Skipper - Chapter Fourteen free porn video

Skipper, Chapter 14 - By: Beverly Taff We arrived outside the school a little early so we settled down in the Land rover and fell to chatting generally. Firstly we chatted about the set-up at the cottage. "You can sleep with the girls in their study any time you wish if you miss their company." "I probably will," she replied ruefully. "It's difficult to be separated from them now I have them back. I feel so guilty about having to abandon them." "Having to abandon them?" I remarked curiously. "Well, yes. We were in sight of the Isle of Socotra when we were attacked. We made the girls hide in the life raft and cast it adrift before the attackers got too near. If the pirates let us go, we could recover them again. We decided that because we were in the busy shipping lanes, a ship would be bound to spot the life raft with the girls onboard if we were taken away." "Well you were right on that count but a bit flawed in your other reasoning." "Why's that?" asked Angela. "Well those are dangerously pirated waters. No ship would ordinarily stop to investigate a life raft. They would have suspected a trap." "But surely, a warship or something, we thought -," "Well not really my love. the warships are usually going to the Persian Gulf and they ordinarily pass further north than Socotra close to the Arabian shore. There are several other factors as well." "Go on," pressed Angela. "Well firstly, a ship can't just stop like that. When they're at sea under way, they're using heavy, black, cheap fuel oil. This needs to be heated and injected into a hot diesel engine, which is OK when the engine is hot and thumping away at normal speed. When a ship wants to stop and enter port, they change over to a lighter ordinary diesel that burns better at lower temperatures. The engine cools slightly when it stops and starts constantly for manoeuvring into port. This fuel changeover can take some time and the ship is vulnerable when it slows down. It can't just dash away like a speedboat if trouble appears. It can take an hour for even a small modest ship to reach full speed again. Those big super-tankers might take as much as a day to squeeze the final knot from say thirteen to fourteen knots. All ships are vulnerable if they're not protected. They're sitting ducks for pirates. That's why ships would be loath to stop and make a big fat target of themselves. What sort of boat did your kidnappers have?" "It was a fast patrol craft like the old German 'E' boats. It was very fast and had a gun mounted on the front." "Exactly," I replied, "they mean business." Without realising it, I had told Angela a hell of a lot more than I should have. But strangely, my remarks also served to bring her out a little bit. She actually described the kidnap, which she had never mentioned in all the time since she had been rescued. As I listened to her account I suddenly realised I was getting information that doctors and politicians and military men had been desperately seeking for their various remedial purposes. Angela was a major witness in a long established terrorist organisation that had been extorting just about anybody and everybody who had come within their sphere of control. As we sat outside the school in the Land rover, I silently cursed myself for not having some sort of tape recorder handy. As my mind wandered, she suddenly caught me off guard. "Do you know how my children were rescued?" "Yes," I replied absentmindedly, as images of that fateful day returned to my thoughts. "Oh Please, tell me, tell me!" For a moment my mind froze as I recovered my wits and quickly prepared a true account without revealing my part. "Uuhm -, well, apparently, their raft was spotted by a modest sized cargo ship that was travelling from South Africa to Iran. It saw them and stopped to pick them up." "So why did that one stop and none of the others?" I pretended ignorance because I was afraid to give too much away. It was getting too close to the bone. "I don't know. They say the ship was armed to the teeth; guns and rockets and all sorts of stuff and it was well able to defend itself." "Well I'd like to meet the captain of that ship. He saved my girl's lives." I felt a cold chill growing in my belly. If Angela and her daughters ever got talking about the girl's rescue, I was sunk, outed, exposed, done for! To make matters worse, the girls appeared in the school gateway and immediately galloped excitedly towards us. Angela flung open the car door and dashed down the pavement to meet them. After ecstatic hugs all around, she and the four children returned to the Land rover where I had started the engine in anticipation. They clambered in and fell to chattering about the school day so I relaxed. Talk of the rescue did not arise and our previous conversation died a natural death. Apparently, the girls were still repressing the experience. We arrived back at the cottage and the children tumbled out after agreeing to meet in the stables. Angela and I took the shopping in then I suggested that we go and watch the girls riding. Within minutes all four children were dressed in their working jodhpurs and blouses as they saddled their horses to go trekking for an hour or so. As they walked their horses out of the yard and up the bridle path, Angela turned to me. "It's weird to see Martin dressed in girl's riding clothes. His jodhpurs have a side fastening zip instead of a fly and was that a camisole he had on under his blouse?" "Yes. It had bootlace shoulder straps didn't it?" I replied. "That's what drew my attention to it. He really does live as a girl then." "In the privacy of the cottage, yes, and we normally refer to her as she at home. She answers to the name Martina." "Will she be changing into a frock later then?" pressed Angela. "Oh yes! Definitely, she's more comfortable in a frock and her sisters are unconcerned about it. They take her transexualism or transvestism for granted." "I never realised children could be so adaptable; and at such a young age." "Well we explained the situation to the girls and they seemed to take it in their stride. The younger you tell them the less it seems to faze them. Martin is now Martina as far as they are concerned. Sandie explained it all to them and they accepted what Sandie told them. Talking of Sandie, where is she?" I turned to look for her and saw her emerging from the stables with Sian and Sylvia. She had been discussing stabling a pony for Sandie's daughter Mary. We met and assembled in the Barn Conversion where Sian prepared supper as we chatted. The clatter of sixteen hooves on the flagstones in the yard, announced the return of the girls so Angela and I helped them unsaddle the ponies while Sian continued cooking. In the stables Angela admired the ponies as she turned to me. "You've been really kind to them." "What? The ponies you mean." "No, my girls silly! Though I see these ponies are well looked after. What I mean though is how many little girls each get to own their own ponies?" "Wel, they needed something after their gran passed on. What with that and everything else they were damned near shot to hell when they came to me." "You must have been very brave to take them on," observed Angela, "what on earth prompted you to take on two young girls at your age?" "Hey steady on I'm not yet sixty." "Exactly, I would have thought that social services would have placed them with a much younger family, a childless couple in their thirties or something." "They're much better off here. They want for nothing and they get a lot of loving." "I won't deny that. It's obvious the girls adore you. It just seems strange that's all." "Well basically, the Social Worker, Mrs Bodkin was having trouble finding a suitable couple who would take on two very unsettled little girls with serious problems after their experiences. When she met me and saw my set up, she decided to give me a whirl. Things just fell into place after that." "Well they've landed really lucky here. I can only say thank you. You've done a marvellous job with them." "Well in truth I think I've had the better side of the bargain. They've brought me a lot of pleasure as well." With that the girls returned and declared they were going for a bath. They needed one too. They were covered in mud and horse dung from riding and then cleaning down their charges. "I know," squealed Chenille, "let's all go and shower in Aunty Beverly's big bath. There's room for everybody in there." "Ooohh! Can we mummy?" begged Jennifer. Angela turned to me looking askance. "What about Martina?" She whispered urgently. I shrugged my shoulders. It was difficult to suddenly make an issue of Martina's gender. The children had never been concerned about it before. It would be unfair to suddenly make it an issue now. "They do everything else together. Why not, they're still only children." Angela smiled. Martina was after all the youngest and still not quite ten. She turned to Jennifer and nodded. "OK then, but don't make a mess and don't spill any water onto the floor. Keep the shower door shut!" "Aunty Beverly will have to shampoo our hair," protested Beatrice, "She doesn't get soap in our eyes." "Your call Bev," grinned Angela. There was no escape for me and I had to agree. It would have struck the girls as strange if I refused, seeing as I usually shampooed Jenny and Bea's hair after they had been riding. Fortunately, Angela did not want to miss any fun so she inadvertently acted as an unwitting chaperone. After that day it was to become a regular event until Chenille and Jennifer became self-conscious about their breasts and other sexual attributes. That first night however, things went smoothly without any complications and Angela admitted her surprise that the Jenny and Bea showed little interest in Martina's form despite her having some extra bits. They were actually more interested in shampooing Martina's soft curls and then setting them in rollers before drying them as they all gathered in the kitchen beside the Aga stove. Once dry they all scampered up to the bedroom and slipped on their all- in-ones, and long flowing nightdresses then returned to enjoy supper with the adults around the dining room table. I noticed that Angela just could not take her eyes off Martina as the little transvestite savoured the long silky nightdress that Beatrice had lent her. After we had finished supper, we all retired to the drawing room to watch a video. I noticed Angela inviting Martina to sit on her lap and the 'girl' eagerly accepted her invitation. There she kept hugging and kissing Martina as the 'boy- girl' savoured the extra attention. Every time a scary bit appeared on the video, Martina would give a little squeak as if to signal that she wanted another hug. Angela happily responded until even Beatrice noticed the extra attention and slid off the settee to go and share Angela's lap with Martina. As the two girls cuddled up in their long satiny nightdresses, Angela's face was beatific. After the video finished, we put the girls to bed. As was their want, they dragged the beds together to form a single giant sized bed and then they all cuddled under a huge king-sized duvet that Jenny kept for such occasions in the airing cupboard. They played on the bed for a while but eventually four sweet little heads were asleep on the pillow. Angela smiled as she turned to me. "They're beautiful." "Yes," I agreed without hesitation, "have you ever seen a prettier picture?" "Just look at all that lovely long golden hair on the pillows. It's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins." "I like the sweet innocent smiles. Just look at them, at peace with the world." "D'you think Martina will remain at peace?" asked Angela. "Provided she's allowed to follow her heart and her head, yes, leastwise, that's what Sandie says." "Will he grow up to be a girl?" wondered Angela. "Hard to say," I offered, "She could well grow up to be a shemale." "What's that exactly?" "A shemale is a boy with all the external appearances of a girl but still retaining a penis under her skirt." "Well he's like that now. I noticed his erection in the showe, though the girls didn't seem to notice or mind." "They see Martina as their sister, though they know all about her penis. Children can be very adaptable and caring provided they are shown the right examples." "I wish every man could grow up to be a caring gentle shemale, then there wouldn't so much rape and violence." I felt a shudder of nervous foreboding. 'Would Angela come to remember those words? If, or rather when, she found out about m,' I wondered. "I'm afraid that's never going to happen. Men are men and it will ever be thus. Do you like Martina?" "Oh yes, she just so gentle and thoughtful." "Yes, we all saw you cuddling her on the settee." "Well she's going to need all the support and love we can give her if she's going to face the big horrible world." "You're preaching to the converted. Nobody knows that better than us, all of us." Angela turned to me and pecked me softly on the lips. "What was that for?" I smiled. "For being you, for being so understanding and tolerant, for being so kind and generous to my girls." I smiled and pecked her back. "Come on. We'd better be going down stairs, the others will be wondering." "Can I sleep in the adjoining study tonight, it's just the thought of being so near to my girls and them sleeping so sweet and secure." "Of course," I replied without hesitation. We returned downstairs to the adults where Sandie was preparing to leave. "Greg's phoned. He's on the train from London with William and Mary. They'll be arriving in thirty minutes. The kids are sleepy so 'he'll need help to the house." "Are you happy with your new house?" I asked. "Well there's lots to do but it's a lovely setting." "Are you bringing Mary over for a lesson tomorrow?" asked Sian. "Yes, and William's expressed an interest. I'll have to go or I'll be late for the train. Byeee!" With that she was gone and we turned to make our nightcaps before Sian and Margaret returned to their barn. As we sipped our chocolates, a strange car arrived in the yard. I peeped out to see Sylvia arriving home with some girl she had met at the club. 'Well,' I thought, 'it was bound to happen at some time. Sylvia was a very pretty and healthy girl. She had every right to invite a girlfriend back to her apartment.' Finally we made our ways to bed and I bid Angela 'goodnight' as we parted outside the girl's bedroom on the landing. The morning thunder woke me as the four girls arrived and clambered into my bed. They were immediately followed by Angela, who formed the other 'bookend' as we squeezed the girls between us. I noticed again that Martina had somehow inveigled herself closest to Angela. They were forming a close bond, but I was quite happy for that. If Angela could accept Martina as a 'shemale' then there might be hopes for me. We made plans for the weekend and generally laughed and chatted as the girls fidgeted and squirmed, then we rose reluctantly and prepared the girls for school. After breakfast, they walked down the lane to the bus stop, and we watched from the yard gate. Angela turned to me as they disappeared around the bend and we could only hear their chattering voices fading away. "I felt guilty putting Martina back into a boy's school uniform. She almost winced when the cotton pants and flannel trousers rubbed her legs." "Yes, she likes soft and silky like the rest of us girls," I observed. "What about his hair, does the school allow it? Does he get bullied about it? I mean -, it's so long and silky," asked Angela concernedly. I laughed. "Hello! Earth to Angela! Have you seen some of the other boys? Martina's is not even the longest. Little Toby Marchwood has long golden curls past his shoulders and he's the football captain for the school's under -eleven county team. A more boyish boy you couldn't find but he looks as innocent as a choirboy in church on Sunday. He's got a lovely voice too; he played the part of the Arch Angel Gabriel in the Nativity last Christmas. Then when he gets outside again, it's all guns, trees and football. His mother once told me he likes his hair long because it looks so angelic and gives him a disguise. He's one of the worst little tearaways in the school. He's not nasty though and he isn't a bully. Chenille's besotted with him because he protects her brother Martina from any bullying about the hair. It follows therefore that he also gets protected about his girlish ways because it's always associated with is hair. Don't have any fears about Martina's hair. Anyway, it won't be an issue next year." "Why?" "All the children are starting at St Angies. That's a girl's public school on the other side of the hill over there. Sandie's going through the medical formalities, and Martina will be registered as a child in transition with sexual dysphoria. That means she'll be dressing as a girl and living full time as a girl." "Oh!" "What d'you mean Oh?" I asked nervously. "Oh! No, I wasn't disapproving. I think it's a wonderful idea. I mean when I dressed her this morning. It was obvious she didn't like her boy's uniform." "So you approve?" "Oh absolutely, she's a wonderful child." "She'll probably grow up with all the appearances of a girl," I cautioned. "That would be fine," countered Angela. "But what happens if she prefers girls? What happens if she turns out to be a transvestite with heterosexual leanings towards another woman." "Could that happen?" "Oh yes, there's no knowing how she's going to turn out." "Well at least she won't be able to force her will and use brute strength on her partner. At least if she loves a girl, they'll live as equals." "Gosh, you surprise me Angela. I would never have thought you would feel like that. Is this because of -, you know -, the kidnap?" Angela's face clouded slightly then she smiled as she turned and rested her head on my shoulder. "I couldn't tell anybody this, but you're right. Ever since the rapes and stuff I hate the thought of some horrible big hairy muscular monster forcing his attentions on my body. I think I would prefer to be with a soft hairless gentle girly man like Martina. Does that seem sick to you." I gently squeezed her to me and smiled as I struggled to suppress the hopes surging around inside me. "No Angela, I quite understand. It must have been horrible." After such a large dose of sympathy, Angela's mood changed briefly. "It's a pity, Martina wasn't already grown up," giggled Angela. "Oh come now darling," I chuckled, "She's only a child." Angela tensed. "No! No! It's nothing like that. It would have to be a grown man. Not a child, you didn't think I could abuse a child like Martina did you?" "No! I wasn't insinuating anything like that. It was just a figure of speech; a conversational gap filler. Come on, let's go and have that cup of tea we missed when they were having breakfast." Angela made the tea as I buttered a couple of slices of toast then we sat out on the patio to enjoy the summer morning. "You've got a lovely life here," she observed. "It's my dream retirement," I replied, "I've worked years for this." "Oh you must be so lucky to retire early to all this. What did you do?" For a moment I froze mentally. I had never prepared for this question. I dare not mention about ships or the sea so I rapidly selected the old favourite of all seafarers who felt they had to hide their profession when trying to impress a girl. Sailors often had to pretend they were not sailors because 'decent girls' would be frightened off by their own prejudices. "Oh, I travelled in Steel,." I replied airily. This answer usually closed the issue. Most girls presumed you were some sort of commercial traveller attached to a large steel company. Most sailors left it at that. If any further questions arose, then the job could be glamorised as tales of foreign travel and visits would be weaved into the 'half-truth'. "Oh, was that with shipping then?" "Yes, much of it." "I thought so, you seemed to know an awful lot about ships when we were talking outside the school." I hastily changed tack. "What about your life? Is it OK to ask?" "Pretty boring really, I worked as a cashier in a bank until I met Barry. He seemed to live such a glamorous life what with the boatyard and everything. We got married then he decided to sell up and build boats in Australia. You know the rest." I fell silent. It struck me that Barry must have been bloody reckless and stupid to endanger his beautiful wife and children in such dangerous, pirate infested waters. Either that or he had been bloody ignorant. Anybody who sailed the world knew where the pirate hot spots were. However, I did not want to risk hurting Angela, so I kept my counsel. We finished our tea and I returned to what few domestic chores I had. The cottage had every modern appliance available and my housekeeping tasks were easy. As we tidied things away my phone rang. It was the port authority. I stepped back onto the patio and took the call privately. It was nothing important, but I would have to visit the harbour offices that afternoon. "I've got to pop into town later. D'you want to come?" "Please, that would be nice." "Will you be OK on your own this afternoon? I've got some business to attend to." "I'm not a cripple or anything. Mentally I'm getting better every day. In fact I fancy a bit of shopping." "Retail therapy," I grinned, "that's always good for a girl. Come on; bugger the housework lets go now. We can share the morning and have lunch together." Angela couldn't wait. I dashed upstairs and put on my 'war paint' whilst I changed into my two-piece business suit. Angela popped across the yard to get an outfit from the apartment and within an hour we were driving into town. We shopped together during the morning then I took her to Sissy's for lunch. It was very quiet and Angela never clocked Sissy or read him. Then I left Angela to her own devices as I went to the meeting. Three o'clock found us together again as we waited for the girls outside the school. The conversation somehow returned to the girl's rescue and Angela pumped me some more. I pretended ignorance but offered some suppositions that were in fact truths. I knew they were true; I'd been there! "I suppose, I'll never know unless or until the girls are prepared to talk," concluded Angela dejectedly. "Why is it so important to you?" I hazarded. "It's such a huge part of our lives. They lost their father then and just about everything else. I feel it's a major building block for us to get back to some semblance of normality. It's like a huge thing between us. "Well, Sandie says to tread lightly. I don't know what to say." "Have they ever spoken to you about it?" "No," I answered truthfully." "That's a pity, they like you so much and they trust you. The bed thing in the morning is such fun. I just wondered if they ever opened up when you cuddle together." I shook my head truthfully. The girls had never spoken of it and I had never raised it. Now that Angela was back, I was even more frightened to broach the subject of the rescue. However, what she had said that morning about she-males by the gate in the yard, gave me some comfort. I would run it by Sandie before hazarding any further step. As my thoughts pre-occupied me, Angela changed the subject. "You know your lovely satin nightdresses and those sleep suits you wear?" "Yes," I replied nervously. "Where do you get them? I searched high and low through all the shops and saw nothing." For a moment I panicked. My sleep suites were a rather private 'kinky' item, that were a projection of my cross-dressing. The idea of being somehow 'restricted' in my bodily functions seemed to me, privately in the darkest secret recesses of my transvestite mind, to add to the feminine condition. I tried to make light the sleep suites. "I uuhm, I get them made for me in London. You won't find them in any local shops." "Oh." "That sounds like a disappointed 'Oh'." I observed. "Well, they seemed so nice. I could see that the girls love them and I was looking for one in my size," finished Angela despondently. "Well I can easily get some made up." "Oooh, that would be wonderful, they looked so comfortable and rather nice." D'you really want me to order some for you?" "Ooohh! Could you?" "You like them do you?" "Well it was such a picture with you and the girls all lined up like elaborate tropical birds then me on the other end in my dowdy pyjamas." "If you give me your sizes, I'll order them when we get home. I'm going up to London next Tuesday and I can collect them then." "So that's why they fit you so well. Are they expensive?" "Let it be my treat. I must confess, they are a bit expensive but they are nice and you can see how the girls like them." "Especially Martina," giggled Angela. "Especially Martina," I concurred, matching her chuckles. "Oh, here they come, the Charge of the Light Brigade." This time Angela simply opened the door and gathered them in as they waved drawings in her face. As she studied them in the front seat, she grinned, while Jenny and Beatrice stood behind her in the second row. Jenny leaned over to explain the painting. "Is this me?" asked Angela. "Yes," smiled Beatrice. "What's this?" Angela pointed to a black boxy thing with a pointed end. "It's the pirates," declared Jenny in a subdued tone, "we all had art together because Miss Jackson's away. She's our form mistress. We had to do drawings of the best things or the worst things in our lives. Beatrice drew the pirates." "Oh dear, that must have felt awfu,." I interjected, "What did you draw?" "I wasn't sure what to do. Beatrice and I spoke to Old Fanny Walnut about it. She's Bea's form mistress. Beatrice was afraid the pirates might come back but Fanny Walnut said they were all captured when the soldiers rescued Mummy. She suggested we do it together in case Bea was still afraid. Bea drew the bad thing and I drew the good thing to cheer her up." "So what did you draw Darling?" asked Angela, half expecting the answer. "I did the rescue." Jenny took her drawing out of her school bag and Angela studied it. Being eleven now, Jenny's picture contained lots of detail. "What's this?" asked Angela pointing at a fair facsimile of my ship. "That's Skipper's ship. "And who's this?" "That's Skipper in his uniform." "And this?" "That's Billy and Supan in the rescue boat and that's Uncle Mac by the crane." "And what on earth is this?" "That's Jesse firing off the gun to frighten the pirates away." "Is this how it all happened?" I felt a cold wave working it's way up my bowels as the truth came ever closer. Then the final nemesis arrived. Beatrice piped up. "Ye, ask Skipper." "Oh I'd love to ask Skipper," said Angela, "but I don't know where he is." Then Jennifer stared at me accusingly. "Haven't you told her?" I wagged my head apologetically, waiting for the axe to fall. Jenny seemed to be weighing things up. She was obviously beginning to realise the implications, but she also had her own problems to resolve. She also had Bea's feelings to consider for she had seen herself as Bea's only confidant cum confessor ever since the rescue. "You should tell her Aunty Bev. It's not fair if Mummy doesn't know." "What! What doesn't Mummy know?" begged Angela. Jenny looked from Angela to me as tears began to leak. "It's a secret. Aunty Beverly's got a secret." "What! What secret darling?" demanded Angela as her fears began to rise, "What's this secret?" she demanded of me. My world had collapsed so I turned to Jenny. "You tell your mummy darling. She won't be angry with you or Bea." Angela gripped Jenny's shoulder tightly as her nerves became tense. "Go on darling. Please tell me. I won't be angry." "Ow you're hurting." Angela released Jenny like a hot branding iron then Jenny turned to me. "Is it OK? Will Skipper be OK?" "Skipper will be fine," I replied as my heart thundered with dread. "He won't have to go away will he?" "I don't think so but you'd better tell your mummy." Jenny leant over the back of the seat then hugged me as she turned to Angela and tapped my head as she spoke. "Skipper's in here. Skipper's always been here, inside Aunty Bev's head. Skipper's been watching over us ever since the rescue, and after grandma died." "What d'you mean in here? In where?" Again Beatrice piped up to support her older sister as she pointed to my head. "In there! Skipper's in there, inside Aunty Beverly's head. Skipper looks after Aunty Beverly and she looks after us." Angela stared at me in utter confusion. "What do they mean? How can Skipper be inside your head? Is the poor man dead or something? Are they talking of ghosts or something?" "No," I replied resignedly, "Skipper is not dead. He's very much alive." For a moment I almost lost my nerve then I croaked out softly. "I'm Skipper." "Angela gasped as she stared at me." "You! You're Skipper! You're the one who rescued them!" "Yes!" chorused all four girls as I nodded in total dejection. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, "Yes it was me but I didn't ask for all this -, this looking after the girls! It wasn't my idea. It was the girls. They wanted to live with me after their grandmother died. I should have been stronger." "What! You're saying it was you who rescued them. You! But you're a woma-!" Angela hesitated as a dim light of dawning began to flicker, "You're saying you're a man! You're the man! You're actually Skipper, the Skipper, the skipper of the ship that saved them?" I realised that we seemed to be talking at cross-purposes. I was apologising for all the deceptions whilst Angela seemed to be somehow obsessed with the man who saved her girls, her beloved girls. "Aren't you angry?" I croaked. "Angry! Why in God's name would I ever be angry? You're the man who saved my girls, my beloved girls." "Well -, Uuuhhmm -, yes, but, I -, I -, well look at me. What d'you think I am?" Angela studied me again then turned again to her daughters as the shocking truth finally started to dawn. "This is the truth now girls. You're not pulling my leg. Beverly is really Skipper, the man who rescued you." "Yes!" chorused the girls again. Then Jenny added, "His uniform's still in his closet! You can check when we get home!" "And the hat with the blood stains from my cuts," added Beatrice. "What cuts?" demanded Angela. "Oh it's a long story," I interjected, "I'll explain when we get home. But you're not angry are you? Tell me you're not angry." "Angry! God no! I'm not angry, why should I be angry! I'm stunned, shocked and overwhelmed, but not angry, why didn't you say?" "I held out my arm and pointed in towards myself to indicate my two piece business suite and heels." "I'd have thought that was obvious. Look at me. I'm a shemale. Surely you can see!" Angela studied me closely then a slow smile started to spread across her face. "Well yes. I can see that you're a woman. I mean -, well you've -, well, you're a woman now aren't you?" "I'll explain when we get home. Be patient." "Yes, OK but you've -, you've had the op -, you know you've been -, down there. You know." "I'll wait until we get home. I'll have Sian and Margaret as chaperones. Hopefully, Sandie will be there as well. She was bringing Mary to see the pony she'll be riding on Saturday." A nervous smile spread across Angela's face then she let out a gasp. "Oh my God! The girls! They come into your bed in the mornings." "Only to cuddle," I protested defensively, "You saw that this morning. There's nothing untoward. Look test my arm. It's a woman's arm; they cuddle up to a soft curvy woman. I'll explain further when we get home." "This'll be a gem!" cackled Angela, "I can't wait!" The girls sensed that something important was afoot and a silence settled as I drove the last few miles. When we arrived, Jenny jumped out to open the yard gate and I was relieved to see Sandie's car parked by my cottage. "Well I'm glad she's here. She can explain stuff better than me." "I hope so," remarked Angela tensely, "this is going to be a humdinger!" The moment we met Sandie at the garden gate, she sensed the inevitable had already happened. I nodded dejectedly as she glanced questioningly at me then turned to Angela. "So you know then." "Yes, the girls gave it away with these." Sandie studied the proffered pictures and gasped softly. "Ah, my God, this is the -, the -," "Yes, the kidnap and the rescue," declared Angela. "This is Beatrice's version and this is Jenny's." "Have they talked anymore about it?" "Only to describe the scene's in the pictures." Sandie smiled as she handed the pictures back to Bea and Jenny. "Well done girls. D'you want to talk about it to me?" "Never mind the girls," protested Angela, "what about Beverly and this -, this Skipper business." "That can wait," declared Sandie bluntly, "I want the girls to tell me more." Angela was about to protest again but the dawning suddenly struck her like a thunderbolt. Sandie was far more concerned with the girls! Angela gave a huff of indignation and stalked into the kitchen. Sandie invited Jenny and Beatrice into the drawing room and closed the door. This was her sign for us to leave them alone and I had to gently restrain Angela's hand as she moved to open the door and follow them into the room. Angela stared at me and removed my hand from her forearm but continued holding it as she studied my fingers and held it up beside hers. "These are a woman's hands. They're so small, look; they're smaller than mine. How can you have been a man?" "I was always small," I ventured, "The change was fairly easy." "But -, but -, have you changed all the way?" "No," I replied softly, "I'm still a man down there." "But the girls, do they know? Do they know that you've -, you know -, you've still got a -, a penis?" "Yes, but they've never seen it." "Well I should hope not! What about when you cuddle and stuff, when they come to your bed in the mornings." I tugged the waistband of my skirt aside and showed Angela the control panty. "I always wear one of these under my nightdress and stuff." "What! all the time? That must be uncomfortable." "Yes, as a matter of fact it is. But it's for the girl's sake. I've always worn it in bed, under my sleep suit. I never wanted to harm the girls or frighten them. They've been through enough." "Well we all know that." "Yes, that's why Sandie is more concerned with them now than you. Those pictures are a huge step. That teacher doesn't realise just how cathartic that art class was. What was her name again?" Angela giggled, "Fanny Walnut. God! Aren't kids cruel? I bet she's got a face like a wrinkled old prune." "Well be as it may, she's inadvertently unlocked the door. That's why Sandie's in there now. This is crunch time for the girls. D'you know, they have never, never mentioned the kidnap or rescue in all these three years." Angela fell silent for a moment. "What! Never?" "Never!" I replied. She fell into a thoughtful silence as I poured out the tea. "We'd better stay handy then, in case my girls need us." "I won't be moving until all three walk through that door." "Then neither will I," added Angela. As we sipped our tea and talked, we waited patiently. Sandie finally invited Angela into the drawing room. She took a tray of tea in with her and I was left on tenterhooks in the kitchen. Later Jenny and Beatrice came out all smiles. I did not probe for any information but they volunteered anyway. Jenny spoke as I handed her some fruit juice and a wedge of fruitcake. "Sandie says we can stay with you if we wish. She told mummy that." "And what did mummy say?" "If we want to stay, then she'll stay. She never wants to leave us." "Well that's good. Do you want to stay?" They both chorused an emphatic 'yes' in perfect synchrony and I felt a wave of relief. The girls still loved me, warts and all. Eventually, Sandie and Angela reappeared. The girls and I had been preparing a cake because this was what I did when feeling tense. I turned and looked questioningly. "Well? What's the verdict?" "Angela now knows everything," replied Sandie. "And?" I turned to Angela. "D'you want me to stay here?" "Under what terms?" I countered. "Your terms," added Sandie. "Well my terms haven't changed. The girls still love me and the girls still cuddle me. It's all about the girls." As if to reinforce this truth, Both Jenny and Beatrice wrapped their arms around my waist and hugged me. They buried their faces into my breasts and Jenny declared firmly. "We want Beverly and we want Skipper." "And we want Mummy," piped up Beatrice earnestly. "Seems like a fate-accompli to me," declared Sandie. "You two had better get to like each other. I'm going to see how Mary and Sian are doing." As Sandie stepped towards the door, Angela moved around the kitchen table and extended her hand nervously. "I'm so sorry, I just didn't realise. You just want to live as a woman." "She is a woman," charged Jenny, "it's Skipper that's gone away to live in Beverly's head." Angela wrapped her arms around we three and sighed. "That's a beautiful explanation. I understand that now. I'm so sorry I didn't understand. Sandie's explained it now. You're not a child abuser, you're not the mad axe-man, your not some horrible criminal, you're just Beverly." "Got it in one," I sighed as our arms wrapped around each other. We stood all four of us for several minutes as the girls savoured or conciliation and Angela allowed our soft bodies to enjoy the natural intimacy that women the world over share when their soft curves press together through their flimsy silky clothes. I could sense her readjusting our intimate embrace several times as she reassured herself that my curves were truly feminine and I was definitely one of the sisterhood. Finally, she released me and gave me a long intimate kiss as she convinced herself that I was not, and never would be a threat. "Thank you," I sobbed as I tearfully recognised that she had accepted my condition and lifestyle. "It's me that should be thanking you. You've saved my children and shown me that everybody has a dream. You've achieved yours so now I intend to reach mine. My dream includes you. Let's do this together." I knew what she meant and we shared one last emotional hug before finally separating. Jenny and Bea sensed that the moment was complete and they tugged at us. "Can we go and see how Mary is doing with her riding lesson." "That would be lovely," replied Angela and we stepped across the yard. Because we were still dressed for town, we stood outside the training arena and watched Sian put Mary and her new pony through their paces. Naturally Jenny and Bea had put on Wellingtons and Joined Chenille and Martina in the training ring to watch more closely. Sandie was still wearing her jeans and stood beside Sian as she walked Mary and her new pony slowly around on the lunge rein. We watched for a quarter of an hour then returned to the cottage to make supper. In the yard we met Margaret coming home from her office. She had also been to the meeting of the harbour board and she had some extra forms for me to sign. "Thought I'd save you a journey." I signed off the papers and she stuffed them into her bag then smiled as she spoke to me. "Big things afoot then Bev." "Yes, Mac and Billy have been to see the new ship in Amsterdam. I trust them to have made a good choice. She's only three years old." "So, you'll be the owner of two ships now then. Congratulations!" offered Margaret I heard Angela gasp. "I thought you were a captain." "Owner captain," corrected Margaret. "Beverly has shares in two ships now. "Yes," I added, "Jesse will be taking permanent command of the Speedway whilst Billy and Mac get the other one up to scratch. She's having her purchaser's dry-docking in Amsterdam next week. I'll be attending, of course. There will be hull and engine surveys plus other stuff." "What are you going to call the new ship?" "Mac suggested Speedwell. It matches with Speedway, the name of our first ship. Speedwell is the name of a flower that reminds him of Scotland. I chose the name Speedway for our first ship so it's his turn." Angela was listening to all this avidly. "Is the other one, the first ship, the one that rescued my girls?" "The Speedway; well yes, it is actually," I replied. "Oh I'd love to see her!" I smiled at Margaret who remarked. "She'll be here on Sunday. Jesse's already taken command. He's really pleased with his promotion to captain. It'll be no problem." "Sunday it is then," I added turning to Angela, "have you got suitable clothes, jeans and stuff?" "I can buy some on Saturday morning." "Good, Sunday it is then. The girls love visiting her. It'll be a nice day out for you." End of Chapter Fourteen