Bikini Beach: Guardian Angel free porn video

Bikini Beach: The Guardian Angel By Valerie Hope Don Mulcahy threw down the paper in disgust and put his head in his hands. He'd spent his life in the assistance of women, using his considerable abilities in the martial arts to construct and then teach a self-defense system for women, and still the papers were crammed with incidents of assaults all around the greater Metropolitan area. It broke his heart and made him wonder if he was fighting a battle that even could be won. Discouraging as it was, he picked up the wadded paper and turned back to the story of last night's assault, Date rape, they called it. He gritted his teeth. If this animal had taken a woman out for drinks and dinner and then taken her home to kill her, they never called it "date murder." But to lessen the crime they called it "date rape." Like that was supposed to make it somehow less horrible for the woman who'd been attacked. If anything, it was more horrible. Because for all that she had to undergo - the pain, the humiliation, the indignity and the helplessness - she now had to contend with betrayal, since this was someone she'd known and thought enough of to agree to a date. He sighed heavily, hating this part of the job but knowing it was absolutely necessary. He slung his bag over one shoulder and walked down the stairs to his waiting car. *** The park seemed innocuous enough, crammed though it was with every manner of female, all waiting in lines to get through the front gate. Don pulled the battered Dodge Ram into a parking slip near the entrance, giving the parking facilities a once-over with his professional eye. Well-lit and with onsite security. Smart. That would keep the strangers in the bushes from jumping out. But it didn't help Anne Yancy, the nineteen-year-old woman at the local university who'd been assaulted last night. The police report had said that she'd been returning from the water park last night with her boyfriend of two months, Larry Sumner, when he'd assaulted her in her car at a traffic light two blocks from the park. His friends at the police department (he was an ex-cop himself, so he still had a good reputation and returned the favor to the PD every year during Sexual Assault Awareness Week) hadn't gotten much more in the way of details out of the young woman - she was still in shock when they'd questioned her. But she had the courage and guts to go for the rape kit and collect physical evidence against this heartless thing. She'd have a good case. If she could stick it out through the trial process (Which he hated - it prosecuted the victim more than the offender), then Larry Sumner would be experiencing a rape of his own in prison soon. Not that Don approved - his life was geared towards the permanent eradication of that horrible offense on the planet, for women and men. But a very dark, very vindictive part of him smiled at the thought of Larry Sumner being the helpless one. He banished the thought from his head as he neared the ticket booth. A very attractive young woman was taking passes at the gate and gave him a curious look as he neared the turnstile, wearing his street clothes and no evidence of swimwear on him. "Welcome to Bikini Beach," she said. "Can I help you?" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to bother you. Could I speak to the manager of the park, please?" She shook her head. "She's very busy." He smiled in what he hoped was a pleasant way, given his emotional state. "I understand. I don't want to hold up your line. My name is Don Mulcahy, and I'm a self-defense instructor. I teach classes for women. I try to make it to the sites of places who've recently had an assault and offer my services." He put down a stack of flyers and his business card. "If you could see that the manager gets these, and tell her that I'd welcome a call from her if she's interested." "She is," a very strong voice said from behind him. Don turned, not realizing anyone had been behind him. Very attractive, in a matronly way. No-nonsense, level eyes regarded him head to foot as he returned the scrutiny. Don decided he liked her on the spot. He extended a rough, strong hand in friendship. "Don Mulcahy, ma'am." She smiled, an enigmatic display of teeth with a genuine warmness behind it. "So I heard. Very pleased to meet you. Won't you come in to my office?" He picked up the flyers and his card, offering a warm smile to the girl in the ticket booth. "Sorry to hold you up..." "Anya," she supplied. "And it wasn't any trouble." *** The woman's office was sparsely but luxuriously appointed, hinting at real taste. She ushered Don into a very comfortable chair and offered him a steaming cup of tea which he accepted gladly. He inhaled the aroma deeply and took a sip. His eyebrows rode up to his scalp. "This is..." he spluttered. "Yorkshire black with a handful of Earl Grey. Steeped for three hours and served boiling." "This is exactly how my mother made it, back home." The woman reclined in her chair, eyes faraway and smiling. "Ah, yes. County Sligo. Hard country, but beautiful. There's no green like that green. Ireland isn't called the Emerald Isle for nothing." He grinned. "Irish, are you?" "Is ea, is ea, is as Eirinn m?," she said in flawless Irish. *Yes, I'm from Ireland.* "An bhfuil t? Gaelige agat?" *Do you speak Irish?* He stuttered out a very schoolboy "T? m? ag chuga beaga. N?l m? a fhios m?r?n." *Only a little bit. I don't know much.* His police-bred suspicions came to the fore. "How do you know so much about me?" he asked. She switched back to English, Don suspected, out of mercy. "I have perfect recall, Mr. Mulcahy. I read an article about you in the paper last month, and I looked up your short biography on the Internet. I have a head for facts, and I never seem to forget them." A plausible enough story. Don nodded and let the matter drop. "Now, Mr. Mulcahy. About your class." "Don, please," he told her. "I teach a one-week class in awareness and self-defense. Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the second Friday. The classes are three hours long." "And your fee?" Don didn't skip a beat. "None. Provide the facility, that's all. I don't do this for money." She looked surprised. "Then how do you support yourself?" He closed off. "I was wounded in the line of duty. I'm well taken care of." He wasn't sure, but he felt like the woman was looking into his soul for the next. "Why do you teach this class, Don?" He considered his answer carefully, knowing that this lady would spot a rehearsed press-kit line in a heartbeat. "Because it's the right thing to do," he said. "Women have been prey for predators like Larry Sumner for ages. And the men - the good men, I mean - have done nothing more than say 'It wasn't me.' That's not fair. Someone has to take the first strides, extend a hand to let the women of the world know that some of us do care. Some of us want things to change, and want the balance to be redressed." She smiled. "Have you heard about our park before, Don?" "I know it's a women only establishment, which is why I wanted to clear the class with you instead of just offering it in the area. I'm trying to respect the privacy of the place." "I appreciate that, more than you realize. Have you heard anything else?" "Some street rumors, nothing more. Something about the park changing people somehow. Got it from a guy in a bar downtown. Sounded to me like it was the X talking. My buddies ran him in for possession, but it was more to give him a safe place to sleep than anything else." "And your friends on the police force?" He chuckled. "Are of the same mind as I am. Cops are predictable creatures for the most part, ma'am. A friend of mine pulled the jacket on this place last night for me. Outside of the incident - which didn't technically happen on your property, actually - there hasn't been a single occurrence at Bikini Beach which has merited the attention of the police. Not even a moving violation. You run a clean, respectable establishment and no one here causes any trouble at all. So the police don't hassle you. It's their way of saying thanks." She grinned. "I'll confess, I'd never thought of it that way." "So, ma'am, would you like me to schedule a class?" She rapped her knuckles on her desk. "Yes, I think that would be wise." She pressed a button on her intercom. "Lori, please come in here, would you, and bring the events calendar?" Shortly, a woman walked into the office, wearing a little pleated plaid "schoolgirl" skirt and a red "Bikini Beach Staff" polo shirt. She was a bombshell - even Don, who had trained himself not to ogle or stare couldn't help but notice. Waist-length chestnut hair that nearly glowed in the light, large blue eyes and a full-lipped, sensual mouth. Her skin was even and flawless. And her body was equipped with a massive pair of breasts, some of the biggest Don had ever seen on such a slender figure. They couldn't have been real. She walked with a perky, suggestive stride and set the events calendar on the desk in front of the woman. She stood there beside her desk, swinging casually back and forth with her hands laced behind her back, making her little skirt fly up just a little to offer a teasing glimpse of thigh. Her hands behind her back made the enormous breasts stick out even further, and she kept a little-girl grin on her face that was both innocent and downright pornographic at the same time. But Don couldn't look away from the eyes. She gave off all the signs of the typical oversexed teenage jailbait nymphet, but the big, unassuming blue eyes were locked in a permanent expression of soul-deep horror. Don idly wondered whether she had been assaulted or molested in her own past. "We could schedule it for staff in a week," the old woman announced, looking up from the calendar. "If it's a success, then I could offer you facilities here to teach it to the public, if you like." Don was stunned. It was the Holy Grail she was offering - a permanent facility. No more haggling with church groups or public rec centers over use of the basketball court for an evening. No more making women who were scared enough of even going to such a class drive to bad areas of town and walk through dark, lonely parking lots to get there. He could hardly form words. "Do you mean that?" She nodded. "Of course I do. I'll put it to a staff vote. If the staff is supportive of your class, then I would be honored to offer it a permanent home." He stood and shook her hand vigorously. "You can't know what this means to me, ma'am." She smiled enigmatically again. "Oh, I might have some idea." He turned to Lori as well. "And I hope to see you in the class, too," he said. She gave him a suggestive smile and cozied up close to shake his offered hand while the big blue eyes recoiled in horror. "Actually, I don't believe that Lori will be able to attend," the old woman said. "She stays very busy around here." Don turned to her. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I can't let that be anyone's choice but hers," he said as sternly as he could, cognizant that he could be blowing his golden opportunity. "I have to offer it to every woman that wants it, or it defeats the whole purpose of the exercise." The old woman considered him a moment. "I admire your principles. And it's an interesting proposition. Lori? Would you like to take the class?" For a moment Don almost expected to see tears in the big blue eyes. Finally, a breathy soprano whisper came out, scarcely audible. "Yes, ma'am." The old woman's voice became sterner still, if that was possible. "You realize what it means, don't you? Your sentence could be probated because of this. Do you understand? Do you think you can behave yourself?" Nothing but an airy squeak in reply, but the terrified girl managed to nod. And all the while, her body kept getting closer and closer to Don's, where her magnificent breasts were rubbing against his arm and her hand was gently kneading his tricep just above his elbow. Don wouldn't allow himself to react, but he knew a lesser man would probably be taking advantage. Hell, lesser men probably already had. "I'll tentatively schedule it for Tuesday the fifth, at 7 p.m.," the old woman said. "And if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to come that morning and stay the day with us. I'll have my granddaughter - you met Anya at the ticket counter - show you around, acquaint you with the staff and show you how we do business. The pass and your meals will be complements of the park." "Will it pose a problem that I'm not female?" Don asked. "I wouldn't want your guests to be threatened." The old woman favored him with the most enigmatic smile yet. "That won't be a problem at all, Don." He walked out of her office with his feet barely touching the floor. For three years he'd taught in dingy gyms and rec centers, church halls and aerobic rooms and always had to do all his publicity and legwork for himself. Now he'd have a home for his program, access to copy machines and a constant flow of new students. He could finally start to make a difference. He waved a cheerful goodbye to Lori at her desk on the way out. She leaned way too far over to return the wave, giving him a tempting view of her cleavage. The way she moved and acted, Don had never seen a girl put it on display so blatantly. Undeniably attractive and acting like a Lolita constantly. Making herself a target to any man who took a mind to grab her. Of all of them, he suspected that she would get the most out of his class. As he looked away from her, he noticed the little nameplate on her desk. Lori Summers, Executive Assistant. Lori Summers. Larry Sumner. Don shook his head. Funny coincidence. *** Don arrived at the park a half-hour before it opened, both to appear professional and also because he'd been far too excited about the day's prospects to sleep. His cellphone had rung twice from friends on the police force to wish him well - they all knew about the offer of a permanent home for his class and they were all thrilled for him. He was sitting at the picnic tables, off to one side, having a cigarette as he watched the early-morning traffic go by. He took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke in a stale-smelling cloud over his head. "Nasty habit," the old woman said, and Don jumped. She had a habit, apparently, of sneaking up on people. Something Don was going to have to get used to. He shrugged, a little sheepish. "I know, I know," he said. "I try to keep it to a minimum, but I just enjoy it so much. It's like a good cup of coffee." The old woman smiled, not enigmatic this time, but genuinely amused. "I understand," she said. "I have certain... vices myself. If I can be forgiven for them, so can you." "I'm looking forward to touring your park," he said. "As am I." She waited for him to grind out his cigarette in an ashtray and gather up his duffel bag. She walked him to the ticket counter, where Anya waited, yawning. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, she offered him a one-day pass to the park. "Just to leave a paper trail," the old woman explained. "Now if you wouldn't mind changing in there, and taking a quick shower. Health department regulations, I'm afraid." Don smiled. "I don't mind at all." He stepped into the shower room and dropped his bag on the bench facing the lockers. Disrobing quickly, he stepped into one of the stalls and turned on the water. It was very warm and pleasant, making him think of quiet evenings he'd spent with Gabrielle Foster, the love of his college life. He didn't even notice the pinkish mist that rose around him. He stepped from the shower, scrubbing his hair briskly with a towel. Once the water and soap had cleared from his eyes, he looked down to check the state of the bruises from his last class a week ago and to give his hamstrings a quick stretch (they were always stiff early in the morning). And the towel dropped from nerveless fingers. "Oh my God," he breathed in a voice that was not his own. "The shock will pass," the old woman said from where she stood in the corner. "Be calm." Don sat heavily on the bench next to his duffel, feeling the shock spread up the curves of his now much more cushioned derri?re. "How... how..." "Magic, my dear," the old woman said. "This place is a haven. A place where women can enjoy themselves in privacy, without being objectified by men." Don managed some measure of composure. "I respect that. Truly," he said in a breathy contralto. "But why me?" The old woman sat beside her calmly, placing a hand on his - her - arm. "I have looked into a lot of hearts in my life, my dear. But none quite so noble as your own. So committed to doing what is right. I admit - I think I might have fallen a little bit in love with you. There is still girl in me somewhere. I've never met your like, not since Arthur's day." Don breathed deeply. "I could have taught somewhere nearby, ma'am. You didn't have to do this to me." "And I didn't want to, dear," the old woman said. "And nothing grieves me more than not giving you the option. Which is why your first pass was for a day only. You will only remain in this form until twelve hours after the pass expires. What you do then is up to you." "How do you mean, ma'am?" "I will offer you a free lifetime membership to the park. You will have this form for all your days. Or you can live in your old body, and teach my staff and customers as you see fit. I will allow you access to the gymnasium and classroom in the condominium complex overlooking the park. Or we can part ways and you can continue on as if you'd never met me." Don stiffened. "I find it difficult to believe I'll forget this." "I can arrange it," the woman said. "No," Don said. "Don't. I'm here, and I still want to teach. The staff - they know?" "Of course," the old woman said. "Then they won't be surprised if a woman teaches them one night and a man the next," he said. "Your staff needs the information I can teach them. I can't let them down." The old woman gave her now-smooth shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You are an amazing human being." Don stood briskly. "One thing, ma'am. I think I can assume safely you're a wizard, or a witch or something like that?" She smiled. "Something like that." "My methods of teaching are based on years and years of training in the martial arts," Don explained. "And it's how I keep myself from getting injured while I teach. I can barely walk in this body. I can't get all that balance and movement down in one day, and I'll get myself hurt. Is there any way you can arrange it so that I can be a little more comfortable in this body?" The old woman nodded. "I'm sorry - I should have arranged for that. I didn't even think. Of course." She moved her hands in a complex pattern and mouthed wordless syllables. As she did, Don felt his unfamiliarity disappear and soon the subtle and complicated business of moving a woman's body ceased to be such an elusive mystery. He did a few quick moves, just to make sure, and it was as natural as when he'd been in his previous, six-foot-two frame. "Thank you," he said. "I am sorry, my dear," the old woman said. Don considered his answer carefully. "I understand your reasons, and I appreciate your kindness to me in easing the transformation. I think it's the only reason I'm not a gibbering wreck. But consider this - rape is a crime of power. The allure for a predator is the helplessness of the victim, their complete submission and inability to react or resist. It's a taking away of all choices. You should be aware of that every single time you do what you do." The old woman lowered her eyes sadly. "I will never forget," she said with the weight of oath. "Now then, down to business," Don said briskly. "Let's see what I brought with me that might fit." "Not a problem," the old woman said, still thoughtful and a bit chastised. "The nature of the spell alters reality. You were born the way you are, my dear. So when you packed this morning..." "I packed all the right things," Don finished for her, holding up a black sports bra. "Handy." "I think so," the old woman said. Slipping into a pair of black cotton panties and the spandex sports bra, Don turned to one of the mirrors over the sinks, aware that he'd yet to take a look at himself since it had happened. The woman that faced him was a picture of health. Tanned, smooth skin with no blemish save for a light spray of freckles across her shoulders, a blazing white smile with full, sensuous lips, wide brown eyes and a slender, aquiline nose with a little Jodie Foster "ski jump" at the end. Her nose even wrinkled up a little when she smiled. A young and attractive face, open but no-nonsense like Don's previous male face. She wore her hair short, a tousled pixie-cut which was bleached a platinum blonde that made her look all the more tan. Her body was a compact mass of smooth, curvaceous muscle, an ironing-board belly and trim, athletic legs that seemed longer for the high cut of the sports panties. Largish but still proportional breasts rode high on her ribcage. Don had checked the size of the bra before he'd slipped it on. A size 36, and he guessed inexpertly about a C cup. A tight, shapely rear end and nice flaring hips and a tapered waist summed it up into a very healthy-looking and attractive woman. All in all, Don guessed the woman to be in her early twenties, nowhere near the thirty-five years of age he'd been as a male. Slipping a hand into the duffel, he fished out a cute little black woven macram? purse and dug around in it for a wallet. Past the sunglasses, hairbrush, makeup and cigarettes (changed from his Camels to a pack of ladies' Virginia Slims, his Zippo now a slender little silver "lipstick" lighter - the old woman thought of everything). Finally he found a combination checkbook and wallet and broke it open, digging out his identification. No longer Donald Justin Mulcahy, aged thirty-five, hair brown and eyes blue. For at least the next thirty-six hours he - no, she - would be Dawn Justine Mulcahy, aged twenty-four, hair blonde and eyes brown. "Dawn it is, then," he said, and snapped the wallet closed with an air of finality. She sat quickly, pulling on a pair of black lycra leggings and black tennis shoes (now a woman's 6 1/2 instead of his usual men's 11's), a Law Enforcement Special Olympics Torch Run t-shirt (which hugged the curves of her lovely breasts in a way she wasn't entirely comfortable with), and pulled on the Area Women's Center baseball cap backwards over her still-wet hair. She looked like a cross between a tomboy and an aerobics instructor, but the feminine curves filling out the leggings and the t-shirt were still more than sexy enough to carry it off as a "look." Dawn slung her purse over one shoulder and turned back to the old woman. "Shall we?" she asked. *** Dawn hated to admit it, but she had a blast at the water park. As a man, she'd remained aloof from crowds and big presses of people, but here she was an equal among the hordes of all sorts of women who were there to enjoy the sun and the water. Dawn didn't swim (she didn't really want to until after her class tonight - she still had an impression to make) while the old woman had introduced her to all of the staff. Dawn's practiced police eye picked up on little tells here and there, tiny little unconscious clues that keyed off the fact that some of the staff members had not been born women. Adding to that she saw many women customers in the crowd who were obviously not comfortable with where they were and what they were doing, and she made them for those who'd woken up men this morning. Which popped a question in her mind that she put to the old woman. "Lori Summers, your assistant," Dawn said. "She was Larry Sumner." The old woman looked at Dawn with as close as she could get to shock. "You guessed?" "I prefer deduced," Dawn said. "But I'm right?" "You are," the old woman sighed. "Anne Yancy talked him into coming here for a one-day pass, to give him a taste of what the world was like on the other side of the fence. He was angry at her. Once he transformed back, he attacked her in her car." Dawn only nodded and waited for the old woman to continue. "We found Anne after the park closed and called the police. She was in shock, but basically unharmed other than the damage already done. When Larry Sumner came back to the park the next day to demand his money back for the one-day pass, I took him into my office and... repaid him." "Turned him into the poster child for jailbait," Dawn offered. "She can't help but act the little Lolita because of the magic on her, and she lives in constant terror of being raped." "I thought it fitting," the old woman said. "Poetic, maybe. Fitting, no," Dawn said with finality. "What you have done, ma'am, is change Larry Sumner into a woman. A member of your gender. And put her at risk for the most heinous crime one human being can perpetrate on another. You may consider it justice, but the fact is that Lori Summers is a woman and no woman deserves to be raped. You've set the cause of women back quite a way in the interests of revenge." "I suppose it could be seen that way." "Are you saying you condone the rape of Lori Summers?" The old woman visibly deflated. "No. No, I'm not." "I wish you could reverse the spell and leave Larry Sumner to face the justice he deserves. But I suppose that we have to make do with what we have, and the first step there is to give Lori the tools to avoid an attack and resist it if necessary. And I take it since your magic rewrites reality, that Anne Yancy was never assaulted?" "Correct," the old woman said. "That, at least, is a comfort," Dawn said. The old woman distanced herself. No mortal had questioned her motives in centuries, and along came this man who had not only questioned, but held up a mirror into the depths of her soul and made her cringe at some of the things she'd seen. Truly a remarkable soul. Seeing the woman she'd hoped to see, the old woman gestured Anya over from here she was talking with two other girls in staff uniforms. "Anya, dear, could you show Ms. Mulcahy around a little while longer while I take care of some business?" "Sure," Anya said happily. "Nice to meet you, Dawn." "Good luck with your class tonight," the old woman said. "I wish you all the best with it." "Oh, you do?" Dawn said poignantly. "And why is that?" The old woman, for the first time since the 1800's, was speechless. "Because... because, I..." "You mean to tell me you're not planning to attend?" "I'm a special case," the old woman protested. Dawn's smile was mirthless but kind. "You are a woman, ma'am. And my class offers tools that all women need, regardless of who they are or what they can do." The old woman looked into Dawn's beautiful brown eyes and met a will behind them that was every bit as strong and immovable as her own. "Of course," she said. "Seven p.m. sharp." "Wear loose, comfortable clothing and athletic shoes," Dawn said pleasantly. "And remember the cardinal rule of my class." "Which is?" Dawn squeezed her hand in friendship, but her eyes were flashing both merriment and a bit of malice. "Payback's a bitch, ma'am." *** "Curse that man," the old woman said, flopping onto her couch with a complete lack of grace. "Woman," Anya corrected, trying unsuccessfully to hide her amusement. Dawn had worked the class very hard, but still pushed no woman further than her limits. Except, of course, Anya's grandmother. Dawn was as encouraging and rewarding to the old woman as any of his other students, but she'd extracted a promise from her that no magical assistance would be used - the old woman would have to complete the class "under her own steam," as Dawn termed it. "I am going to ache for weeks," the old woman groaned, and it took all Anya's willpower to keep from giggling. Payback really was a bitch. About that time, a positively glowing Lori buzzed into the office, humming to herself and fairly bouncing with excitement. Anya turned to her in the spirit of the camaraderie that Dawn had so easily built among the women in that class. "You look pleased with yourself," she said. "Did you see me? I threw Jenny on the floor without even trying!" Lori bubbled. "You did great," Anya said. "I feel like I could take on the world!" Lori crowed, grabbing her purse. "Hey, Anya, me and some of the other girls are going out for some food. We're way too amped to go to sleep right now. Wanna come?" Anya gave her grandmother a glance, got a tacit approval. "I'd love to," she said. "Let me grab my purse." The old woman couldn't suppress a smile. The spell had taken effect well - Lori's memories of her own past were being wiped clean. By the time she arrived for work tomorrow, she would have no memory of ever being Larry Sumner. And then the spell Dawn was weaving would be able to take root, and the world would have to stand the loss of one more frightened girl at the mercy of predators. It gave her a very good feeling. She managed to lever herself up, feeling every muscle in her body complain at the rough treatment, and made herself some tea. She wasn't surprised at all when Dawn came in, knocking on the door quietly. "Excellent class tonight, my dear," she said. "I'm very pleased," Dawn said, nearly glowing with pride. It was clear what she got out of teaching. "You have every right to be. And I have to agree with you about the changes that have occurred in Lori. I am more than woman enough to admit that I was wrong. And you were right." "Thank you," Dawn said warmly. "You did well tonight." "Which is not what you came here to discuss," the old woman said. "May I sit?" Dawn asked. She reclined on the couch at the old woman's nod. "Your offer. Of teaching here as a woman. It's not a decision I can make in a night, ma'am. I have to think about it." "I understand." "And only a day as a woman isn't enough time to base a decision on," she continued. "Is there a way that I can postpone my decision for a few days? Give me time to experience a little life as a woman before I have to make such a decision." The old woman rummaged in her desk. "I can give you a week," she said, taking out two envelopes. "In this first envelope is a one-week pass. Redeem it tomorrow and you'll have a week as a woman to experience. Also in the same envelope is a lifetime membership made out to you. Redeem it anytime and you'll be a woman for the rest of your life." Dawn looked at the envelope as if it were a snake coiled to strike, but she steeled herself admirably and took it, tucking it into her purse. The old woman handed over the second envelope. "This is a personal letter to you, dear. I'd like you to keep it for a while, but don't read it until you've made your final decision as to which life you choose to lead." Puzzlement crossed Dawn's pretty face, but she took the envelope with a granite look in her wide eyes which told the old woman that it would not be opened until Dawn had come to a decision. "Have a pleasant evening," the old woman bade. "The other girls are going out for dinner and drinks. You could catch them up if you tried, I imagine." Dawn's face became oblique and closed. "I don't think so." "Whyever not?" the old woman asked. "I'm not a fan of crowds. Good night, ma'am." *** Dawn took her week and did everything she could with it, acquainting herself with all the details she could - what it was like for a woman to shop for groceries, to fill up a car, to stand in line at the box office for a movie (at least the spell hadn't diminished her love for Jackie Chan films... Shanghai Noon had her sides aching from laughter). It wasn't all that much different, but the differences were very marked. The breaking point had nearly come one day when she decided to see what it would be like to go shopping dressed in sexy clothes (of which she had plenty). So she'd styled her hair and done her makeup (getting a very fresh-faced and healthy but still alluring look on the third try with help from an article in Seventeen magazine, of all places), dressed in a shoulder-baring halter and skin-tight capri pants, platform slide sandals and sexy Audrey Hepburn cat's-eye sunglasses. After two hours of men staring at her like she was a dessert item and having her breasts talked to, she'd been ready to deliver a profound ass-kicking on the next man who spoke to her. But it wasn't to be. The next man to talk to her was a police officer. "Hey, I know you," he said kindly, looking in her eyes of all places. "You're Dawn Mulcahy. You used to be on the force with my dad before you retired." She looked at his nameplate. J. Richards. "J... Jeff? Jeff Richards? Danny's boy?" she asked in wonder. "In the flesh," Jeff said, smiling. "I was only sixteen when I met you at my dad's barbecue." She paged through her "new" life memories, provided by the old woman's sorcery. She'd been a rookie cop at the time, only nineteen and fresh out of academy. Danny Richards was her training sergeant. "Wow," she said. "You certainly grew up nice." He blushed in the most adorable fashion. Her sense of nostalgia was too great to notice how much attention she was paying to his eyes, his lantern jaw and how pretty his smile was. "Glad to hear it. Nice to know that all that Clearasil paid off." "Following in dad's footsteps, I see," she said, running a hand down his sleeve. A very feminine gesture, and very flirtatious, although Dawn didn't realize it at the time. "Don't know if I can make detective by the time I'm thirty-two like he did, but I can sure as hell try. And I've been reading about your class in the paper. It's a good thing you're doing." "Thanks." "How come you never come by the station house anymore? Don't you miss the old gang?" he asked. "I don't know," she said, shrugging. "My days are pretty busy." "The force wants you back, you know," he said. "Sergeant Copecki says so all the time." She got very distant. "Someday, maybe," she said. "I'm helping in different ways these days." "Don't I know it," Jeff said. "We've had a couple of calls in the last months where the man got his ass beat up around his ears for trying something, and every last one of them was a graduate of your class." "That's what I like to hear," Dawn said happily. She didn't catch exactly what Jeff said behind his bushy moustache, but it sounded something like "Damn, what a smile." "Hey, listen," he said, before she could ask him to repeat it. "Would you like to go out for a beer sometime, maybe catch a hockey game or something?" Dawn blushed toes to scalp. He was asking her out! She was equal parts offended to the stars that a man would ask her out when she was so plainly (in her mind, at least) another man, and on the other hand really excited and flattered by the whole prospect. Her mind just kind of locked up and before she knew what she was saying, she heard someone using her voice to say: "That'd be great. I have a class tonight, but maybe tomorrow night?" "That would be fantastic," Jeff said. "Hey, let me give you my card. It's got my cellphone number on it. Give me a call tomorrow and I can pick you up, or we can meet someplace." She took it in numbed fingers. "It was great to see you, Jeff." "You, too, Dawn. I'll see you tomorrow." *** Anya hid her mouth behind her hand at the pacing, frantic woman who was busily muttering to herself and throwing every article of clothing she owned into the "discard" pile on the bed. "Will you just settle down?" she finally said, laughing out loud. "It's just a date." "With a man," Dawn muttered, running a hand through her cute pixie haircut. "A man! What am I supposed to do on a date with a man? Why did I even agree to it? This is a nightmare!" Anya regained her composure. "You agreed to it because you're an attractive woman and Jeff sounds like a really attractive guy. And what you're supposed to do is go enjoy yourself." "If he expects a goodnight kiss, I'll deck him," Dawn swore. Anya lost it, dissolving into gales of laughter. "I believe you would," she breathed, wiping away tears. "What's so funny?" she asked, not seeing any humor in her situation. "You," Anya said. "Getting all worked up over a guy like this. If I didn't know better, I'd say you had it really bad for this man. Look at how you're acting." Dawn looked as if Anya had just teed off on her head with a nine iron. "I do?" "Yep. Do you?" Anya asked pointedly. "Do I what?" "Have it bad for this man?" Dawn blew a raspberry. "Of course not." "You sure?" Anya pressed. "Well, he's a nice guy," she said. "I knew him from before. Sweet kid. And we've got a lot in common, it's easy to talk to him. And..." Dawn's hands flew up to cover her mouth. "And?" Anya prompted, knowing full well what was coming next. "I can't believe I was about to say that he had the cutest smile I've ever seen." Anya stood up and put an arm around her friend. "And what's wrong with that?" "I'm a... I'm not..." Anya gently turned Dawn to face herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. "Look there. Do you see a man standing there?" "No," Dawn mumbled. "You're a woman," Anya said. "Say it." Dawn took a deep breath. "I'm a woman." Then again, more forcefully: "I'm a woman." "And you're a normal, healthy, red-blooded woman. Who likes a nice-looking guy as much as the next. And you're a beautiful, sexy and interesting woman who naturally likes to be paid attention to by a man she thinks is attractive. Why are you fighting it so hard?" "Because it feels like giving up." Anya understood immediately. "Do you think this guy is a rapist, Dawn?" Dawn's eyes fell. "How can I be sure? Dammit, how can anyone be sure?" Anya hugged her close. "We can't," she said softly. "No one can. You just have to trust your instincts and your training. I do that every day, Dawn. Every woman you've taught does. Some will be attacked - there's no way to avoid it sometimes. But you are smart, and capable, and your gut tells you that Jeff is all right. You just have to take a deep breath, depend on yourself and take the chance." "You're right," Dawn said, giving Anya a sisterly peck on the cheek. "I know you're right." "It can be fun, y'know," Anya said. "Dating, I mean." "I only know it from one angle," Dawn said. "Then come with me, sexy thang," Anya said. "I'll show you how much fun it is to make a sensible, intelligent man's eyes pop out at the sight of you." *** Anya was true to her word. She smoothed down the front of her short red party dress which barely covered her thighs and left nothing to the imagination. It set off her firm, rounded posterior and long dancer's legs like mad, and it exposed both her shoulders and a nice expanse of very inviting cleavage. Her old St. Christopher (which wasn't changed with the rest of her personal possessions) nestled into the sweet cleft of her breasts and big hoop earrings (which looked impossibly sexy with her short, tousled hair) showed off the length of her slender neck. She wore evening makeup which meant dramatic eyes and lots of color (which she thought made her look a little cheap, but Anya assured her it worked with the look), and three inch heels which matched the dress. The spell the old woman had used made it possible for her to maneuver in the heels like she'd been born in them, thank God - Dawn couldn't bear the thought of tripping all over everything while out like this. "These damn pantyhose won't stay higher than mid-thigh," Dawn grumbled. "You look fantastic," Anya said. Dawn checked herself in the mirror critically, and couldn't come up with a flaw. She looked like something off the cover of a fashion magazine, or possibly out of the center of another kind of magazine. And to top it off, she was rapidly connecting the heavy, damp feeling in her middle with feminine arousal, which would not do at all. Anya put her chin on her friend's shoulder and looked at her in the mirror. "You're hot, girlfriend," she said honestly. "Jeff is one lucky guy to have you on his arm." "I think you may be right," she breathed. Anya noticed the telltale little lumps which were straining against the front of the dress through the little demi-bra underneath. "Still gonna deck him if he tries to kiss you?" she asked teasingly. "Shut up," Dawn said, giving her friend a hug. *** Dawn had to hand it to Jeff - he handled being out with a gorgeous woman very well, after getting over the initial "Oh my God" factor when he'd first gotten a look at the feminine masterpiece that was with him. He didn't presume to open doors or any lame stuff like that - at least he respected her physical abilities. But she also remembered the little charge she got as Don in being an old-fashioned gentleman towards a lady, so she let Jeff do more and more of the little things for her as the night progressed. The steaks at McLaren's were the same as always, thick and done to perfection. The petit filet had Dawn stuffed to the gills, which was odd considering that the last time she'd been there she'd polished off the 16-ounce porterhouse and even had room for dessert. She knocked off the wine after one glass - it was hitting her like a freight train, her new body didn't have the old tolerance built back in the academy days. They danced a little (Dawn wasn't much of a dancer, so forwards or backwards dancing really didn't make that much of a difference), and she liked the feel of his arms around her. It was like permission to not be strong and capable for a little while, and it had been a long, long time since she'd allowed herself a break like that. She also liked the feel of his strong, tall body against her smaller one, and the fact that she couldn't quite get both her arms around him. They took a walk down by the seaside, her shoes dangling by their straps over one shoulder and his hand in hers. They talked about hockey and Ireland and being a cop and growing up with their respective fathers. He made a few lame innuendos when she described going to prep school and having to wear the little plaid skirt and blazer and the bow in her hair, but she was as amused as he was by the prospect and wondered if somehow the spell had left her old school uniform in the closet somewhere. Jeff would be tripping over his own tongue where it was dragging the floor. And she found herself opening up about things that she would never have talked to another person about, let alone a man, when she was Don. Personal triumphs, setbacks, victories and defeats. He was compassionate and understanding and reserved judgment on everything. Finally the question came, at nearly midnight, just as they were turning to walk back down the beach to her car. "Why did you leave the force, Dawn?" he asked. "None of the other guys at the station will really talk about it. Either they don't know or they won't say." She took a deep breath, and there was an audible tremble in it. "It's an ugly story." "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand," Jeff said quickly. "I haven't really talked about it since it happened," she said quietly, her voice barely above the hissing roar of the waves against the rocky shore. The spell blurred her memories a little bit - she knew the woman she was talking about was actually her wife, Joanne, but in the retelling it just became her best friend. "Joanne and I had decided to take a day off and head to the amusement park for the day," she said, eyes full of pain. "It was the first time I'd been off-duty in forever, it seemed like. You remember how it is when you first get on the force. You want to be a cop all the time." Jeff nodded. "Anyway, we got there early, right after the park opened and we spent the whole day riding the roller coasters and pigging out on chili dogs. It was a great day. It wasn't even a damper when the afternoon crowds showed up and the lines got long and the park got shoulder to shoulder. We just held one another's hands and stayed close. We stayed there all day long, even until the crowds started to filter out and they were turning on the lights in the park. Just she and I together. Until we got separated. She was heading to the bathroom, and I was going to get us a couple of drinks. I had only just lost sight of her when I heard her call my name. I went back, trying to find her, but there was nobody there. I wandered around, calling out her name, and finally somebody who'd seen what happened pointed. "He had grabbed her and wrestled her towards the trees. I think it was supposed to be a purse-snatching but she got a look at him. Smack addict, looking for a fix. He grabbed her and dragged her out into the bushes, hoping to use her to get past security now that he was made. I pulled my shield and piece and tried to get him to stop, but he had a gun of his own somehow. He shot me. Punctured my lung. I fell and he pulled Joanne away." She felt her eyes fill with stinging tears and made no effort to wipe them away, she just let them fall onto her cheeks unashamedly. "They found her the next morning. Near an abandoned gas station. She was dead, and the medical examiner said she'd been raped several times." The dam broke, and she felt Jeff's arms enclose her back into the place where it was okay to not be so strong. Great wracking sobs shook their way through her and she nearly collapsed against his chest. "She'd always meant to take a class or something, like I had, to learn how to handle herself, but she said that until she did I'd just have to be the one to protect her. And I couldn't. I failed. I killed her just as sure as if I'd pulled the trigger myself." He pressed soft, dry lips into her hair and just held her close, not questioning the tears or asking her to stop. He just rocked her gently back and forth, stroking her hair while she cried out four years' worth of pain and self-blame. She thought the tears would never stop, that her soul would be scoured to bleeding from it, but eventually the tide lost energy and she just felt drained. She picked feebly at the front of Jeff's shirt. "I ruined your shirt," she said softly, running her fingers over the mess of makeup, tears and snot that she'd left behind. "It's just a shirt." She blew her nose with a tissue she retrieved from her purse. "I must look like a mess." He placed a gentle finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. "You look beautiful." Her heart nearly froze in its beating as she sensed the distance between his face and hers slowly diminish until his soft lips met hers for a feathery instant. Hardly chaste - it promised whatever she desired from it - but no more than a moment's contact, to make sure she knew he wasn't taking advantage. They walked in silence back to the car, and Dawn made use of the vanity mirror in her truck to salvage what she could of the makeup. Once she was relatively presentable, she turned the key and headed back to town. She stopped in front of her apartment building and walked with Jeff to his Jeep Cherokee, holding his hand. He tried to pull away after their goodnight but she couldn't seem to let go of his hand. "Jeff," she said softly. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about this - I really like you, but I'm not ready to take any big steps right now, okay?" "I understand," Jeff said simply. "So keep that in mind when I say this: I really don't want to be by myself tonight. Would you..." "Stay with you?" he asked. "Of course I will, Dawn. And don't worry - I'm not trying to take advantage. I care about you. I've had a crush on you since I was sixteen, I'll admit, but I'm not trying to get into your pants. I can understand if you don't yet, but you can trust me." "I know I can," she said, and led him to the door. *** It was wonderful waking up in his arms. He'd been a perfect gentleman, waiting calmly outside her door while she cleaned up and got undressed and then climbing in beside her, putting his strong arms around her and pulling her close. His warmth and closeness coupled with the enormous burden she'd laid down last night to give her the best night's sleep she'd had in years. She woke him gently (how badly she wanted to wake him with a kiss) and got him off in time to go home and change before work. After a phone call she dressed for the day, packed her gym bag and went into town. A quick but very thorough workout was first, then an early lunch, and then downtown to the medical plaza. She stepped into the calm, luxurious office with the oak paneled walls and stepped up to the receptionist. "Hi," she said. "Dawn Mulcahy. I have a one thirty appointment with Dr. Enders." The receptionist grabbed a clipboard. "Have you ever worked with Police Counseling Services before?" Dawn took the clipboard. "No," she said. "This is my first time." Jeff called shortly after she got back from talking with the psychiatrist to check on her. He was very gentle about discussing the night before, but her natural resilience soon had him convinced that she was all right. "So anyway, I didn't call about last night anyway," he said. "What I did want to talk about was these two tickets to the hockey game next Wednesday that I have right here in my hand." "What on earth are you doing with two tickets?" she asked playfully. "Well, there's this really ugly girl I just met with this horrible personality, and I thought I'd take pity on her - because I really don't like her one bit - and see if she wanted to go," he said sarcastically. "She'd love to," Dawn said, "if the big, stupid, insensitive cop with the scrawny ass doesn't mind explaining all the rules to her." "If he can figure out enough words of more than two syllables, he will," Jeff laughed. "I'll pick you up Wednesday about 5. If we take one car we won't have to pay as much to park. Is that okay?" Dawn smiled. Normally she would never share a ride with a man she'd just met, but both Anya's instincts and the events of the last night made her trust Jeff. "Great." It wasn't until after she'd hung up and started humming to herself that she realized that she'd be Don Mulcahy again before he arrived to pick her up for the game. *** "You look troubled," the old woman said after the Tuesday class. It had been a great class, and Lori was quickly becoming the quickest study in the lot. Dawn was going to ask the old woman soon if she'd consent to Dawn's asking Lori to be her assistant on a permanent basis. "It's nothing," Dawn said dismissively. "Sounds like a very serious nothing," she replied, not to be put off. "I've met a man," she said. "Someone who I care about and who cares about me. I've set a date with him for Wednesday." "And you're due to change back on Wednesday." "Right," Dawn said. "If it's any consolation, your young man will never remember a thing about it," the old woman consoled. Dawn suppressed a little thrill at the mention of "her young man." "But he deserves to remember it," Dawn argued. "He did a wonderful, compassionate, kind thing for someone and he deserves to remember that he's a good man." "If he's truly good at heart, dear, he doesn't need reminders. You should know that as well as anyone." "But it's... God, how do I say this?" The old woman smiled kindly. "He deserves a reward for not being like all the others?" Dawn snapped her fingers. The old woman noticed that her nails were growing out and sporting a coat of clear polish. Sloppily applied, granted, but she was making the effort. "That's it exactly. He deserves a reward." "And what kind of reward do you think he deserves?" the old woman asked pointedly. Dawn showed all the signs of an intense internal struggle before turning on her heel and storming out of the office. "It won't kill you to say 'a good woman,' dear," the old woman said quietly after the door had shut. *** Dawn set down her glass of scotch after only a few sips - it wasn't clearing her head the way it did when she was Don, it was just making things muddy and depressing. Lighting a Virginia Slims cigarette and blowing the smoke out over her balcony railing, she looked long and hard at the lifetime pass in her other hand. Dated, validated and official. Just in need of a signature. She looked at the sealed envelope, then back at the pass, then at the stars over the sea. *** "Have you seen Dawn today?" Anya asked her grandmother. "She was supposed to call me this morning." "I expect she had a rather late night," the old woman replied. "She had thinking to do." "And she has a hockey game tonight," Dawn said from the doorway, pleased to be the one doing the sneaking up for a change. She walked in brassily, confident and happy in her stride. She was dressed casually and sexily, wearing a tight sweater that showed off her curves and a pair of skin-tight jeans and cowboy boots. Just the thing to wear to the rink and still have Jeff's eyes popping out of his head, Anya thought fondly. "I was wondering if you could process this for me," she said, handing her signed lifetime membership to Anya. "I'd really hate to turn back into a pumpkin before Jeff picks me up." Anya threw her arms around Dawn in an ecstatic hug. "I'm so glad you chose this." "I'm still scared out of my wits," Dawn confessed. "But I'm going to stick by my guns." She turned a steely eye from Anya to her grandmother and then back. "Like a wise woman once told me, sometimes you just have to trust your instincts and take a chance." She turned to leave the office, stopped, and re-entered. "I almost forgot. One more thing." She dropped the sealed envelope on the old woman's desk. "Unopened?" the old woman asked with a raised eyebrow. "No regrets, no looking back," Dawn said. "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this a hundred percent. I don't ever want to second guess myself." The old woman smiled. "I understand." "I'll see the pair of you in class tomorrow," she said, smiling, and walked out of the office, head held high and a devilishly sexy sway in her hips. Jeff was in for a real treat. "She is a most interesting girl," the old woman mused. "What's in the envelope, grandmother?" Anya asked. The old woman scooped it into the trash, still sealed. "I wanted Dawn to make her decision before she read it," she explained. "And what might happen if she'd chosen to go back to being male." "Which is?" "His gunshot wound three years ago formed blood clots in his left lung. Some time next year, some of those clots would have been worked loose in a self-defense class. They would have traveled his pulmonary arteries and into his heart, killing him in a massive and very painful cardiac arrest." "And Dawn doesn't have these problems?" "Not anymore. I worked a healing spell into the magic of her lifetime pass. The clotting is dissolving as we speak. She should live a long and happy life, with strong children and a loving husband." "Jeff?" Anya asked hopefully. The old woman's eyes sparkled. "That's for me to know, child, and for you to find out." END