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And Then There Were None By Geneva Two slaves and a white petty criminal on the run in 1830's Louisiana are transformed by a treacherous landowner using a magic book. One of them eventually has to make a choice between two futures. This story is set between my earlier stories "Made Mademoiselle" and "Miss Spelled". A reviewer had a question about the last story and I hope this story tidies it up. Thanks, Kelly. As I remember now, it was a time of bewilderment, horror and terror, first of all like waking up from a deep sleep, with flickering impressions, strange swirling shapes and disconnected thoughts, later gradually organizing as awareness slowly penetrated the fog of my mind. But this awakening was different from my usual sleep. It was more prolonged and from some much deeper state. Gradually also, as I reached awareness I became aware of a raging thirst, a pounding headache and worst, a deep ache, one that affected not only my muscles, but that penetrated to my very bones. My bed was different too, harder somehow, and yet, as I slowly became more lucid, I felt a slight swaying motion. I tried to push myself up but my muscles betrayed me, and I collapsed with a groan, new sharp pains stabbing in my head. Then, even in my aching I was vaguely aware that my groans had sounded different somehow, more like the tones of a woman. I became aware too of other vague groaning noises from the background, also like a woman, no, more like two women, in pain. I could not place the noises. They made no sense to my befuddled mind. I tried to remember where I was but it was too hard to concentrate. Then I realized that there was something round my wrists. I felt at them and found too that my hands were manacled. I could not understand how that came to be. My eyes hurt and I felt them. They were crusted together and I licked my fingers and rubbed them on my eyes. It took two attempts before I was able to pry my eyelids apart, wincing with fresh tears at the stinging pain. It made little difference. All was still almost completely dark around me. Then I became aware that I was lying in virtual darkness except for a small slightly lighter square above me. As I lay back and tried to make sense of my situation, it also seemed that as I had licked them, my fingers had seemed longer and slimmer. I tested them again in my mouth and discovered that even my mouth and lips felt somehow different. Thinking about it all became too much effort and I allowed myself to sink back into sleep. It was just as dark when I awoke again. My pain now seemed to have lessened and my head no longer hurt. There was still that swaying motion but now I detected a faint splashing noise and also soft whimperings coming from close beside me. Then it seemed two different voices or tones were overlapping as if there were two women moaning. I moved my arms, hearing again the chink of metal. Then, as I tried to move my legs I found they were chained too. I felt only rough wooden boards below me, not the coarse cloth of my usual bed. My situation began to force its way into my fuddled mind and I started to panic. I had escaped from my owners, the Monaghans, but now it seemed I had been recaptured. I felt at the chains on my legs as much as my arms allowed. Then puzzled, I hesitated. There was something else not right, in fact very confusing. I discovered I was wearing a light piece of clothing, open at the bottom, like a woman's dress or skirt. I should have been wearing pants. And as I felt, yet another thing was different. My ankles and calves felt strange, finer, smoother somehow, not as distinctly muscled like they had been. Puzzled, I felt further up. It was the same with my knees and thighs. They were also smoother and rounder. Then my searching hands froze as they reached the tops of my legs. There was nothing! My cock and balls were gone! Had someone cut them of when I was unconscious? Frantically, beginning to babble incoherently, I pushed my legs apart, desperately feeling under me. There was nothing there except...! Now in full panic, I found beneath the springy hair sets of skin folds and a groove. I felt at them, in horror recognizing their shapes from my encounters with Sarah. There was a sensitive nub and small folds, containing another set of folds of tender skin and finally a moist opening. I cried out in fright, also realizing that my voice was not a man's shout. Instead it had the tone of a woman's scream. Desperately I pushed my hands even further up my body, feeling the different textures of my skin, the different proportions of my body, knowing my belly was rounder, my waist narrower and my chest...! I screamed again. I felt, not my flat muscled chest, but the rounded protrusions, the half globes of two well formed women's breasts, soft yet firm at the same time. I shook my head to clear it from what was surely an illusion, but my shaking hand found the objects again and tested them. My own sensations of my touch were magnified somehow, by anticipating, yet dreading what would be confirmed by my probing. The breasts were heavy and full and tipped with two protruding large sensitive nipples and puckered surrounds, just like Sarah's. I tried to jump up, but the chain on my hands jerked me back to my crude bed. It must have been fastened to the boards on which I lay. I shook my head again, hoping that it was all some terrible dream. The two women beside me were also stirring, moaning, whimpering then beginning to scream too. I heard the jingling of chains. They must have been chained as well. I tried to figure out what had happened. My mind was still fuzzy and I tried to remember the events of the past few days and before. I had been a house slave at the Monaghan plantation, with a pretty important position too. Despite my youth I had been put in charge of the other house slaves. After the Monaghans, that is my owners the white folks, bought me at an auction and brought me to their small plantation, they had set me to learn from an elderly black slave about the running of the house. I remembered how the old slave had sneered when he told me how the Monaghans fancied the idea of a 'high yellow' light skinned slave being set in charge of the household activities. He was quite feeble, but nevertheless he had taught me well. I had watched and learned from not only him, but from the white folks as well and their numerous visitors. Although it was dangerous to let my opinions be known to white folks. I learned a lot more too. I soon knew I was as good as them. In fact I knew I was a lot smarter than most of them. It was just the accident of my birth to be born a slave. At least my lot, being a house slave, was better than the field hands. But what had happened that I was I now lying chained here, wherever it was, in a woman's body, with two women, and in the darkness? I must have dozed again as more women's screaming, right by me, jerked me back to wakefulness. Now I knew the women were in the same small room as me. I started to feel my body again, desperately hoping that it would be my familiar male body, but it was still the same. This was no nightmare that I was experiencing. Even my clothing was as I had felt it. I felt along the seams and hems, finding I was clad in a loose dress of some coarse cloth like women slaves wore. I no longer had either shirt or pants on. The women's screaming became worse and worse. It reverberated in the space until my ears almost hurt. It sounded panicked. I wondered if I was in hell, like the preacher had warned us. I was in a strange body, enduring stifling heat, smell, and continual screaming in my ears. The only thing was there were no flames like the preacher had warned. Suddenly the space was flooded with light. I was dazzled. Some small door or hatch above me must have been opened. There was a thumping scraping sound and then I heard a sound of rushing air. I felt the cutting blows of a whip laid on me and the women several times. We all screamed in pain but heard, "Shut your screamin' mouths." The whip was laid on us more. "Stop that bawlin', I say, or there'll be more." Then the hatch was slammed shut again leaving us whimpering in pain and terror in the renewed darkness. Then I knew I was not in Hell. The men may have whipped us like demons, but they were ordinary men like me. Well, except that they were white, and I was black. Or perhaps the demons of Hell were all white men. My eyes were still half shut in the dazzle; I tried to ignore the stinging on my body where the whip had been laid. I again thought back to what had happened the night before or when ever it was before I had been unconscious. I remembered there had been me and two other men. One was black, much darker than me. He was called Ephraim and said he had escaped from large farm further up the river. The other was a white man called Jack. He had been close mouthed about his past, but eventually he let slip he was from the next county, a hired hand who had got into some trouble or other. He did not give many details and him being a white man and all, we didn't dare ask him too much. It also didn't help that he looked at Ephraim and I with contempt, and made some comment about a 'whuppin' and returning us to our masters. Then I remembered, there had been another man there too. What was his name? Oh yes, Rene Carrier, and there was a colored woman, just a bit darker than me. I had thought her quite good looking even though she must have been in her fifties. The rest of my memory all came back suddenly. Before all of this I had been a slave at the Monaghan place near Frenchman's Bend. I had been christened Sam, but just after the Monaghans bought me they told me I was to be called Hector. Lord knows why. It was something to do with some people long ago. I had served the Monaghans scrupulously and given them enough subservience, but one hot sticky day when things had gone wrong I had been careless and let slip my true feelings. I had answered back to old Mrs. Monaghan. And then when I accidentally let slip that I could read they gave me some awful tongue lashing and then given me to an overseer to whip for my 'insolence', as they called it. They had threatened to send me out into the fields to work. The humiliation of my whipping and the threat of working in the fields had made me think about escape. I talked about it with Sarah. She was colored too, and was a maid in the Monaghan's house. We'd been lovers but when I told her my plans she flew off the handle and accused me of wanting to abandon her. When I persisted she seemed to change her mind. In fact it was her that had encouraged me to go to see Carrier to escape. She said she'd heard it whispered that Carrier had a scheme to get blacks like us free. In fact she had heard that two or three slaves had slipped away to Carrier's farm. They had never been seen or heard of again so they must have been able to escape successfully. A week after Sarah's information I slipped away one night and made my way to the Carrier place. He had almost welcomed me. He had hidden me in his cellar, and even fed me well. Ephraim arrived a week after me and the white man two days after that. Ephraim had been a field hand, but his owners had fallen on hard times and they were going to sell him. Scared he would end up with more demanding masters, he had run away too. I supposed the white man had wanted to get away too for some reason, but no one would look for him as much as me and Ephraim. He'd be less noticeable anyhow, being white. "What's going on?" I whispered to the others. "Do you know where we are?" "No," I heard whispered back. "Nor me," said another voice. "Who are you women?" I asked. Both voices had been those of women. There was a fresh burst of barely contained weeping. Then, "Who you calling a woman? You're the woman," I heard, the voice raised, in barely controlled panic. Whoever it was began to cry loudly. "Hush!" I said, "Or they'll whip us again." "An' I'm not a woman neither," I heard. That was yet another voice, also a woman's. "I'm a man." Despite the heat in the cabin or hold or whatever we were in, I began to feel cold with horror. My own voice, my clothing, what my hands had felt in the exploration of my body told me I was in the body of a woman. So the others were too. I barely kept from breaking down again. "Ephraim? Is that you and Jack? It's me, Hector." "Yeah, what's happened?" I heard. "We all seem to have women's bodies. What did that bastard Carrier and the woman do to us? What's going on?" I tried to figure it out. Then I remembered that Carrier had talked about plans for getting us away, but had left the cellar where we were hiding, saying he had some business to attend to. I wondered if he was not feeling well. His face sure looked grey. Just after that a young fair haired white man had looked in. He stared at us suspiciously, but left after a minute. Then the colored woman had asked us to sit while she recited a poem or little speech from some old book. It looked pretty old, with a dirty yellow leather or hide cover, and I noticed that the pages were stained and mildewed. She had said it was an ancient speech that men spoke when they wanted to be free. It sure hadn't been English that she spoke, maybe some other strange white man's language. The whole thing sounded like nonsense, but we had humored her. After all, we were getting good meals from them, and we were on our way to be free. Then I remembered that just some minutes after she had finished reading I had begun to feel cold, and shiver. Ephraim and Jack had complained about shivering too. Then I must have passed out. I tried to make sense of our plight. "Do you suppose," I asked, "that woman, the one that read the little book to us, was a witch, and she was really reading a spell that made us into women? Are you the same as me? I think I'm wearin' some kind of dress, and you know, I've got tits on my chest, but even worse, I've lost my cock and balls. I can't see in this darkness but it feels like I've..." I hesitated with the horror of it. "Instead I've got all of the parts of a woman, you know, the slit between the legs an' the rest of that stuff." There was another whimper. "Yeah, me too." A burst of a keening noise. "And me." came another voice in the darkness. The voice quavered. "What the Hell's going on?"I must be dreamin'. That's just impossible." "Ain't no such thing as witches." I heard a snort." Are there?" The voice was unsure. But then I heard. "Well we sure are changed." I supposed that was Ephraim talking. The pitch of the woman's voice made it difficult to tell who was who. "How long we been like this?" I heard the one with the white sounding voice say. "I don't know." I said. "I only began to wake up about an hour or so ago. I've been sleeping on an' off. We could have been out for days." "Then how come we are chained?" That was the former white man speaking. "Who'd want to make three men into women, an' what for?" I got another cold feeling. I was an escaped black slave. As a slave I had no rights anyway and now I was in a woman's body. I had lost all of my male identity. I felt like crying. Sure I was well disguised. No one would recognize me now, but being in a woman's body, black as well, and chained, was even worse for helping me escape. I was overwhelmed. "And where are we?" I heard. I felt a sway. "You feel that rockin'?" I said, "An' it smells damp in here. I think we're in the hold of a boat. We must be on the river." Another thought struck me, with a cold shiver despite the heat of the hold. We were women, chained, in a boat. I knew there were brothels in New Orleans, and... The thought was too horrible and I kept it to myself. "I'm gettin' hungry," I heard, "an' thirsty too. Do you suppose if we all yelled..." "Not if you don't want another taste of that whip." It was getting much warmer, and I wondered how much longer we could survive in our thirst, in the stench and heat of that hold, but some time later we heard scraping above us and the hatch was flung open. I was dazzled with the light at first but eventually I made out two bearded white men looking down at us. As my eyes adjusted to the glare I saw my companions too for the first time. I just stared at them. They were women sure enough, and in women's clothes, but with the short hair of men. There was a white woman with hair on her upper lip, but it was stripping from her. I remembered Jack had a mustache. The woman looked comical. I would have laughed but for my own desperate position. One man, the smaller, descended the ladder. He bent over me, fumbling at my chains and I heard a click. He moved to the others and I heard other clicks. I wondered if he had unfastened my chains, but when I tried my arms they were still fastened together. He must have only removed the chain fastening me to the bench. "You stinking bitches, up! On your feet!" I heard commanded. I tried to move but my muscles were still stiff and sore. The contorted faces of the others told me they were just as stiff. We all groaned as we stretched and on another command stumbled to the small ladder to climb up to the deck, moving as much as our chains would permit. There was only about a foot of play on my own leg chains. My cramped muscles screamed in protest as I climbed the ladder. At last we stumbled onto the deck. I was weak and fell to my knees. The other two were just behind me. "They're sure some ugly bitches." I heard one of the white men say. "Smelly too. Here, wash yourselves!" A bucket with river water was thrust at us. There was even a cake of coarse yellow soap. "Get some of that smell off you! God, why is it that Carrier's women are all so ugly at first, and smelly too?" The other man shrugged. "He pays us well enough, Hank, so don't complain." So our predicament had something to do with old Rene Carrier. Had he been a wizard or whatever they called it? And that woman with him- I thought about her. Maybe she really had been a witch and read a spell? No, I knew that was impossible, there were no such things as witches and spells. Still, here were we three, changed into women and chained up, going to God knows where. I looked at myself carefully in the bright sunlight, trying to contain my shock. What I saw of my hands, arms and legs was completely changed from before, however long ago that had been. My hands were now slim, with long fingers; my arms were slim and rounded. My chest! I tore open the buttons on the top of my dress. I just gaped at my chest. It was as I had felt when I probed earlier. There were two female breasts, well shaped, full and firm, each tipped with prominent brown nipples and areolas, but all incongruously covered with my male chest hair. Blushing under the derisive laughter of the men I lifted up the skirt. I was completely naked underneath. I bent to look at my crotch. My usual hair was there too, but my cock and balls were gone completely. There was no trace of them. All of my manhood was gone. I bent right down, seeing as much as my view allowed, only some folds of skin hidden in the hair between my legs. I was a woman completely. "What ya lookin' at, darlin'? Think you'd lost it? Maybe I can help you find it. An' nice lookin' tits there as well," I heard. I was knocked on my back by one of the white men as he thrust one hand between my legs, the other squeezing my breasts. I gasped at the sensitivity of my flesh. I grabbed his arm and tried to pull it away. He was too strong for me and when I tried to bite his arm my face was slapped three times. "Now this one's got spirit, for a black whore. Quiet Bitch! You're gonna have to get used to it." "Steady Hank." I heard the other say. "Care, there's another boat coming upstream near us." "Yea, yea, Joe. I hear you." I was jolted as Hank pushed me to the deck. My eyes were filled with tears at the pain of the slap, and he had called me a whore. That confirmed my suspicions. That bastard Carrier had by some means changed me and the others into women. Now he was selling us, probably to a whorehouse. I looked at the other two women. One was white, the other black, just as the former men had been, but they were completely women too, with breasts pushing out their tops and slim limbs and waists, but with broad hips. A good wash and some pretty clothes and they would be welcome in a whorehouse. I knew about whore houses. I had heard some overseers talk about a visit to one. I watched as the other boat passed. Joe the captain gave it a cursory wave. He unlocked our wrist chains with a key, but menaced us with a heavy club. "Now git them clothes off!" he commanded. We hesitated and almost immediately a whip cracked over us. I loosed more buttons on my dress and pulled it over my head so I was completely naked. I looked at the other two. They had stripped too. The black one had been wearing a dress in a coarse fabric too, and dropped it by her side. She had an absolutely beautiful body, pert breasts, a slim waist, and wide hips, with buttocks that stuck out provocatively. The only thing of her previous manhood was some curly hair nestled in between her breasts. The other was a white woman. Her body was beautiful too. Her skin seemed white as marble against the black of the other woman and my own golden skin. Her nipples and areolas were quite pink contrasting with the paleness of her skin. She would have been graceful except that she was trembling. She had hair on her chest too, and the remains of a wispy mustache on her upper lip. "Look at them," said Joe, "bodies that make you get a hard-on, but faces hairy as a cow's back. Where does Carrier get them? All right," he shouted, "enough of admirin' yourselves. There's water an' soap. Git yourselves washed." I looked up to the men. "Who are you?" I asked. "What's going on? Why am I why are we like this"? Is it a spell? Where are we going?" But I had all too strong suspicions about our fate. Then my head jerked as one of the men slapped me. Blood came from my lip. I felt it puffing up. "All of these questions, stupid bitch." Joe snapped. "What you mean spell? Yeah, you get to rest a spell on this here boat. Mr. Carrier said he had you three women to take down river, an' that's just what we are doin'. Deliverin' you to N'awlins. I hear there's some work for you there." He gave an ugly chuckle and leered at me. "But we're men," cried Ephraim. "Why are we like this?" She jerked as she too was slapped. He snorted and shook his head. "Yet another stupid crazy black bitch. Carrier did say you'd all be half crazy. I don't see no men. I only see three women. Look at your tits, and open your legs if you don't believe me. Some kinda hairy, but if you lost that, grow some more on your heads, get some washin', you might be purty. Now I only see three dirty sluts." I rubbed my arms with the coarse soap. It was cheap stuff and stung my arms, but at least I felt cleaner. I noticed some hairs caught in the soap. I rubbed my arm again and saw even more hairs begin to strip off. It was the same with my chest, face and leg, even my crotch. All mostly stripped off, leaving me with almost bare arms and legs, and just a small patch of hair at my crotch. It was now in the pattern of women's hair. I looked at the others. It was the same with them. The white woman had now lost the mustache. It must have stripped off her. She was staring blankly at the wisps and tufts of hair swirling in the pail. I gasped too. The two women were now even more beautiful. And somehow I knew from the way that the two boatmen were leering at me, that I too had become more beautiful. My two companions were now cleaner, but still disheveled. I felt in my own hair. It was knotted and straggly, but the men had not given us a comb. Looking at them, I judged they were fair strangers to combs themselves. I finished washing first. It was a great relief, despite my situation, to feel clean and get the smell off me. I looked round at the men and our surroundings. Just as I had thought, we were on the river on a small boat. I could see the distant banks slowly slip past. I could have jumped overboard. I knew how to swim but the banks looked a bit far and my chains would have hindered me. The other boat had passed and Hank looked at us slyly. "You'll be wanting food, and water. Now what'll you give me in return?" He gave a leer. "Take it easy, Hank." said Joe. We'd better get them fed and watered first. We better take care of the merchandise. They're supposed to be virgins when we deliver them." Hank disappeared into a small cabin up front and in a minute threw us some stale cornbread and set down a pan of water. We took turns drinking at it. I only nibbled at the stale bread. I still did not feel like eating and I was furiously trying to think how I could escape. There was a coarse laugh as Hank set down a pail. "You'd better relieve yourselves too. Now don't be shy!" He laughed uproariously. I desperately needed to relieve myself. I did not want to show him. But there was no alternative. I sat over the pail as I had seen my mother do in our cabin when I was a boy, and let out a stream. The other two followed. "Now you wimmen," said Joe, grinning through tobacco yellowed teeth, "it's a nice day. I know you'd rather be up here than down in that stinkin' hold. Think you can behave yourselves?" One or more of us must have fouled the hold and a stench drifted from the open hatch. I felt I would gag if I had to go down there again. "Yessir," I said. The others also nodded. Joe threw our clothes back to us and we scrambled to put them on. Anything to hide our bodies from them. One of the other women, the white one, began to complain but Hank threatened her with a stick and warned her to be quiet. They also refastened our wrist chains. We huddled on the deck and watched as the men steered the boat along the river. It had only two sails and it was a calm day, so the boat more or less drifted down the stream. There were a lot of boats on the river, but few passed close to us. I carefully tested my chains. The links were quite new. There was no way I could slip the manacles. I would be better to wait on board rather than jump overboard unless I wanted to drown myself. Joe must have read my mind. "Don't even think of jumpin' over. There's 'gators in the water, I should think." We sat there several hours in misery, not daring to talk. At least they allowed us to sit in the shade of the sails. The sun was almost setting behind the trees on the river bank when they steered close to one bank, ran down the small sail and threw out an anchor. "All right. Time for some more vittles." They threw us more corn bread and passed another pan of water. Again the pail was slid to us to relieve ourselves, then we were motioned down into the hold. "Bed time, ladies!" Joe cackled and showed yellow teeth. I hesitated, but Hank cracked the whip over us again. I had no alternative but to climb back down the stair into the stinking hold. I barely kept from being sick. At least they did not bother to chain us to the bench. "Ephraim, Jack," I whispered, "that bastard Carrier must have fooled us. He or that woman with him cast a spell on us or something, put us in these women's bodies. I think he must be sending us to some of the brothels in New Orleans." Jack gave a cry of fear mixed with indignation. "I ain't no whore an' I ain't no woman neither. They gotta change me back." "And how do you suppose they'll do that? I think these two above are only boatsmen, delivering us. It's Carrier, or that woman with him that really knows what's going on. We'd first have to overpower these two, and then get back upstream to Carrier's place then get him to change us back. That is, assumin' he has a spell for that." "Yeah, an' then I'll skin the bastard alive. Him an' his French manners, and his French way of speakin', puttin' it on over us. Makin' like he was goin' to free us. An' that woman who read the spell. I think I'll burn her alive like the witch she is." I remembered that Carrier had spoken in a funny accent. So that was French! It was vaguely like one of the Cajun folks down near the coast- I'd met some once before I was sold to the Monaghans- but yet it didn't sound quite the same. "Big ideas." I said. "Here we are, in women's bodies, in women's clothes, chained, an these two men are bigger than us and anyway, do you know the way back upstream? We'd have to ask the way. And what white man would tell us, even you. Jack. You're white, but you look like a no account white woman." "Who yo' callin' a no account woman?" he cried indignantly. I was too tired to argue and I lay back until his complaints stopped. I fell into an uneasy sleep, broken by thoughts of the enormity of our plight. Next morning I awoke to the sound of splashing, and felt the boat begin to rock as it got under way again. "Listen," I said, "I reckon we're about a day from New Orleans. It can't be more'n a few days downriver from Frenchman's Bend to New Orleans. If we want to escape it will have to be today. An these men better have the keys to our chains, or there better be a file." "You got an idea?" someone said. "Working on one," I replied. It was about an hour before I heard the hatch opening. "Jack," I whispered, "I have an idea. Pretend you're ill. Don't get up." "What you gonna try?" he asked. "Hush. You'll soon find out, just do it." The hatch was opened and again it took several minutes to get used to the light. "All right, bitches. On your feet and up top." It was Hank, the smaller of our captors. The black woman who had been Ephraim stumbled up the ladder, but I heard the white woman begin to groan. "What the hell's wrong with you, you white trash?" Hank complained. "On your feet, you lazy bitch! Get up or you can stay here all day." '"He's ill," I said. "The water must have been bad." "Shut your mouth, bitch!" he snarled. "Help him up." I went to the woman and pretended to try to lift her. "Good," I whispered. "Keep it up." I pretended to let him slip. That was fairly easy. I was weak anyway and this new body had only a woman's strength. I saw Hank push Ephraim aside and climb down into the hold. "Over there, bitch," he snarled, and bent over Jack, his back to me. I whipped my manacled hands over his neck and jerked sideways on the chain as hard as I could. He barely gave a slight cry before he was a dead weight and fell at my feet. "Jack, think you can imitate his voice?" I whispered. "Call for help." I did not trust my own voice. Jack did quite good, considering he was now speaking in a woman's voice. "Joe, gimme a hand. I think this bitch is almost dead," he said. I had not reckoned on Joe having a gun. I saw it pointed before him as he peered into the darkness of the hold. There was a surprised look when he saw us, and he raised the gun. I flinched, but then there was a thud and he toppled into the hold in a pile. Ephraim's' face, or at least the woman's that had been Ephraim, appeared grinning, holding the club. I did not stop to examine him. "Right. Up quick!" Jack jumped up and I grabbed the gun and followed. We did not check the captain again, but I bashed down the hatch and fixed its metal clasp. I sat down heavily, dazzled in the morning sunshine. I was exhilarated, but in minutes when I thought of what we had done I began to tremble. Not only had we been changed somehow. We were three women, two black, and one that only looked like white trash who had just killed two white men. We were on a boat drifting downstream and still chained. We did not know even where we were. If we were caught with the boat and the bodies discovered we would be strung up to say the least. I hardly dared let myself think. "All right," I said finally, when I had got my trembling under control, "first, let's get out of these chains. Do any of you see a key?" "The big one they call Joe had one," said the white woman. It was hard to think of her as 'Jack'. "The other had a key too." she added. "Someone'll have to go into the hold to get them." We looked at each other. The other two looked too scared so I swallowed. "All right. I guess that's me." I listened at the hatch but there was no sound beneath. I unfastened the catch and slid it back. When my eyes got used to the gloom I saw that the two men were still lying where we had left them. I climbed down the ladder once more and shuddering, turned the smaller one over, feeling in the pockets of his vest and pants. I found a knife and a wallet but no keys. Just in case, I felt at Joe's pockets. He was much heavier and I had to struggle to turn him over. There was a large depression on his skull. I heard a slight gasp from him. So he was still alive! I wondered how he would find being locked in a hold with the corpse of Hank. In this heat it would not take long before the body started to smell. Finally in his pants' pocket I found some more keys. I threw them up to the deck. By that time I had enough of that stinking hold and I pushed the body away and was lunging to the ladder when I heard a rattling sound from Joe. I forced myself to go to him again but when I felt for his pulse there was nothing. That had been his death rattle. So now we had two definite corpses. "Yeah, they're both dead for sure," I said, when I got up to the deck. "Anyone catch us and we're for it. We're black, an' we just killed two white men." There was an awkward silence as my two companions looked at me. We were now in deep trouble. The men had been abducting us, but we could not prove it and the word or value of two blacks and one white trash would not be worth anything. "What now?" said the white woman eventually. "First, get these chains off us, I guess." We were lucky. One of the keys unlocked our wrist and ankle chains. We threw them in the river. The two wallets contained only a small amount of money, and apart from that there was nothing. They followed the chains into the river. "Anyone know how to sail?" Ephraim asked. "I don't. Well, first we better stop going the way we are. We're close to the bank so the anchor should hold." The black woman who had been Ephraim threw over the anchor. It caught immediately and the boat came to a halt, rocking in the water. "Now what?" I asked. "We got this boat. We can use it to sail back up river. But these two below will start to stink in a day, and if we were found with them..." Ephraim left the statement unfinished. "So we'd better get rid of the two bodies. Get them up and pitch them over the side too." "But we'd have to go into that stinking hold yet again," I groaned. "All right." I said. "I'll do it. But I'll need you to help." I pointed to the white woman. "You're bigger than Ephraim." The two of us got Hank up with a struggle, but the other man was just too big for us. We sat and gasped at the bottom of the steps, totally exhausted, almost gagging in the fetid air, drenched in sweat. These women's bodies we were now in were too weak. Besides, we were tired and hungry. "This is impossible," I gasped. Ephraim looked down at us. "Well, we could cut him into bits to get him up," he said. "One of them had a knife." I shook my head. I shuddered. I had no stomach for that and I just thought of the blood and other parts there would be left in that hold. There was no way we could clean it out and in the heat it would start to stink even worse. I looked up to the blue sky, seeing the sails and their tackle, wishing I could just get away from this rotten boat and out of the stink and death. "There's it." I cried. "We can rig up a set of block and tackle and get him out." That was the solution. We fixed a rope to Joe's ankles and hauled him up feet first. With a struggle all three of us pushed him and then Hank over the sides and into the water. Hank sank almost immediately, but Joe floated at first and drifted away from us only slowly in the muddy current. I was relieved when I saw him finally sink. "Maybe we should have taken their clothes," the white woman said. "Then dressed as men." I shuddered. "Their clothes were none too clean, an' I don't fancy undressin' a corpse. Maybe even I'd like better to keep these women's clothes. Anyhow," I said, "we all look like women." I pointed to my tits and narrow waist. "With these figures there's no way we could pass for men. If we dressed in men's clothes it wouldn't do us no good. It'd raise questions." The white woman pointed to the muddy water." They'll rise to the surface in a day or so," she grunted. "Not if the 'gators get them first," grinned Ephraim. "An' anyhow, there's enough folks dumped in the river in these parts. Two more won't cause no one to get too excited." "Now what have we got for food?" We looked around the rude cabin but there was little, just a few grits and dried beans. "We got no way to cook them." I said. "Oh yes we do," said Ephraim. "I noticed a tin pot an' a little charcoal stove up front. Let's see if I can start it. We don't have much water, but we can boil some river water an' use that." Most times I would have turned up my nose at the concoction, but I was roaring hungry and we ate it all. There were even some more beans and corn left in some other tins so we would be fine for food for a few days. I waved my arm at the boat, and then the river. "Now," I said, "how do you suppose we turn this thing around? How do we sail it back upstream?" "I've a bit of an idea," said the white woman. "Me an' my paw used to ferry folks over the river for a bit. That is until Paw lost the boat gamblin'. You have to set the sails right." We left the anchor down until we figured, as well as we could, how to set the sails. Then, "Here goes." I said. We pulled up the anchor again, but we must have drifted down the river for another mile before we got the boat under control and moving back upstream. There was a lot of boat traffic on the river, but no one paid our erratic sailing any attention. At the end of the afternoon a good south breeze came along and we made better progress. Another boat passed us by going down the river but I put on the coat and the hat of the smaller man and slouched behind the sides so they could not see my skirt. I even gave them a short wave. Too late I wondered if they would have noticed my skin, but I guess I was no darker than a well tanned white man. I had almost straight black hair, my eyes were brown, and my skin was a kind of pale yellowish brown. My mother's skin had been a cinnamon color. When I got to being older and thinking about these things, a year or so before I was sold to the Monaghans, I had asked my mother about who my real father was. The man I called my father was a slave too, but his skin was quite black. He was obviously not my real father. My mother had grimaced at my question and looked upset, but I persisted. "It was a white man," she faltered. "One of the white men at the place I was before this. I was just fifteen an' he took me one night. Later, soon as he saw I was carryin' a child, he arranged to have me sold off." "Those white men, they're evil," I burst out, but Momma had just shaken her head." No, there's some white folks are kind, but it's just slavery allows the bad ones to take advantage of darkies like us. An' look at you anyway. You're pale. Sometimes I think you could pass for white. Think about that, Sam. I don't think you're bad, even though you're almost white." I wonder what my mother would have said about me now. I was drastically changed, and I had now killed a white man and helped kill another. We set the anchor again that night, mooring the boat close to the west bank. The water was shallow and we jumped into it and waded ashore. It was nice to be back on land again, but I did not recognize the countryside. The others followed me. "Any ideas where we are?" I asked. The black woman who had been Ephraim shook her head. "We were at Frenchman's bend." said the white woman, "an' I know that would be upstream from Baton Rouge, an' it's a bit up from New Orleans. I ain't seen no sign of no city in the last day, town neither, so we're either north or south of Baton Rouge. Trouble is I don't know how long we've been unconscious. Frenchman's Bend is at least a hundred miles from New Orleans, as the crow flies, an' with the bends in this river it's near two hundred miles by boat. That might take more'n a week if we'd just drifted downstream, and let the river carry us. God know how long if they used their sails." We had set a small fire, and stared into the ashes in the gloom. "These bodies," the white woman said. "D'you suppose we got them by voodoo or something?" "Never thought there was such a thing," I said. "You hear folks talking about it, least some of the slaves like us." I gestured to Ephraim." but just I put it down as plain superstition. You hear a lot of voodoo too near New Orleans, but I never heard any real results. Hell, if it worked, with all the darkies' wishes they'd all be running free by now. But I keep thinkin' I'm goin' to wake up it my old body, although this nightmare just keeps on goin'. So I guess that Carrier and that woman who was with him really did have somethin' that worked. Must have been spells in that book. The language they spoke sure sounded queer." The white woman looked as if she was about to start crying again. "An' what if we don't find Carrier or don't get back to Frenchman's Bend?" The black woman shook her head. "I don't want to even think about that. Look, there's three of us. We should do all right. I just know we'll get back to Carrier and toast his feet over a slow fire until he gets us out of this." In fact I had thought about our situation. A lot. In this woman's body, and black, I would be at the mercy of all. So would Ephraim. Blacks like me and Ephraim wouldn't be moving around freely. The white woman would be a little better off, but not much. We were on the run. We had no relatives or friends that we could shelter with. Hell, we did not even have any of the skills of woman. None of us knew how to cook or sew. I knew only a little about housekeeing from my time at the Monaghans' place. None of us had any practice even in how women act around each other and I sure didn't want any man, black or white, bothering me. "But what'll we do if we get stuck in these bodies?" asked the white woman. "Then you better be prepared to piss sitting down the rest of your life." I snapped. "Sorry," I said, looking at her devastated face, "it's getting to me too." "But what if any men find us first?" "You better hope they don't. Whatever the spell was it made us good looking women. So white men might rape us, then take us off to the nearest sheriff. That is, if they don't shoot us or hang us. If anyone ever found out what we done..." The white woman looked as if she would be sick. I looked at my companions in the firelight. They were dirty, with cheap clothing, but underneath that I could see they both had the makings of real beauties. Their faces were lovely, with, despite the dirt, sparkling eyes set below delicate lashes and fine eyebrows. Their ears were small. Their lips were full, almost pouting. The spell had made two fine looking women. They would tempt any man. They would have earned a lot in a whore house. I started to feel cold when I realized I would be just as good looking and I would be in the same danger from men. The white woman was a real beauty. I liked the look of white women. Heck, I liked the look of most women! Not that I had ever dared show it to my ex-master or his wife. She was ugly anyway, but one of their daughters was slim and red haired, a real beauty. Of course I had made sure to keep my eyes averted and mumble "yessa" or "yes ma'am" to the Monaghans as I shuffled my feet. To do otherwise was to risk a whipping or worse. Too bad I had got careless and spoken back to Mrs. Monaghan. This white woman that had been Jack was about the same height as I was. She was slim, with a small waist and a generous bosom. I knew that white women, at least if they could afford them, often wore tight undergarments called corsets or stays to help show off their figures. Sarah had giggled when she had told me about lacing her plump mistress into some of her corsets. That had been one of her maid's duties to the mistress and the eldest daughters. She shook her head when she described the tortures they had undergone in hot weather. However, from time to time they had even insisted on Sarah wearing a corset as well if they had company and she was to be serving them at the table. Sarah had hated it. But this woman looked slim enough without one. I compared the two women. They both were about the same height. The white one, apart from her skin color, had fair blonde hair, and quite straight too. Her face was quite regular, with a narrowish straight nose. The black woman's hair was by contrast tightly curled. Both had slim waists, but the black woman's ass was much more prominent. On the black woman's face too, her nose was short and broad. Her lips were quite full, much more so than the white woman. Almost unconsciously I felt to my own face. I thought my nose was more like the white woman's although my lips were fuller. My own waist was just as slim as either, my hips were as wide, and as for my ass, I did not know. I would have to check in a mirror sometime if we ever got to one. I gave a shudder. The thought was bad enough. It reminded me of the other things that are the fate of women. We had already had to piss like women do, squatting down instead of standing up. But I thought of women being weaker than men, submitting to men in bed, men taking their pleasure of them, their monthly bleeding, at least if they were not pregnant. That led to other thoughts, having a belly swell with a child, the pain of delivering it, then a child latched to the woman's breasts for years, and cleaning up a kid's shit and piss. And all the while living in a little leaky wooden shack, hot in summer and cold in winter, the master or mistress and all and sundry white folks yelling at her, her own man yelling at her, and the whole child thing starting over again every two years. I unbuttoned my dress and looked down at my full breasts. I felt at my wide hips and shivered. This woman's body was designed for pleasing men and having children. I shuddered again. The sooner I got changed back the better. The others hunched over the fire. The sun had gone down and it was just beginning to get dark. "We'd better put the fire down," I said. "We don't want to attract visitors." I looked round. "Oh, oh," I said, "too late. We got a visitor," I said quietly. I quickly did up the buttons on my dress and tucked my legs under my skirt. The other two froze, but then Ephraim relaxed." It's all right," he said softly. "I think it's just one kid, an' a black one. Least that's all I see." "Even'in," he said, waving to the figure half hidden in the bushes. "Want to come over to the fire?" A small figure slowly emerged from the brush. It was a black boy, about ten, I suppose. He was dressed only in raggedy pants and a tattered shirt. His feet were bare and muddy. He was carrying a fishing pole and had three fish in his hands." Come an' sit by us, Son." He edged over to us slowly, cautiously. "Been fishin, I see." I said casually. "Your momma will be glad of these for supper. What's your name, Son," I asked "Benjamin," he said, "but mos' call me Ben." "How old are you Ben? About ten?" He nodded "Yes ma'am." "A nice mannered boy. You live far from here?" "Just over the field." He pointed. "In that set of trees." "Is it a plantation?" He shook his head and grinned from ear to ear. "No, it ain't at all big like the Graham's place. Massa Leigh he ain't nothin' but a farmer." "Can we go with you an' see your maw." I had an idea. Maybe she would know where we were. The boy looked us up and down. "I guess so," he said. We rose and followed him into the dusk. The cabin was two or three hundred paces away. It was set in trees with blue wood smoke coming out the one chimney, the windows were covered with oiled cloth and a feeble yellow light wavered behind them. "Hallo," Ephraim called. "Anyone there?" The door opened slowly and a large black woman looked out. She eyed us suspiciously. The boy ran to her. "Evenin' Ma'am," I said. She hesitated a bit. "Evenin' yourself. Who be you?" "Met your son down by the river." I said by way of explanation. "He brought us here." The boy scurried inside the cabin. The woman gave a low call and almost instantly she was joined by a black man. He also looked at us suspiciously. "We come from the river," I said. "We got driftin' an' I wonder if you could tell us where were are?" She eyed us carefully. "You're in Louisiana. That's what!" "Yes, Ma'am, "said Ephraim, "but where about? Where is Baton Rouge to us?" The man spoke. "This is the Leigh place. It's a bit up river of Baton Rouge. But where might you be goin? An' where are you from?" I felt a small surge of relief. We were nowhere as far away as I had thought, and I even now knew roughly where we were. With the chart on the boat we could now find our way back. "I'm Helen," I said, "and this here is Miss Susan, an' this is Emily. We're from around Frenchman's Bend." I had just thought of the names on the spur of the moment. The white woman glared at me, but stepped forward into the light from the cabin door. I saw, almost felt the attitude of the two slaves change immediately, being in front of a white woman. Susan gestured to us. "They'se my two maids. We was sailin' on the river an' musta all fallen asleep. We don't know where were are. We want to get back to Frenchman's Bend." "I'm sorry, ma'am." the woman said, "We was just a bit leery of seein' one white woman an' two black women by themselves. Lotsa strange things on the river. Didn't mean no disrespect, Ma'am. I'm Belinda, and this here's my man Will. You want me to call Massa Leigh? That'd be better for a white lady like you." Susan shook her head. I noticed her blonde hair was stringy. It sure needed a wash. My own felt not much better. "No, we must be getting back an' I don't want to disturb nobody. We just wanted to know where we were. We'll be gettin' back to our boat. Good night and thank you." The couple watched us carefully as we left. We made our way over to the river and waded out to the boat again. "I didn't appreciate you givin' me a woman's name," complained the white woman. "Then what do you want me to do? Still call you Jack? We've had it lucky so far," I explained, "but I think it's still two or three days before we get back to Frenchman's Bend. In case we run across more folks, we better get a story straight, an' we better use some names that match us. I can't call you Ephraim or Jack, an' you sure as Hell can't call me Hector. So we have to use women's names. I think we'll just use the ones I thought up, so I'll be Helen. You, Ephraim, will be Emily. An' Jack would be Susan, or maybe we should use Miss Susan if we meet up with any white folks." I had some doubts. There was little chance that Susan would fool anyone into thinking white trash like she was a lady. Still, it was the best we could do. Susan sounded her name in disgust. "We have the bodies, but that's all. Heck, I sure don't know how to behave like a woman." I believed her. All of us would have trouble among real women. We slept on deck that night. In the early morning light I examined the chart. I saw Baton Rouge marked on it and even the small settlements. "Let's see. There's that bend to the right on the chart just downstream from us." I pointed. "An' I see another bend up there. An there's Frenchman's Bend, right there. So I reckon we're about here." I placed my first finger, now slim like all of the rest, on the chart. "We must be about a day downstream from Frenchman's Bend. An' once we're back there we know our way to the Carrier place." "How do you suppose we'll get capture Carrier." said Susan." He's a man, stronger than us, an' he may have help." "Lucky we got that gun," That was Emily, practical as ever Ephraim had been. "May help to persuade him." She grinned. I just thought of a difficulty. "But if we can get him to turn us back the spell would probably make us unconscious again. An' then he'd be in control. I hope that spell book has a spell that can change us back to men. If so, we'll just kill him, or lock him up while we change." "Aw shit," said the white woman. "If it's in a book, I cain't read, well, not more than a bit." "I can't read at all," said Ephraim. I sighed inwardly. It would have to be left to me. "I can," I said. "I taught myself from Missus Monaghan. She used to read to her kids and sometimes I was looking over her shoulder. Course I never let on. Some white folks don't take to black folks being able to read. So, I think, when I read the spell, assuming the book also has something that can turn us back to men, I can read it to only one of you. Then whoever that is, and I will both turn back to men. The other can guard us for two days or however long it is until we wake up. Then I can read the spell again to the other." A thought just struck me, but I did not mention it to the others. It would be safer if I first read the spell to the white woman who had been Jack. Otherwise, if Ephraim and I were unconscious, Jack could turn us over to any sheriff and claim a reward for capturing escaped slaves. I did not trust any white person. There was yet another doubt in my mind. The words that the colored woman, Carrier's accomplice, had read from the book had not sounded like any English I ever heard. I only hoped I would be able to read it. It was a flutter of birds that alerted us. My heart pounding, I looked out of the boat carefully. To my relief it was only Will standing on the bank watching us. "So you'll be goin' soon?" He nodded his head in the direction of upstream. Emily nodded. "Yeah. Time we were on our way." "Tell me," Will said carefully, "you won't be wantin' me to tell the sheriff or Massa Leigh you was here?" "What makes you think that?" I said. "Oh, I bin thinkin'. It's just a bit strange. Three young women on a boat in the river, all by themselves. No men to protect them. An' it seems to me," he rolled his eyes, "the last time I saw that boat, some weeks back, there was two white men in it. An' another thing, that white woman said she was your mistress. She thanked me last night. I been thinkin'. Not many white folks bother to thank a slave like me. An' still another thing, beggin' your pardon, Miss Susan, I don't think the way you talks you was ever well off enough to have a pot to piss in, never mind ownin' two slaves. I'd say you three women was on the run. Now, I can understand blacks or even high yeller like her," he pointed to me, "runnin' from slavery, so you wouldn't want the law to know about you. But if a white woman is on the run," he pointed to Susan, "she must be in some trouble, or runnin' from some trouble, an' I don't think she'd like the law to know neither." I looked at him carefully wondering what was next. Emily and Susan were now standing beside me and I felt their tension. Will looked us up and down. "Oh, don't you worry," he grinned. "If folks are runnin', it sure ain't no business of mine. Hell, mos' days I'd like to run myself, but I ain't got the nerve to do so. Besides, I'm gettin' too old, an' I got family. You headin' up north, or even Canada?" "Just up north," Emily said. I knew that was vague enough, in case Will was ever questioned about us. "Then here!" Will threw a small cloth bag to Emily. "There's some food, dried corn. All we can spare but maybe you'll be needin' it. Now I better get back. There's always a lot of work to be done around Leigh's place. Good luck to you, an' if anyone asks, you never saw me, an' I ain't never seen you. Oh yes, for folks on the run like you there's one thing you might be wantin' to try. About two miles away, just north of this place, there's a small town. Heard tell there's a family of white folks, but they're decent. They live in the only green painted house so you could find them easy. Name of Templeton. Call themselves Quakers and don't hold with slavery. There's some say that they even help runaway black folks like yo'sel's. They'd be ones to try if you was in trouble. They'd maybe get you up north, even to Canada. I sent Ben over to them to say there's maybe some black folks needin' help. Course the white woman there," he pointed to Susan, "she's no need to run, unless she's in trouble with the law, but then bein' religious they might want her to give her up to the law. Well, anyways, good luck to ya." He gave a wave and disappeared over the slight levee. We looked at each other." What about these Quakers?" Emily asked. I thought about it. "Remember the last white man we went to for help, Old Carrier. Look what happened to us with him. Besides, it'd be more delay, an' do you really think we could pass ourselves off as women? Sure we have the bodies of women, but we don't know how to cook, or sew or look after houses or any women's things. I couldn't pretend. They'd think we were a bit strange." "Unless we pass ourselves off as just women field hands." said Emily. "Field hands sure ain't got no airs and graces." "No, I think we better get go'in' by ourselves," said Susan. We had trouble with the sails and it took us about an hour to ready the boat for its trip upstream when we were interrupted again. This time it was a white man on a horse looking at us from the bank. He was dressed plainly, in mostly black clothes and with a broad brimmed hat. He was clean shaven. I felt a cold sweat. We were discovered! But I saw the white man was alone. I wondered if we could push off and get away from him and even get further up river before he raised the alarm and some hunting parties came after us. "Drop the gun over the side," muttered Emily. Reluctantly I dropped it overboard. We would be in real trouble if we ever discovered with a gun. I was surprised when the man waved to us. He even seemed friendly. He nudged his horse close to the river bank so we could hear him. "I heard about you three women from a boy called Ben, from over at the Leigh farm. Ben told me about three women that seemed to be on the run. Y'see, I've got a name around these parts for helping slaves. Oh, I'm called Adam Templeton. I think you all may need my help. I guess you are all thinking of heading up North?" I felt relief wash over me and Emily let out a long sigh. The man was a friend. Then I swore inwardly. We need not have got rid of the gun. "Yes Sir, something like that." Susan said cautiously. She gave him our alias names. He examined us. It seemed to take minutes. Then he pointed to Susan. "You can't be an escaped slave. You're white, least you could pass for white with no problem. Tell me, is it you're really an escaped slave or that you're just a white woman wants to get away?" Susan must have thought fast. "Yes Sir, that's right. I'm white. Y'see, sir, my folks wanted me to marry an old man. I wasn't havin' none of it, but my paw owed him a lot of money and that was to be all settled if I married him. So I ran away. Met up with these two about a week back. Maybe I'll head up North too, get away from this hard scrabble." He gave us a wry look. "Well, it's still going to be hard work for you up North. Besides, it's colder, and there might be only servant or farm work, but I understand why you want away. So can I help you?" We looked at each other. The three of us had secrets that we wanted hidden, yet any help was welcome. Our situation was really pretty desperate. Will's food was welcome, but we really needed much more food. Rest would be welcome too. Also traveling by land, with someone's help could be better than trying to maneuver this lumbering boat upstream, and in sight of all the traffic on the river. So, weighing everything in my mind, I allowed myself to be persuaded. I gave a slight nod to Emily and Susan and they nodded too. "Many thanks, Mr. Templeton, sir. Your help would be very welcome." "Now what about the boat?" Emily asked, when we had climbed onto the land. We stood by Templeton and watched it. I would be glad to be away from the stink of its hold. "Leave it. It ain't nothin but a rotten hulk anyways," said Emily. "I won't ask you where you got the boat" said Mr. Templeton. His tone was severe, but there was an amused twinkle in his eye, and a small turn up of his lips. "I don't think any of you owned it. Why not leave it tethered and then the real owners may find it." I did not think the real owners would have much use of a boat in Hell, so I tied it only loosely to a branch. Any slight waves and the tether would loosen and the hulk would drift off down river. Maybe it would even sink. The less clues we gave to anyone about our whereabouts the better. I wondered if Carrier would start looking for us when he found out that we had not arrived in New Orleans. Now we were completely at Templeton's mercy. We followed him as his horse walked north. His manner seemed friendly but I was still relieved when I noticed he was obviously avoiding places where he might meet other white folk, and keeping to paths in the woods, rather than the roads. In the late afternoon we reached a small settlement. Templeton avoided it as well, moving in the fields and brush, and leading his horse until we came to a tidy little plot just outside the settlement. The Templeton house was painted green, just as Belinda had said. It was larger than I had thought it would be. There was just Templeton and his wife Deborah. Templeton had some business interests in Baton Rouge. Deborah was about fifty, I guessed, a plain faced woman, but with a sympathetic smile. I learned later that they had two sons and a daughter, all who were married and lived away. Mrs. Templeton led us to their rooms. In fact I got a room all to myself. It was nothing like I had ever used before. Of course I had seen something like it before in the Monaghan house. Occasionally I had glimpsed such through the bedroom doors with Sarah, but my own room at the Monaghans' had been small, and up in the back attic, with only a small window, a plain bed with sacking to sleep on, and only some boxes and crates to keep my few clothes in. This room was much larger, with a soft bed, curtains on the windows, and even pictures on the walls. On top of a set of drawers in unfinished pine was a pitcher with some water, a tin basin, a towel, and some soap. There was even a small soft cotton towel, not like the piece of sacking I had used for washing." Do you want a rest?" asked Mrs. Templeton, and gestured to the bed. She hurried off downstairs. There was a small piece of flat shiny tin on the chest. I guessed it was meant to act as a mirror. I looked at my woman's face for the first time. Even in the distortion of the dented tin I saw I really was good looking. My cheekbones were high and my features regular. My light brown eyes were bright under fine arched eyebrows. My nose was small and not very broad. My lips were full and soft. I turned my head. I saw my neck was long and slim. I lay back on the bed in delight. It was soft, and the whole place was absolutely clean. I looked up at the ceiling. It was whitewashed boards. It made me feel dirty in my worn clothing, so I washed my hands, face and legs. "To hell with it.," I said and pulled my clothes off and washed myself completely. I lay back on the bed again, seeing my women's breasts heaving up and down I placed my hands over them. Their softness reminded me of the lovely ripe feeing of Sarah's breasts. Now there was the same feeling in my own hands, but I had the extra feeling of my own breasts being caressed. I gently pulled on one of the nipples, wondering at its sensitivity. Sarah had liked me to do that. Shocked, I felt both nipples grow rigid. I put my hand between my legs, feeling in the folds. I had