Skipper - Chapter Four free porn video

Skipper, Chapter Four - By: Beverly Taff I woke the next morning to a knock on my door as Sissy brought me breakfast. I was feeling deadly. "God you look a mess. You'd better get yourself home and tidied up before Margaret sees you. She'll be here all afternoon doing my accounts." After finishing breakfast, I sneaked out to my car and drove home to clean up and choose a new outfit. This took most of the morning and after I was finally happy about my appearance, I carefully hung some extra outfits on the back coat hooks and made my way back to Sissy's. I met Margaret as she busied herself on the computer in Sissy's office. "Hello darling. My you don't look half bad. We can do a lot with you!" "Oh Sissy's already been talking has he." "We've got no secrets." I couldn't answer this. But I had chosen Sissy as my mother confessor so I had no right to object if she recruited other help. "Where is Sissy?" "She's in town at the bank." Right then Sissy returned with various boxes of supplies and she called for her chef to help her unload the car. I then realised that Sissy truly lived as a woman for she had obviously been to the bank and various shops for assorted supplies. She was fully dressed in a smart business two-piece and looked every inch a business lady about town. 'If Sissy could live and dress like that then why couldn't I?' I thought. I went to help them unload the supplies and remarked on the boxes of herbs and assorted spices. "I thought you'd have had these delivered." "We do usually with the veg and the meat but these are specialist items. Georgie the chef usually buys them himself but I had business in town so I killed two birds with one stone. I've also had my hair done. D'you like it?" I eyed the beautifully permed style enviously and resolved to grow my hair out so that I might one day enjoy the same delightful luxury. "Yes, it's lovely. The style sets of your cheekbones beautifully. How do you achieve such a beautiful feminine look?" "I've had plastic surgery on my face. I've had my jawbone and brow ridges chiseled away plus some other stuff. It was painful but worth it." I was forced to agree. Nobody who did not know of Sissy's history, would have ever realised she was a man. I was totally envious. "So," continued Sissy, "you'll have met Margaret then?" "Yes. She's just finishing your accounts." With that Margaret appeared in the doorway with the accounts book. "I've signed it off. That's one job done, now what about this second job?" "It's Beverly here," replied Sissy. "Really, she just needs a bit of fine tuning. You know, the really special little things that finish it off." "Well, that wig needs sorting," declared Margaret as she approached me to inspect me closely. "For a start it's much too young for you. Compare your style with Sissy's. See she has her hair styled in a fairly short perm. Long silky hair is for younger girls who are looking to attract a mate." I reflected on the same advice that the shop in London had given me and reluctantly conceded that I would never again pass as 'ram dressed as lamb'. My face had become 'middle aged'. Margaret sensed my depression and quickly reassured me. "Look it's not all bad. You really do have everything going for you. You're quite small and you're beard is almost non existent." As she spoke she gently brushed my cheeks and smiled knowingly. "In fact you don't have a beard do you?" I nodded agreement. Throughout my life I had spent many visits in various salons having my beard treated and my efforts now bore fruit. I had eliminated my beard long ago and sported a smooth soft hairless face. Margaret's fingers lingered on my face and she smiled. "Yes, you've made a real effort here. This is a major step." She took my fingers and pressed them to Sissy's cheek. I felt the lingering evidence of a beard. Sissy still had some work to do and she passed easily. There was really some hope for me. We chatted about options and Margaret gave me some advice. "Before you arrange to see Mrs Bodkin again, pretend that you have to do a couple of months as relief captain on your ship then go and have some surgery to feminise your skull. Then when you meet her, go dressed. I reckon if she cannot recognise you then neither will the girls. You can pretend to be Skipper's housekeeper. By the time they realise you are actually Skipper the hurdles of trust and affection will have been cleared." As we chatted, Margaret worked her magic on my makeup and hair. By evening I was fully convinced that I would 'pass' and she took me to another restaurant just to prove how good her technique was. I was obviously nervous at first, but soon realised that we truly passed as two women out for an evening meal. Some men showed an interest but it was obviously that of men in pursuit of women. When they realised that I was a 'middle aged lady' and Margaret was obviously not interested. Their stares moved to other women. As the evening progressed Margaret slowly opened up. I learned that she was a 'lipstick lesbian' who liked the company of trannies but refused to share their beds. I was comfortable with this. She had a passive lesbian partner called Sian, a Welsh girl who shared her life and they had no interest in any 'extra-marital affairs. I was also pleasantly surprised to learn that they had two 'turkey-baster' children by Sissy. I was introduced to them at Margaret's home and I was delighted to learn that they were a boy and a girl of the same ages as Jenny and Bea. I realised that there was quite a settled successful gay community in Poole and Bournemouth. I had obviously landed accidentally and very successfully 'on my feet' in choosing this location to settle. As I drove home alone to my cottage that night, I reflected that all was not lost with regard to Jennifer and Beatrice. The following morning I put my plans into action. Firstly, I arranged to undergo facial surgery and then arranged to do a couple of months summer relief work on my ship. My next step was to advise Mrs Bodkin that I was interested in caring for Jennifer and Beatrice but that I had to do two months as relief captain because my ship sharing partners Mac and Billy were 'house hunting'. I met the girls again and explained the delays about them moving in to live at my cottage. They were a little disappointed but put on a brave face. In Mrs Bodkins as company, I gave each of them a big hug and kissed them goodbye. I would see them again at the end of August and we would see about them coming to live at my house. They understood that I was a 'very busy man' and there might have to be a 'housekeeper' looking after them whilst I was away. Mac, Billy and Jesse were more than delighted to take a couple of months leave during the summer. Mac and Billy took a month's leave in the July then Jesse took a month in August. He brought his wife and child over to England from Manila and they examined some work opportunities for his wife who was a qualified nurse. After my surgery, I worked as the Captain and few questions were asked about the massive bruising to my face. If Supan, Jesse or Mac had any suspicions about my appearance they did not ask. Supan was pleased to be promoted to chief officer for a brief while and under my supervision, he practiced ship handling as he docked and undocked the ship during many visits to Amsterdam, le Havre, Cork and Poole. Yes, our ship now stopped every week in Poole as the trade expanded. Another aspect of this expansion was that we had to employ two young British boys as apprentices. The workload demanded an extra mate and these two young lads were being trained up. My two months as Captain, kept me in touch with the ship and the trade and I was happy to learn that she was still a happy ship. After my two months aboard my ship in recuperation and isolation as I recovered >from my surgery, I returned to my cottage and arranged to meet Mrs Bodkin again. When I met Sissy and Margaret they were astounded by my appearance. "Why Beverly!" squealed Margaret, "It's fantastic. I'm glad you used the same surgeon as Sissy! He's a bloody good man. Are you considering any more surgery?" "Not just yet. The hormones are working though. Look at these." Sissy gently brushed the backs of her fingers against my thick budding nipples and smiled as I gasped. "Mmm. They seem nice and sensitive and the areolas are nice and puffy. That's not bad for a couple of months. Still, plenty of time yet eh, any other changes?" "My butt's filling out. Feel my buns." Sissy gently pressed her fingers into my bum cheeks and savoured the soft ripe curve. Her eyes widened appreciatively. "Well. They're really nice and round and soft. You're going to have to watch those buns darling. It looks as though you're a 'pear'. "Lot's of working out for you darling. Big arses are such a bore fashion wise," giggled Margaret. "Why? D'you think my bum will grow too big," I gulped nervously. "Well it shouldn't really darling," observed Sissy as she thrust her own hips out to demonstrate. "Some excess fat around your butt is a good thing if you're a tranny. Unless your hips turn into a girl's, the extra fat should just compensate for the lack of pelvis. If you keep your waist trim, you might just develop some lovely girly curves." After finally checking out everything, Margaret squealed her delight. "My God Beverly, you've become a woman. It only needs your hair to grow out and we'll have you totally transitioned. God girl! You look fantastic!" "So what about Mrs Bodkin?" I asked "The best way is to meet her somewhere public like a restaurant," suggested Sissy, "She won't recognise you and then you can surprise her. If she's happy that your appearance isn't a parody of a woman then she shouldn't be offended. She thought it would be better if you had a sex change, this is the next best thing and only an intimate check will reveal the difference. Then you can live as a woman and pretend to be Skipper's housekeeper for the girls sake." "She wanted me to go the whole thing, SRS and everything. "But you don't want that do you?" asked Margaret. "No. I'll be happy just as I am, a lady with a secret. D'you think it would work with the girls? Me pretending to be the housekeeper." "It's worth a try," suggested Sissy, "If it does work you can kill both birds with one stone; caring for the girls and living as a woman." Thus reassured, we had another changeover session and Margaret experimented with makeup to find my best face. When she had finished I was stunned and stretched up to kiss her. "You're just a genius," I sobbed with happiness. Margaret returned the kiss and smiled. "It wasn't that hard darling. Your face is lovely and soft. There's not a whisker in sight. You've earned your looks. Now go and meet Mrs Bodkin and knock her dead." "I'll phone her tomorrow and re-arrange our appointment. I originally arranged to meet her at the cottage, but I'll take your advice and meet her at Jane's teahouse, you know, that old English place on the Broadway." "That's just perfect, just two genteel ladies meeting to have a nice cup of tea," smiled Margaret. We toasted to my hoped for success and spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. I had a delightful time because it was my first full-time excursion shopping openly as a lady. All my other previous purchases of ladies clothing had been secretive furtive visits to charity shops and thrift stores. I felt a truly liberated woman, for just as Margaret had predicted, nobody read me once. Not even the slightest hint of recognition! That evening was the happiest of my life. I had spent virtually the whole day dressed in public and savoured all the delightful little feminine joys that had for years been denied me. I slept the sleep of the righteous and woke to find myself more than ready to meet Mrs Bodkin. I dressed in my most stylish two-piece suit and spent over two hours preparing myself. When I felt ready, I stopped by at Sissy's and she checked me over. Whether it was her tact or my success I'll never know, but Sissy just gave me a perfunctory glance and nodded her satisfaction. "That's just perfect Beverly. Now go and knock her dead." I had an hour to kill, so I took a tour of the shops to test my confidence. I met with no obvious 'looks' or smirks, so I presumed I had passed. One thirty pm found me sitting in Jane's Teahouse sipping my tea and reading a paper as I waited. It was a quiet midweek day and the teahouse was virtually empty. Only one other table was occupied and the occupants did not give me a second glance as I chose my table near the back wall so as to view the whole caf?. I could hardly contain myself when I saw Mrs Bodkin arrive at one forty five in anticipation of our two o'clock meeting. Obviously, she had also presumed to try and gain some sort of advantage by choosing her spot. This did not worry me, my main objective was to see if she recognised me. The other occupant's left and to my delight, the caf? was now empty except for the two of us. She ordered a pot of tea for two then took out a file and started annotating it so I just sat and watched for a few minutes. Then after ensuring that she had not noticed me, I got up to leave. As I passed her table I 'accidentally' allowed my handbag to catch her elbow and knock the file >from her table. "Oh I'm terribly sorry," I apologised softly as I bent to recover the scattered file. "Oh that's alright," she smiled kindly as I handed it to her. She was a rather plump woman and would probably have had difficulty bending to recover the papers anyway. She was obviously thankful that I had shown the good manners to rectify my error. "There's nothing damaged. I'm awfully sorry. Some of the pages might be muddled up. I'm so sorry." I smiled again and made definite eye contact but she showed not the slightest sign of recognition. With that I left. My next ploy was to wait for a few moments and return to the caf?. To my delight, it was still empty but for Mr's Bodkin and I made a beeline for her table. She looked up questioningly and smiled. I smiled back. "Are you meeting someone?" "Uh yes. Is there anything you want?" "Would his name be Skipper?" I asked very softly. She stared hard into my face but still showed no recognition. I smiled again and took the other seat as I spoke very softly. "Yes. It's me Mrs Bodkin, Skipper. If you prefer though, you may call me Miss Beverly or just Beverly." Her face was a picture. The pen hung frozen in her fingers as she gaped stupidly. I continued smiling softly to put her at her ease and slowly her startled look started to grow laughter lines. The lines softened to a smile and she shook her head slowly as her eyes started to glisten with soft dewy tears. "Good gracious me! Have you undergone a sex change just to put two little girls right?" "Uuhh, not quite. I'm not that philanthropical. I've undergone surgery to put myself at peace." Her eyes squinted narrowly. "What d'you mean?" "Well, I told you quite truthfully that I wanted to live as a woman. I was quite honest and transparent about that. I did not say I wanted to be a woman. I was just considering that. For now I've decided to remain male. However, I am going to live as a woman." "But -, but -, you look like a woman! I mean -, your face, your shape, everything," she gasped, in a stage whisper. "I should think that would be obvious. If I'm going to live as a woman, I will obviously have to look like a woman. I do not want to invite abuse and ridicule. I'm not a large man so I cannot protect myself from physical assault, but my slight stature perfectly suites my chosen life style. And thank you for the unwitting compliment." "Which one?" she asked. "Your utter failure to recognise me as a man when I accidentally bumped your file onto the floor and your total acceptance of me as a woman." "Well you look like a woman. I'm stunned. Stand up, let me look at you." I stood up gracefully and made my way to the lavatory. When I returned she studied my approach and slowly shook her head. "My God! You are a woman. Is that how you intend to live?" "Yes." "So what about Jenny and Bea?" asked Mrs Bodkin. "I can pretend that I am Skipper's new housekeeper. Once they are totally accustomed to me and feel utterly safe, perhaps we can somehow enlighten them." "I'm not sure. I'll have to run that past the child placement board at the social services." "And," I interjected. "Well I'm not sure what the outcome would be." "Wel, it's up to you. I made no secrets about where my life was going. I'll miss not seeing the girls but if that's how it's to be, that's how it's to be." "No, no. Don't be too hasty, the placement board is not as narrow minded as you think. Things have come a long way since your day." "Well it's up to you then isn't it. I am what I am, to quote a famous song." "Yes. That's the gay anthem isn't it?" "In part, yes, but it's true for trannies as well. There's not much I can do about my transvestism." "Point taken but there's a lot you can do to argue your case." "Like what?" "Well for example, would living as you do now, make you a happier, more contented person?" "That's a stupid question. Of course it would. Isn't it obvious?" "Well that's an argument we can use. If you're a happy contented person, the girls will be entering a happy contented environment. That's a big plus." "Yes but will the girls be happy if or when they discover that Skipper is now Beverly." "Beverly! Is that your new name?" "It's always been my femme name." "Femme name?" "Yes, most transvestites like to have a feminine name. It's a bit incongruous to go out dressed and have somebody call you Jack or John." "So yours is Beverly." "Yes." "Gosh I'm learning more about this transvestism thing every time we meet." "I've got no secrets. Anything else you need to know, and I'll try and answer." "Well not for now. What I've got to do now is put together a case for you." "Huh. It'll be a pretty weak one. Anyway, I'm surprised you feel the need to advocate for me. You're on a bit of a loser aren't you?" "I'm thinking only of the girls' happiness. I've grown to trust you. Most people I've met have expressed good opinions of you and one has even offered a reference." "My God! Who's that?" "The young lady who drove down to Devon with you, when the girls met their grandmother." I nearly spilt my tea as I almost choked with surprise. "What! You mean that pushy little madam who invaded my hotel room?" "The very same, she speaks quite highly of you and declares her belief that you are definitely not a pedophile." "How would she bloody know? She only met me for two days." "She had two things going for her. She's a highly qualified psychiatrist and she's got a woman's intuition." "Huh. Those are two qualities I have grave doubts about. As a kid psychiatrists almost broke me and as a man I've usually found most women to be superficial." "Well that's understandable, but we're not here to discuss any prejudices or reservations you might have. Anyway, you're a woman now. How do you find women from this side of the fence?" "Touch?! I've only been a pseudo woman for a few weeks so I'm like a child learning new social skills." "What d'you think of us so far." "Women are much more supportive. I like that." "Gosh have you made new female friends already?" "Not exactly, I've made three new friends but one's a heterosexual tranny like I am, who lives alone. The other two are a lovely lesbian couple who have helped me through my transition. They've actually each got a child, a boy and a girl. The tranny is the father to both children. Sorry if I haven't found any 'normal' girls yet." This revelation did not cause Mrs Bodkin to flinch one iota. It was obvious she met all sorts in her job as a senior child placement officer. "Well at least you're making friends and putting down roots. That's another point in your favour." "What! You call a lonely old tranny and two lesbians 'putting down roots?" "Friends are friends, and if those lesbians have got children then they might make it easier for Jenny and Bea to cross over any hurdles about your transvestism." "Well that's true. They're about the same age as Jenny and Bea." "See. That's four good points in your favour already." "This is getting surreal. I mean two turkey baster kids by an old tranny to a lesbian couple. I can swallow that but you surprise me." "Believe me," chuckled Mrs Bodkin, "things have moved on. The sexuality of the parents is no longer an issue these days. It's the character of the parents that matters. The important thing is that the children are happy and settled. Children need love, security and certainty in their lives. You've got plenty of that to offer." "I reflected that I certainly liked the girls and I had security to offer but as to certainty, well forty odd years at sea had taught me never to be certain about anything." "Right then, lets get to work. It's going to be a long afternoon. These forms take forever and there's pages and pages to get through." Forms I was used to. These days, shipmasters were inundated with forms. We started into the forms whilst the tea just kept coming and by four o'clock, Mrs Bodkin was satisfied. "Good. See, that wasn't too painful was it?" "They want to know an awful lo," I observed. "You can't blame them. These are kids lives were dealing with here. You already know how important that can be." I nodded reflectively. 'If there had been this much concern and as much liberality when I was a child, things would certainly have been a little easier.' I even felt a little jealous of the girls. Nobody had ever taken this much care when I was flung into the pit. With the paperwork complete, Mrs Bodkin and I parted amicably. I could only wait now until the interview panel got their claws into me. It was not long coming. The letter with the appointment date landed on my mat that following Friday. The date was set for Tuesday. I spent the interim weekend imagining every possible question I could but eventually I concluded that all I could do was answer the questions honestly. I drove down to Devon on the Monday ready for the ten o'clock Tuesday hearing. The nature of the panel surprised me slightly. The judge was a woman as were most of the social services staff. The only men were a psychiatrist and somebody from the home office concerning the adoption in Iran. The judge opened by asking me why I had chosen not to be represented by a barrister. I answered that I had not realised I could and anyway, it was immaterial. A Barrister could not answer any questions more truthfully than I and I stood or fell by the truth. "You do realise that this is a very unusual case don't you?" observed the judge. "Yes, of course. It's been halfway around the world." "Did you perceive any danger to your ship when you rescued them?" "I couldn't see any dangers. There were no fast boats or anything visible. But the risks were very real. Piracy is a very real danger in those waters." "Nevertheless, you risked a possible ambush." "Yes." "Did you consider your crew?" "Yes. We had a long discussion about it as the ship slowed down and circled the life raft." "Wouldn't that put you in breach of Maritime Law, to endanger your crew?" "Yes." "But you still went ahead." "Yes." "Why?" "They faced certain death. Their life raft was sinking. Their death was certain. Ours wasn't. I simply took a chance." "And that is all it boils down to. You had no other motivation." "I don't follow you." "Two blond females in a boat, that's a very attractive catch." "And a very attractive bait we all feared it might have been a trap, an ambush." "But still you stopped. What other factors caused you to risk stopping?" "We were armed to the teeth. Heavy machine guns, assault riffles, even a pod of shoulder launched stinger missile." "Good gracious, were you expecting a war or something?" "It is a war out there. To the best of my knowledge that war killed the girls parents and destroyed or took their yacht. Nobody knows." "And these weapons, are they legal?" "Yes. A ship has every right to defend itself against piracy." "It still seems a bit over the top." "Pirates out there are known to use high speed patrol craft with artillery and guided missiles. Things have moved on since Bluebeard's day." "Yes so it seems. Then after rescuing the girls, what did you do." "Took them to Iran, that was our lawful destination." "And." "Nobody wanted to know. The girls had no papers and not a single consul or diplomatic officer seemed interested. The Iranian Judge suggested I take them back to South Africa." "But you can tell the girls are English. Their accents are clearly English." "They were mute at that time. The Iranian doctor said it was the shock and trauma." The judge turned to the psychiatrist who confirmed that this was the case. He passed a letter from the Iranian authorities to the judge and briefly explained the pathology. She read it and shook her head. "And they wouldn't say a word." "No m'lady," answered the psychiatrist. "So you took the two mute girls back to South Africa." "It's the law," I replied, "if the Iranian authorities weren't prepared to accept them they reverted to my care. I was stuck with them until or unless, a government somewhere accepted them onto their shores." "That seems a bit harsh." "It's the law. I don't make the law. Survivors can be treated just the same as refugees or stowaways if they have no certain identity." She gave me long hard look as though searching for some sign of cynicism. I just shrugged and held my palms out. She got the message for she had obviously read up on maritime law. "Then what happened?" "In South Africa, a religious charity offered to take care of them. This was enough to convince the authorities that the girls could be accepted into their country. They were taken away by some nuns and I thought they were finally safe and would be properly cared for." "So what happened next?" "This is all in the reports. Why are you asking me?" "This is a hearing, every thing has to be heard. Carry on." I shrugged again and resumed talking. The next trip, six weeks later we were two days out of Durban. The girls suddenly turned up during the forenoon watch. They had been badly beaten and suffered from lots of cuts and bruises." The judge turned to the home office man who handed out copies of my old photos to everybody. The psychiatrist studied them and declared that they were acceptable as evidence of severe beatings. The pedantic bastard however declared that the photos did not confirm the identities of the abused bodies simply that the bruises were indicative of some violent beatings. I shook my head in disbelief but the judge declared that it was reasonable to suppose that these were photos of the girl's bodies. For a moment, I wanted to scream but I squeezed my thumbnail nail into my forefinger and asked to see the photos again. It took me a moment to realise that it was obvious that the photos had been taken in the tropical sunlight on the bridge of my ship. By a happy accident, one of the larger general photos of the children's bruised legs arms and upper bodies, showed the ship's convoy name board in the background below the funnel. This certainly identified the photos as having been taken on my ship. I then asked how many children were likely to be traveling between Durban and Iran at the time those photos were taken. The photos were accordingly entered as evidence. The judge smiled a little smile at the psychiatrist's discomfort but I was beyond caring. All I could do was continue telling the truth. The hearing droned on through the morning as all the facts of the case were dragged out and the judge adjourned for lunch. I was eating a sandwich alone in the caf? when Mrs Bodkins joined me. "You're doing well. You've demonstrated that you care and that you're compassionate." "And I've demonstrated that I'm a raging tranny. Perhaps I should have dressed as a man." "No. You've made a clear statement about your lifestyle. It's going to be examined in detail this afternoon anyway. How do you feel?" "Scared." "Don't be. They can only refuse you custody of the girls. Transvestism isn't illegal." I sipped my tea nervously as Mrs Bodkin studied yet more documents then we were called in again. "The afternoon was painful for me. I described my whole life style and explained my ambitions, where I was headed and why. Two psychiatrists stood up and gave umpteen medical opinions about different aspects of transvestism, some of them accurate, some of them, from where I stood anyway, totally off the mark. The judge listened intently and after every medical opinion, she asked me what I thought and how this or that aspect affected me. I answered as best I could where I could and just lived in hope. Sometimes I agreed with the doctors, sometimes I was forced to disagree. Sadly, I had no hard evidence to back my observations up. Mostly they were just feelings and experiences that I had garnished through a long life behind the mirror. By four o'clock I was exhausted and emotionally drained. As I stumbled from the courtroom, I wobbled uncertainly to the lavatories where I simply collapsed on a toiled seat and wept. "Was there no bloody end to it all?" I wondered. The next morning, I was not required. The lady judge interviewed Jenny and Bea for over two hours both separately and together. At one stage, even the social workers and the doctors were excluded. I had no idea what transpired but simply had to sit and worry in case I was called to answer any question or confirm some fact. Mrs Bodkin emerged at lunchtime with a serious expression. I felt a cold pit in my stomach. "Well?" "I can't tell. The judge -, well she's playing things close to her chest." "Have you spoken to the girls?" I begged. "Yes. They're your best cards. They've made it abundantly clear that they want to live with 'Skipper'". "But of course I'm no longer Skipper." "She's bound to take you up about that. It's the elephant in the room. How will the girls react to you when they discover who you are? Prepare yourself for a grilling this afternoon." And a grilling it was. "How do you think the girls will react if and when they realise who you are?" "I don't know. I can only hope they'll have learnt to be compassionate enough to try and understand." "But they're only young girls. Don't you think it will be a cruel discovery?" "I can't say. Perhaps it might." "Well I cant just deal in maybes and might's, I have to go on facts and reality." "My life is a reality. My transvestism is a fact. I have to live with it and deal with it as well." "That's a selfish viewpoint. I'm thinking of the girls." I had to think hard for a moment and the best reply I could think of was that if I was a happy settled individual living as I now was, I would hopefully provide a happy settled environment for the girls. At least the girls would start off going somewhere they liked. For a few weeks I might appear to be an absentee father but gradually they might begin to realise that Beverly, Skippers housekeeper, was every bit as caring and compassionate as Skipper. Then, with the advice and help of Mrs Bodkin, we might be able to break the news to them gently. "Do you think Mrs Bodkin is properly qualified to do that?" asked the judge ."I believe she has demonstrated ample evidence of compassion and insight towards the girls and towards my transvestism. I trust her and I believe the girls trust her. She's compassionate and caring and everybody seems to be telling me that this is what the girls need." For the first time the judge smiled. My heart missed a beat but the next question brought me right back to earth. "What happens if they declare that they prefer Skipper to Beverly and ask to have him back?" I hesitated nervously. I hadn't anticipated this and I stood there dumb for long moments as I ran the scenario through my mind. Then I thought of Dustin Hoffman in the film where he played a woman. "I just cant say what would happen, but I would be able to tell them in all honesty that Skipper was still there, - in my head-, Skipper had never really left them. That would perhaps reassure them. I could also demonstrate that I had never physically left them." "Could you say that you had not betrayed them?" "I've been betraying my self to my self for fifty odd years. I can only use the tried and tested argument of Shakespeare. 'To thine own self be true, and it shall follow as night unto day that thou can't be false to others." Again she smiled and it appeared she was no longer gunning for me. The faintest flicker of hope began to grow in me. "Do you think you're being selfish by putting your needs before the girls." "I think living a lie and pretending to like living as a man would be more harmful. The lie causes me stress and makes me unhappy. At least I am being honest, I've even been honest enough to come here as a woman. I'm not going to live a lie any more." "What if the girls think your being selfish?" "I can't speak for the girls. I don't know." "Well what if the girls see you naked and realise the lie?" "I've lived for forty years without anybody seeing me naked. I would hope I could continue like that. I was always discreet with my cross- dressing and I never used it to deceive anybody." "And now?" "I'm told by everybody that I now pass as a woman. If I were taking the girls anywhere, everybody would assume it's just an elderly lady, possibly a grandmother, taking her granddaughters out." "Well, I will confess, you certainly do 'pass' as you call it, for a woman. I wouldn't have realised that you were a man." I waited for the next question but none came. The judge dismissed me and invited the two doctors and Mrs Bodkin into her chambers. I was left to sit nervously in the public areas outside the courtroom. I sat there staring at the floor until three pairs of shoes appeared. Sissy, Margaret and Sian had come to offer me support. "How's it gone?" asked Sissy. "I just don't know. She's talking to the doctors and Mrs Bodkin." "She?" asked Margaret. "Yeah, she's some lady judge. Margaret and Sian went to the hearing lists and studied them. They came back smiling. "You've been lucky," declared Sian. "Why?" "That's Judge Porter, Elizabeth Porter." "And?" I pressed. "She's gay. She hasn't come out yet, but we've seen her up in Birmingham at a gay club and she was so far down her partner's throat, that she'd have tickled her clitty. "You what!" I almost screeched, "She's -!" Fortunately Sissy managed to put her hand over my face and stop me accidentally spreading the word all over the public areas. Fortunately there was nobody else outside my particular court room so nobody saw the pantomime. "Quiet! You silly moo!" urged Margaret. "We only found out by accident. She very, very discreet, but you've got an ally in her." "If she's that discreet, how did you find out?" "We were driving back from Birmingham that same evening. It was early Sunday morning and this woman was stuck by the roadside. It was Elizabeth Porter and the woman >from the club was beside her in the car. It had broken down and so had their mobile phone. They were in a right fix and really pissed off. Well Sian's pretty handy with cars and she got it going, but not before Miss Porter and her friend had recognised us from the club. "What did she do?" "Nothing she could do. We were still a long way from Dorset and she had even further to go to Devon so it was all totally anonymous. She obviously plays a long way from home to avoid any publicity and like we said, she's very discreet! She thanked us for our help and drove off. We still didn't know she was a judge but a few days later a bouquet of flowers arrived with an anonymous thank-you note. God knows how she discovered our address, but judges have got lots of power and she probably traced our car registration. We thought no more about it until we saw her at the club a couple of months later with the same partner. She came on to us to thank us again and they joined us at our table. We know the club owner and we always get a discreet seat down the side wall away from the bar It's dark but with a good view of the stage and the dance floor. She still doesn't know where we live and she doesn't know that we know she's a judge. We were in Exeter one day and recognised her in her robes, getting out of the judicial car." I shuddered nervously. "Look, you'd better not let her see you here. It might damage my case." "Don't worry. We're off. Meet you in the teahouse on the corner. It's called the Copper Kettle, you can't miss it. Bye!" With that, they were gone and I was back on my own. The judge seemed to take an age but eventually, I was called in. The upshot was, that the judge wanted to make some more consultations and I was left still hanging. It was Friday when I finally received a letter and a covering phone call requiring me to attend the next Tuesday; one week to the day since the hearing and the longest week of my life. The upshot was that I was allowed to have custody of the girls but there was a whole string of qualifiers. The hardest one being that the girls must be made aware of my 'condition' in less than twelve months. 'Twelve months, I smiled inwardly. It would be nearer two months, probably less. I had no intentions of deceiving them for a year. They would really begin to feel betrayed if they thought 'Skipper' had abandoned them for a year. The other riders concerned the many Social Services requirements attached to the care order. Mrs Bodkin would be back and forth between Devon and Dorset like a fiddler's elbow. Still I was glad it was she. Jenny and Bea knew her and trusted her. I left the court a relieved but very nervous woman. The stress of the previous months had taken my mind off my own forebodings. Would I make a good carer? Would I cope with all the additional family and domestic stuff? Would the girls accept Beverly? End of Chapter Four - To Be Continued