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Angela's Party By Sylvia Who? 1. A Visit to Uncle Arthur "My Brother is someone Dad would rather not talk about!" Mother's raised voice from the kitchen made Dad look up from his Sunday paper as I carried on clearing away the breakfast things. "What's that love?" Mum appeared in the doorway. "Your Son suggested taking his girlfriend to see Arthur this afternoon - what do you make of that?" Dad scowled at me, "Most respectable people steer clear of him, Terry, best forget that idea, don't you agree Pam?" "But what's wrong with him Dad?" Asked Susan. "He couldn't stop Aunt Joan running away with a fella if she wanted to father?" Dad sniffed and poked his head back into the 'News of the World'. "Anyway he has always been good to Susan and me so why has he suddenly become the black sheep of the family?" but my query went unanswered as Mum bustled back to the kitchen. Arthur was about 10 years younger than my Mother, in fact there was only an age gap of 8 years between him and me, and only 6 years difference between him and my sister Susan, so we failed to understand our parents' attitude to someone who we had seen regularly until six months ago when evidently there had been a family row following his wife's departure on the grounds of cruelty during the time Susan and I were away from home studying - my sister at Uni and me at public school. Since then Uncle Arthur had been conveniently forgotten about, but I was all the more determined to go and see him, after all, I was over just over 14 years old! But I decided against telephoning him in advance, that way if he was up to something underhand, he wouldn't be forewarned of our coming. So after an early lunch I retrieved my cycle from the garage and set off for Pauline's house, who I had knocked around with on an irregular basis for a couple of years or more, but since it was a bank holiday weekend, I wasn't surprised to find the house was empty when I rang at the door - being a fine Spring day she must have gone out with her parents. I remounted my cycle and began the ten mile trip to Arthur's secluded country cottage near Dorking. However the trip was going well as I free-wheeled down the steep, narrow lane leading to Arthur's cottage when the front wheel buckled and I ended in a heap in the muddy road, a bit mucky but fortunately with no gravel rash and only a small bruise on my arm, as I half carried my bike the last 50 yards to my destination. I left my cycle on the grass verge and went in through the wicket gate and up the crazy paved path to the thatched porch but my repeated taps on the knocker were unanswered. So skirting the herbaceous border surrounding the cottage I made my way round to the rear of the building and since the back door was open I assumed Arthur was somewhere down the garden, so I crossed the lawn under the fruit trees to get a better look, but as I glanced down the garden I could only see a smartly dressed woman, her back towards me, hanging out some very exotic 'smalls' on the clothes line. "Excuse me, I am looking for my Uncle, can you help me?" I shouted as I strolled in her direction. Startled at the sound of my voice she spun round, a powder blue nylon slip still clutched in her hands as I advanced towards her across the lawn thinking the way young boys do- 'If this is his bit on the side he's sure got good taste!' But there was something strangely familiar about this person and she obviously recognised me and looked flummoxed as to what to do next. "I'm sorry I startled you just now Miss, please forgive me." I continued rather briskly for my age, but her half-giggled reply just stopped me dead in my tracks. "I'm afraid you have rather caught me with my trousers down Terry." came Arthur's familiar voice as I stared horrified at this stylishly attired 'woman' standing in front of me. "Bu-ut what are you dressed like that for Uncle?" My uncle reddened perceptibly as he protectively clutched the ladies petticoat to his more than ample bosom before finding his voice to plaintively plea. "Perhaps you had best come in the house so I can explain, won't you Terry?" But as 'she' stepped forward to take me by the arm I backed away warily as I spluttered, "Mum told me not to come here to see you and now I know why! What do you think you are up to dressed like that, going to some sort of fancy-dress ball?" Arthur looked hurt. "I always dress like this now, Terry, and now you know the reason that your Father and Mother no longer have anything to do with me." "I'm not at all surprised at that, look at yourself, wearing women's clothes like a fairy!" Arthur looked downcast. "Obviously you made a mistake coming here, I think you had better go back to the others and leave me to myself." Suddenly I took pity on him as he choked on his words and I began to realise that I should at least have the good grace to hear him out, and it would be a long walk home with a useless bicycle. "I'm afraid I had an accident on the way here, and my cycle is out of commission." My Uncle showed genuine concern as I showed him the bruises on my arms and legs, so this time I permitted him to take my arm and lead me into his cottage. Inside I could hardly believe my eyes - the place was spotlessly clean and tidy - so much so that I hardly recognised the place. "Aunt was never any good at housekeeping so who cleans for you now?" I asked casually as he swelled with pride. "Actually Terry, I do everything for myself, washing, ironing, cleaning, gardening, decorating; I'll just pop the kettle on." And as I stood watching him, he settled into a well rehearsed routine as he folded the petticoat he was still holding, placed it neatly on a radiator, and having donned a frilly apron, filled the kettle and placed it on the 'Aga' cooker. While I found it increasingly difficult to think of this charming person as anything other than female, his facial make-up was flawless, he was exuding an exquisite perfume, and his two-piece floral dress and jacket was worn with grace and poise. "Come and sit down in the other room, Terry, and tell me all the news." So with Uncle trotting in the lead in his stiletto heels I slowly followed him into the lounge and he glided across the room and settled himself gracefully on the sofa. As I averted my gaze and plonked down awkwardly in the armchair across the room from him I remarked: "I'm afraid I don't feel very comfortable with you dressed like that Arthur, do you think you could go and change?" "What shall I wear dear boy? My newest ball gown? A silk negligee? Or a skirt and blouse?" "You know perfectly well what I mean Uncle, go and put on some men's clothes." He gave a girlish giggle. "Oh Those! I'm afraid I haven't any of THOSE - there isn't a stitch of male clothing in the house - apart from what you are wearing of course!" He giggled once again through his flawless makeup and then said in deadly earnest. "From now on please refer to me as Angela - that has been my name for the last six months - Arthur is, to all intents and purposes - dead!" "But how do you earn a living as a computer whiz kid? Surely you don't go to work dressed like That, or do you work from home!" He pursed his lips pensively; "Up until now, ever since your Aunt left me, that's exactly what I have done, although during the occasional trips to the office there were a few objections from other male members of staff, but I was able to use recent employment law as a shield, but with the recent downturn in the 'dot- com' industry I was one of the first to be made redundant by my Company - and since this, which is the first summer dress I have bought!" - he touched his flowered frock - "is not from a cheapjack shop, I must get the cash-flow going again either as a secretary or a saleslady, or what-have-you." He then explained that his wife had found out about his quaint 'hobby', and since she already had a hobby of her own, she had decided to run off with him there and then, and since he was stinking-rich she only took her toothbrush, so she kindly bequeathed me her somewhat Spartan and smelly wardrobe which I have only just succeeded in replacing with clothing more in keeping with my style and taste. "While my other clothes I bundled up and took round to Oxfam, so I am entirely trapped in a situation of my own making, since I have no male clothes behind which to go and try to hide my true desires and feelings, and from now on this is the real me - a young woman is what I see and Angela is what people get - take it or leave it!" 2. A Party Invitation with a Twist! He suddenly remembered the tea, and having tuned in the television for me, he trotted off and returned ten minutes later with a tray of tea, fairy cakes and buttered scones. "Made with my own, fairy hands," he quipped, helping me to jam and fresh cream, as I began to settle more comfortably into the armchair feeling more relaxed and at ease with 'Angela' by the minute. Evidently he had cross-dressed on and off all his life, and then I mentally recalled the frequent occasions on which he had 'shamelessly indulged himself' to use my Mother's oft-quoted expression, as he cavorted about in women's clothes, although unbeknown to either him or my family, the example he set had tempted me to dress in my sister Susan's clothes while mum and dad were out; and a what a great kick I had got out of it as I recall. But eventually when I was about ten, I was caught in the spare room by Mum wearing Susan's best lemon satin party frock, and having checked to see what I was wearing underneath, she stood by and watched as I stripped off the pretty frock, the net petticoats and the white frilly knickers, after which Dad gave me an almighty thrashing; but it didn't do any good though! I then raised the question of my return home, and although he was sympathetic, he explained his car was off the road, so I rang home and asked Dad to come over and fetch me. But when I told him where I was he got all shitty and rang off, telling me to make my own arrangements about getting home. Arthur, or rather Angela, suggested I might like to stay the night, since he was having a few friends round that evening for drinks, having first explained. "You will find them a peculiar bunch, just like me!" And having thought it over I decided to stay and enjoy the fun, adding as an afterthought, "But I haven't a 'Thing' to Wear, - Umm! - not that I ever wanted to of course!" This he found highly amusing, as he quizzed me as to whether I was serious or just joking, and gave me an old-fashioned look. "You mean to say your mother never tried to dress you up as a girl when you were a small boy?" I assured him she hadn't. "Well she did used to buy some very pretty dresses for your sister Susan, - not that she appreciated the fact - too much of a tomboy I suppose - and that brother-in-law of mine is rather homophobic - so perhaps she thought better of it; - and in any case, she did open 'Madame Pamela's Academy for Young Ladies and Gentlemen' her junior charm school which must have taken her mind off educating 'sissy-boys' as she concentrated instead on training real girls! "Anyway, I can easily fix you up you know, the guest room is brimming with my wife's freshly-laundered cast-offs, some of which I know will fit you, - and with some make-up even my own sister wouldn't recognise you, just say the word." and she then went outside to do the washing up leaving me to decide, one way or the other. While waiting I flipped through some American 'girlie' magazines, which I found on the side, except that the 'girls' were all fellows, and cute looking 'chicks' some of them made, despite the obvious flaws. The correspondence was quite interesting, and I was so engrossed reading an allegedly true story of the nineteen forties in England of a boy brought up as a girl, (even getting married at the age of eighteen without anyone suspecting, eventually the authorities realising their mistake, after which he took to wearing trousers) that I hadn't noticed Angela had come back into the room and was sitting quietly observing my behaviour. "You seem to find my literature intriguing, most people find it dull as ditchwater." "Er. well- Er. Yes I suppose it is." I replied hesitatingly, but she just laughed. "Who's kidding who?" and I lapsed into an embarrassed silence and continued to scan the pages of her magazines as she continued to sit quietly and observe. I suddenly realised that Angela had again quit the room and having watched the local news headlines on the television, I wandered off to the toilet, which was upstairs in the bathroom. Angela had been running a bath and as I went to go downstairs again found her waiting on the top landing. "I have run the bath, young man, so that you can soak those bruises of yours;" Since this sounded such a good idea I allowed her to show me into the guest bedroom where I could get undressed. I was soon floating around in a highly scented bath while my 'Aunt' busied herself making up the spare room bed and preparing herself for the evenings entertainment, but having quit the bath and wandered back to the bedroom draped in a bathtowel found all my clothes had disappeared from the bed. "Angela, where are my clothes?' I shouted from the top of the stairwell. She trotted into view in the hall below and looked up at me with an alluring smile on her face and wearing a gorgeous low-cut bouffant style jet black party dress from beneath which peeped multiple layers of starched lace net petticoats, but it was the generous display of feminine cleavage which I found most intriguing. "I have put all your soiled clothes in the washing machine, but if you look in the dressing table and wardrobe instead of looking down my dress, you will find plenty to wear, - and when you are decent I will come and fix your hair." and with a suppressed giggle she turned on her heel and disappeared out of sight leaving me red faced and pondering my fate. So what to do - wander round wrapped in a bathtowel for the rest of the evening in front of her kinky friends? Go to bed early? Or 'be a man' and prepare to 'Join the ladies'? I returned to the guest-room and flopped down on the bed, thinking back to the time my Mother had ridiculed me as I stood there, dressed in girl's clothes, and telling me how stupid I looked I was sure I didn't look stupid, I just felt stupid with her looking on in apparent disgust and telling me she already had one daughter in the family and father had no intention of encouraging a 'sissy-son' in his proclivities. In a few of the photographs in the magazines I had read, I recalled some of the men looked ridiculous, with their skirts hitched up - showing their stocking-tops and white thighs; or showing too much petticoat; or candidly displaying themselves in their underwear, posing in front of the camera as though real women behave like that every day of their lives! But on the other hand, the majority of the 'ladies' appeared to be perfectly respectable and mostly everyday older people conservatively attired in floral frocks and twin-sets - rather similar to - but perhaps not as smart as my newly- discovered 'Maiden-Aunt' downstairs, I then giggled quietly to myself stupidly thinking 'Perhaps the sexual imbalance in the numbers of ladies to men amongst the 'golden oldies' may be down to petticoat government and not to any shortage of widowers as I recalled a feminist on 'tele' once saying 'Everyone should change sex at least once!' - maybe there was some truth in there somewhere? Eventually curiosity got the better of me as I went over and examined the contents of the wardrobe, and sure enough, there was a wide variety of female clothing hanging inside, some cheap and flashy, which was much the way I remembered my ex-Aunt; and some stylish and sophisticated, reminiscent of my new 'Aunt' Angela downstairs. I then burrowed through the contents of the dressing- table, but the selection of lingerie was truly exquisite; typical of the 'Dallas' or 'Dynasty' era, and as I reverently handled these perfumed wisps of intimate joy, I suddenly 'went overboard' and with feverish haste attired myself from top- to-toe in seductive satin and lace and loved every minute of it as I resolved there and then to rid myself of my 'guilt-complex' and determined to face the world as a 'New Woman' in the way that my late Uncle must have done, sometime in the past. "Well 'Niece', it looks as though you are well and truly 'hooked' from where I'm standing! - Your mother would be proud of you!" I was so intent on studying myself in the mirror, wearing a gorgeous lacy princess-style peach-coloured satin petticoat decorated with lashings of lace that I hadn't heard Angela's approach, despite the creaking floors. For a moment I was flustered and ill-at-ease as she gave me the once-over and complimented me on how well her foundation garments fitted me as she poked and prodded with the confidence and expertise of a trained corsetier. The only fault she could find with my lingerie was in the way my nylons were hooked onto my satin suspender belt which had created some unsightly wrinkles further down my leg, and having made the necessary adjustment she continued: "You are wearing the first set of Janet Reger ladies lingerie that I ever bought, I'm pleased they fit you so well. Regrettably I have gone up a size but you will find they should fit you for quite a long time yet, so please accept them as a gift, and anything else among my cast-offs that you may need- that is - until you have acquired your own female wardrobe - as no doubt, you will. "Come into my bedroom and sit down at my dressing-table 'Pet' and I will fix your face." Since I hadn't previous experience of this stage in the proceedings I was happy to let Angela free reign in the choice of foundation, eye-makeup and lipstick appropriate to the outfit I was to wear which, at her insistence, would be a black and white polka-dot 'Fink' pure cotton high-waisted sleeveless dress with a knee length skirt generously supported by layer upon layer of dazzling white lace and net petticoats and matching jacket with full-length sleeves, black patent leather two-inch stiletto-heeled shoes and matching clutch-bag. "What did you mean, Angela? - when you said earlier that Mummy would be proud of me?" She was applying a touch of mascara to my eyelids but stopped and stared at my reflection in the mirror and smiled. "As a young child, your mother always treated me as her baby girl to play with and dress in any way she saw fit, even when I was older and wiser, but despite my bitter tears of protest, somehow I always ended up dressed as her little sister, wearing little flowered dresses with short, puffy sleeves with oodles of petticoats underneath, and prettied up and physically paraded before my friends, neighbours, and relatives. Strangely I soon found myself revelling in the care and attention she bestowed upon me, and even enjoying the notoriety my appearance was causing. "But she eventually dated her first and only boy-friend and ended up with the baby-girl that she always wanted, so at the age of nine, the mental abuse I had suffered soon changed as she began to ridicule my 'dressing-up' games, which by then I was really enjoying, and were so much part of my day-to-day life, despite the constant bullying, which I suppose is the reason she has been so tough on you not wishing for you to end up like me, especially with that 'macho-man' of a father of yours!" "But Angela you don't really expect me to swallow the story of Mother forcing you to dress as a little girl?" "Just look in there!" She grimaced and pointed to her dressing table drawer, so I opened it up and the first thing that caught my eye was a packet of tampons. "No not those!" But my quizzical look begged the question to which she candidly replied. "Yes my dear, I do use them, - after all, why shouldn't I suffer a similar indignity that which a woman has to go through most of her life, but not in the same way of course! Now just thumb your way through those." She smirked as she reached into the drawer and handed me an old sweet tin inside which were a series of children's' photographs, some of which Mother had copies of at home, the significance of which had escaped me until that moment in time. I suddenly realised that Angela, the little girl who my mother was supposed to be babysitting in the pictures was none other than her own brother! "No, there must be some mistake, she wouldn't ever dress me up even though I would have liked to, let alone you, - you must have imagined it!" Angela curled her lips as I began to look at the pictures more closely, realising that they covered a number of years in a child's development, the earlier ones typical of an unhappy, sulky, tearful boy hating being made to dress in his sister's clothes, and progressing forward to a pretty little girl playing happily with her dolls-house, skipping in the garden or just surrounded by her little friends as she blew out the six candles on her birthday cake and smiled at the camera. "That was the happiest birthday party of my life - do I look happy there?" I suddenly realised in more than half of the photos, there were often two little girls, and sometimes more! "You did have girl-friends then?" I asked as I studied the pretty little faces in the pictures, and one in particular was quite familiar. "No Terri, all of my playmates were little boys like me, your mother had a special way of coaxing young boys to do what she liked with - she was so much older, and these photographs are proof of what I am saying is true, after all, I am the only one crying and tearing at my dresses in the earlier ones." "But what about grandma and granddad? Didn't they ever object?" "Remember they had a busy store to run, so your mother was in sole charge, so they didn't really object to having a son who always behaved so nicely and kept his lovely dresses spotlessly clean, and never ever got himself into serious trouble, apart from girlish hair pulling and name calling." He sighed a big sigh. "I was a wonderful girl! - They were so proud they even took me to church dressed in my 'prettiest Sunday dresses' and nobody ever objected; - see? - in this photograph here, I am sitting on my Mummy's lap having just come back from church in my white communion dress!" In later photograph, Arthur stood alongside his sister as he willingly showed off his underwear to the camera. "When I was nine my big sister even made me show off my bra and panties to her girlfriends - not that I minded by then! - but that was a month before everything changed, and your mother got pregnant." I was appalled that all these years my mother had been telling me a pack of lies. My Aunt's story was a revelation, and I felt very sorry for her, she was a victim of a form of Pavlovian child abuse, whereas I had always dressed as a girl out of freedom of choice - so she held the moral high ground, even though we both remained true to our 'calling'! Having completed my 'face-job' she clipped a three strand pearl necklace around my throat, clipped matching pearl earrings to my ears, before selecting an auburn-coloured three-quarter length 'corkscrew-curled' wig, and having teased- out the ends, carefully fitting it over my own unruly mop to complete the transformation. The skirt and jacket were a perfect fit as I walked up and down on the uneven timber floor, while every step I took caused the weight of my high- waisted skirt and petticoats to fan out and sway from side to side like a ship's hull in a swell, and disconcertingly throwing me off balance, though my 'Aunt' expressed her surprise at how well I managed in the high heels. "To the manner born" I commented sweetly, and she looked pleased as punch at my rejoinder, as I happily recalled the hours of painful practice I had in the past, in my sisters cast-off shoes, which were too small for me; so wearing 'heels' which fitted for a change was sheer heaven! Angela finally squirted some of her 'Chanel' behind my ears and in those other little places. "I have emptied the contents of your pockets onto your bed pet, so just go and put them in this bag." She handed me a clutch-bag, which already contained make-up and the other odds and ends a girl tends to carry around. "But I won't need this Aunt, I am not going anywhere!" But Angela ignored my protest as she commanded, "Just do as you are told, I go nowhere without my handbag ? it's a useful 'prop' for us girls, and in any case you have no pockets in which to carry your hanky." Meekly I obeyed and the next moment she was escorting me downstairs for a medium sherry to await the arrival of our guests who were due in about two hours time. While we were waiting, my 'Aunt' went into more details of her sad story, although she now related her experiences with relish including the usual traumas of concealment from his wife during three painful and fruitless years of marriage, but with his wife's determination to avoid motherhood at all costs - shamelessly preferring instead to cultivate a multiplicity of lovers, while Arthur secretly immersed himself in the role my mother had schooled him for, that of a doting and faithful housewife, and in which he felt completely relaxed and at home. But he was eventually found out, which resulted in my Aunt departing forthwith on the arm of her 'sugar-daddy'. 3. Our Unwelcome Guests Aunt excused herself and while she was away I heard some noises from the kitchen and assuming it to be 'Candy', Angela's pet cat wishing to be let out, I trotted across the lounge and into the kitchen only to be confronted by an unsavoury looking character in blue denim overalls brandishing a kitchen knife and stuffing his face with the sausage rolls which Angela had prepared for the evening. I suddenly went weak at the knees as this guy grabbed my arm, and spinning me round placed the knife at my throat as he rasped, "Your fairy friend will be back in a minute, so call him out here, and no tricks Missus, if you know what's good for you!" However, he was not alone, as I then caught sight another similarly-dressed man lurking behind the door to the lounge, who was carrying a knife in one hand, and Aunt's telephone and her only contact with the outside world in the other. Then it suddenly dawned on me - these must be two of the escaped prisoners mentioned on the television news in connection with a goal-break from Maidstone earlier in the day! We listened in silence to the surge of water in the upstairs toilet as with an evil grin the other man whispered. "He's finished making his 'maiden's water', so won't be long now." I watched, fascinated, following with my eyes, the sounds from the creaking floorboards, as Angela made her way along the corridor, down the stairs again, and into the lounge. "Terri, where are you Dear?" she called and before I had a chance to reply, she had already entered the kitchen. Angela looked in horror and amazement at the knife being held to my throat. "Wh-who the devil are you?" she stuttered at sight of the stranger in her kitchen, but the next moment, as her assailant pushed her from behind, she was sent sprawling on the flagstone floor, arms and legs akimbo, and with all the breath knocked out of her, incapable of offering even token resistance, as the man lunged forward to rough her up. "Please don't" she pleaded, "You will spoil my dress." As the jailbird, lifting her legs round the ankles, dragged her feet first across the flagstones, back into the lounge, while his colleague let out a belly-laugh in my ear as Angela's black dress and multiple petticoats rode up over her body, threatening to part company with their wearer while tantalisingly revealing to us all her stocking-tops and the pale pink French-knickers she was sporting! "Okay Girlie, better find us a change of clothes quick if you don't want similar treatment to him!" It was now my turn to be floored by his demand. "I -I - We don't have anything suitable for you to wear - my clothes are in the washing machine there," I blurted out, pointing to my male clothes still visible in the revolving drum, but the guy didn't twig my 'gaffe'. "We want men's gear - not yours - where does he keep his men's clothes?" he continued as my captor frog-marched me into the lounge and pointed at Angela still recovering her breath on the floor. "He doesn't possess any male clothes," I replied shakily. "He lives full-time as a woman." The other man snorted in disgust, annoyance and disbelief. "Fancy a nice chick like you knocking around whiff a geezer who spends all his time dolled up like a bird, - surely a tasty dish like you could do better, - take me for instance?" I backed away as he licked his lips and his eyes greedily gave me the 'come on', but his companion butted in. "We can't go outside in these togs any more Vic, one of those newfangled Police spotter planes is sniffing around, and they have set up road blocks in the district so we wouldn't get far even if you two had a car we could take." "We have a dozen or so transvestites dropping in about two hours time for drinks." Angela volunteered this information from the floor, where she still lay in an unladylike heap. "Fat lot of good that is to us, unless you've got anything better to say best 'button it!" "Hang about Steve, that might solve our problem; if we gear ourselves up as a couple of dolly birds we could 'half-inch' a car when it gets dark, and in that way fool the fuzz if we get stopped." Steve scowled at Vic. "You couldn't pass as an old maid, let alone a bird - look at you in the prison play - prancing about all dolled up and everyone took the Piss, I could pull it off better than you." "What! You with your ugly mug? Never a hope in hell!" came Vic's rejoinder and we listened to the heated, but friendly exchange between the two until at an appropriate moment, Angela diplomatically intervened. "I am sure I could dress you up as a couple of convincing 'young ladies'." She pointed to a photograph of 'Uncle Arthur' on the sideboard. "That is how I used to look, and look at me now." Vic and Steve were obviously amazed at the transformation from a 'macho' to a convincingly feminine image, as Angela continued, "And as you say, you could borrow one of my guests cars to make your escape and if you promise not to molest my friend and I, or forcibly restrain us against our will, you have our assurance we won't tell anyone who you really are until after you have gone." "He's got something there Vic!" was the enthusiastic reply and I was pushed down into an armchair and told not to move as our two captors went over by the door and held a whispered conversation. After a brief discussion, Steve announced, "Although we should really 'scarper' right away, we are going to have to stay here for the time being, at least until it is dark, so we will go along with your plan and be disguised in women's clothes, - so - my Fairy-friend you had better get your finger out! And no tricks, or it will be the worse for you, so cum-on! Lets git it over wiff shall we?" and so saying, Steve encouraged Angela to stand up with a kick to the groin. Angela climbed painfully to her feet and studied the two of them carefully before taking them upstairs. Both men were quite young offenders, even though unkempt and unshaven, they were roughly the same build as me, so her eventual reply seemed to please them both. "I think I can safely disguise the two of you as TV's, and then you needn't have any arguments as to who plays the part, and should you decide to continue your escape after dark, the police are unlikely to stop two women, but to convince my guests you are what you seem, you must dress as females from the skin out, since only 'gays' wear dresses over their male clothes." Angela's plan met with guarded approval and after they made sure all the outside doors were locked we were escorted upstairs by our captors, where preparations were made for their metamorphosis, while each took turns to keep me under close scrutiny. Angela insisted, despite their objections, that they both took turns to bath and at the same time shave their arms and legs, as well as their faces, before she began the task of arraying them in suitable women's' garments, applying their make-up and choosing appropriate wigs to suit their features. Steve and Vic took the proceedings very seriously indeed, and it was only when Angela had finally finished, Vic eyed Steve up and down, and flashing a smile let out a low whistle and remarked, "Blimey! What a dish!" While Steve chuckled. "This gear makes me feel randy all over, what a turn-on; no wonder birds luv wearing it, I might git to try it again sometime!" They both started laughing with relief as they appeared to judge themselves to be passable versions of the female sex in their quaint attire, and we joined in the hilarity, thereby relieving the nervous tension, which we were suffering. I realised that Angela had chosen to adorn them in the most tasteless selection of 'drag' she could lay her hands on - so they both looked like a couple of 'tarts' as they tottered about on outrageous stilt-heeled shoes, wearing garishly flowered organza short-sleeved mini-dresses, courtesy of his former wife, which were little more than 'fanny-pelmets,' barely hiding the cheap nylon 'see- through' panties in fluorescent pink and fluorescent orange which they were wearing, their faces heavily caked with make-up, as they fluttered their false eyelashes, and flashed their vividly painted false nails at one another, and wiggled their 'bottles and glasses' to show off their over-padded breasts, and the unsightly bulges further down; clearly visible despite their feeble attempts to shield the evidence with their dainty, plastic dolly-bags, - and thereby ruined their one redeeming feature - their long, shapely, nylon-clad legs! But the drone of an approaching car brought us all back to reality and the raucous laughter faded away, as the four of us lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. 4. The Tables are Turned! "I don't think this was such a good idea," Steve muttered through his painted lips, as they hurriedly scooped up their discarded prison clothes and piled them into an empty suitcase, possibly in anticipation of having to leave in a hurry, as they no longer appreciated the novelty of the situation into which they had been so easily led. 'Angela's no fool!' I thought to myself quietly, as the first of her guests hesitantly 'tap-tapped' on the front door, and the three of us followed Angela and clip-clopped awkwardly down the stairs as she went to admit the first of her guests. "Hi Angie darling, here's a bottle of pop from your 'first footer'" came the cheerful voice from the door and in bounced this rotund creature dressed as a little girl in a high-waisted powder-pink satin frock with short, puffed, sleeves, edged with lace and a lace 'Peter Pan' collar, white ankle socks and black character shoes - her chubby face framed in a mass of golden 'Shirley Temple' curls which I immediately recognized as belonging to George, best man at my Uncle's wedding, and who I now realised was one of the pretty little faces in the photographs upstairs in the drawer of Angela's dressing table. He stopped abruptly when confronted by three strange 'ladies' who Angie quickly introduced, "Georgina, please meet Terri, who you may already recognise, and Stephanie, and finally Victoria, three new novices for the club." Georgina whistled through her teeth, "Gosh! Three new playmates at one go! - My - I am a lucky girl!" Hearing their adopted names for the first time brought coy looks from the two jailbirds. So when the female equivalent of 'Giant Haystacks' stepped forward and planted a sloppy kiss on all three of us we didn't even raise a murmur, and as my new found 'friends' shuffled uncomfortably in their misshapen minis and high heels even I felt uncomfortable with the damp, clammy air from the open door playing on my scantily clad legs and arms. Having closed the front door and hung Georgina's red cape on the hallstand, Angela led us into the lounge where we were invited to help ourselves to a sherry while she trotted out to the kitchen, to try and salvage some of the snacks and sausage rolls, accompanied by 'Stephanie'/Steve acting as escort, while Georgina was beginning to feel uncomfortable in the presence of two such unconvincing 'females', highlighted by their gruff, undisguised voices, lacking any semblance of poise, elegance or grace in the way they disported themselves; two uncouth men in 'drag'. As a result, Georgina made heavy work of trying to engage Victoria/Vic in polite conversation, who was keeping a close watch on me to ensure I didn't step out of line. "Tell me Victoria, how long have you dressed?" "First time." "Did you 'shop' for yourself or have you borrowed for the evening?" "Borrowed." "Who 'fixed' your make-up?" "Look here little girl, or whatever you are, you ask too many questions, keep quiet - see!" Georgina lapsed into an awkward silence, so was relieved at the opportunity to go and admit some more arrivals as they rang at the front doorbell. The three 'ladies' admitted on this occasion were dressed more in keeping with their ages, one was in her fifties, while the other two in the party were about thirty. Angela bustled into the room and having placed the tray of snacks on the table made the necessary introductions. I was rather surprised at the intimate behaviour of 'Susan' and 'Diana' until Georgina informed me that Susan was Diana's real-life wife in company with Diana's ex-father-in-law, duly renamed Claire barely three months ago when she had had the 'proper job' done to her, so she was full of the joys of spring in her fussy role of grandmother-to-be to her expectant daughter. Soon, as more and more ambiguously dressed guests arrived, I tried to decide who was who, - which were the 'boys' in skirts and which were the wives or girlfriends, although I found this was a fairly easy task. In the early part of the evening, Claire told us how she had always been tempted to try crossdressing, but with a family to support, and fearful of the consequences of being found out, it was only after the demise of her lovely wife some five years ago, followed by the departure of her three grown up daughters going off to do their own thing that she had plucked up the courage and decided to give it a go. So with a house full of discarded female clothes, she revelled in dressing up to her heart's content, as she caught up with her lost girlhood, even venturing out to try her luck on an unsuspecting public, and buoyed on by her success had experimented with changing her bodily appearance, beginning with depilation of her arms and legs, painful facial waxing to remove her stubble, acquiring hormone patches and pills over the internet to develop her secondary female characteristics and also learning how to 'tuck'. "Not that I need to do THAT anymore!" she candidly admitted. It was Susan who had accidentally discovered her Daddy's alter ego, and with his tacit agreement had schooled her pupil in the finer points of womanhood, which despite endless rows with his other two married daughters and the effect he might have on his grandchildren, had culminated in drastic reconstructive surgery, and happily the family were now reconciled to their newly acquired 'mother' and to Diana, her sissy son-in-law. Accompanied on the piano by one of the 'girls', the evenings entertainment began with Angela singing the Madonna pop tune I heard her sing in the garden, but her sweet voice seemed more suited to her smoochie love songs and so were more enthusiastically applauded - not that up until then that I ever thought Arthur could sing - apart from in the bath that is! But to really get us into the swing of things, we had a variation on the lovely legs competition, described by Angie as 'an all fall down' contest as three of the girls stepped through the double doors into the conservatory; and while the three made their preparations outside, Angie drew the curtains and the pinned up the hems a wee bit, so that all we could see when they shuffled back into view, was the bottom half of their nylon clad legs as they tottered about awkwardly behind the curtain in their high heeled shoes thanks to their knickers hanging at half mast and about to descend to their ankles any second; - But since everyone in the room was now doubled up with laughter, the result of the competition was never decided! As the evening progressed, we were treated to a bargain sale and display of the latest styles and colours in ladies satin and lacy lingerie, kindly arranged by a member's girl friend. Diana, Claire and one or two of the more venturesome of our number went off to change and came back to 'strut their stuff' modelling some of the more respectable and desirable items available for sale which were soon snapped up, and despite their lack of interest, as more sherry was consumed our two jail-birds, Stephanie and Victoria, became more relaxed in their surroundings, even settling themselves comfortably on the sofa while Angie and I apparently continued to keep our part of the bargain, although I was sure Angie must have been burning-up with resentment at the way in which she had been kicked while laying helpless on the floor. So when twelve burly policemen suddenly burst in on the scene, our two jailbird friends were completely taken by surprise as we were all herded in a line against one wall still dressed in our 'glad rags'. In spite of the suppressed smiles from the constables present, the sergeant cleared his throat and began to address the ladies. "We understand from information received that there are two escaped convicts amongst you, and since there are ladies present - while the rest of you are -umm! - gentlemen in female clothing, we cannot therefore conduct a body-search - so perhaps someone would point out those we are seeking?" Amidst gasps of surprise at this revelation, Angela and I pointed out Steve and Vic to the sergeant. His only tongue in cheek comment being, "Oh yes, you mean the two 'ladies' with 'dildoes' under their skirts?" Vic and Steve hung their heads in humiliation at the shame and degradation of his chance remark, which, for the rest of us, rather brought the house down! 'Thank goodness for my cache-sex' I thought to myself privately, since I too, thanks to the seductive 'feel' of nylon stockings, and the sensuous thrill of cool satin and lace against my bare flesh, seemed to be permanently 'on heat' when dressed. Strangely enough we were all required to accompany the arresting officers to the police station in a fleet of large police vans to make formal statements as Steve commented acidly, "The 'Bill' are probably looking for a free floor show from all of you." - which ruffled my feathers slightly, but didn't effect the others in the least who were obviously well used to being ogled at! It was during the journey that I was able to tell Angie and her friends the reason for the fortuitous appearance of the police. During the course of the evening it had become obvious to our other guests that neither Angie nor myself were allowed out of the room without an escort, even to go to the bathroom, although Vic did have the good grace to wait outside. This gave me the opportunity to pull up my petticoats and lower my panties before sitting down to 'perform' in the way a woman performs, and while sitting there watching myself, I suddenly remembered the interconnecting door to Angela's bedroom concealed by the full-length bathroom mirror - and a germ of an idea began to form! I quickly restored my clothing to its normal position, and thanks to Angela's foresight, took the lipstick from my indispensable clutch-bag, checked the door was locked, and slipped quietly behind the mirror, across my Aunt's elegantly decorated boudoir, along the corridor, and clip clopped down the spiral staircase at the back of the cottage and out into the darkness, eventually arriving undetected on the muddy verge in the lane where all the cars were parked. The doors of the first vehicle I tried were all locked, but not the trusting owners of the next in line as I daintily climbed into the drivers seat in my girlie gear, gently released the handbrake and allowed the car to roll forward, effectively blocking off the road. To make doubly sure I repeated the performance with the next car I found to be unlocked - and for good measure laid my damaged cycle beneath the front wheels of one of the 'runaway' cars and scrawling huge messages on both the windscreens with my lipstick in order to summon the cavalry, then returning hastily to the bathroom where an impatient Vic had begun to hammer on the door, and having wiped my high heels clean with toilet paper, allowed myself to be led back downstairs to await developments in the noisy atmosphere of the lounge below. It took about fifteen minutes before I first heard the muffled strains of a motor horn outside in the lane, which thanks to a skin-full of sherry went unnoticed by Aunt's unwelcome guests, and I just hoped and prayed that the motorist would read my graffiti before coming to the cottage. So it was rather gratifying when I heard the vehicle reversing back up the lane. "What's up Terri? Are you tiring of your petticoats already?" whispered Angela as I tried to remain calm. "I'm fine, but we might be out of this mess shortly, and will have cooked the goose of those two, so keep you fingers crossed!" I replied squeezing her hand reassuringly, "As for my petticoats - I haven't been so contented for years." She smiled happily at my reply as she went off to refill her guests' glasses with more sherry, unaware just then of exactly what I had done in order to rid ourselves of the two convicts, so the look of astonishment on their highly- decorated faces when the police broke in was worthy of a picture, although the policemen looked just as confused at being confronted by so many spurious 'ladies'. 5. Front Page News! Our arrival at the police station was equally as hilarious as the police officers were subjected to 'gender-disorientation', gallantly trying to help the real 'ladies' dismount from the police vans, sorting the 'Misters' from the 'Misses', and vice-versa, as Angie and her compatriots revelled in the novelty of the situation; but as a relative newcomer, I was still very much the 'shy virgin', unused to parading about in the public gaze dressed completely from top to toe in girl's clothes (not to mention the unmentionables), smelling like a chemists shop and without a stitch of masculine clothing to my name. But when we tottered into the police station we were blinded by flashbulbs and confronted by a scrum of reporters keen to snap up a scoop thanks to our public spirited motorist and his cell-phone; anxious no doubt to make a quick buck, and putting even the most hardy of my companions ill at ease while in the background there even lurked a local television crew waiting for their chance to grab some of the action! "Perhaps my lipstick 'graffiti' wasn't such a good idea after all," I murmured quietly to Angela, but despite the rumpus in the background, as the police attempted to elbow a path through the throng, she had regained her composure and she and some of the others were busy fixing their faces in anticipation of their fifteen minutes of fame before she paid me any more attention. "Come here pet, let me repair that make-up of yours, - you look a mess!" And despite my heart racing away like an express train, I stood patiently still as she prepared me to meet my public! "What's your name luv?" A cub reporter had tapped me on the shoulder and as I turned I found a grey furry squirrel's tail had been pushed in my direction. "Umm, M-my name is Terri." I nervously gasped into the mike as the cameras busily whirled and cameras flashed in the background. "Terry was the one who stopped the cons!" shouted a voice in the crowd, and I suddenly experienced super star status, as the whole world seemed to centre on little me! "Terry? Is that a boy's name or a girl's name luv?" The camera crew were now having a field day as the lenses ogled me from every direction, and I suddenly seemed to have a desperate urge to go to the toilet. "It's a girl's name Dickhead, or are you lot blind as well as stupid?" The gruff voice came from the towering shape of Georgina, my fairy God-sister as she came to my rescue and lifted me gently in her arms, then with a loud yell prepared to batter her way through to safety, even if it did mean using me as the battering-ram! But there was no need! Her sheer size daintily perched on little girls black patent shoes delightfully set off with white frilly topped ankle socks was far too menacing draped as she was in pink and white satin and lace for a bunch of provincial reporters to handle, and they quickly melted away, turning their attention to more willing publicity seekers such as my uncle, while from the safety of Georgina's massive, but flabby arms, I pondered whether they were just scared of a punch up; or of what they might catch from this loveable, but over-sized pansy-boy! Meanwhile the two thugs had been led off to the cells in handcuffs to await the arrival of the prison van, but I couldn't help noticing their skirts were now appropriately enough, at 'half-mast' with all the heat taken out of their adventure, while I gave an account of my part in their re-capture to the police inspector who interviewed me. As we left the interview room he thanked me for my co-operation and remarked, "Well Terri, you are a brave girl and you might be entitled to a reward." Angela had by now re-appeared on the scene and placed her arm round my shoulder giving me a hug and a squeeze. "Yes Inspector, she is a real heroine in more ways than one, but the worst isn't over yet." He grinned knowingly, "Oh, you mean the television coverage and the headlines in the newspapers in the morning?" Angela smiled knowingly, "I was just thinking what 'her' parents would say!" - was her parting remark as we made our way towards the door for the return journey in a police car and I realised my troubles were only just about to begin! We arrived back at Angela's just as the late news was finishing, and half a dozen painted talons made a snatch for the zapper, so amidst excited giggles and squeals we were rewarded with two minutes worth of coverage of the chaotic scenes in the police station foyer. Despite the panic stricken look on my scarlet face, the cameraman had taken some good angle shots of me in my pretty dress, especially when Georgina swept me off my feet since as my petticoats billowed out, I could now see that my frilly knickers were freely on display for all and sundry to gloat over, hence whistles of derision from the girls. Angela didn't spare my blushes on screen either, freely admitting when challenged by the interviewer to being a full-time trannie, and giving a lengthy resume of her life to date, then raving over what a heroine Terri had been in effecting the recapture of the convicts, finally finishing off in grand style with a Freudian slip by confessing how proud she was of her brave young nephew! 'Oops'! I thought - 'now for trouble,' but fortunately there was no late night phone call from my irate parents so it seemed for the time being at least I was in the clear! After the news had finished, and we had run through the video recording half a dozen times, we all enjoyed an alcoholic nightcap, but before our guests departed we settled down to recall the hilarity of the nights' events until the early hours of the morning. After we had seen our friends off the premises and kissed each other 'night-night', I made my way to the spare bedroom where Angela had kindly laid out a gorgeous knee-length white satin and lace nightdress and negligee for me to wear, and having stripped and changed into my exotic outfit. I trotted off to the bathroom in my furry mules before climbing thankfully into bed for a well deserved rest and thinking to myself as I snuggled down 'who knows what tomorrow may bring? - since I knew that as a result of the day's events my life would never be the same again! 6. More Family Secrets Revealed! Angie gaily tripped into my room in a red and green sleeveless summer dress at around ten with a strong, hot, mug of coffee to help me wake up, before pulling back my curtains upon a glorious sunny spring morning, then like a mother hen, she began fussing around laying out my frillies for the day, before tripping off downstairs to eat her breakfast out on the patio where after a long struggle squeezing myself into a pretty yellow dress, I joined her about twenty minutes later suitably equipped with a straw bonnet and sun-glasses as we planned what to do for the rest of bank holiday Monday. We were laying stretched out on a pair of recliners still mulling over the previous evenings events, when we heard a car drive up and come to an abrupt halt in the lane outside. There was the sound of car doors being opened and slammed shut, but then there was an uncanny silence so we assumed it was some ramblers taking the footpath opposite the cottage to visit the local nature reserve as we continued to enjoy the warm sunshine. "Have you seen this mornings papers! You two fairies are plastered all over the front pages!" I opened my eyes to find my father's scarlet face towering over me as he savagely threw his newspapers into the skirts of my pink flowered dress and shouted. "You two disgust me! I cannot bear to look at you Son, and as for you Arthur, I would love to kick the shit out of you! Mother, you sort them out once and for all." and he turned away to stalk off down the garden as Susan smirked knowingly and my mother tut-tutted, forcefully rubbing her fists together in exasperation. "We told you not to come here Terry; now see the mess you have landed yourself into thanks to this useless brother of mine. Look at the two of you! The front page story mincing about like a couple of tarts, and the pictures even show up the petticoats and frilly knickers you were wearing underneath your dress Terry, you look disgusting!" Angela held her peace as we both stood up awkwardly from our recliners, and we could see what she meant was true and my worst fears had materialised, since the papers had made a real meal of the story: 'Boy in a dress apprehends convicts' was the first headline to catch my eye followed by: 'Sissy boy shops slick Steve!' 'Crossed-dressed Cons Caught With Their Trousers Down!' 'Trannie Terri tricks his tormentors' read another with lurid details of the nights events, with most story-lines having a generous plastering of fiction mixed in with the truth, but some correctly identified my public school, where I lived, who my friends were, also 'how I loved to fool the studs in my trannie gear', and other endless drivel. But Mum interrupted our intense session of reading with - "Your girlfriend Pauline rang us up in a tizzy first thing this morning wanting to speak to you, and she asked us if we saw last night's television news, but Dad was watching football. - We couldn't believe what she told us, so Susan dashed out and bought all the papers before we came over here to find out what was going on and also to avoid the constant ringing of the telephone." Mother now turned all her spite on Angie, "You should be ashamed of yourself encouraging young Terry to fall into your perverted ways, - look at her - him, plastered all over the papers, you are a disgrace, - no wonder your family disowns you! - Fancy me having a brother like you, I am deeply ashamed of what you have become!" Mother paused in her tirade to recover her breath, which gave me the chance to jump in the deep end. "But Mummy! It's unfair of you to blame Angie, she didn't 'force' me to dress you know! -and - Well actually, - Mummy -" I drawled, as I bent my arms limply at the elbows, directing the palms of my hands towards her in an exaggerated pose, as I stretched out my fingers and studied the paintwork on my fingernails, "Thanks to Susan's extensive wardrobe back home, I have been secretly dressing as a girl for years! - even the day after you and Dad caught me out, so this is no big deal!" She blanched in horror, unwilling to accept, or face the truth of what I had just said. "Angela has some interesting photographs upstairs of a little toddler all dressed up in his sister's clothes, and crying bitterly into his skirts; - and others, where in his anguish he is lying on his tummy on the ground in pretty little girl's dresses, and kicking and screaming and showing off his frilly knickers in frustration at his sad plight." My mother looked at me sharply, "You are making this all up, and in any case, I had no idea of what my nasty brother got up to while I was away, after all, he was always a difficult child!" The look on her face showed her answer had caught her out. "Okay then Mummy, who was it who was always on hand to take all those charming photographs of Uncle Arthur! - after all, he could hardly take them himself, - especially the ones where he was older, and really beginning to relish his little dress-up games with some of your other converts." Mummy was now on the defensive, "I don't know what you mean Terri! What other converts?" "I mean other little boys like George, the best man at Angela's wedding; last night we had a nice long chat and she told me how you lured him into petticoats by bribing him with armfuls of sweeties, even though his parents were trying to get him to slim down, and promising to keep his little game a secret, but after his first taste of seeing himself in a mirror, and experiencing the soft, silky feel of satin dresses, the rustling sounds from his stiffened net petticoats whenever he moved, the occasional glimpses of the lovely lace panties he was wearing, and finally, the seductive smell from the dainty Mary Jane leather shoes peeping beneath his white, frilly ankle socks, that he - or she - was well and truly hooked, and no longer had to be bribed with sweeties!" As I paused, my Aunt now butted in to have her say, "And Georgina wasn't the first, was she Pamela? Thanks entirely to your tireless efforts to make your world a prettier place populated by little boys in dresses, and you may recall that at least half a dozen of my nicely dressed sissy friends shared with me in the joy of my sixth birthday party, and some of us still meet up from time to time even now." Angela gave a cheeky grin, "After all, thanks to you, we all share something very special, and not many little boys learn to love and accept such an earth shattering experience as you put us through when we were Vulnerable and small - and so we have all kept in closely in touch down the years since ours is a very exclusive sorority!" My mother had now sunk down into a recliner as she murmured, "I think I'm having one of my headaches again!" "Oh no you are not Mother, I haven't had my say!" I looked round to find it was Susan who had now chimed in. "So that was the reason I had to endure being dressed in all those nasty, horrid, old fashioned frillies, just so that you could recollect what you had achieved in the past while I hated having to parade around in such prissy clothing! How you would have loved to learn that Terri was always getting into my dresses, not just on the one time you caught him, in fact sometimes I helped him dress and did his make-up, but then he always had the full treatment, including wearing my undies, hairbows in his hair and all the other paraphernalia girls love to wear, and although I soon found out what he was up to I never told tales, and I even took his photo in the garden on one occasion while you were out. "So fortunately thanks to your concerns over Dad's opinion, you were deprived of the chance to turn your own son into my little sister, since he did that all by himself, so what I have just told you must have hurt your pride, since he did it without being bullied, forced, or coerced by you! - But after all, you did him a favour in the long run by buying me all those pretty - pretty dresses, so good luck to him if that's what turns him on, despite what Daddy says, but that doesn't mean to say that we don't still love you just the same!" "And what does Daddy say?" The booming voice of my Father startled us all as he made a sudden appearance, having been lurking, hence forgotten, down the garden. I watched mother visibly pale, since she must have wondered to how many of the secrets from her murky past Daddy was now privy, but he just strode across to where she was reclining, leant over, kissed her on the cheek, then whispered quietly in her ear at which point she brightened as Daddy straightened up and announced: "I don't want us all to become embroiled in a shouting match so I think we can all pile into the car and go down to the 'Three Belles' for a liquid lunch if that's all right with Angela, while we discuss what is to be done, - are we all agreed?" We were caught off guard by father's suggestion to visit Angela's 'local', but we greeted the prospect with genuine enthusiasm. "I forgot to mention, Terri, I do like your dress - it suits you!" I wasn't totally speechless as I replied, "Umm! Thanks Dad." "And Terri?" "Yes Dad?" "Please call me Daddy from now on." But after a comment like that I was just struck dumb! 7.Out of the Frying Pan! As Angela locked up the cottage before we joined the our parents in the car, she took the opportunity to have a quiet word with Susan and me. "Actually, I believe your mother quite enjoyed that little performance, after all she must have realised that her kooky ways were bound to be commented upon eventually. She was lucky it took so long, and that it was we who raised the issue, and not some fast-talking lawyer on behalf of a possible client! And I didn't want to say so in front of Pamela, but three of my former playmates have actually had gender re-assignment surgery probably due to her activities many years ago; - Susan might remember a girl called Karen, she was once a boy called Carl but she was one of your fellow bridesmaids at my wedding Susan?" Susan nodded in agreement. "You mean the attractive blonde girl?" "Quite right Sue, you do remember! But Pamela failed to recognise her thanks to the hormones she was taking, - and I wasn't going to give your mother the satisfaction of knowing that some of her prot?g?s' had opted for castration and casting themselves in her own image!" Then Angela giggled, "My! She would just LOVE to know that; but let's go and find out what the 'Three Belles' has to offer!" It was such a glorious day that we all trooped into the extensive gardens and found a suitable table at which to dine while Angela went inside the pub to order the drinks. We were soon slaking our thirst 'on the house' as Angela explained that the previous night 'mien hostess' had taken one of her bar staff home after work in her car and was on the return journey when she had come across my improvised road block, so a quick 999 call had sealed the fate of the two absconders. "But why the free round of drinks?" I asked. Angela grinned, "That was her appreciation for being able to file a good syndicated story, - she was a top newshound before she