Monique by Tanya Allan

Seventeen-year old Matthew Thwaites is trapped snooping in his father’s study when his father returns home unexpectedly with two strange men. He hides under the desk, and is horrified to witness his father gunned down just inches away from him. Given an opportunity to flee, he does so, but finds himself framed for his father’s murder by a corrupt policeman.   Alone and powerless, he hides out at a busy airport, but his appearance is such that he is mistaken for a girl. Given an idea, he makes the most of this, and goes whole hog into the deception, becoming Monique, his French ‘cousin’. He manages to find an ally in an officer investigating corruption amongst police officers, and together they try to piece together the puzzle.   Monique is then pitched into an international roller-coaster ride involving terrorists, corrupt police and double agents. No one is what they seem, particularly Monique. She is twice the person that Matthew ever was, and given the chance, she decides to take over, but everything seems against her.

Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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Originally written and posted on Sapphire's Place in 2004, Reworked & Revised in 2009.
 
The Legal Stuff:Monique  ©2004, 2009 Tanya Allan

This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.

Author's Note
I first wrote MONIQUE many years ago, posting it on Sapphire’s Place in 2004. I have had many requests to continue Monique’s adventures, so thought I’d revisit her and see what could be done. Initially, I was appalled at the standard of writing; well it was my first attempt, almost. Then I wondered why it had been so popular, as I personally found it rather rushed and the characters somewhat shallow and two-dimensional.
 
Okay, I thought, perhaps I should continue, but not from what I had written. It needed a revamp and perhaps a tweak here and there before I even could consider any additional material.
 
So, here it is, the revamped version of Monique, with a little extra and the hope that her adventures will continue in the near future. I have started with a completely new chapter at the end, just to whet your appetites.
 
I’m not convinced that there is any mileage in continuing, so perhaps you could let me know what you think?
 
 
Chapter 11
 
 
I slept well, and woke late. Alison was in some discomfort, so I knew I would have to try to get her to medical care later. She took some painkillers and lapsed into a fitful sleep.

We had a lazy day. Alex popped out to the nearest shops and bought some bread and cheese for lunch, but then we just watched TV and chatted.

At about five o’clock I stood up.

“I have to go out. I must change, so I’ll leave you here looking after Alison. Okay?”

“Can’t I come with you?”

“No sweetie, not this time. I need you here.”

He wasn’t happy, but nodded.

I changed into black slacks and a black sweater. I thought that I looked very secret agentish, so had to grin at my reflection. This was so surreal, I couldn’t really come to terms with the vast distance I seemed to have gone since leaving Matthew behind in that toilet cubicle in Heathrow Airport. Poor Matthew, I wondered how different things would have been had I not been snooping in my dad’s desk, and had been upstairs watching TV or similar when the men came. Would I have heard the shots? If so, would I have been next?

Yet, despite feeling a different person, I knew it was a simple matter of making the outside match what had always been on the inside, even though I hadn’t really dared to think about it too deeply. Although Monique was capable and confident, I knew that if Matthew hadn’t thought fast and done what he had, none of this would have happened.

Why did I think of myself as two separate people?

Was I schizophrenic?

I recalled a silly piece of graffiti I’d seen on a toilet wall. I used to be schizophrenic, but now I’m in two minds about it.

I smiled to myself as I put a gold chain on the outside of my sweater, with the crucifix nestling between my breasts.

My breasts!

Running my hands down the outside of my clothing, feeling the new and very strange contours of my body, it seemed like a very odd dream. Would I wake up and find it was just in my head, and I was asleep on the sofa back home, with my father just about to come home?

I pinched myself, which not only hurt but told me that this was no dream.

This was real and in a very short time I’d done more than grow up and into someone else. I’d killed and seen killing, so what the hell was going to happen next?

Was I in control of my destiny, or just another poor pawn at the mercy of the invisible powers that dominated this world?

I had no answers, just an appointment to keep.

Sighing at the speed at which my life seemed to hurtling along, I pulled a gold cord belt around the outside of my sweater that made me more appear fashionable and less mysterious. I put on some black high heel boots, which came over my ankles. I had the papers, the disk and the Glock.

When I emerged into the living room, Alex was watching TV. He looked at me and whistled.

I blushed.

“Shit, Monique, you have no idea what you do to me?”

“Don’t I?” I asked.

He laughed.

I looked in on Alison and saw she was fast asleep.

It was almost five o’clock.

“I have to go. I don’t know how long I will be. If I don’t come back, ring this number, ask for Christopher Walford. Mention my name, and tell him it is about the Thwaites papers. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Then just tell him everything you know.”

“I don’t know anything,” he moaned.

“You know too much.”

I kissed him and left before I could change my mind.

I arrived at the Café Royale at five to six. I went in, sat at a table and ordered a coffee.

I had been there for a few minutes when a man in a grey suit sat at the seat opposite me. I noticed he had a covert earpiece in his left ear.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked in English with an American accent.

“Pardon, monsieur. Je ne parle pas l'anglais,” I said.

He repeated the question in almost faultless French.

I smiled and shook my head.

He ordered a coffee when the waiter brought me mine.

“I am Christopher. My friends call me Chris,” he said, in English.

“Je m’appelle Monique,” I said, and he shook my hand.

“We owe you quite a lot, Monique.”

“Comment?” I said, and he laughed.

He placed a buff folder on the table. I put down the coffee cup, and opened the folder. All I had asked for was in it. Three passports: - US, UK, and French, together with genuine birth certificates, and other important documents. I was now a real person again.

I opened my bag and placed the papers on the table, together with the disc.

He took the disc, placed a laptop on the table, and immediately accessed the disc.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” I asked, in English.

He smiled.

“All the financial access codes for several companies and other organisations that we are interested in. Old man Thwaites was a wily old fox, all right. Put the original papers back. You need something to give Lamb and his cronies.”

I put the papers in my bag.

“Monique, who the hell are you?”

I smiled.

“Je suis Monique Bonnard,” I said.

“Okay, who the hell were you?”

“That does not matter any more,” I said in English with the accent, and he nodded.

“Will you ever tell me?”

“I may, but not yet.”

He looked me up and down, and smiled.

“You have no idea the theories that have been put forward. At one point we even thought you could be the Thwaites kid, in disguise, But I can see that that was way off base. Then we thought you were a cousin of Matthew. But all the cousins are accounted for. So just who the hell are you?”

I just smiled, enigmatically.

“Never mind, we need to get you to the briefing,” he said, finished his coffee and paid for both.

I followed him to the street where he opened a door to a darkened Ford SUV.

There were four other men in the van, all white, clean cut and all wearing suits.

“Okay, this is Monique, she’s the reason we are still in the game. Monique these guys are the best, and they will be close to you from now on,” Chris said.

We drove for ten minutes, finally pulling into a garage next to a private house.

Once the shutters rolled down, we got out and I followed the men into the house. Electronic equipment was everywhere, and there were about twenty people rushing about. There were several US servicemen in blacked-out covert gear, and lots of guns.

“Take your sweater off, Monique, please,” said a large black man.

“Huh?” I said.

“Body armour,” he said. And I took my sweater off. Luckily, I had a black slip on underneath, but I heard at least two low whistles from the servicemen.

The armour was quite light and reasonably well fitting, and even was shaped for my female body. So when I put my sweater back on, it was hardly noticeable, it just made me look a bit plumper.

They fitted a small transceiver to my bra, and I felt more and more like a secret agent. I watched as they slipped a plain piece of paper into the documents.

“There is a mini transmitter built into the paper. We can track wherever the paper goes,” the man said.

Chris came over with a 9mm Smith and Wesson SLP.

“Okay Monique, do you know how to use one of these?” he asked.

I calmly took out my Glock. “Yes, but I prefer mine,” I answered. Several of the observers laughed, and Chris smiled.

“Okay, here’s how we play this,” he said, and then explained how we would try to trap Lamb.

“What about Aziz and Vine?” I asked, and they all looked at me.

“What about them?”

“They are in Zurich too.” I said.

“How do you know?”

“I saw Vine at the hospital, just before I took Alison Glover out from under everyone’s noses. He mentioned Aziz when briefing one of the Arabs.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this?”

“It happened after I called you.” I said.

“How do you know Vine?”

“He introduced himself to Alison. I was in the room dressed as a nurse at the time.”

Chris laughed and shook his head.

“Shit girl, we don’t deserve you. Are you for real?”

“Aziz and Vine are at a hotel, somewhere in Zurich. Vine is here as a Met Police representative, or at least that is what he told Alison,” I added.

“Got it chief,” said one of the technicians on a computer terminal.

I watched amazed as they hacked into all the hotel databases, and found Vine registered at a small hotel near the hospital. Aziz wasn’t registered anywhere, but that meant nothing, he was here somewhere.

A team immediately left for the hotel, so I was impressed with their efficiency.

Soon it was time. I was driven in the same Ford to a couple of blocks of the Opera House. Before I got out, Chris said, “okay kid. There are plenty of our guys in the building and you’re wired for sound. Take no chances, and simply hand over the documents.”

“They’ll try to kill me, won’t they?” I asked, and he nodded.

“They tried before, so they’ll wait for you hand over the documents and leave, then try something. We’ll ensure that people will be around you at all times.”

I smiled, a little nervously. “Thanks, I think.”

I got out of the car and walked the short distance to the Opera House. I went up the steps and into the huge entrance lobby. A performance was in progress, so an usher came up to me. I explained I was waiting for someone and had no intention of trying to sneak in, so he smiled indulgently, leaving me alone. There were several people, like me, just milling about.

I sat on a chair and waited. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Monique?”

I looked up. He was about forty and balding. He was overweight, and sweating, despite it being a cool evening. I looked round. Two Arabic looking men were reading a notice board outside. I’d seen them before at the hospital. Would they identify me?

“Monsieur Lamb?”

“You have the papers?”

I simply took them out of the bag and handed them over.

“It’s a relief to get rid of them,” I said.

“I’ll bet it is,” he said, with a nervous smile. “By the way, do you happen to know where Matthew is?”

“Non. The last I saw him, he was going to a friend’s house in Wales,” I said.

“How come he sent you to get these?”

“I had a passport, he did not. He trusts me, as I am family.”

At that moment two different men approached. Both were wearing long dark and expensive overcoats, and one was definitely Middle Eastern. The other was Vine. I just pretended to pay them no attention.

Lamb handed over the documents to the Arab, I believed him to be Aziz.

“These are my associates,” Lamb said, still sweating.

The man examined the papers.

“Is this everything?” he asked. It was the same voice that I had heard in dad’s study.

I nodded.

“Zat is all he gave me,” I said.

Aziz nodded to Vine, and turned and walked out. Vine smiled at me.

“Thank you, mam’selle. You have truly helped your cousin. Now, do you happen to know where in Wales he went?” he asked.

“No, he did not tell me.” I said.

“Thank you. You have done your duty. You may go,” he said, and I turned away. I just caught the nod he gave to one of the Arabs outside. I opened the door and started down the steps. I sensed the man approach from behind, as I heard a shout, “Down.”

I rolled to my right, but at that moment the silenced pistol in the man’s hand coughed twice. I felt as if I was kicked in the centre of my back, and then I saw the Arabs chest erupt in crimson as a high velocity round went straight through his heart. I rolled down the steps, and the black Ford pulled up. I was literally dragged into the car, as it sped away.

I heard more shots and watched as Lamb crumbled on the steps as he tried to escape. I found it difficult to breathe and I passed out.
 
 
Chapter 12
 
 
I came round to find I was lying on a camp bed in the house where the briefing took place. My sweater was on the floor beside me, and the body armour was next to that.

Chris came over.

“How do you feel?”

I stretched, and my back ached.

“Like I have been kicked in the back by a horse,” I said.

“You’re a very brave girl. We checked you over, and only one shot hit your armour.”

“How about Aziz and Vine?”

“Aziz got away, but we have Vine.”

“Alive?”

“Oh yes.”

“May I see him?”

“Yes, but you leave the gun behind…Matthew.”

I stared at him, mortified. I felt the blood drain from my face and I felt slightly sick.

“How?” I asked, dropping the accent as my voice cracked up.

“Fingerprints. I was amazed, as I thought there had been a mix up. Don’t worry, only I know. If is any consolation, even looking at you now, I still can’t believe it.”

I started to cry.

“Hey, there is no need for that,” he said, reaching out with his hand and touched my shoulder.

I sat on the bed, as tears streamed down my face.

He sat beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“Hey, come on. It’s okay, really it is. It explains so much. But your secret is safe. Believe me, it is really safe.”

I looked at him as I sobbed.

“Your boyfriend called at midnight, I’ve spoken to him. We are sending a car for Alison, and him too. If that’s what you want?”

I stared at him, and nodded vacantly.

“Hey, Monique, don’t worry. I have a surprise for you.”

I just looked at him.

“I spoke to Alison and as a result of what she told me, I’ve arranged for you to go to a small clinic, just outside Zurich. In twenty four hours, Matthew will be a thing of the past.”

I just looked at him.

“Why?”

“Because, we pay our debts.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and burst into a fresh set of tears, but this time through joy and relief.

“We have to get you ready.”

“Ready?” I repeated.

There was a stretcher on the ground. I was told to lie on it, and a blood soaked bandage was wrapped round my lower abdomen.

“Okay, we need to get this right. You were hit in the centre of the back by a single bullet, which struck the body armour. You are bruised and winded, but you’re fine. As far as everyone else is concerned, you were hit by another bullet in the lower abdomen, so you have to go to hospital urgently. Alex can see you briefly, but then the ambulance will whisk you away. By this time tomorrow, you will be Monique in fact.”

“But, what will everyone think?”

“Don’t worry, only you, me and the doctor knows the truth. Besides, you’re still in shock from the bullet that did hit you, so you look ashen and like shit. By the way, Alison is going with you, as she needs more recuperation for her injuries. You did incredibly well to get her out of the hospital.”

“Thanks,” I said, with a weak smile.

Alex and Alison arrived a short time later. Alex rushed over to me. He was almost in tears, poor man.

“Oh shit, Monique. Shit. Are you hurt bad?”

“Hey Alex, I’m Chris Walford. Monique is not too bad, but she has to go to hospital right now to get the bullet out. So, say goodbye, you’ll be able to see her tomorrow. I promise.”

Alex kissed me, holding my hand as I was put into the ambulance. Even Alison was in tears. I winked at her behind Alex’s back, as she was helped into the ambulance next to me.

I lay in the back of the ambulance, my mind in a whirl.

“Okay, so what the fuck is going on?” Alison asked, as I took the blanket off and sat up.

“You’ll see, now, lie down and rest.”

“I thought you were shot?” she asked, as she lay on the stretcher.

“I was, but I was wearing body armour. This is a ruse, after what you told Christopher, I’m going for SRS,” I said with a huge smile.

“Oh,” she said. “My God, you truly are incredible.”

An hour later we arrived at the clinic. Alison was wheeled away, shouting, “Go for it girl.”

I was left standing in the reception area. A tall man in a suit and wearing a bow tie came out to see me. He was about sixty and had a full head of white hair.

“You must be Monique? I am Doctor Schumman,” he said, smiling.

“Yes.” I said, rather nervously.

“My dear, Mr Walford and I go way back together. He has told me a lot, but I need to know everything. Firstly, when did you last eat or drink?”

I looked at the clock, and I was shocked, as it was two am.

“About eight hours ago,” I replied.

“Good, come with me.”

I followed him up some carpeted stairs. This place was more like a hotel than a clinic. He led me to a room with a huge hospital bed.

“Just get undressed and slip on this robe. Everything off, even the jewellery,” he said.

I started to disrobe.

“While you undress, tell me a little about yourself,” he said.

I talked as I undressed, and everything came out, my past, my fears, my longings and my desire to be Monique for always. I talked about the hormones and the doctor I’d seen in England. He just smiled and nodded, every now and again asking another question. It was quite cathartic telling him everything.

Finally, I was seated on the bed with the robe on.

He opened the robe and looked at the breast forms.

“Tell me, would you like your own to be the same, or a different size?”

I looked down and blushed.

“Is it possible to have them just a little bigger?”

“Of course, you are about a 36B, so shall we go to a 36C? I don’t recommend a D.”

I just smiled.

“Now, stand up.”

I stood.

He looked at my waist and hips, and turned me through 360 degrees. He frowned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“You have a very feminine figure already. How long have you been taking hormones?”

“Not that long, just a few days.”

“Hmm, strange, this is most irregular. Your shape is more female than male. In particular, you have a female pelvis. You see how this part here is higher, so you have almost a perfect female shape.”

He took some liquid from a jar and placed it on a cotton pad. He used it to remove my breast forms.

I looked down and saw two definite breasts growing from my chest. They were similar to an eleven or twelve year old girl.

“Hmm, interesting. Were they there before?”

“I don’t think so. I would have noticed.”

“Are they painful?” he asked, gently probing with his fingers.

“No, very tender and sensitive.”

“A few days, you said?”

“Yes, three days since the injections.”

“Ah. The injections. Do you happen to know what was in them?”

“No, she just told me they would halt my masculine development and help me develop secondary female characteristics.”

“It has certainly done that. Tell me, have you always been as effeminate as you are now?”

“I suppose so. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

He then examined my genitalia. The same liquid unstuck my bits, and he prodded and pushed away for a few minutes.

“Your testes are very small indeed, so I’m persuaded that perhaps they are simply lumps of fatty tissue. And although the skin of the penis is fine, the actual organ within is about one third I should expect. Have you ever had a discharge?”

“I don’t think so, you mean like a wet dream?”

“Yes. Do you masturbate?”

I went bright red.

“Um, yes, but nothing ever happens.”

“No, it wouldn’t, as I don’t think these ever developed.”

“Oh.” There was not much one can say to that, is there?

“What do you feel about losing these?”

“Good. I can’t wait,” I said, grinning at the prospect.

He poked and prodded me a bit more, sucking air through his teeth.

“Do you get tummy pains?” he asked.

“Not especially,” I answered.

Pushing on my abdomen, he asked if it hurt.

“Not really, perhaps it’s a bit tender.”

“I need to take some blood. You’re not afraid of needles are you?”

“Only blunt ones,” I said.

He smiled and took a syringe from a drawer, removed the plastic wrap and took a needle from a container. After rubbing some alcohol on my arm, he stuck it into me. It hurt a little but I didn’t watch.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“I want to check something out. You see, you have more female secondary characteristics than I’d expect from a normal physiological male. There may be more to you than meets the eye.”

“Like?”

“I can’t say until the blood comes back. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” He left me for a few moments, and when he returned he opened the door for me.

He smiled. “Right. We will take a short walk,” he said, so I followed him down the corridor. We went into a brightly lit room, where there was a trolley in the centre.

“Hop up on the trolley for me,” he said, so I complied.

“I shall be back in a moment. This is my colleague Doctor Weiss.” He pointed to a doctor who was already gowned and masked.

Doctor Weiss inserted a needle into the back of my left hand.

“This is to allow us to put in the anaesthetic,” he said. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of.”

He then went through a list and asked me to sign a form. It was in French, but I signed it anyway.

“That is your consent form,” he explained.

“I gathered that. I do read French.”

At that moment, Doctor Schumman returned, shaking his head.

“I was right, young lady, there is more of you that meets the eye. Your high oestrogen levels are due to the fact that something inside you is creating them. That means that you have at least some female reproductive equipment inside. Just how much remains to be seen.”

I was numb. This explained so much.

“Are you ready to find out?” he asked.

Dumbly I nodded.

The next thing I knew, I had a needle in my hand, and the world went away.
 

*          *          *
 
The first thing that I became aware of was the pain. It was like a dull ache that spread across the whole of my lower part of my body.

I groaned and tried to escape the pain by going back to sleep. I attempted moving my legs, but they were placed in such a way that I couldn’t.

I opened my eyes, and a face swam vaguely into focus.

“Hello, Monique. Welcome back,” said Doctor Schumman.

I frowned.

“Are you in much pain?” he asked.

I nodded.

“It is to be expected. The operation was a great success. I have some good news for you.”

I looked at him. “What?” I croaked.

“I was right. You were partly female. I believe the injections triggered off the development of your own latent female organs. You were producing your own female hormones. You had a partial vagina, but you have a womb, uterus, a cervix, ovaries and two perfectly formed fallopian tubes. I have created a complete vagina, labia, and, of course, the clitoris.

“I was going to give you breast implants, as we discussed, but actually, I believe in a short time you will grow reasonably large breasts of your own. You certainly have the beginnings of a very respectable pair. So, I don’t think we need to give you artificial ones. But enough for now. You will go back to your room, and I will see you at lunch time.”

I was wheeled away, plumbed up to intravenous drips and pain killers. I fell asleep and dreamed of Alex.
 

*          *          *
 
When I awoke, I saw Alex in the chair by the bed, head back, snoring.

I smiled, as the door opened. Alison stood there, looking a bit better.

I waved and placed my finger to my lips, pointing at the sleeping form.

She came over to the bed and gave me a hug. I then felt very tender in the chest department. I opened my gown and saw two budding breasts, each was a good handful and although they were not that big yet, I had hopes.

“How are you?” she whispered.

“A girl,” I said, still staring at my boobs. I looked up and grinned.

“I know, the doctor told me. I couldn’t believe it. He told me you could even become pregnant.”

I stared at her. I had never even hoped that this would have been possible. It would have been enough just being a girl, but to be a mother too. It was too much, so I started to cry, again.

Alex came round and saw me in tears. He immediately looked worried.

“Alex, don’t worry. The doctor says she might be able to have babies after all,” Alison said.

Doctor Schumman chose that moment to come in. “Ah, the patient awakes. How are you Monique?”

“Sore, but very happy.”

“Ah. You have been told?”

I nodded.

“We extracted the bullet, and did a little reconstructive work. You will be tender for a while, but I see no reason that in a few months, you will be perfectly able to conceive a child. Should you so desire, of course.”

I just cried again, while Alex looked lost and held my hand.

“Now, if you two don’t mind, I would like to take a peek at my handiwork,” the doctor said, so Alex and Alison left us alone.

“I don’t have the words,” I said.

“I know, but you are a most unusual case. In the four hundred cases I have seen, yours is the first like this. I have seen complete hermaphrodites, but none like you.”

He pulled back the sheet, so I saw I was covered with a huge bandage. He undid it very gently, taking off the dressing that was between my legs.

“Do you want to see?”

I looked down, and gasped. Although red and sore, it was not the me I had always known. It was different. I was missing those parts that I had come to despise so much recently.”

I had been shaved and there was much swelling. I could see lines of sutures.

“The stitches will dissolve, and there will hardly be any exterior scarring, particularly when the pubic hair grows back. Now tomorrow, I will remove the padding that keeps your channel in place. You will have to use a series of dilators to stretch the channel, otherwise you will have great difficulty with sexual intercourse.”

“Oh.”

“Every day, three times, and progressing up to the largest size.”

I grinned.

“Monique, you smile, but actually it is not that pleasant. The new tissue needs constant stretching, and you must do it as it heals. A full vaginoplasty would be much worse, as the whole structure would have been constructed out of recovered tissue from elsewhere. You had some structure in place, so I simply ensured that you now are fully equipped. You must train it to be flexible, if you do not, you will be sadly disappointed. In a couple of months, even a gynaecologist would not know that you have not always been a woman.”

He replaced the dressing, and told me that the catheter would stay for another twenty four hours.

“Tomorrow, you can have a shower, or a bath, once the catheter is removed. Today, just rest. You may feel sick and very sore, so take it easy.”

He was right, I felt both. But I managed to get through it. By the end of the following day, I had a warm bath and felt 100% better. Alex, the sweetie, was staying in a hotel in the nearby village, and came up every day. He just sat and held my hand as I dozed.
 
 
Chapter 13
 
 
On the third day, I was a little more animated, so Chris visited.

“Where is Vine?” I asked, almost immediately. He laughed.

“Safe.”

“Seriously, where is the bastard?”

“Stateside.”

“And Aziz?”

He shrugged.

“We got all his men, but he slipped the net. Over 100 people have been arrested in the USA, and twelve in the UK. We have seized assets worth nearly a billion dollars and broken his organisation.”

“We still need to catch him,” I said.

He smiled and nodded.

“We were tracking the paper, but last night it stopped transmitting.”

“Oh, does that mean he found it?”

“Not necessarily, he probably burned the lot. But, Monique, I need to ask you a serious question.”

“Go on?”

“You stated you would be willing to work for us. Is that offer still on the table?”

“It was a sort of a joke. Were you serious?” I asked.

“Perfectly.”

“Would I be any use?”

He just looked at me. “Have you any idea what you achieved, virtually alone and without training?”

I shook my head.

“Take it from me, we can use you. You’ll have to get some training, but I’m sure that would be no problem for you.”

“I’m not an American citizen, will that matter?”

“That can be arranged, if you want?”

“That would suit me. I’ve nothing in the UK any more, and as much as I like being French, I think it would take me further away from my past.”

He opened his briefcase and passed over a lengthy document of several sheets of closely typed A4 paper.

“This is an employment contract. Sign at the bottom, and your soul belongs to Uncle Sam.”

I started to read it, but gave up. I was feeling very tired.

“How long for?” I asked.

“Minimum of five years, maximum at age sixty-five. A get out clause with mutual agreement. But you can’t discuss your work with anyone until you die,” he said, with a little smile.

I signed.

“Okay, Monique. You’ll have to go on an induction training course at Langley. I want you on my team, so as from three days ago, you have been on a salary

He passed over a laminated ID card, with one of my Woolworth’s photos. I was now a CIA employee. It was dated four days ago.

“This way we can take all the credit,” he said.

“I don’t care. What will happen to Vine?”

“I guess he’ll be staying at Langley for a while, but I suppose we will have to turn him over to the British authorities. He did murder your father.”

“Has he admitted it?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t give evidence, not now. Can the courts in Britain seize his assets, his house and stuff?”

“Sure, but we have enough to prove the corruption charges,” he said.

“Then give that to the British. They can seize his assets, and then we can pressurise him to confess.”

“You’re a vindictive little girl, aren’t you?”

“He screwed up my life.”

“You could argue that he pushed you to be who you are now?”

I thought about it and smiled.

“Maybe, but I was still scared shitless.”

“When you’re better and come Stateside for training, I’ll take you to Langley, and you can see him, if you want?”

“Yes, I do want.”

“You leave your gun outside.”

“Aw. Spoilsport.”

“I know you.”

He looked at me.

“What?” I asked.

“I’ve just completed a full report on this matter. I have been cooperating with the Swiss Police, so have full access to their files. They’re now more or less aware of the whole story and have detained half a dozen corrupt financiers and bankers.”

“So?”

“They showed me the photographs of the two Arabs in the apartment block.”

“Oh.”

“The police told me that whoever did the kills was a professional, and that the murder weapon would never be found.”

I smiled.

“Well?” he said.

“I dropped it in the river just after I did it.”

He nodded.

“As they said, professional.”

“Your point?” I asked.

“Look in a mirror.” he said, standing up. “You look like butter wouldn’t melt in your delicate and very pretty mouth. All you have to do is smile and flash your eyelashes, and there isn’t anyone alive who could believe you capable of doing some of the things you’ve done.”

I smiled.

“See. I look forward to working with you, Monique.”

“Me too. Thanks Chris, for everything.”

He bent down and kissed my cheek.

“Hell, kid, if I were twenty years younger.”

I laughed and he left me alone.

Two weeks later I was discharged. It was still August, yet it felt like a lifetime. Alex and Alison were waiting for me. Alison had been summoned back to face an enquiry into her conduct, despite a glowing report by the American State department and the Swiss Police. She was resigned to her fate, but was relieved that she was now able to wipe the slate clean and start again.

Alex had told his father that he was giving up any aspirations for the medical profession, and was applying for a regular Commission in the army. He also told them he had met a special girl in Switzerland, and would eventually bring her home for them to meet her.

I decided to return and deal with my father’s funeral. I was still one of his heirs, and my sister Carol was due to fly back from California in a couple of days. Once I’d buried Dad, I would leave my past behind and fly out to meet Chris in Langley in three weeks or so, when the doctor said I was fit enough.

We were taken to the airport by another darkened Ford with diplomatic plates, and Chris handed me my shoulder bag, minus the Glock.

“I took the liberty of placing most your loose cash into two accounts. One in Switzerland, at the Banque Helvetia, where your mother’s jewellery still is. And all the Sterling is with the National Westminster Bank, into a phone account. You have another account with the Columbia Bank, based in DC. All our employees use that bank, so your pay check will be paid into there automatically.

“All the account details are in your bag, with all the passports, etcetera. I’ll arrange for everything else to be sent through to your address in England. Or should I say, the Thwaites’ address,” Chris said with a smile.

“Thanks Chris. I’m not likely to be picked up at Heathrow, am I?”

“No way, that is all squared away, besides, you aren’t Matthew Thwaites any more, are you?”

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” I said, with a grin.

“The British Security Services have co-operated with us, and your name and details have been changed officially. You are now Monique, legally in three countries. So, take care, and I’ll see you at Langley when you are fit again.”

He then surprised me by giving me a kiss.

We all had first class tickets, so we sat in the lounge being pampered prior to the flight. Alex was very attentive, and still treated me like an invalid. I now had three large suitcases of clothes, having undertaken several courses of retail therapy with Alison. Alex, bless him, had found a trolley and pushed them all to the check in.

Alison was well on the way to recovery. She had used the time to lose a little weight, and was looking good. She was more relaxed than I had ever seen her, and smiled a lot more. We had become really good friends, despite the age difference. As she kept remarking, I was at least twenty-six in many ways.

I felt wonderful. I had healed up beautifully, and done all the exercises as required. Dr Schumman had personally discharged me, stating that I was his piece de resistance - his finest work. All I knew was that I couldn’t pass a mirror or shop window, without looking at his work, and grinning like a fool.

If anything, I was now more confident and self assured than ever. I was wearing a charcoal grey dress, with gold piping and matching shoes. I wore stockings, and some of the most wonderful underwear that I could find. I looked and felt fantastic, so wanted everyone to share my joy. And as I sat in the airport lounge, with Alex pacing up and down, I realised that I was finally at one with myself and the world.

Alex was beginning to get on my nerves.

“Alex, what’s your problem?” I asked when I could take no more.

“Huh?”

“You’re behaving like a caged tiger.”

He sat down beside me, but looked perturbed.

“I’m not sure; I just sense that you’ve changed.”

“Me?”

“Yes, it’s silly, but it’s almost as if you have sort of grown up so far ahead of me that I’m being left behind,” he said, frowning.

I looked at him, and suddenly it dawned on me that he had no knowledge of the terrible constraints that I had only been freed from. I was behaving like a complete tart, revelling in my new femininity, so I had forgotten him and his contribution to my life.

I leaned across and kissed him for about three minutes.

“Never, ever, forget that you saved my bacon, and if ever I seem to drift off in my self-made glory, please bring me back to planet earth,” I said, as we surfaced to breathe.

He smiled a little uncertainly, so I kissed him again.

This time, he began to respond with more than a little enthusiasm, but I broke it off purely because in a few seconds, we would have started to undress. And I did not want to be thrown off the flight.

He sat back with a completely different expression on his face.

“Alex?”

He looked at me.

“You do know that I love you, don’t you?”

He smiled and took my hand.

“I had hoped you did. Thanks for telling me.”

“Oh, pl-ease,” said Alison, with a grin.

The flight boarded, so Alex and I sat together. We snuggled up close, and I came very close to wanting to try out my new equipment. But Dr Schumman had been very clear when he said goodbye.

“Remember,” he had said. “You’re not a transsexual; you’re a woman. In a few weeks you will start to ovulate, and you should menstruate. This means that you will become pregnant if you do not take suitable precautions.”

I had never even thought about these aspects of my life, and although it was all wonderful, it was not without responsibility.

I dozed after the meal, so Alex gently shook me awake as we came in to Heathrow. We followed the crowd and I used my new UK Passport to gain entry through immigration control. The bored officer hardly glanced at it.

We collected the baggage and met by the carousel.

“So, what now, people?” I asked.

“I have to be in front of the Assistant Commissioner tomorrow,” Alison said.

“Are you going back home?”

“I suppose so. It’ll seem odd without you hanging about,” she said.

We hugged, both crying a little.

“Ring me and let me know how you get on,” I said.

“I will. Good luck, with whatever you do. Knowing you, as I do, I know you’ll be a wonderful success.”

She kissed Alex and turned and went through the green channel.

Alex and I walked along, side-by-side, pushing our luggage trolleys. We went through the green channel and out into Arrivals.

We stopped and moved to one side.

I flung my arms around his neck and we kissed, with such a depth of passion and love that the outside world ceased to exist.

I suddenly felt him go rigid, and a voice broke through into my consciousness.

“Alexander. My God, boy, it is you!”

We broke off and Alex looked round.

Still holding me tightly, he smiled.

“Dad,” he said.

I partially disengaged myself from around his neck, and looked the same direction. A tall, older version of Alex stood there with a broad smile on his face. He had slightly less hair, but there was no doubt that they were father and son.

“Well, are you not going to introduce me?” he asked his son, he had a similar Scottish accent.

“Dad, this is Monique Bonnard. She’s the girl I told you about. Monique, this is my Dad, Andrew Drummond.”

“Enchantée,” I said, and Alex laughed.

His father frowned and shook my hand.

“Monique, I take it you are French?” he said.

“My mother was French, my father was English. I have dual nationality and am fluent in both languages,” I said. “It’s a pleasure, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Aye, and I bet he told you that I’ve been pushing him to become a doctor?” he said, with a wry smile. I looked at Alex. “Your mother tore me off a strip. I’m sorry Alex, I never considered that you had other plans.”

“It’s all right Dad, I didn’t really know until I actually went for it,” Alex said.

“Anyway, I was down on business, so I thought I would surprise you,” he said.

Alex looked at me and grinned. “You certainly managed that, Dad, thanks.”

“Look, I have to go. Alex, please call me, you have my mobile and home number,” I said.

“I will. When can we get together?”

“I don’t know, I have to sort out my father’s funeral arrangements, so there’s a lot to sort out. Give me a week or so. Are you going straight back to Edinburgh?”

Alex looked at his father.

“I’m here for about ten days, perhaps longer. You can do what you like. I’d like to have some time with you, my boy, as there are things we need to get clear,” Andrew said.

“We have a small flat in Chelsea, so I’m sort of available,” Alex told me.

“Give me a few days and then ring me,” I said.

“Okay. I love you, Monique,” he said.

“I love you too, Alex,” I replied, and we kissed again.

I left him with his father and caught a cab to return to my home.
 
 
Chapter 14
 
 
I sat in my father’s chair, the same one in which he had died. I had been home for just over a week, but I no longer felt that this was my home. Mrs Rogers had answered the door when I arrived from the airport, but I had the devil of a job to persuade her that I had once been Matthew. There was still police incident tape everywhere, and most of the flowerbeds had great big coppers’ footprints all over them.

I explained Mrs Rogers that I had been suffering from a clinical condition, and had always been female. Once she accepted the truth, we got on quite well. But every time she saw me, she would shake her head and mutter. I had impressed upon her the delicate nature of the circumstances, and that it was highly confidential. I hoped she understood, but only time would tell.

I had taken great pleasure throwing out all of my father’s and Matthew’s clothes, I simply packed them all into black bin-liners and Mrs Rogers arranged for a local charity to come and collect them. I did check all the pockets first, so was fifty-seven pence richer!

I moved myself into the main bedroom, and went through the house, checking every cupboard and drawer to see what I’d inherited. I found some of my mother’s clothes in a couple of suitcases in the attic, which meant that Dad had obviously been unable to throw everything away as he had told us. I took great delight in wearing a few of her old clothes. Somehow, I felt closer to her by wearing things I remembered her wearing.

I found some old photographs and, as I glanced into a mirror, I caught my breath, I thought that I looked just like she had done when a similar age. No wonder my Dad had difficulty relating to me. I hadn’t realised I looked so much like her. Poor Dad, it must have been so hard for him. I now felt sorry for him, but he could have opened up to me a little, instead of shutting everyone out.

Carol called me from the States. Because she was due to give birth, imminently, she and her husband decided that there was little point flying all the way over to the UK for the funeral of someone she had little regard for. Despite it being her father. I told her all about my adventures, and she shocked me when I told her that I was now a girl.

“That explains an awful lot. It doesn’t surprise me in the least. I actually thought there was something wrong with you since you were about six,” she had said.

We chatted for ages, and it was almost as if we had grown closer because of my change in circumstances.

“Look, I hated the old bugger. I’m not going to be hypocritical enough to come and blub over his coffin. I actually feel completely numb to him. So I’ll leave it to you. I’m sorry to lumber you, but I have a new life, and he was never part of my life over here,” she told me.

“I have a meeting with the solicitor about the will tomorrow. It’ll be interesting, as he doesn’t know about me yet,” I said.

She laughed, and told me to send her anything that he left to her in his will.

“Was there any jewellery of Mama’s?” she asked.

“Some, it’s in Switzerland,” I had replied, slightly guarded.

“Look, you keep it, you deserve it. I wouldn’t mind a couple of rings, or something to remember her.”

I agreed to send her some, and we parted as sisters and friends. I promised to come and see her after she had had the baby.

Richard Thompson, my father’s solicitor, arrived at two pm, prompt. Mrs Rogers met him and brought him into the study, as I had asked. I was sitting behind Dad’s desk, having spent at least two hours on my appearance. I was wearing the grey and gold dress again, so I believed that I looked sophisticated and about as far removed from Matthew as I could ever get.

I stood up and he entered and walked towards him. I held out my hand, saying, “Mr Thompson. I am so pleased you could come. My father often spoke of you.”

He shook my hand and sat in the chair I showed him to. I returned to behind the desk, and he was frowning dreadfully.

“You’re not Carol, are you?”

“No,” I said. “I’m not.”

“Then I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I’m Monique, I am Charles’ younger daughter, I used to be called Matthew,” I said.

He stared at me and the frown strove to make his eyebrows copulate.

“It’s a little difficult to explain, but it seems that I was wrongly identified as a boy at birth, but as you see, I’m actually a girl. The doctor said that I was intersexed to a degree, so my true gender was masked until I started to develop. I required a little surgery to help the process,” I explained, putting him out of his misery. “I have here a copy of a letter from Dr Schumman from the clinic in Switzerland. It documents my case, so I have used it to have my identity altered accordingly. I adopted my mother’s maiden name by deed poll, for obvious reasons.”

“Oh,” he said, completely lost for words.

“My sister, Carol, is due to give birth any minute. So, she will not be able to get back. I spoke to her yesterday, and she sends her apologies.”

He looked at Dr Schumman’s letter, my new birth certificate and passport and accepted the explanation with no comment. We spent the next two hours going over the will. There was an enormous amount of legalese, but once we cut through the crap, it seems that Carol and I had an equal share of an estate in the region of twenty million pounds sterling. After inheritance tax, of course. Mrs Rogers had been left  £200,000. There were no other beneficiaries.

In real terms, taking the depressed stock market into account, I was worth in the region of six to eight million pounds. The crafty old sod had placed it in trust until we were both twenty-five, so I had eight years to go. Carol had only a few months.

I was quite happy, as I knew I had already squirreled away a small fortune, without the knowledge of HM Inland Revenue Services. And I was due to be paid more than a reasonable salary by my new employers.

By the time he left, I believe the old Monique charm had worked, and we had come to an understanding. He and Carol were the executors, but I was more than content with that arrangement.

I had called Jenny Robbins, and arranged to pay her a visit. She was about as amazed as anyone could be, but was very happy for me. She very kindly wrote off the money I owed for the injections she had given me that started everything off. I offered to send the pills I hadn’t used back to her, and she was happy with that. She then gave me similar advice to Dr Schumman in relation to contraception, so I knew I would have to visit a doctor as soon as I got settled.

Alison called me after she’d appeared before her discipline board. She was not required to resign, but was given a severe reprimand and was taken off CIB, to go back to a CID office in Central London. In actual fact, the letters from the US state department were so complimentary that the Assistant Commissioner would have been hard pushed to take her job away. She promised that we would get together soon, but was busy getting her life sorted out.

The funeral had been a dismal affair. Eight people turned up at the crematorium. I was the only family, and so sat by myself at the front. Mrs Rogers, bless her came and sat with me. It helped, a bit. The vicar was bored, and whizzed through the service. The coffin disappeared, and I turned and walked out. I spoke to no one, except the undertakers, and no one attempted to speak to me. I think the six others were in the wrong funeral. Dad had not been religious, and had plainly stipulated that he wanted no church service. When asked whether I wanted the ashes, I simply told them to spread them over the garden of remembrance at the crematorium.

I returned to the house, so here I was, the next day, sitting over the stained carpet, close to where I had hidden on that fateful night.
 

*          *          *
 
I was contemplating the stain when the phone rang. I always left Mrs Rogers to answer it, as I could evade any awkward enquiries. A few moments later, she knocked on the door and popped her head round.

“It’s a young man called Alexander Drummond, Miss Monique,” she said.

“Thanks, I’ll take it,” I said, picking up the phone. Mrs Rogers disappeared.

“Hi Alex.”

“Monique. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he said, and my heart soared as soon as I heard his voice.

“Me too.”

“Dad went on and on about what a nice girl you were. I didn’t tell him you’re an assassin.”

I laughed.

“I’m not an assassin. I just happened to kill two nasty men.”

“Still, I had to be a bit evasive when he asked me what you did.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him you were hoping to work for a multi-national corporation, as an interpreter/translator, but were also considering going back into education.”

“Good thinking. I don’t really want everyone to know what I do.”

“So, how has your week been?”

“Bloody depressing. It was my father’s funeral yesterday, so I’m glad you phoned. I miss you, Alex.”

“Why don’t you come and stay in the flat? We are here for another week.”

“Is your dad there with you?”

“Yes, but he’s fine. He asked me whether we were sleeping together.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him the truth. I said you weren’t that kind of girl.”

“How do you know?”

“I know you, and I respect you for it.”

I laughed.

“Alex, you don’t know me that well. I haven’t slept with you because I was clinically unable to. Not because I don’t want you. I almost let you screw me in the airport lounge in Zurich.”

“Oh. I thought you were... you know.”

“No, tell me?”

“I thought you wanted to wait.”

“Until when?”

“I don’t know, just until we were sort of, you know.”

“Alex, you are waffling. Until when?”

“Until we were engaged or something.”

“Alex, I’m a normal girl, with normal desires and feelings. I want you, and I intend to have you, and so it’s up to you when ‘something’ happens. Okay?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Alex?”

“Can you come and stay?” he asked. I sensed that he was grinning.

“Would you like me to?”

“You have to ask?”

I looked round the dark study, and thought of the huge empty house. This wasn’t my home; it was somewhere I kept my clothes for the moment.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can get a cab.”

“I can come and pick you up.”

I gave him the address and directions.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I sought out Mrs Rogers. She was in her small flat on the first floor, above the garage.

“I’m going to stay with a friend for a few days. If you need me urgently, then you have my mobile number. Otherwise, you don’t know where I am,” I said.

“Right, Miss Monique. And where will you be?”

“You don’t know, remember?” I said.

“Oh, right.”

“Mrs Rogers, how long have you been my father’s housekeeper?” I asked.

“Since your poor mother died, dear.”

“I think we are going to sell the house, I don’t want it, and neither does Carol. I talked it over with her and we want you to look for a flat or bungalow, wherever you want, and we will buy it for you. The solicitor knows and has agreed to handle such a purchase. Just notify him of the details. That way you don’t need to break into the capital that Dad left you. It’s only right,” I said, leaving her gaping after me.

I went to my room, the room that my parents had shared. I loved the huge bed, but found the atmosphere of the house was generally oppressive.

I packed enough for a month away, and felt as giddy as a schoolgirl on the eve of her first party. My life had turned into something wonderful, and I almost didn’t want to go to bed, in case I missed some.

My body had virtually healed now. The scarring was evident, but only if you knew where to look, and with each day, it became less obvious. I would spend long luxurious moments in the shower or bath, just enjoying my new body. I love it when I was clean and scented. I had spent ages finding a perfume that appealed to me, and adored the feel of fine fabrics next to my skin. I had bought some lovely lacy lingerie, with Alex in mind. My breasts had filled out more, so were almost the same size as my old falsies.

When Alex arrived, driving his father’s Audi, I was sitting on my suitcase on the drive. When we eventually broke off from our kiss, he glanced up at the house and whistled.

“This is a huge home,” he said.

“When you’re the only occupant, it’s a mausoleum,” I said.

He looked at me.

“You look even better than when I last saw you.”

“So I should hope. I was still recovering from a major operation.”

“I love you so much.”

“You’re a soppy sod. Kiss me and put my stuff in the car,” I ordered, and he willingly complied.

He chatted aimlessly all the way, so I knew he was as excited at seeing me as I was at seeing him.

I really had missed him, as here was someone that I could still act my real age with. I didn’t have to prove anything to him, and I just loved being with him. I felt slightly guilty at withholding certain truths about myself, but I knew that if we developed our relationship any further, I would tell him everything, or nearly everything.

I expected a small flat, so was surprised to find a very nice, three-bedroom, spacious apartment in a very chic neighbourhood. His father wasn’t home when we walked in, so Alex showed me to the room I was to have. He carried in my case and plonked it on the bed.

He showed me the rest of the flat, including his parents’ room. There was a photograph of the family all together, his dad and mum, his two sisters and Alex.

“How old are your sisters?” I asked.

“Becky is fifteen and Roz is thirteen.”

“Oh, so you’re the big, grown-up brother. I bet they tease you whenever you bring your girlfriends home,” I said.

He reddened. “Actually, you’re the first proper girlfriend I’ve ever had,” he admitted.

“No, how come? A big handsome lad like you.”

“I’m very shy, as you know, so I always found it difficult to start talking to girls.”

“You didn’t seem to have any problem with me.”

“That’s because I fell in love with you when I first saw you, and knew that if I didn’t talk to you then, I may never have got the chance again.”

“Really?” I said, flattered and rather surprised.

“Aye. There was something about you. You were, and still are, so different to anyone else I had ever seen.”

“You’re right there, boy,” I said, with a grin.

“So, you’re the first girl that I could ever call my girlfriend.”

I stroked his cheek.

“That makes us a perfect pair, then.”

“What? You mean you never had a boyfriend?” he asked, incredulously.

“Never. I’ve had admirers, but never a boyfriend. I was very conscious of my problem, which, thank the Lord, is no longer an issue. But it made me rather a late developer.”

“Problem?”

“Later, Alex, maybe later. Just know I’m fine now!”
 
 
Chapter 15
 
 
We went into the spacious living room and sat together on the sofa.

“In a way, I guess it is a good thing, but we have nothing to compare against,” he said.

“Oh, Alex. You prat. We don’t need to compare anyone or anything. I know what I feel, and I just love being with you. When I heard your voice on the phone, my heart sang. So stop talking bollocks,” I said, and he shut me up by kissing me.

Once again, his father arrived and interrupted us. This was getting to be a habit.

He laughed, and apologised.

“Hello again, Monique, it seems I’m destined to interfere with your love life,” he said.

“Hello Mr Drummond.” I said.

“Andy, please. I only like my staff and patients to call me Mr Drummond. Besides, by the look of it, you’re almost family now.”

I blushed and grinned at him.

“Do you two love-birds fancy a nice meal out? I’m tired, so don’t fancy cooking, Alex’s cooking is dreadful, and I wouldn’t dream of asking our guest to cook, as she has only just arrived.”

“I don’t mind cooking, but I’m not brilliant,” I said.

“We’d love to go out, Dad. Particularly as you’re paying,” Alex said.

“Good, I hear there is a new Thai place just off Sloane Square. I’m told it’s very good.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said.

“Good, I need a shower and a quick change, and we’ll go. Do you have everything you need, Monique?” Andy asked.

“Oh yes, Alex has provided everything I need.”

He laughed and disappeared to his bedroom.

“How has he taken your failure in Zurich?”

“Very well. We’ve had several long chats, and I have submitted my application for a commission in the army.”

“That didn’t take long. You’d make a good soldier,” I said.

“You think so?”

I nodded. “I wouldn’t like you to go to war. You might get hurt, but I bet you’d look sexy in your uniform.”

He laughed and tickled me. We rolled on the sofa and he kissed me, and then we became more passionate. I felt myself responding to his caresses, my nipples hardened, and I felt myself becoming moist in eager anticipation.

“I want you Alex,” I said.

“Oh, shit, Monique, I want you so much.”

We kissed and fondled each other, I rubbed his crotch, feeling his erection, as his hand slid into my panties, and I almost screamed with pleasure as he touched me.

“Enough!” I said, breathlessly. “I’m not on the pill, and I bet that you haven’t any thingies. I don’t want to get pregnant yet, and your dad is just next door.”

Alex just kept kissing me, but moved his hand between my legs. Wave after wave of pleasure hit me, so I just gasped aloud. I now knew what a real orgasm felt like, but I wanted him inside me so badly.

It took all my will power to stop and push him away.

“Alex, Stop. Please, not now,” I said, so he reluctantly took his hand away.

“Sorry, I just got carried away.”

“You and me both. God. Alex, that was wonderful. But if we carry on like this, we’ll make a serious mistake.”

“I know, but I just wanted to give you pleasure.”

“You did. I want you to screw me so badly. Shit, Alex, what are we going to do?”

“Marry me?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re very sweet, but we neither of us are ready for that kind of commitment. Shit, Alex, think. You’ve just applied for the army, and I’m off to America in a couple of weeks. We’re hardly even twenty,” I said.

“We could have a long engagement?” he suggested, slyly.

I kissed him.

“I tell you what, if, in one year’s time, we still feel the same way about each other, ask me again. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, rather reluctantly.

“Oh, don’t look like that. I do love you, but neither of us really has seen life, so we need to experience life as individuals before we ever tie each other together. It may be that after two months we just can’t live without each other, but we owe it to each other to try. They say that a relationship that survives separation, survives togetherness too,” I said.

“Who says?”

“I says,” I said, with a smile.

He grinned. “I suppose you’re right. But I’m terrified of losing you.”

“You won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I said.

I straightened my clothing and had to go and change my damp knickers. I had only just returned when Andy came out of his bedroom, having changed.

“Right, are you two ready?” he asked, so we followed him out.
 

*          *          *
 
I liked Alex’s dad, he was actually very nice. I had pictured this tyrant, who had forced Alex to try and become a doctor. But actually he had tried to give his son something to aim for, so it was neither of their faults that it wasn’t for him. We had a lovely meal and I felt more at home with them than I ever had with my own father.

He was interested in me, so I was as honest as I could be. I had eleven good GCSEs, and three A grade AS levels. But I couldn’t tell him I had skipped two years in a few weeks. I sort of indicated that I was considering a degree course, possibly in the States. I told him that I had an opportunity to work for a big US company whilst I was in Switzerland, so they were considering sponsoring me.

The following day Alex and I window shopped up the Kings Road. He bought me a pretty little ring with a weird blue stone in it. I teased him a little by putting it on my left ring finger, and told him it was our unofficial engagement ring. This pleased him, so he gave me an enormous hug. I cooked them a simple supper that night, and when I went to bed, I was a very content girl.

The next week was great fun, Alex and I were able to grow together without any constraints, save those we put in place ourselves. We went to see a couple of movies, and even went clubbing one night. It was so crowded and noisy that neither of us enjoyed it very much, but we could say we tried.

After I had back in Britain for three weeks, I was beginning to feel a little restless. Alex had to go back to Scotland with his father, and they invited me as well.

I declined, as I knew that I would have to leave for the States soon. On our last evening together, we went to the Thai restaurant again. Andy seemed to appreciate that it was a watershed in our relationship, so after dinner, he went to bed, leaving us on the living room sofa.

Alex had his arm around my shoulders and I snuggled in close to him.

“Are you sure you won’t come up north with us? Ma will love to meet you.”

“No, I’m not sure, Alex. I’d actually love to come, but I must follow my destiny.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call you as often as I can.”

He lifted my chin and kissed me tenderly.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, I promised, remember?”

He took my left hand and noticed that the ring was still on my finger.

“I still want to marry you.”

“I know,” I said, and kissed him.

We sat and watched the late movie, neither of us really paying much attention to it. He gently stroked my breast, and I started feeling those lovely warm tingly feelings again. I put my hand on his trousers and stroked him. I immediately felt him rise to the occasion.

I opened his zip with shaking fingers, and his cock almost leapt into my waiting hand. It was so hot. It was so big compared to what had been my personal experience. His knob was so soft and silky, and there was some of his precious liquid leaking from the little hole, so I licked it off, and smiled as he squirmed with pleasure. It was a little salty, but I liked it, I had tasted my first man. His fingers brought me to another orgasm, so I took him into my mouth, and he gently thrust it in further. I tightened my lips around it, holding it with my hand. He was thrusting and withdrawing faster now, while working his hand between my legs. I used my tongue on the knob, and squeezed gently with my hands. I was on a roll of pleasure, but suddenly he thrust into my mouth and I felt the hot spurt of his semen against my throat. I just swallowed and just licked him clean. He had three fingers inside me, so I shuddered as another orgasm hit me.

He withdrew his fingers, so I took my very wet knickers off, and he dried his fingers on them. I kissed him, so he could taste his own discharge that was still lingering in my mouth. I had now developed a taste for him, so I knew I would need him often. The thought of doing it again made me tingle. Before I could do anything, he placed his head in my lap and I felt his tongue on my slit. I had to bite my lip as he licked my clitoris, and I came, gushing all over his tongue.

He came up, smiling, and made me kiss him, the taste of our juices intermingled was amazing.

We sat back, both dazed with the experience we had shared. I wrapped my arm around the man I loved, and felt strange and wonderful feelings.

“It’s after midnight. We had better go to bed.” Alex said.

“Is that an offer?” I said.

“If you want it to be?”

I smiled, so he pulled out a red foil covered object, waving it at me.

My smile broadened.

“I want it to be,” I said, so we went to his room.

We undressed each other, caressing and kissing each part of the other’s body. By the time we were naked, he was aroused, and I was shaking with desire. I had never wanted anything as much as I wanted him at this moment.

He gently laid me on my back and kissed my breasts, I was so wet now, I just wanted him inside me. He opened the packet, so I took the condom from him and rolled it onto his cock. He lay on top of me, ass I guided him inside me, smiling with contentment as I felt him slide all the way home. It felt so good.

I wrapped my legs around him, as he started to thrust into me, kissing me and caressing my breasts at the same time. The pleasure I felt with him inside me was indescribable, so I felt truly complete.

He told me over and over that he loved me, and I echoed his words. I felt the orgasm rise and hit with a crescendo of pleasure, to have it repeat again and again, until I was almost screaming for more.

I was lost in a sea of sensuality and desire, as he finally thrust deep inside me and shot his bolt. I came for a final time in unison with him.

We lay thus entwined and sleep fell upon us. By the time dawn broke, we had used five condoms and I felt weak with pleasure. We slept late, and when we finally rose and appeared for a late brunch, Alex’s father smiled a knowing smile. His son had finally grown up.

I packed and they dropped me home. I waved goodbye as they headed home to Scotland. Alex called my mobile seven times during the journey, and I wept myself to sleep in the big bed in that large and lonely house. He was not the only one to grow up that night, I was now a woman, and it exceeded my wildest dreams.

---

 
To Be Continued...