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The Pencil Never Lies Chapter 1 The young couple were sitting on opposite sides of a small round table in the college's student union bar, having a midweek drink to celebrate being closer to the following weekend than the previous one. The room was smoky and the old, ripped vinyl of the seat cushions always remained sticky, regardless of how often the steward ran a damp cloth over them. The only attractions for the students of the college were the cheap alcoholic beverages. "Would you like the same again, Vicky?" When Victoria swept her long blonde hair out of her eyes, looked up at her boyfriend and nodded, Richard picked up both glasses and headed over to the bar of the student union. "Pint of 'Best' and a 'Strongbow', please Stan." Richard called to the student acting as barman, waving a five pound note to help get his attention. Carefully pocketing his change, Richard made his way back to the table, hoping to continue discussing his problems with the statistics assignment he was working on. Victoria, being on an art foundation course was not interested and was pleased when he was distracted from his diatribe by loud cat calls coming from the group of students watching the widescreen television the union had purchased the previous term. A risqu? Channel 5 documentary was showing, about the lives of Tai 'Lady Boys'. Richard turned back to look at his beer, studiously ignoring the program and not noticing Victoria's interest in it. "God, those men are a load of perverts!" "What's that?" Richard again looked up from his beer. "Those pansies on the TV are; the men who dress up as women and get breast implants." Reluctantly Richard looked around at the screen, just in time to catch a full frontal of a 'woman' with huge breasts and an equally huge penis. "I had never considered it, Vicky; I suppose you're right; that's certainly not something I would like to see on a dark night. How is your landscape painting going?" Richard's attempt to change the subject fell on deaf ears. "God! If it were up to me I'd finish the job with a pair of rusty scissors!" Realising that Richard had been asking something, she shook her head and continued, "Sorry love, what were you saying?" "How is your landscape painting going?" "Oh that's going well, the scenery in this part of the world really lends itself to it... It's funny how most of the old masters who painted landscapes were Dutch or Belgian, when those countries have little in the way of scenery, being mostly flat! No, my problem at the moment is the life drawing class. Regardless of the media, I can never make my pictures look like the model. "Look Richard, would you do me an enormous favour?" "Sure Vicky, what is it?" "Well, I need to get more practice than the time available with the model in the life class. Do you think you could pose for me?" "You mean just sit still while you draw me? Sure, that's no problem." "Richard, you do know that life drawing means in the nude don't you?" Richard's eyebrows shot up. "Oh", he exclaimed. "I didn't realise... You mean you're looking at naked men all day every Wednesday?" "No... sometimes they're women, but it's all done in the best possible taste, dear. Go on love, it would really help me to get some more hours in, I can never get the proportions right." "The pictures, no one else would ever see them, would they?" "No, I promise. It's just for me to practice." "I suppose that would be alright. When would you like to do it?" "Could you come to my room tomorrow night? I've got to finish a graphics assignment over the next couple of days, but I'm anxious to get ahead with the life drawing, my tutor was giving me a hard time today." "OK, I was going to finish my stats assignment tomorrow night, but I can do that on Friday instead. "I had better to go now; I'll come to your room at, what, seven tomorrow? Good night love." Getting up from his seat, Richard bent and gave Victoria a passionate kiss on the lips, causing calls of "Get a room" and "Don't let you mother catch you" from the other students lounging in the bar. He wandered out of the bar, his hands in his pockets, in his mind he was planning his activities for Friday evening and his plans didn't include statistics assignments. Chapter 2 Victoria had given herself half an hour to clear her room up before Richard arrived. That would be plenty of time to sort the minimalist accommodation provided by the college. She had borrowed a couple of additional lights from the students living in rooms further down the corridor and had plugged them all into the same power outlet by means of a multi-way plug, arranging them around the chair where her subject would sit. She knew she would be breaking one of the dormitory rules; entertaining a man in her room with the door closed, but was more concerned with failing the life drawing element of her course. A timid knock on the door announced Richard's arrival. He came into the room already blushing with the anticipation of what was about to transpire. "Hello love. Are you ready to produce a master piece of the greatest hunk on campus?" Victoria smiled at his joke, as his figure was a long way from the category of hunk. "Shall I strip now?" "I'll just close the curtains first Richard, dear. I don't want to shock the caretaker." She watched him slowly take off a sock. "Umm, Richard, it's not supposed to be a strip tease. When I said it's done in the best possible taste, I meant it; definitely not erotic! I'll go into the corridor whilst you undress. Call out when you're ready, yes?" Victoria went into the corridor and leant with her back on the wall trying to prepare herself to see a model in the room rather than her lover. On hearing Richard call, she returned to the room, looked at his face that was reddening, refusing to look any lower at this point. "OK love; sit in that chair, any position that is comfortable for you." He sat down stiffly like a guard, arms folded across his chest initially and then with a start he changed position and put his hands in his lap covering his masculinity. Victoria moved closer and started to arrange the lights to remove or obtain shadow, as she required. Standing back, she nodded to herself that all was as she wanted. She sat in the opposite chair then picked up her pad with the selection of soft pencils she liked to use. She lightly started to sketch an outline; reciting to herself the standard rules of proportion she had been taught. "Head one seventh of the height; arm span equal to the height." She worked on for a while, adding the contours to the outline figure on her pad, using shading and hard lines to add definition. She knew it wasn't going well, but she persevered, drawing in the details of his face, which worked nicely; but the body just wouldn't come for her. She tried again on another page of her sketchpad with the same result. In frustration she threw the pencil at her desk and closed the sketchpad and put it away. "I need a different model, one who looks like the picture I'm drawing!" "Please Vicky; can I put my clothes back on now?" "Sorry Richard, of course you can. I'll put the kettle on." Whilst she made the drinks she opened the pad and had another look at the drawings. She was having problems she had never encountered with the model in the life class. He was a well-built chap who worked out regularly; his pectoral muscles were prominent and fitted neatly above the six-pack stomach. She was always able to represent those parts of the model on her pad without trouble. Now looking at each of her sketches of Richard, the flat undistinguished stomach was right, but she had added too much shading above it, with the result that his pectoral muscles looked like breasts. The same problem had occurred in both pictures. The only good thing was that the proportions she normally struggled with had been great. As she brought the coffee mugs over, Richard now dressed looked at the closed pad on the side. "Can I have a look at the drawings, please Vicky?" "Ah! Nope, I don't think they are good enough to show dear. Can we try again, maybe on Sunday afternoon, with natural light this time?" "Okay, but do you think you could find a heater or something. It's a bit cold in here to be cavorting around in the all together." Richard replied, smiling. With the door open, they sat side by side on the bed gripping the coffee mugs in both hands and chatting about the college life and the world in general. As he left, Richard suggested getting together the following night, but Victoria declined, wanting to catch up on the graphics project whose deadline was rapidly approaching. Chapter 3 It was Friday evening and Victoria had been working for four hours in her small dorm room, the smell of paint from the airbrush was giving her a headache and her eyes were smarting from staring at the image, trying to get the lettering transfers aligned correctly. The exercise of producing a proof for a fictitious advertisement was nearly complete and sitting back to look at the result; a smile eased its way across her face. "Time to stop before I spoil it" she said to herself and started to pour thinners into the airbrush's reservoir to clean it out. There was a knock at her door, which distracted her. A familiar voice called from the corridor, "Hey Vicky, its Friday night! Do you want to go clubbing?" Victoria wiped her hands on a rag as she went to open the door to Emma, her fellow art student. "Hi Emma. Come in a sec, where were you thinking of going?" "Jill said that a small R & B band was playing in Boston's. We thought we could go there to see if they were any good, then go on to Widget's for a dance and if it's still open, we could finish off at the SU bar. Would Rich want to come?" "Hey that sounds like a plan! No, the poor dear has to finish some work, so it looks like it's going to be a hen night. Where are we meeting Jill?" "I'm here!" A small girl with a big smile bounced into the room. "Hey Vick, you really should open the windows when you're using that stuff, you could get high on the smell!" The two girls sat on the bed and watched Victoria as she replaced her jeans with a pair of black velvet slacks and her tee shirt for a lime green halter-top. She quickly applied some make up and removing the scrunchie from her hair, brushed it out. Arm in arm the 3 girls left the campus in search of a good night out. Boston's got its name from the bar in the TV series Cheers, but the only similarity was that they were both situated in basements. The room was low and the musicians on the stage at one end almost had to duck to avoid damaging their heads on the ceiling. Poor ventilation allowed the fumes from the many smokers to hang in the air, the hazy smoke particles demonstrating Brownian motion as they climbed in the warm air over the stage's foot lights. The band was good, playing covers of all the standards by Marvin Gaye, Wilson Picket and other classic bands. The set lasted an hour during which time Jill had kept plying the other two with drinks. "Daddy had a horse come in and shared his good luck with me, so I'm sharing my good fortune with you." was her reason for the extravagance. The three of them were a little tipsy as they left the club with "Heard it on the Grapevine" still ringing in their ears. Despite or maybe because of the intoxication, they pressed on to the second venue. Widget's was a popular nightclub in the dock area of the city, built in an old warehouse. Entering at first floor level, a Broadway style flight of stairs ran down to the bar area where an island bar gave quick service to the dancers, but was also surrounded with people nursing their drinks. Loud music made conversation difficult, but the dance floor at the far end was the reason they were there. Scanning the bar from the top of the stairs, Victoria's eyes were drawn to a young woman nursing a cocktail. Dressed a little more conservatively than the rest of the girls in the club, but with a distinctive hairstyle, the fringe cut ruler straight but very low, hiding all of her forehead and most of her eyebrows. She seemed to be watching a group of lads on the opposite side of the bar. A strange feeling of recognition and sexual attraction to the woman came over Victoria, which confused her, as she had never considered the possibility of not being straight. As they made eye contact the woman quickly looked away, a blush forming on her neck as she moved into the crowds on the dance floor, the sign of recognition had been clear. Leaving her friends at the bar, Victoria made her way to the dance floor in pursuit, but soon lost sight of her amongst the many gyrating dancers. Victoria was worried. Her art training had given her a good memory for faces (even if she had trouble drawing them), but try as she might, she could not recall the woman, but the feeling that she knew her wouldn't go away. The other feelings Victoria tried to push out of her mind, not wanting to admit that she might be becoming bisexual or worse a lesbian. After a second circuit of the club still without seeing her quarry, she returned to her friends. "Who were you chasing Vicky? Was he dishy?" Jill bellowed over the sound of the PA system. Still looking at the dance floor Victoria replied, "I thought I saw someone who seemed familiar. I'm not sure who she was; I am sure she recognised me but didn't want to talk." Chapter 4 Richard was panting when he returned to his room. After locking his door, he went straight to his wardrobe to retrieve the small bottle of whisky his father had slipped to him 'in case of emergency' when he returned to college after Christmas. He felt the first mouthful course down his throat to settle heavily in his stomach. He slowly regained control of his shaking hands and knees. Shrugging off the greatcoat and dropping the trousers he had put on in the car, he retrieved the pumps and handbag he had hastily stuffed into his backpack. The mirror on the wardrobe door wasn't full length, but if he stood on the far side of the room, he could see what he wanted to see; what he liked, no, loved to see: Rebecca! Richard loved being Rebecca and dressed at every opportunity. But Rebecca's demands cost Richard dearly and not just financially. At heart Richard was a shy person. Every milestone he passed: sneaking into his mother's bedroom to try on her underwear when he was twelve, buying his first wig at seventeen, going out in public had been a big milestone; each of these had had a cost in terms of emotional stress and frayed nerves. Now for the first time a person known to Richard had seen Rebecca and that person had to be Victoria! Expecting to hear Victoria banging on his door at any moment, Richard stripped, used solvent to carefully remove the breast forms he had worked all summer to buy and then thoroughly cleansed the makeup from his face. Why had Victoria been at that club? She was supposed to be working in her study. Why hadn't he taken Rebecca to the next town as usual? Had she recognised him? He hadn't looked back after that first glance. Only time would tell; the stress of the wait would be another charge on Rebecca's balance sheet. The mobile phone started to ring faintly. Richard retrieved it from the handbag; looking at the display he held his breath as he pushed the green button. "Hi Richard, how are you? Did you get lots of work done tonight?" Victoria's voice sounded chirpily in his ear. Play it cool Richard thought. "Hi babe! Yeah, a great evening if you like plotting normal distribution charts. How about you? Good evening with the graphics?" "Well," Victoria hedged, "I got so far, but I was tired and then Jill and Emm dragged me out on a club crawl. But I guess I did make good progress before that. "I just wanted to see if you were OK, and to say I love you and missed you." "Yeah, me too babe." Richard swallowed and licked his lips, dry from the lies he had been telling Victoria. "Are we still on for tomorrow night?" "Oh yes, sure! I'm really looking forward to it, come over to my room at eight o'clock." Victoria giggled down the phone. "And I'm really looking forward to seeing you in the buff again on Sunday!" There was a beep on the phone. "I have to go love; the credit on my phone has run out. Bye. I love..." The call ended with a sudden click followed by static. Richard realised he had been holding his breath and let it out with a sigh. Leaving his phone on the desk, he walked across to the bed and sat down to take some deep breaths. As he put his hands on his knees, he noticed he had yet to remove the varnished nail extensions he had applied earlier that evening. He put his face in his hands and sobbed gently, starting to wonder if maybe Rebecca had too high a price on his nerves and that he was beginning to get careless as a result. After a while he pushed himself to his feet slowly and went to find the solvent for his nails and a tissue for his tears. Chapter 5 The next morning Richard was in a foul mood as he took his dirty things to the campus laundry. He sullenly sat in a chair watching his things going around in the washer and tried to decide what to do about Victoria and Rebecca. Each time he watched his clothes slowly rotate to the top and fall to the bottom of the drum he came up with a new solution. He would tell her; he would keep quiet; he would split with Victoria and move away; he would ask Victoria to marry him; he would purge Rebecca's things; he would become Rebecca full time. In his mind, none of these solutions were acceptable, as all required the sacrifice of something important from his life. He thought of Victoria. He had never really been interested in girls until he literally bumped into her in the canteen and then it was her clothes that had initially caught his attention, as he wondered what they would be like to wear; he was jealous of her long hair, but her smile did something to him and they had eventually hooked up and had now been close friends for about 9 months. Victoria's outburst earlier in the week about the lady boys was disturbing. They had never discussed anything in terms of alternate lifestyles and he had been shocked by the ferocity of her outburst, as she was normally quite liberally minded. He wondered whether they were her own prejudices or if it was the influence of someone in her family. It was another piece of dirty underwear going around in the washing machine of his mind. And so Saturday passed, both students did their chores and worked on their individual college assignments. By the time evening came, Richard was feeling somewhat more relaxed and put on his best male persona ready to take Victoria out for the evening. Ducking his head to try and dodge the rain he ran from one dormitory block to the next, to meet Victoria. On reaching the foyer of Victoria's block, he shook some of the rain from his jacket and then smiled at Jill and Emma who were sitting on the only available chairs. "Is Vicky ready?" "Nearly. She said to wait here for her." Emma replied without looking up from the text message she was keying into her phone. Richard leaned against a lukewarm radiator idly assessing the girl's clothes and deciding that Rebecca had no competition there, but he was also aware they were looking closely at him. "Richard, don't you think you should have made a bit more effort?" Emma eventually commented. Richard looked down at his damp denim jacket and tired jeans. "This is the best I have at the moment!" He suppressed a giggle thinking that he actually had several outfits far better than his current garb, but that they were wholly inappropriate for this company. "Well at least you shaved!" Jill joined in with a giggle. Richard put his hand to his chin and tried to remember if it was yesterday or the day before that he had used his razor and then grimaced as he remembered preparing to go out the previous evening and the ensuing events. He heard a noise on the stairs and looked up. Victoria was making a Hollywood entrance, slowly descending the stairs, her sandal clad feet pointing out and seductively crossing in front of each other on each step. Her smooth naked legs went all the way up to the short, black, figure hugging, strapless dress she wore. She looked at Richard with an air of disdain and tossed her head, shaking out the waves in her hair. "Victoria, I didn't know we were going somewhere formal!" Richard managed to stammer out. Richard became aware of the other girls sniggering. Victoria held her poise for 10 more seconds, and then joined the others in laughter. "Don't worry dear. We were bored this afternoon, so Emma decided I should have a make over for my big date. We knew what you would be wearing, but they decided I should get my glad rags on anyway. Where are you taking me then?" "Uh I had thought of the SU, but how about a club and then a drink at the Greyhound?" "That's a good plan, Widget's?" Victoria was hoping she might spot the strange girl again. Richard only just managed to keep his composure as he remembered last night's close call. "Um, yes okay. That's a lovely dress by the way; it really shows off your shoulders nicely." "Thanks Richard. That's one of the things I like about you. You always notice the clothes I wear and say nice things about them." She grabbed Richard's arm and snuggled into his shoulder. Emma passed a raincoat that they must have brought down earlier ready for Victoria's departure. Being Saturday night, Widget's was crowded. Bypassing the bar, they headed straight for the dance floor, enjoying the mix of music being played. As with their previous visits, the volume of music was too loud to make conversation enjoyable so they just faced each other, danced and smiled. After about half an hour Victoria attracted Richard's attention and shouted in his ear. "There's a woman over there watching us." "Where is she?" "To the left of the DJ, brown permed hair and a red mini dress." Richard quickly spotted the woman and had a sickening feeling in his stomach as he recognised her. It was Joanna. Richard had first met Joanna at the cross-dresser's boutique in the nearby city when he had been buying his breast forms. They had got talking which had resulted in an invitation to Joanna's house to meet other transvestites in the area. She was dedicated to cross-dressing, comfortable with her situation and happy to go out in public. If it hadn't been for her beard, she would have passed convincingly. However, five minutes after shaving, she looked as if she needed to do it again no matter how much foundation was used, so unless the lighting was bad, Joanna could be easily read. Richard swung Victoria around so her back was to Joanna, whilst glaring at Joanna with a go-away-and-leave-us-alone look. Victoria used her momentum to continue the swing and was looking once again at Joanna. "Richard, there's something odd about that woman." "Is there?" Richard again tried to get Victoria pointing the opposite way and again failed. "She's got a chin shadow; I mean a five o'clock shadow. She's a man!" Richard had been trying to turn their developing spin into a dance so he could waltz Victoria off to the other side of the dance floor, but with her last outburst she had become rigid, staring at Joanna, her eyes full of hatred. Pushing Richard away, she stalked across the hall to her prey, shouting "Get out of here you abomination to nature! You're a freak, get out of my sight!" she would have started to fight with the startled Joanna if it hadn't been for the timely intervention of one of the bouncers stationed to protect the DJ and his equipment. A second bouncer came over and between them they hustled Victoria out of the building via a back exit. Richard slowly followed, pausing only briefly to mutter an apology to a grief stricken Joanna. Outside the rain was falling steadily. One of the doormen had retrieved Victoria's coat from the cloakroom and had thrust it into her hands. The other was blocking the door, arms folded across his chest, angrily shouting. "We will not tolerate cat fighting in this establishment! You are barred for a month!" "What? You're barring me, but you're going to let that travesty stay?" Victoria shouted back, her eyes wide with the anger built up in her. "That LADY is a regular customer here. She has never caused us any problems and we are NOT going to discriminate against someone because of the way they choose to dress. If we did that, the club would be empty some nights." Richard went behind Victoria and putting both hands on her shoulders had to use most of his strength to steer her away from the verbal conflict and then took her coat and pushed her unresponsive arms into the sleeves. Putting his arm around her shoulder he felt her shake and could hear her crying. He pulled her close and grimly led her through the rain to the city centre. The Greyhound was a modern pub in the style of a nineteenth century coaching inn. Reproduction coaching horns were screwed to the walls which themselves were covered in wood patterned laminate, giving the impression of oak panelling. The beams across the roof were convincing, but identical to the mould they came out of. Although not expensive in real terms, the price of the drinks would not allow them to stop long. Richard seated Victoria in a comfortable sofa in a dark secluded part of the lounge before going to the bar for their usual drinks. When he returned, he put a glass in Victoria's hand and seated himself beside her. "How did the pictures you drew of me on Thursday come out?" He tried to break the ice with a safe topic, but it failed. "Crap! Why don't you just ask me what all that was about in Widget's, your dying to know aren't you?" "Well, I know you really upset someone back there and if those bouncers hadn't intervened, you would probably be in a cell on a charge of GBH. So yes I would like to know what was going on." "Well I don't want to talk about it!" Victoria snapped back. "But what had she done to you?" "SHE? SHE? She is no more a she than I'm Marlon Brando!" "Alright then, what had he done to upset you?" "Him Personally? Nothing! Oh! It's, it's just his type. I can't stand those... those transvestites or transsexuals or whatever they are!" Richard was feeling very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. It was far too close to home for his liking. But he couldn't reconcile the outright aggression Victoria was showing compared to the bright witty girl he knew. He also wondered if he pushed the point, it might help to answer the questions he had been asking himself that morning. "Um, they are just people who choose to dress in different ways. Surely there is nothing wrong with that. I remember you telling me that you had gone through a Goth phase last year." "It isn't just dressing up. They are selfish. They hurt others. My father...." She sighed. "It doesn't matter, Richard. I think I want to go back to the digs now. I'm ever so sorry I spoilt your evening." She picked up her coat and handbag and slowly walked to the door. Richard caught up with her and put her hand on his arm and escorted her back to the campus. As they were passing the SU, Richard pulled her in to the doorway. "Come and have something to help you sleep, Vicky." Richard emptied his wallet on to the bar and worked out he had just enough for a brandy. Picking up the single glass, he carried it across to Victoria. "Here you are Vicky, let that warm your heart." She picked up the glass and took a sip, grimacing as the fiery drink touched her tongue. "Where's yours?" "That's alright; I don't want one, the beer at the Greyhound was enough for me." Richard paused then looked Victoria in the eye. "At the Greyhound you started to say something about your father but stopped. I know your mother bought you up alone. I don't understand why your father would cause you to hate men who want to wear women's clothes." Victoria looked intently at her rapidly emptying glass then slowly, measuring each word, started to speak. "I never knew my father. He left or mother kicked him out when I was two years old. "I'm not sure I can continue to tell you this, Rich." She looked up at him, caught between the relief of not holding back the dark secret or the shame of her close friend knowing the shadow that had been over her life. Richard gripped her hand and looked her in the eye as she glanced up from the table. "It'll be alright, Vicky. How bad could it be?" "Bad, Richard. "When I was two, Mum found a bag of clothes in the attic, they were women's clothes. Apparently, there was a blazing row, Mum thought my father was seeing another woman and had brought her back to the house whilst Mum had taken me to Gran's. It turned out the clothes belonged to my father. It wasn't just that he liked to dress up either. Richard, my father is now called Gloria! "Mum rarely talks about him, she was really hurt. I think she may have forced him to leave. She certainly initiated the divorce proceedings. If she does refer to him it is never in a complementary fashion. "So because of his selfishness I grew up with only one parent. The worst thing was that one day somehow another child at school got to hear about it and that led to teasing and name calling; I was known as the girl with two mums or the girl whose dad had no balls and many other cruel things. That went on until I left school three years ago. I managed to keep it quiet at 6th form college and here." Victoria took a tissue from he bag to mop up the tears that had been freely running down her cheeks, washing her mascara with them. Richard took a deep breath. He had never considered the effects of cross-dressing on other people. He knew that people were uncomfortable around cross-dressers and had heard the verbal abuse that Joanna received when she was out, but he had never considered people close to him beyond the firm conviction that they should never know what he did. He turned his thoughts to Victoria and what she must have felt. "Oh Vicky! I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Listen; here are a couple of thoughts that occur to me. Firstly, whatever your father did, it is not your fault, no blame or shame should lie with you. Secondly, people these days have a much more tolerant attitude to people who are different, like the bouncer in the club tonight." Richard worried if what he was about to say would go down very well, but decided to say it anyway. "Vicky, have you ever considered what your father felt. How maybe he was vulnerable and could have done with some support from your mother? I... I think he was very brave to follow his desires regardless of the outcome." "Brave? He was a selfish bastard! He should have put his 'desires' aside and taken responsibility for his family." With that last comment Victoria stood, picked up her bag and headed slightly unsteadily to her room. Richard continued to sit at the empty table. Far from answering his questions, talking to Victoria about her prejudices had created more questions that needed answers. Was he selfish? Was he keeping Rebecca private to prevent hurting other people's feelings or because he was afraid of the humiliation of coming out? "I want to close up now. Would you mind leaving please?" Richard looked up at the steward and then looked at his watch and realised he had been staring at the table for half an hour. "Sorry, I'm off now." He answered and dragged himself back to his room. Chapter 6 Richard was woken by the chirping of his phone. "Hello? What time is it?" he mumbled. "Wake up sleepy head!" "Oh, it's you Vicky. What time is it?" "Eight o'clock. Want some breakfast on me?" "Do I have to move?" "Only as far as your door. I'm in the corridor!" Richard quickly looked around the room to make sure none of Rebecca's clothes were visible. Then he wrapped a sheet around himself, went to the door, unlocked it and returned to the bed. Victoria entered his room carrying a covered tray. "Hello Richard. Peace offering?" she said holding up the tray. "I'm really sorry about last night dear. I was horrible and must have embarrassed you terribly, both in the nightclub and in the SU. I'm sorry I was so short with you." "That's okay, you had your reasons." Richard replied dismissively. He was tempted to add "but don't take out hurts caused by one person on innocent strangers" but felt that that would be neither polite nor helpful. Victoria sat on the bed and put the tray between them. Removing the cloth she revealed a large pile of buttered toast and a teapot. "Do you have any milk?" "It's in the fridge in the shared kitchen. It has my name written on the carton." Victoria quickly returned with the milk carton. "Yuk, This milk is no good, its gone green!" Richard chuckled. "It's my new theft prevention technique." "I suppose making the fridge into a biohazard would stop people taking stuff from it, not very healthy though." "The milk is fine; I just added a little green food colouring to it! You can't tell once it's put into tea." Victoria sniffed the carton suspiciously, then poured some into Richard mug, but left her tea black. "I'm glad Jill doesn't know about your security measures..." "Why is that?" Richard asked suspiciously. "You're eating her butter! Hey, are you still OK to pose for me this afternoon?" "I guess so. Am I doing this gratis?" "I'll stand you beans on toast afterwards; how's that?" "I've no cash until Monday so I'll take what I can get, thanks." Richard drained his mug and brushed the toast crumbs onto the floor. "I'd better get myself dressed and get to work on my assignments, if I'm going to be stationary all afternoon. Come on out you go." "You want me to leave? Is there something I haven't already seen?" "All in the best possible taste, you said. Definitely not erotic you said." Discreetly re-wrapping himself in the sheet, Richard went over and held the door open for Victoria to leave. "See you late babe." "I'll get the room warmed up for you...I don't want you to suffer for my art!" Richard smiled as he closed the door. This was the Victoria he knew so well. Chapter 7 Richard went to Victoria's room early, hoping to cadge a sandwich, before getting down to the hard work of modelling. Unfortunately Victoria had already eaten, so as to get the room ready. Richard sat on her bed watching her move the furniture around to get the sitting chair in a position that the light from the window would fall in the right place and that Richard wouldn't be exposing himself to the student population. "Okay Richard, I'll wait in the corridor whilst you get changed again." Richard quickly stripped, folding his clothes neatly and leaving them on the bed. "I'm ready for you!" Victoria came back into the room and picked up her pad and pencils. "I thought you were getting some heat in here? I'm all goose bumpy." "Sorry Richard, the caretaker caught me borrowing the fan heater from the common room. Apparently the electrical system in this part of the building is a bit flaky, and the current the heater uses would pop the fuse or something. "Could you face me, feet apart and put your hands on your knees, please?" "But that displays everything!" "I know. That's the idea. Ah, can you try with your elbows out? That's great!" Victoria lightly drew some horizontal lines with a hard pencil where she wanted the feet, knees, hips shoulders and top of Richards head to appear on the paper, then intersected these with lines for his limbs and back. Switching to a softer pencil she started to give the resulting stick figure body. She continued working for a while and then looked at the piece. "No, no, no. It's all wrong again." Once again, everything was working fine except for the chest. More breasts! She decided that the image looked like one of the Lady Boys from the documentary last week. "What am I doing wrong?" she muttered to herself. She looked intently at Richard and then studied the drawing, talking to herself "I must put that shadow there, to get the bottom of the rib cage. Maybe I was a bit heavy on the nipples, but not that far out. I just don't know. Maybe time to go with the flow." Raising her voice she spoke to Richard. "Let's try a different pose. Turn to your right, lean back in the chair, put your left hand on your hip and the right behind your head. And cross your legs so I can't see your, um, tackle." She turned the page in her sketchbook and prepared to start again. To her pad she said quietly "Right drawing, if you want to come out like a woman, you'll jolly well be a gorgeous one!" She started once more, her mind empty of any preconceptions as to how the drawing should turn out. This time when the breasts started to emerge on the paper, she just carried on and let them come; A, B, C cup. Instead of short sharp strokes of the pencil to draw Richard's short hair, she let the pencil glide as it wanted, giving long flowing locks. The face took shape, it came out fairly accurately, although the lips were a little fuller and the eyes more defined with strong lines with thick lashes. The pose turned out to be somewhat erotic too. Thirty minutes of frantic scribbling later she rested and looked at the final result. Was it a good picture? Undoubtedly! Did it look like Richard? Well, it was recognisable as Richard, yes. But not as any but a couple of his friends had ever seen him. Victoria closed the sketchpad and put it on her desk. "I'm done! You can put your things back on again. I'll nip down to the kitchen to warm the grill and open the beans tin." Richard pulled his jeans on, forced the old sweatshirt over his head and finished getting dressed. He was just debating whether to join Victoria in the Kitchen or wait for her to return, when he noticed her pad. Looking out of the door to see that the corridor was empty, he picked it up and started leafing through the pages, admiring the watercolour landscapes and still life drawings of fruit, until he came to today's work. Victoria returned to the room fifteen minutes later, a plate in each hand. "Sorry it took so long Richard, I had to find the tin opener. Emma had stolen it... Richard?" The room was empty, she gasped as she saw her sketch pad open on the bed showing a picture of a nineteen forties pin up with Richard's face. Scrawled across the bottom of the page were the words "How did you know?" Although on her own, she shouted. "How dare he go through my book and deface it!" She stopped to wonder what the message meant. "How did I know what?" She looked at the drawing and looked at it again. Putting the plates on the floor, she grabbed a pencil and using firm strokes drew in a fringe coming down to just above the eyes. "Oh my Goodness!" On the other side of the campus Richard was in his room. He was sitting on the floor leaning against the door, sure his secret was out. It was a cruel way of telling him; to draw him as a blonde pin up as would have been seen on the side of an American bomber during the Second World War. He wondered how she had suppressed her hatred of transvestites long enough to do the drawing and how soon he would be exposed to the whole college community and worse his parents. He picked up his phone and dialled Joanna's number. "Hello?" "Joanna? Thank heavens. It's Richard. I need help. Victoria knows about Rebecca. I'm frightened that she is going to out me to the whole college. What am I going to do?" "Victoria? Is that the bitch that attacked me last night? Well you did sweet FA to stop her then, so I'm going to repay that favour. You can sort your own problems out. Goodbye!" "Joanna? Joanna!" Richard realised that the phone was dead. He pressed redial, but was immediately transferred to Joanna's voice mail. Angrily he threw the phone across the room. He closed his eyes that were squeezing out the tears. In his despair Richard tried to think. Could he face his tormentor? Could he face the jeers from all his fellow students once Victoria spread the word of his alter ego? Was he brave enough to do it on his own? What about his parents? His father had set his heart on Richard following him into his accountancy business and was looking forward to adding 'and son' to the company's name; his mother, the loving person, who kept asking when he was going to do the honourable thing and ask Victoria to marry him so she could have grandchildren. Could he face them and see the pain Victoria's revelations would cause? He shivered. Finally here were questions that he did know the answers to. Unfortunately in each case the answer was going to be no. He thought of the easy way out and wondered how he could accomplish it. Pills would be the most pain free method, but his small medicine cupboard only revealed eight Paracetemol tablets; not enough to finish the job. He could slit his wrists, but unlike Victoria who owned a vast range of dangerous cutting tools for her artwork, Richard could find nothing in his room sharp enough to do the job. He could jump, but the room was only on the first floor and the shrubs in the garden below would probably break his fall without doing lethal damage. The oven was in the kitchen; too public and, he realised, it was electric and not gas. He put his head back to take a deep breath and steady himself. As he did, he spied the industrial strength light fitting attached to the ceiling. Deciding to go out dressed, as he preferred, he pulled out the bag of Rebecca's clothes from the bottom of his wardrobe. He dressed quickly, putting on his little black dress and stiletto court shoes, regretting that he didn't have time to properly make himself up, making do with mascara and his reddest lipstick. He then took a pair of Rebecca's stockings and tied them together. He tied a noose in one end, the only knot he had learned how to tie in the Scouts many years before. Moving the chair to the middle of the room he stood on it, but realised that he could only just reach the light and that with the stretch of the nylon, would probably be left standing on the floor when he jumped. So he dragged the desk under the light fitting and put the chair on top of that. Gingerly he climbed up and stood there, just below the steel tube containing the light's wiring. He reached up as the tears trickled down, pushing the end of the stocking behind the pipe. He sniffed loudly but it didn't stop his sobbing. The door suffered a flurry of blows. "Richard! I need to speak to you, NOW!" The unmistakable tones of Victoria in an angry mood filled the corridor. Richard stood still, petrified. There was a pause, then quieter, she continued. "Richard, I know you're in there, I can hear you crying. Open the door!" A series of slower, louder blows indicated she was trying to break the door down. "Leave the door alone. I want to get my key money back and I'll lose it if you knock the door off its hinges." Why Richard was worried about his room deposit when he was about to take his own life he was never sure, but even as he said it, the doorframe gave up the fight and Victoria and Jill burst into the room together. In a glance, Victoria realised how he was dressed and she felt the muscles in her back and shoulders involuntarily contract, her heart pushing her blood pressure up. Then she took in the stocking tied around his neck and the chair stacked on the table. She put two and two together and as she made four, the colour drained from her face. She gulped to get control of herself, and then spoke carefully and calmly, but with ice in her voice, "Richard, you need to get down from there very carefully. Jill, I think it might be best if you waited outside for now and whatever you do, what you have seen in here is to remain a secret. Do you understand?" Jill nodded and went out, pulling the door shut behind her as best she could. Victoria walked over to the desk and put her hand up to take Richard's. "Careful dear, those shoes aren't really the best for climbing in." As Richard stepped back onto the desk, the chair slipped and fell to the floor with a loud crash. He looked at the end of the nylon noose, still in his hand, up at the ceiling and then at the fallen chair and swallowed hard. Victoria didn't speak again until he was safely on the ground. "Please take that, that ligature from around your neck, it makes me feel nervous." Richard refused to make eye contact with Victoria, but sheepishly opened up the knot and pulled the noose over his head carefully so as not to disturb his wig. Quietly he muttered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry", over and over again like a mantra. Still struggling to maintain her veneer of calm, Victoria spoke. "Come on Richard, we need to talk, for both our sakes." She took his hand and guided him over to the bed and pushed him until he sat. She picked up the chair from the wreckage on the floor, positioned it opposite and sat down. "Do you want to tell me about it?" Richard, staring at his knees, shook his head. "Well, I'll start then. I didn't know about her, about you, until after you left my room. I only drew the image of you as a woman, because on all the occasions I have tried to draw you, there was a distinctly, um, feminine appearance to my drawing. Your cryptic message confused me and it was only when I looked at the drawing again that I knew I had seen that woman before. After changing the hair on the drawing I recognised you. You were at the club on Friday night, weren't you?" Richard nodded his head slightly. "So, do you want to tell me about your side of this? Last night you asked me to think about it from my father's point of view. I can now see you were well qualified to give me that view yourself." The last sentence said with a distinct sneer. A croak came from Richard's dry mouth. He swallowed and started again. "I, I don't know where to start Victoria. Rebecca is the confident one, she always knows what to do, and what to say, but she seems to have deserted me today." Victoria's calm fa?ade slipped. "Rebecca? Who is Rebecca? Not content with shaming me with this get up, you've been two timing me as well!" Richard shook his head and then pointed to his clothes and wig. "No! I'm Rebecca. When I dress like this that is what I call myself." He paused, smoothing his dress over his knees while he tried to gather his thoughts. "I need to start at the beginning. That would probably have been when I was seven or eight years old. At that age I started getting bullied at school; it was almost as if I went around with a think-bubble over my head saying 'Bully Me'. Every day was a misery, get beaten up in the play ground, between lessons, in break; rarely anything too bad, just enough to cause a few tears, which is all that the bullies were after." Victoria joined Richard on the bed. "Didn't you ask a teacher or your parents for help?" "Looking back, that would have been the sensible thing to do. But when you're being bullied, you have, I suppose a sort of victim mentality. Don't make waves; try not to catch the attention of the bullies. If you tell then they will get even with you and make things worse for you. You really make yourself believe those things." Richard grimaced. "There was one time that a teacher, the headmistress got involved. It was when a boy pushed me over on the playing field, then, sitting astride me, he knelt on my arms and started stuffing my mouth full of grass. I couldn't push him off, the only thing I could do was use my mouth, so I bit him on the arm. That sorted that problem temporarily until his mother saw the teeth marks and phoned the school. I was called to the headmistress's office. I explained what had happened, but in her eyes I wasn't the hurt party. Who was in trouble? Who spent two days in detention? Me! "Secondary school was no better. Although most of the kids from my junior school went to other schools, it's a lot harder to loose a reputation without leaving town. It only takes one person to say 'That boy cries if you hit him.' and they will hit you just to find out if it's true." "But you could have fought back, couldn't you? Not been a target?" "Oh Victoria, if only life were that easy. I have no ability, um, no desire to fight. When I did try, everyone laughed at my attempts. 'He fights like a pansy!' they would say. "And it didn't do any good, for any pain I managed to inflict I would just get more back. The one time I nearly did some damage to my main protagonist, his big friends held me against the wall whilst he retaliated." Victoria looked her boyfriend in the eye and recognised his pain from her own miserable school days. She wanted to give him a hug and take all his pain away, but her lifelong prejudices wouldn't let her. Instead, she put her hand on Richard's stocking clad knee, momentarily pulling away as she felt the shear nylon, then touching more firmly and confidently. "Okay, I can see that you had a rough time at school, but I can't see the connection between bullying and dressing like this." Richard sighed. "I'm not sure I understand it. I think it is because of why I was bullied. I'm a sensitive person. I do cry a lot, I can control it better these days, but I used to. Boys see that as a sign of weakness and so attack it. A girl would just see that as normal and be supportive. I must have subconsciously realised that and longed for the support and care that girls give each other. I wanted to be accepted as normal and so I think the logic says 'Crying is normal for girls; I cry, so either I'm an abnormal boy or I should have been a girl.'" "You know Richard... or would you prefer it if I called you Rebecca?" "I...I don't mind Vicky." "Very well, I'll try.... You know Rebecca, I can almost understand that." "I only came to that conclusion a couple of years ago. At the time I was in despair. The cross-dressing thing started a few years later, but I'm sure it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been bullied. I don't remember the reason I first tried on Mum's clothes, but one day I was on my own in the house and I started looking through her chest of draws and the temptation to try some things on overwhelmed me. As I got dressed in her clothes, things sort of clicked into place and I felt, well I felt right, relaxed and calm; the stress of the bullying was swept away. Since then when the bullying got bad I would find a way of getting dressed, and would feel better." Victoria nodded and then frowned. Something didn't add up. "Hang on. I can understand you dressing for comfort when you were being bullied, but why are you still doing it? No one is bullying you now, are they?" Richard shook his head. "No. It has become something of an addiction or compulsion. I have to get dressed every so often or I become moody and depressed." "You stopped dressing shortly after we got together, didn't you?" Nodding, Richard added "Yes, I'd fallen in love with you and wanted to be a 'real' man for you. I packed all Rebecca's stuff up and put it in the storage room. I managed to keep it up for about a month." Richard didn't have Victoria's art training, so didn't realise how many muscles control the face. But as he looked up at her, he couldn't believe that she could display so many different emotions at the same time. There was sadness, anger, compassion, and hatred in equal measures. About the only sentiment he couldn't detect was joy. Deep in thought, she looked down at her hands for a long while, picking at a bit of nail polish that had got on to her finger. Richard nervously picked at the hem of his dress, waiting for her to say something. Eventually she broke the painful silence. "Look Richard, this is difficult to get my head around. I explained how I felt about... about people like you, last night. I feel betrayed by you. Dressed like that you make me feel uncomfortable, nauseous even. I think I still care for you and what you have said is starting to make me view this cross- dressing stuff from a different point of view, but I need to sit down and think. In the meantime, I will keep your secret if you want me to, so don't do anything silly, like hurting yourself. If you feel that way, call me. Please?" She got up, kissed her fingertips and touched them to Richard's mascara stained cheek, then turned and left the room. Richard heard voices in the corridor but not the words. The conversation got more heated and then it all stopped and there was silence. He didn't move; there was no reason to, so he just sat and breathed deeply, enjoying the cold air in his lungs. He had escaped death twice today, once by his own hand and once from Victoria. He had laid bare his soul to Victoria as well today, which was something he had never done before, and it felt good. Going to the sink for a glass of water, he saw his tear stained, mascara streaked face, but as he reached for a tissue to clean up there was a knock on the door. "Hello?" it was Jill's voice. "I borrowed some tools to fix your lock, may I come in please?" A hand came around the edge of the door waving a screwdriver. Jill's face appeared; for once her happy outlook was replaced by a look of concern. Richard smiled, sort of, at her. "Thanks Jill, can I just get changed first? It'll just take a couple of minutes." Jill took Richard's reply as an invitation to come into the room properly. "No need dear, you look fine as you are, just fix your makeup and you're all sorted." She became serious. "Look Richard, I am cool with you wanting to dress like this." Then her face lit up as she said "Maybe a little jealous of the dress, but definitely cool. Now let me look at this door. We made a bit of a mess of the frame, but I can sort that." She opened the toolbox and after removing the splinted piece of wood started to attack the frame with a hammer and chisel. "Sorry about the noise, but I have to let in a new piece of wood or it would have no strength." "Where did you learn to do that?" Richard could see she knew what she was about, although he had no practical ability at all. "Its amazing what you learn on an art foundation course. The sculpture lectures cover woodwork prior to letting us loose with the carving tools. Now come on Richard, make yourself pretty for me." Richard turned back to the mirror and removed the makeup. He looked across at Jill and wondered at her motivation for being here. She was working hard to repair the damage that she and Victoria had caused and so he felt he could trust her. She had certainly seemed genuine when assuring him that his dressing up wasn't a problem for her. Putting the desk and chair back where they belonged, he got out his mirror and arranged the make up on the desk in front of him. He worked quickly, letting Rebecca take over once more. Soon the smell of powerful wood glue was mingling with the smell of nail varnish. He brushed out the wig and made sure it was straight then after putting on his lipstick blew a kiss at his reflection in the mirror. "I need to let the glue dry for a bit before I can finish off." Jill was tightening a cramp holding the new piece of wood to the frame. She turned and looked at Richard and beamed a smile at him. "My, don't you polish up well. I have to say dear, that you do your make up better than a lot of women I know, possibly including me." Sitting in front of the mirror, Richard smiled at her compliment. Jill lay down on the bed, looking at the ceiling. "Look Rebecca, I have to be honest I'm worried about you, so I really came to keep you company for a bit, make sure you were OK. I'm just amazed and a bit annoyed that Vicky didn't stay with you." Richard smiled. "Thanks Jill. But the suicide watch can stand down now. My crisis is over." "That's good. I'm pretty much aware of what was going on, I was stood outside the door and heard what you said to Vicky." Richard shifted uneasily in his chair. That conversation had been for Victoria's ears only. In his concern he missed Jill's use of his fem- name. "I have to say this: You shouldn't feel guilty over what you are or how you like to dress. People will love you for you, not some bit of fabric you wear or some colouring you add to your face. Love has to be for the whole person not just the bits that are social acceptable or sexually stimulating." Richard nodded, wishing that the general public were as wise as Jill. "How come you have such a different perspective on life?" "Well, I guess it would be summed up with the expression 'People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones'" Richard looked at her, pondered and then said, "You want to be a man?" "No silly! I have no problem with my gender; it's my sexuality that is a bit confused, I like my toast buttered on both sides. I'm bi-sexual." "Oh, Jill! I'm so sorry, I didn't know." Jill picked up a book from Richard's bedside table and threw it. "You have just done what you accused everyone else of doing. It's not a disease and I'm quite happy, well I would be if Emma had told me at the start of term she already had a partner at home, instead of stringing me along for months." "Emma too? Does Vicky know?" "Good Lord No! She is far to square to even understand about sexuality, let alone condone anything remotely unusual! "Anyhow, that's enough about me. Let's get back to you. Where does Rebecca fit into the future of Richard Jackson?" Richard bit his lip whilst working out his reply. "I've been considering that a bit recently. Yesterday morning I tried to think through all the options. A mental pros and cons list if you like. I couldn't come to a conclusion because I lost out big time in every scenario. But things have changed a bit now. I imagine I have blown it with Vicky. She would never accept that I like dressing as Rebecca. I feel happier as Rebecca, more confident, stronger. I'm sure if I had been thinking as Rebecca instead of just wearing her dress earlier on, then I would never have contemplated hanging myself. I'm pretty certain I'm going to spend more time as Rebecca and introduce her to more of my friends." Jill beamed. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better Rebecca. What would you say to a quick drink in the SU? I could do with one." "I would love to join you, but two conditions. First, I will get changed. I faced Vicky today; the rest of the world can wait to be introduced to me tomorrow! Second, you have to buy, I'm completely strapped." "You're on." Chapter 8 Victoria sat on her bed. Her tears had now dried up leaving her eyes red and sore. She had some phone calls to make. For one, one of the telephone directory enquiry services had provided her with the number, but she put off calling it. Instead she picked up her mobile and selected a number from its directory. "Hello Mrs Jackson, this is Victoria speaking." Richard's mother smiled, though she was surprised to get the call. "Victoria! It's so nice to hear from you." "Mrs Jackson, I think you need to come over here and see Richard. He isn't himself and I'm worried about him doing something silly." "Whatever is the matter with the boy?" "I won't say over the phone, but it would be best if you came and saw him." "You are with him?" The note of panic was clear in her voice. "No, no I can't be, won't be! But someone else is." The tears started flowing again and she panicked and pressed the red button to end the call. She knew that she hadn't handled the call very well and hoped that Richard's mum would be able to forgive her for the way she had passed on the news. That was one call down, still one to go. The piece of paper with the number was on her knees and she slowly keyed in numbers that were blurred by her tears. The ringing tone repeated itself over and over again. "Hello, can I help you?" The voice meant nothing to Victoria. "Um yes, I hope so. Is that Gloria Townsend?" "Yes, speaking." It was a pleasant voice, slightly husky, but unmistakably feminine. "Did you used to be mar...ah, used to know Sheila Townsend?" "Yes." Her voice now had a distinct edge to it. "Um, I think I'm your daughter..." Chapter 9 Richard was heading back to his room, hand running lightly along the wall to counteract his slightly alcohol impaired balance. Nearing his room he looked up and was surprised to see his mother walking along the corridor towards him. "Richard, are you alright?" "Yes Mum, I'm fine now. What are you doing here?" "Victoria called, didn't make much sense, but was adamant we should come over straight away. Is she alright? She sounded very upset on the phone." "Mum, Dad; I need to talk to you. We can go to the common room. It's never used since they bought the new TV in the Student Union." Richard led the way to the communal sitting room off the entrance lobby of the dormitory block. He switched on the fluorescent lights that lit the cold room. They moved three of the oddments of comfortable chairs into a ring and seated themselves. Richard sat for a long time, partly trying to thing of the words that would cause his parents the least pain but mostly hoping that he would wake up and for the nightmare to be over. "Mum, Dad, I have done something I'm not proud of. "Really? Wonderful! When is the baby due?" His mother smiled. "Mu-um! It's not that. No, it's that for a long time I have enjoyed wearing women's clothes and..." Richard's father interrupted. "Richard, Son. Stop there; befo