the skin of my chest with about a kilo of weight between them.

“They feel quite real, don’t they, Amber?”

Still in post orgasmic state I shrugged, “Dunno, do I?”

“We can soon change that, can’t we?” and with that Rsie peeled of her top and bra and placed my hand on her breast and told me to cop a feel while comparing it to the artificial ones. That was nice until pudding tried to get hard again and hurt with the constraints between my legs. She sniggered at my discomfort pushed me down on the bed and began inserting her fingers into my ‘vagina’. It rubbed the tip of my willie and was both pleasant and painful. Then she started kissing me and encouraging me to touch her breasts and down below and well one thing led to another and we both succumbed to manual stimulation. I found it difficult to consider that I’d had an orgasm without being able to erect, but that’s what happened.

“So what d’you think of girl on girl sex then, Amber?” asked Rosie getting off the bed.

“Nice,” I said wearing a huge smile. I wasn’t sure if that constituted losing my virginity or what, but anytime she fancied it, I’m her girl. Did I just think that?

“This will be our little secret, Amber.”

“Yes,” I said nodding—I mean—who could I tell?

The parcel also contained a bikini and one piece swimsuit, and over the next week I used both, feeling a bit more secure in the swimsuit, especially with Yussuf around. Most of the time, I worked on my being a girl, to minimise being spotted as a fraud, practising my makeup and sun bathing. I went a lovely golden brown colour and found the makeup for the boobs did the same.

Rosie had got me some pills to minimise my discomfort down below which I took realising later what they were, but they did the trick and moving about was a bit more comfortable but my willie seemed flaccid most of the time and my waist seemed to get a bit smaller and my bum felt slightly larger.

We’d been at the house for two months when it happened. A group of thugs followed the embassy van as it delivered our groceries and the next thing, all hell broke loose. Yussuf was shot in the shoulder and van driver from the embassy people was killed. I was sunbathing in a bikini and fell off the sun lounger as the shooting started, grabbing my gun as I hit the deck.

I found out that I could shoot someone that day. I shot him in the thigh as he chased Rosie out of the house and he fell down as if he’d been hit by a cannonball. I must have hit a blood vessel because there was blood everywhere.

Yussuf staggered through the house and shot the man I’d hit in the head. I rushed to help him and Rosie dashed inside to get her gun and to call for help. Another attacker climbed over the fence and Yussuf shot him twice, as I tried to improvise a field dressing with a scarf and some cotton wool.

A grenade came flying over wall and I managed to kick it into the pool and throw myself on the ground before this loud crump happened and we were hit by a whoosh of water. Thankfully all that happened was we got wet and the pool was the only victim. It would need a total rebuild.

As the sound of helicopters filled the air two men broke into the courtyard, I was collecting something to make a better dressing for our casualty when I spotted them. They had the drop on Yussuf and I was sure they were going to kill him. I shot each one of them twice as my training taught me. One fell back into the now empty pool the other dropped at the feet of our bodyguard.

“You save my life,” Yussuf shouted just before I threw up. I’d killed two men and my eyes were watering—I was crying and shaking. Rosie grabbed me and held me as sirens seemed to happen from every direction and soldiers were abseiling down from a helicopter—British soldiers, special forces—Christ they were big.

We were taken as we were into an armoured personnel carrier and driven to the embassy, where after a debrief, I was given a robe to wear over my bikini and finally, we were allowed to shower and change into some clothes brought from the house.

On the flight home, in first class, Rosie asked me how I was. I was still upset about killing two people. More upset about that than I was about how I was going to tell my mother why I was wearing nail varnish and makeup.

“The Ambassador has put you up for a medal, you know. You saved Yussuf and me.”

“I don’t think I want it, Rosie. When it came to the crunch, I don’t think it was what I thought it would be—it was horrible—I don’t think I’m cut out to be a soldier.”

“I think all soldiers feel that way the first time they see action, I know John did.”

“He told you that, did he?”

“He was in the Second Gulf War, he was decorated for bravery so he knows what it’s all about. He got wounded saving his sergeant.”

“Wow, a real hero,” I said thinking my own actions had been as much self interest as anything.

“You’re a real heroine, too, Amber.”

“What am I going to tell my mum, about all this?” I pointed to the skirt and top I had on.

“That she’s got a daughter to be proud of.”

“But I’m not, am I?”

“Aren’t you? That’s not what I’ve been seeing this past three months.”

I felt the tears dripping off my face. “I’m so screwed up.”

“You enjoy being a girl, don’t you?”

I nodded causing some more drips to fall off my chin.

“It can be sorted, you know. I have a doctor friend who I think will help you.”

“Really?”

“Really, he’s very good.”

“The army won’t like it will they?”

“I thought they did nowadays and besides they’re awarding a medal to Amber not Ambrose.”

I just looked into her eyes feeling completely gobsmacked, “Really?”

“Really, I saw the citation the ambassador in Jordan signed.”

“But I’m not Amber, am I?”

“I er think you might find you are—unless you really don’t like it.”

“Oh,” I said and she squeezed my leg above the knee, “perhaps I do like it.”

THE END.



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