Girl Friday free porn video

Girl Friday One The fax clattered out a single piece of paper. It was the Hollywood producer again. Had Joanna any suggestions about who might play the leading role in the movie of her book. He couldn't find an actor who could play both male and female lead roles. Had she any suggestions? That was his job. Could she rewrite the script so there were two characters rather than one? Out of the question! She ran her fingers through her shoulder length auburn hair and looked at the pile of faxes that had preceded the latest. She groaned and continued opening the mail which had come in a single sack full. It would only get worse. She put down the paper knife and moved over the blue carpeted floor to the coffee machine across the room. She was leaning against the coffee table sipping her latte and despairing about the work she had created from having a book in the top fifty. She wanted to write. Another story was brewing and she was weighed down by the arrangements for book signings and the need to return emails. She needed help. Her publisher was clearly out of his depth; he had never had an author so successful before and was himself overwhelmed by demands of printers, journalists and, worst of all, lawyers, especially when the film rights were mentioned. "Should she change publishers?" she wondered. She knew that he was due to retire soon. It only seemed decent to wait. She had just dismissed the thought when Belinda walked in. She was a tall girl whose unruly fair hair cascaded down beyond her shoulders. She wore a long navy blue dress which showed her slim figure off well. Despite her passion for intense love affairs Joanna and Belinda had been friends for years. "Good morning, beautiful!" she sang as she walked across the room, "you look dreadful." She stooped to give her friend a peck on both cheeks. "You've got to get some help. You can't go on like this." She nodded over towards the desk, invisible under all the paper. "I agree but I'm just too busy to do it," Joanna laughed. "I need a Girl Friday to do all the admin while I write. But if I got one I'd have no time to train her. Her hand ran through her hair again and she gave an exasperated sigh. Belinda grasped her in a hug, "Will you let me help? I can bring someone in temporarily while we sort out this mess and then get someone more permanent to run your office." Joanna pulled away. "I think I have no choice. Thanks! Could you do that for me? How will you do it?" Belinda gave a mischievous smile and stepped away from her friend. "I have someone in mind. He's a fan, so should be happy enough working with you. He's off back to uni in September so doesn't want anything permanent himself." "I don't know, Belinda, I said Girl Friday, implying female with office skills, not some lusty, uncouth student who can barely read," "I'm sure you will change your mind when you interview him. It will also be quicker and cheaper than going through an advertising and selection process." "Anything but that!" Joanna sighed. "OK set it up! We can take a look without obligation, I suppose." Joanna turned around back to her desk and stepped forward in the direction of the debris. "I'll bring him in then," offered Belinda her teeth gritted and cheeks pulled back in expectation of an explosion. "What! He's here already? Belinda!" But Belinda had turned towards the door. She opened it swiftly and stuck her head out. "David! Come on in. She'll see you now!" Two Belinda stepped to one side and allowed the boy David to enter. He stepped inside the room, his attention unwavering on Joanna. He walked over to her and offered his hand. Joanna took it and looked closely at the young man. He was as tall as she was with light brown hair which needed a cut. His skin was smooth with not a single spot in sight but her gaze was drawn to his eyes which were so focused on her. "How do you do?" he said in a light voice, which seemed to break the spell. Joanna looked away for a moment almost in relief after being held by his stare. "Belinda said you needed some help and I'm your man!" "Well it's only part time, just until we can get ahead of ourselves," excused Joanna, "but why do you think you can do it?" "My mother is a literary agent. Perhaps you know her. Elaine Newbold? I ran her office before she started to appoint staff. It was in my gap year. I didn't fancy going abroad and spending everything I had. I help out during my vacations but she really doesn't need me anymore, so here I am." "What are you doing at university?" David smiled and looked confident. "I have a B.Sc in Biochemistry and I'm going back in September to continue my PhD. But I'm competent on all aspects of Microsoft Office. I understand different methods of filing and office organisation. I've organised my mother's diary and responded to clients by letter and email. I've set up meetings and conference calls and am proficient with simple accounting procedures. I'm also a quick learner. I should say too that I'm also a fan of your work." Belinda pulled a face from the other side of the room as if to say "I told you so!" David's face coloured as if he was embarrassed by the admission of enjoying Joanna's books. "Really! I'm surprised. You must know then that they contain transgender themes. Are you transgendered?" "No but my roommate at university was. We were good friends but personally I'm not of that persuasion. I'm familiar with it. It doesn't cause me concern." He looked behind him seeking approval from Belinda who nodded her head and smiled. "So you have no problems working for a bloke who wears dresses?" Joanna raised her eyebrow quizzically. David giggled; it was high in tone and infectious. Joanna smiled though she did not feel quite at ease with the young man but he ticked all the boxes, except for her Girl Friday. There seemed little chance of girly chit chat with David and it would have been professionally profitable for her as a writer to have access to a female lexicon and associated mannerisms. Perhaps David would surprise her yet. "OK David, can you start tomorrow? Smart, casual. We'll discuss what you have to do in the morning and I'll give it some thought today!" David left the room and Belinda and Joanna did not move, Belinda rested her body against the wall and Joanna remained seated on the edge of her desk. Joanna spoke first. She moved behind her desk as she did so. "Belinda you are incorrigible. How long having you been seeing him?" She shook her head and laughed. "About a month. He's lovely isn't he? Besotted by you. When he knew I was friends with you he was all over me wishing to meet you. He knows your books inside and out and wants to be a writer just like you. I should thank you. If you weren't my friend I've no doubt he'd be gone by now." "Oh rubbish, Belinda. Stop running yourself down as usual. He's doing you good; I haven't seen you look so well in ages. You are positively glowing, girl." Nevertheless, Joanna felt a qualm. Perhaps this David had manipulated Belinda to get to her, but why? What was the motive besides the thrill of working for a successful author? She smiled, "In the top fifty, who would have thought it?" Three David was sitting on the floor next to the office door when Joanna arrived the next morning. He was wearing a white shirt open at the collar and tucked into light grey slacks. He carried a sandwich box and a small flask. He jumped up quickly when he saw Joanna and said good morning. He looked a little nervous though such trepidation had been unnoticeable in yesterday's interview. Having discussed it with Belinda, Joanna had a plan of what she wanted David to do. The object of the day was to clear her desk and file any loose papers following a simple system which he could install. A filing cabinet had been delivered late yesterday afternoon for this purpose. While David was doing that she would do her best to respond to a backlog of telephone calls. By lunchtime it was obvious that David knew what he was doing and Joanna's desk was almost clear. He had even started on some of the letters, sorting them into fan-mail and general correspondence. By mid afternoon, when Joanna dropped out for a coffee, she was happy enough to leave him alone and let him deal with anything. Twenty minutes later she was back. She stopped for a moment outside the door and listened; she heard nothing but why should she? She pulled a face at her own stupidity and pushed open the door. There was a groan of pain and a curse. She pushed the door fully open and stepped inside. Behind the door David stood, arms outstretched like a tree. He had coffee all over his white shirt and his slacks. A cup was lying on the floor in front of him, the dregs spreading on to the carpet. "Oh I'm so sorry," Joanna managed to say. "Quickly, get them off before you burn." Without a word David did as he was told and in seconds was standing in pants and socks before her. She imagined Belinda in hoots of laughter and fought back the smile that was beginning to warm her cheeks. "Take them through to the toilet and rinse the coffee out before it stains. I'll see what I can do about fresh clothes." David scuttled across the carpet into the bathroom. Joanna watched him. He still hadn't spoken. He was probably furious with her, she thought. She sighed and wondered what to do. She didn't want to cause him further embarrassment so she could speak to no-one in the building about assistance. It was too late in the day to send the garments to a cleaner even if she knew where one was and, anyway, he couldn't wander around the office looking as he did. She could buy him a new outfit but that would take all afternoon. Belinda was working, she couldn't help. There might be a way, she thought, if he was willing. She smiled. It might even be fun. She went to the wardrobe in a corner of the room and pulled the door open. It carried a variety of clothes to cover any emergency that Joanna might face. There was a raincoat, a business suit in case she had to meet someone significant, a couple of blouses and skirts for attending less formal meetings or lunches. "David, come here a minute!" she thought she would need to shout again but David came out of the toilet. "I'm very sorry for what happened, but you can't spend the day looking like that and somehow we have to get you home. I don't keep any male clothes here so these will have to do for the moment." She took down a short grey skirt from the rail and a pink blouse and passed them across to him. His cheeks had gone quite red, "unless you can think of anything else?" He took the blouse and slipped it on. When it was fastened he took the skirt and stepped into it. The hem stopped well above the knee but the waist was too big. Joanna stepped passed him and opened a drawer inside the wardrobe. She pulled out a wide elasticated black belt with a large silver buckle and ushered David to take it. He appeared reluctant. "If we are going to get you out of the building unnoticed, and across the road into the car park, you are going to have to cooperate. Now at least try!" He took the belt and put it on but there was still more wrong with the image he presented, than right. He still hadn't spoken, but the expression on his face was odd. If she hadn't known better Joanna would have said that he looked triumphant. "Take off the trainers; they look ridiculous." Joanna scrambled down into the back of the cupboard and came out with a pair of black, flat shoes. "Try these" At last she caught the ghost of a smile on his face. "The beggars enjoying this," she thought, "Right let's have some fun." "They are nearly the right size but you'll be crippled before you leave the building." She put her hand into the drawer and pulled out a pair of barely black tights. She watched his eyes and saw them register, for the briefest of moments, a look of pleasure and excitement. "You'll have to put these on. Sit over there and don't ladder them." She walked round behind her desk and opened her handbag. She looked over at David and watched him; he was certainly familiar with how to put on a pair of tights. She understood now why he was such a fan of her writing. Finally, David slipped his feet easily into the shoes. Joanna walked over to him and placed herself in front of him. She looked down at his face. "Look, I'm taking no pleasure in this but you have to be a girl in front of everyone who sees you. Unless you don't mind the consequences!" "What are you going to do?" he asked suspiciously. "I'll have to comb your hair differently and give it some shape. And I'll have to put a little makeup on to finish off the feminine look. If I don't you'll be the only girl leaving the building without any on and will stand out like a sore thumb." She expected protest but all David did was shrug and tell her to get on with it. She sprayed his hair with an aerosol which came out of her top desk drawer. She combed and teased and finally sprayed again, before standing back and looking at her creation. She smiled. He would pass alright. She added some eye shadow to his eyelids and painted his eyelashes with mascara, In the meantime David just sat there as if this sort of thing happened everyday. Perhaps it did, thought Joanna, mildly annoyed. She took her lipstick from her bag and drew a liberal amount over his lips. She stood back and smiled. "OK! Nearly finished. Go look at yourself in the bathroom mirror." David stood and walked over towards the bathroom. She could hear the gasp from where she was and when he returned there was no doubting the smile. "It looks very good," he said, "I look very good. Nobody will notice me, will they?" "Only those whose intentions aren't honourable," laughed Joanna as his smile collapsed into a look of horror, "and they won't say or do anything, silly. But there is one more thing. You have nothing under the blouse, no straps, no tits! Put this on!" She pulled a plain white bra from behind her back and held it in front of him. He should have protested, even if falsely. He should have declined the invitation. He should have shaken his head and sworn. Instead he took it eagerly and returned to the bathroom picking up his socks from the carpet as he passed. When he returned he was clearly pleased with himself and fondled his new breasts as he minced across the office towards her. Joanna smiled. "You look good. Nobody will know you are anything but a girl. You might get one or two looks, but hey!" David swirled happily in front of her, enchanted by this new sense of self. "OK! We still have lots to do this afternoon. We can think of a new name for you as we work." It was a joke but it seemed to fall instantly flat. David giggled apparently pleased with the idea. Joanna smiled too. She had her Girl Friday after all, but there was something not quite right about this character. Four As Joanna approached her office the following morning she expected to see David sitting on the floor beside the office door. But the corridor was empty. She looked at her watch. He had time in hand she thought before he could be considered late. She unlocked the door and let herself in. She tossed the post on to the desk and looked around. He certainly worked well and knew what he was doing. She picked up the top envelope and tore it open. It was from her publisher, thanking her for a disk of her latest book. She raised her eyebrows; he went on to say that her writing no longer reflected the ethos of his company and the firm could no longer publish her works. She laughed and breathed a curse under her breath. She knew he was retiring and that the company was under new management. He suggested two other publishers who would both be interested. She was familiar with the names and tossed the letter back onto the desk. She would need to contact them and set up a meeting. She looked at her watch again. David was late. She made herself some coffee and began to read the paper though her brain was still processing the letter she had just received. She picked up the phone and made some brief calls. She turned on her desktop computer and began to address the list of emails she had to send. The telephone rang interrupting her. Where the hell is David, she thought? He should be shouldering the calls. She was immersed in an email to her marketing company when the door burst open and in waltzed Belinda. Close behind her was Karen Newbold, for that was the name that David had selected for himself yesterday afternoon, following the accident with the coffee. "Apart from what you gave her, Karen had nothing to wear so we hit the shops as soon as they were open. The poor girl didn't even have a pair of knickers to her name. If she's late it's my fault." She took a large carrier bag from Karen and passed it over to Joanna. "She won't be needing these anymore. We'll go shopping again at the weekend but there's enough in her wardrobe to be going on with." Joanna stepped to one side to allow herself a better look at this Karen in front of her. The style was simple clerical, like yesterdays, but now the skirt was black and the blouse white. The pumps had been replaced with patent black heels. "Let her see how her feet feel at the end of the day," smirked Joanna to herself. There was a simple chain round her neck which held a small, silver owl, a feature which was copied in her earrings. Her hair had been cut and shaped into a proper bob. She looked every inch an office girl like the scores of others in the building. "How long have you been a cross-dresser?" enquired Joanna, a little puzzled by events. "Since yesterday afternoon," replied Karen, "though I've always known. It just felt so right yesterday that I don't want to give it up." She looked sheepishly at both of them, "if that's alright with you that is." "Of course it is sweetie! We just want to make you feel comfortable." Belinda put an arm round her shoulder and squeezed, all the while looking at Joanna who was clearly not at ease with the situation. "If it doesn't interfere with your work you can wear whatever you like but I need to speak with Belinda for a moment. Can you go down to the front desk and see if there's any post?" The colour drained from the girls face; she hadn't expected to fly solo so soon. She hesitated and then boldly left the room. "Belinda, what the hell are you doing? He's my employee not yours. You don't make him feel comfortable, I do! I'm not sure about this. He can find himself in his own time, not mine. What are you laughing at?" "You don't mean any of it, dearie! You just remember when you were like that, lost, unsure, vulnerable. Give the girl a break!" Joanna peered at her friend. She looked different in some way as if she were trying out a new makeup. She reddened under Joanna's stare. "What's the matter?" "You look different. Your hair's shinier and your face is glowing. Are you on something?" Belinda's face reddened even more. She shifted her eyes from Joanna and instead looked over her shoulder. "Well, what if I am? We both said we would and I know you have already." "What are you taking?" "It's a fast acting hormone. It's brilliant. I feel wonderful. And these have grown two inches already and I've only been taking the medication for a fortnight. The nipples are gorgeous." She placed her hands under her breasts and lifted them both before letting them drop and bounce back into position. "Another month at this rate and they'll be perfect." The door opened and Karen walked in carrying a single envelope which she handed to Joanna. Sensing an atmosphere she could not interpret she said, "I'll continue with the filing then. I'll have it finished today." Five There was no doubting that Karen was a good worker who knew what she was doing. By the end of the week the office had been reorganised and ran like an ocean liner with Karen as captain. She could lay her hands on anything. She had conversations with Joanna's accountant with a view to a careful preparation of the annual accounts which would be due soon. This had entailed the adoption of new financial software and liaison with Joanna's bank. At one stage it crossed Joanna's mind uneasily that Karen knew more about her current financial position than she did, but she could see the logic and value from such a change. She answered the phone and replied to emails, usually without prompting. She had devised a series of standard replies to fan mail and the unanswered pile had diminished. Joanna found that she, herself, was doing less and less and so was able to sort out the problem of obtaining a new publisher. She aired her thoughts with Karen who had ideas of her own. Despite her earlier misgivings, Joanna felt as content as she had been for years. Karen was in every sense her Girl Friday. Of David there was no sign; Karen was Karen. It was hard to think that she had ever been anyone else. She was smart and pretty and attracted remarks from men in the other offices in the building. She lapped it up! It was obvious even after a few days that David was now non-existent. Karen was here to stay. In fact Joanna was already wishing that she would. It was Friday dinnertime and Joanna had arranged to meet Belinda at an Italian restaurant in town not far from where Belinda had her offices. Karen had been left in charge of the office. Belinda had been Joanna's legal representative since Joanna's first attempt at writing and getting something published. They had met via a transgender website and had become firm friends. She had always been a constant source of encouragement and enthusiasm so when she walked across to where Joanna was sitting, Joanna was shocked. Her face was almost cherry red and she looked drawn and tired. The legal aspects of changing publishers were quickly forgotten. "Belinda you look awful! How do you feel? You look ill." "Oh, I don't feel as bad as I look. I'm just tired. I think it's those hormones." She noticed the look that Joanna gave her, "I know, I know I shouldn't take unprescribed drugs. But honestly they've worked so well. My boobs are enormous and there have been changes in other places too." She laughed loudly. "If this lassitude goes and my skin colour returns it will all have been worth it." "Where did you get them from?" Joanna asked, curiously. Belinda picked her briefcase off the floor and opened it on her lap. "What do you know about the parties who have expressed an interest?" She was in no mood to satisfy Joanna's interest. "Have you any preference?" When Joanna got back to the office Karen was hammering away at her keyboard. "How did you get on? Would you like some coffee?" Over coffee Joanna told her all about the meeting with Belinda. Since the two of them shared a bed she would soon know anyway. "How's Belinda? She doesn't look well." "Oh she's alright. I suspect it's just the body making changes quicker than nature might allow if left to itself. Her bust is pretty magnificent but all that skin being stretched must be painful. Her nipples are engorged as well." Karen seemed to smirk for the briefest of moments but quickly the man in her was suppressed as before. "Her mood swings are pretty sensational too!" "Has she been to the doctors?" Joanna felt that her friend was being laughed at by this boy-girl and it annoyed her but she bit back the challenge. "She doesn't want to. What would she say about her new shape? She doesn't want the embarrassment or the telling off." Joanna did not like what she had been told and resolved to go see her friend as soon as possible and preferably without the presence of Karen. "I'll drop in and see her sometime but we have things to do this afternoon. I want you to telephone both publishers and set up meetings for Monday or as early as possible next week. They are expecting me to call them personally but tell them I'm busy. I want a new publisher by Tuesday. The next book is ready but my existing publisher feels he cannot cope with its market potential so has suggested I approach other publishers. A copy of the book is available should they wish to see it, but I expect them to be aware of my previous novels. Can you do that?" Karen beamed, "Of course I can." She spun round on her heels and walked over to her desk. She dialled the numbers as if she knew them by heart. Joanna stepped outside the office with her mobile and tried to contact Belinda but the call went unanswered. She phoned her old publisher and had a pleasant chat with him about her success and the takeover of his firm. It had been on the cards for some time but nonetheless she was upset to see the old gentleman's life's work disappear. He had been broadminded enough to take her work so she felt she owed him a lot. An hour later and Joanna's concentration was shattered by the fax clattering away at a side table near Karen's desk. Karen reached over and took the three sheets of paper out of the machine. She read through the contents, stapled them together and put them to one side; then she resumed what she was doing. The same thing happened half an hour later but this time, after the sheets were attached together, she took both sets of them across to Joanna. "I've arranged meetings with both publishers for Monday; one in the morning and one in the afternoon. These are their opening positions; they include initial print runs, advertising and marketing campaigns, film and TV rights etc. Both would be happy to publish your material and would be happy to meet your requirements. They both know of the other's interest. Is that OK?" "That's excellent. How did you know to do all that?" "Sorry, I should have said, Belinda rang. She wanted to speak to you and will give you a ring tonight. She told me what you'd want." "Did she sound alright?" she said, annoyed that Karen had not had the good sense to call her in from the corridor. She was always so efficient that errors of judgement seemed trivial in the overall pattern of things "Yes, she sounded fine." Karen went back to her writing pad and scribbled some more information down with a pencil. Not much sympathy there noted Joanna, wondering how long the affair with Belinda would last. When she phoned Belinda a few minutes later the call went unanswered. Six Joanna didn't contact Belinda over the weekend and every time she rang it was Karen who picked up the phone. Each time she was told that Belinda was asleep. On Monday however, Karen and Belinda arrived punctually. Both wore a black business suit with skirt and black high heeled shoes. They looked a hard nosed pair of business women; Joanna presented the contrast, dressed casually in slacks and blouse and jacket. They went in Belinda's BMW to the offices of Deacon and Brewster Publishers and by the time they got there Belinda looked completely exhausted and was forced to excuse herself. "Belinda you must go to the doctors. Better still go to A&E; you look terrible" Joanna pleaded with her and Belinda said she would go to the hospital straight away and yes she did feel pretty bad. There were seven chairs around the big conference table; Belinda's remained empty. Two were occupied by Joanna and Karen; seated on the other four were Sandra Cunningham, the Editor in Chief of DBP and her personal assistant, the head of marketing and a secretary to take notes. The editor's aide made introductions and Joanna was surprised to find that Karen had been promoted to Joanna's personal assistant. What perturbed her was the apparent chemistry between the two aides. She looked at Karen who appeared not to catch her glance. The meeting started well enough and followed the route dictated by the fax which Karen had passed to Joanna last Friday. What she had not realised was that the fax from DBP was in response to negotoations which had emanated from Joanna's office and that could only mean Karen. Joanna flicked through the fax sheets in front of her and noticed the last one was different. It seemed to be a page from one of her manuscripts. But her mind was still on Karen; she kicked her under the table but Karen was ready for her and passed her a pre-written note which stated that Belinda had briefed her about the process of the meeting and the route to be taken. Joanna was fuming but she could not argue about the generosity of the offer and the willingness shown to accommodate her every need. Sandra Cunningham herself would be her personal editor and was already a fan. They seemed simply to want her among their stable of authors. When the meeting was finished coffee was bought in and Joanna found herself talking to Mr. Deacon himself who had slipped into the room quietly. He was a small man with a very gentle voice. "I was sorry to hear that old John Armstrong was retiring. He has been round for donkeys' years it seems. Still it's hopefully to our gain. I hope you'll consult him before making a decision. I'm sure he'll speak well of us." Joanna exchanged stories about Armstrongs and it was clear that Alex Deacon had a soft spot for the old man which matched Joanna's. "Your PA is very organised I must say and is quite a talent in her own right I believe. She certainly seems to be getting on well with Teddy over there." Joanna followed the direction of Alex Deacon's gaze. Karen seemed to be holding a young man's elbow and both were laughing at something which had passed between them. Teddy unexpectedly caught Joanna's eye and quickly turned away. The blush was evident across the room. Karen just turned towards Joanna and smiled. When they were outside again Joanna felt hot and put her tension down to temper at being shown up by her own assistant. "What the hell did you think you were doing in there? You've been in the job a week; you've no right to behave like some.... some cold-blooded, floozy executive!" Her chest hurt; she took a few deep breathes, exhaling slowly after each. She was fuming. It allowed Karen to speak. "Belinda told me what to do. She said you should put more pressure on your publishers and maximise your return. You can never be sure how long the bubble will last. She knew she might not be here this morning so she gave me a briefing yesterday. I was plan B. You'd better give her a ring. I didn't want to do it but she said that it would best for you if I did. Are you OK? You look flushed." "I'm not happy about this Karen. If she's better Belinda and I are going to have a first class row." She took her mobile phone from her handbag and dialled Belinda's number. It rang out. "Perhaps I should go and see her," murmured Joanna, more to herself than Karen "She won't thank-you for it. You'll be late for the next meeting and she'll blame herself. She's probably fast asleep. She'll be fine once the hormones are out of her system." "Do you know where they came from?" "Online presumably," replied Karen, looking away, and obviously part of the conspiracy noted Joanna angrily. The next meeting was across town so they had a light lunch and walked. It was a sunny day and Joanna decided what she needed was fresh air to make her feel better. She had taken a couple of paracetomols and the colour in her cheeks had faded and the pain in her chest subsided. By the time they reached the fifth floor of the office block containing the Hanson Group she was almost her old self. She still found talking to Karen difficult though. There was something about the girl which made her hard to trust. Joanna stole a glance at her walking alongside, her heels clacking a rhythm on the polished tiles. She walked in the three inch heels effortlessly something which Joanna still found tricky and which only served to increase her anger. They were shown into a small room, much smaller than the one they had occupied that morning. They were kept waiting for ten minutes before anyone entered. Joanna felt herself heating up again and the pain in her chest was returning. At last a middle aged couple entered the room and sat down behind a large desk which served as a conference table. The woman made introductions and Joanna introduced herself and Karen. Nobody managed a smile. The woman was a deputy editor in the firm and specialised in what she described as alternative fiction. Joanna bridled at the term. Her partner was from the contracts department and he had a contract ready for signature. "We are quite willing to meet all your demands and see no point in delay. I understand that you have a book ready for publication and we would prefer to address issues pertaining to its publication rather than details which can be sorted more leisurely at a later date. I understand that time is pressing." "Well there are issues of immediate concern," stated Karen forthrightly before Joanna had chance to open her mouth, "for instance who would Miss Collier be working with?" The woman looked affronted at being addressed by someone so apparently junior as Karen. "You would be working with me." she said smugly. "And you are familiar with my work?" enquired Joanna. "Not as yet. I know you by reputation," the woman paused, "but I have yet to read any of your material." "Do you have anyone like me on your books?" Joanna was becoming increasingly hot under the collar. "No, you will have the honour of being the first of your sort of person." Joanna stood up abruptly and Karen did the same. "Well, we will give your offer our urgent consideration. Thank you for meeting with us. It has been an education!" Joanna stood and marched out without a backward glance. By the time she reached the ground floor in the lift Joanna knew that for her the day was over. She felt awful. She told Karen that she was going home to bed and that she should return to the office and telephone DBP accepting their offer. "Tell them to fax over the contract for signing and you can deliver it on Monday with the draft copy of the book. Any problems just phone." Joanna insisted. Seven Half an hour later Joanna was standing in the shower attempting to wash away the feeling of strain which her body was experiencing. She washed her hair and let her hands wander down her body in the soap. When they reached her breasts her nipples seemed to sizzle. She gasped and examined them with her fingers and found that her breasts had become little mounds of flesh. Her nipples had doubled in size. She took hold of one between finger and thumb and squeezed. She moaned softly and watched as the flesh reddened and the nipple stood up. It was not an unpleasant sensation. She got out of the bath and looked at herself in the mirror. They were small but breast development was obvious. She quickly reached below and grabbed her flaccid penis. It seemed the same as before but in some way inert. She reached underneath and her testes had gone. She felt for them in panic and excitement and found that they had ascended into her body. She teased one back. It was smaller without doubt. This was something she had dreamed about; indeed something she had written about - to wake up to find that she had become a real woman. It was taking place. "Is this what happened to Belinda?" she wondered. She picked up the phone but Belinda still wasn't answering. She put on a dressing gown and began to pace the floor in her bedroom. She felt rotten but knew if it was what Belinda had it was only going to get worse. She looked through her address book to find the number of her local surgery but it was Friday; there would be no chance of an appointment today. But did she want one? She had always wanted to be like this and now it was happening to her. A couple of days would not make that much difference, would it? She could do without the embarrassment of an examination but why should she and Belinda be afflicted like this? She thought for a few moments and knew that the only thing in common between them was Karen. Belinda lived with her; Joanna worked with her. The distrust that Joanna had been hiding welled up again inside her. What did she know of David Newbold or Karen or whoever? No references had been taken; it had all been on Belinda's recommendation. What did Joanna actually know that could be proven? He was a PhD student at Sheffield University. His mother was Elaine Newbold. He had certain office skills which had been very evident. Joanna turned on her computer and searched for images of Elaine Newbold. There were two which showed her with her son, David. It was late in the afternoon but nonetheless she telephoned the Biochemistry Department at Sheffield University and outlined her need for a reference for David Newbold. Immediately the secretary was defensive and put Joanna on hold while she found the head of the department who should be the one to speak with her. After a few moments a Scottish voice spoke. "Hello, Professor Diane Taylor speaking. You want to know about David Newbold, I believe." Joanna explained that he had applied for a job as her Personal Assistant and would like to know something about him before making an appointment. "I'm afraid Miss Collier that David Newbold was suspended from the university last year." "Oh dear! Can you tell me why?" "Mr. Newbold was a PhD student working in our Department of Endocrinology. He was found to be experimenting on students without their knowledge or consent." "I see. Is he likely to be reinstated? Can you tell me specifically what he did to them? "He's done it again, hasn't he?" the voice sounded pained. "He gave cocktails of various female hormones to male students to see their effects. I think personally he is a deranged young man and if he is still involved in this practise I urge you to phone the police immediately. I think he could be dangerous. He has been charged in his absence with causing grievous bodily harm to a flatmate." So there it was! The reason for the changes in her body and Belinda's. David had obviously discovered something but could it be controlled or stopped? And besides the physical harm, what damage had he wreaked on her good name? She decided to telephone Alex Deacon at DBP. He seemed an honest and open individual and had sent Joanna away with a good impression when they had met that morning. Eight The phone rang for ages and Joanna was about to put it down when the old man himself answered. Joanna explained what had happened with regard to Karen's appointment and some of the misgivings she had had in the course of the week. She mentioned David's suspension from University and the reason why, and how she thought there was more to the comings and goings of Karen Newbold than met the eye. All she could do was try and untie the web that Karen had weaved. For instance, what contacts had she had with DBP recently and how many? What were these unauthorized meetings about and what had she said about her role within Joanna's office, and what had been going on between Karen and Sandra Cunningham's aide. It appeared that the old man had noticed this too and promised to speak to the boy, as he called him, as soon as possible. On Saturday Joanna was confined to her bed. She ached all over. Her nipples were even larger than yesterday but no more than the cherry summits on a pair of cup cakes. Her breasts looked enormous in the mirror and Joanna couldn't tear her eyes away. She weighed each one in the palm of her hand. They felt heavy but she knew she had too little strength for an accurate estimate of their weight. They ached so she bathed them and enjoyed the feeling it aroused. It was late in the afternoon of the following day when the telephone rang. She had been dozing and it woke her with a start. She hoped it might be Belinda, who had not answered any of her calls and who was now officially a worry, but it was Alex Deacon. "Hello Joanna! We interviewed Teddy Summersby this morning. Apparently, he met with Karen Newbold twice last week. The first was before we were asked to tender for your book contract, which is interesting, don't you think? I'm sorry to have to tell you this but she introduced herself as your Personal Assistant and shadow-writer of your most recent books. When they met yesterday afternoon she brought a disk copy of your new book, which she claims to have part written, and also another which she maintains to have written herself. She said that in the very near future she was going to go it alone and leave you to it, without her. She told Summersby that if he read both books he would see how much of an influence she had been. She thought she had a big future and would be happy for DBP to publish her works as well as your own. He made her sign a statement of intent and provided her with a small advance. He has of course been sacked and the cheque stopped. He believed her to be who she claimed and never even knew she was male. The damn fool says he slept with her. He was horrified. Whoever she is, I recommend caution. She has had her ambitions thwarted and she will, I fear, be a danger to you." Joanna lay back on the pillows. For some reason the fourth page of the fax came into her head. There was something wrong about it. Despite her fatigue she got out of bed and retrieved the sheet from her bag. It was a page from a story. She read it through. She could feel that she might have written it; the style was so like hers. She looked at the print frowning. It was not a font she used. It was a different font. She gasped! It was not her story. It belonged to Karen. She had told Summersby that she was an author herself and had co-written some of the Joanna Collier books. She should have listened to her instincts and got rid of David or Karen. But what was this all about? It wasn't the first time Karen had worn women's clothes that was obvious. The way she had put on the tights should have given away the lie. And why was David standing behind the door with a cup of coffee in his hand anyway? Why all the charade? Belinda must have known about his transvestism. A light came on in her brain. Belinda had accepted the hormones from David willingly. She was desperate to become the gender that she thought she should be; she must have been delighted at their effect. The same drugs must have been given to herself more surreptitiously, in the coffee perhaps, she pondered, closing her eyes. But why was Joanna involved? Nine It was dark when she woke up. It was not a leisurely waking, with yawns and stretches, but a fearful, urgent rush to consciousness where every muscle is set for flight but all are frozen, paralysed by the knowledge that someone else is in the room, watching. She tried to examine the darkness without showing that she was awake but there was nothing to be seen. She felt the presence; it was on the other side of her, behind her back. "I know you're awake, Joanna. Your breathing gives you away. Now turn over and let's talk." Joanna lay still, processing the words and the voice. Suddenly a hot searing pain shot through her as a punch landed on her kidney. "Joanna we must talk. Please turn over. I have no wish to hurt you." The voice was soothing, perfectly reasonable. She struggled to turn over to face the speaker and squinted as a light came on. Joanna realised that her hands were secured by what felt like handcuffs behind her back. There was a silhouette, haloed in front of the standard lamp; the face was still in shadow. The figure moved out of the glare. It was Karen but no Karen that Joanna had ever seen. She wore a black wig which dropped as far as her white shoulders and covered the straps of her black corset that squeezed her waist tightly. Six suspenders stretched over white flesh to hold up her black stockings. "What the hell....?" Joanna uttered in surprise. "You like?" meowed Karen. "My stuff was in a bit of a mess so I borrowed these from Belinda. It's not as if she'll be needing them anymore." Karen tittered and teetered across the room on Belinda's platform, six-inch heels in patent black. She had only bought them for a laugh. "What have you done with her?" Joanna questioned. "She's dead, but it wasn't me. She was dead when I got home." "But you gave her the hormones; you encouraged her to take them." Joanna then noticed that Karen had been taking them too and nicely filled the cups of her corset. "You poisoned me too, didn't you, you mad bastard?" Karen stepped forward threateningly, shoving her face at Joanna. She had lightened the skin so that her eye makeup had left her eyes looking like pools of empty blackness. Her crimson red lips seemed to glow against the pallor of her skin. "A few drops in your coffee and tea. It was just a check so I could take it safely myself. The silly bitch increased her own dose and went too far. You had to be got out of the way, so lately you had more than was necessary too, though you should be alright if you cooperate with me." "What did you do to Belinda? You said you were in a bit of a mess." Joanna's mind was wondering out of control over all the possibilities. She felt sick. "I told you, she was dead when I got there," Karen growled. "I needed to look at her organs and the opportunity was too good to miss. Her penis had all but disappeared and the testes were long gone. I wanted to know the effects of feminization from the inside so I had to have a look!" Karen laughed and stepped back a pace. "You cut her open!" screamed Joanna, struggling against her restraints. "She was dead; she never felt anything," pleaded Karen rationally, "unlike that silly man from DBP." "Teddy Summersby? What have you done to him?" Joanna feared she knew. "He was supposed to bring me my advance on sales. Instead he accused me of being a pervert. And male!" She cackled, "He's not male himself anymore. I cut it off!" Suddenly, there was a long sharp kitchen knife in her hand which could not have been there before. It was so big and obvious Joanna would have seen it. Karen must have had it hidden, ready and close to hand, as if she expected to use it. She stepped forwards, waving the knife in front of her. "That money was supposed to fund my research. It wasn't for me! Think how many people would benefit from my work. Think of the money it would generate. So you have to give it to me now that Summersby's blown it. It's your own fault; you told DBP everything; you got the idiot sacked. And remember I know what you have in your accounts!" Karen smirked, the non-knife hand resting on her hip. "That's in the bank. You know that. How am I going to get such a large amount on a Sunday evening?" It sounded like prevarication to Joanna but it was true. "I don't have large sums of money lying around." "I know," screeched Karen, "that's why I'm going to stay here until the banks open tomorrow and then you're going to make a foreign transfer." She tittered again, sounding quite mad. "And who knows we might be able to have a little fun. She slid the blade up under Joanna's chin and gently guided it downwards over her throat, down between her breasts, and tearing the neck of her pink nightdress. "Look how nice they are; such a good shape." The side of the knife was under the right breast and Karen lifted it upwards. "Not as good as Belinda's but she was silly." She said wistfully as she remembered her lover. "Nor as good as mine," she screeched emphatically, thrusting both of her breasts into Joanna's face, before pulling them away and giggling. The phone rang making them both jump. They both looked at it and then looked at each other. "Don't answer it!" snarled Karen, as if Joanna could, with the handcuffs nipping into her wrists behind her. The ringing stopped and the sound seemed to linger in the air between them. "I was going out for drinks tonight with friends. It was probably them. They'll be wondering where I've got to. They might come round to see if I'm OK," soothed Joanna, hoping that Karen would just go. "If they do there'll be no one home. No need to worry my sweet. We have plenty of time til the banks open." She grabbed the torn nightdress, ripped it fully apart and pulled it clear so that Joanna's body was totally exposed. Instinctively she brought her knee up to cover her gender but Karen tapped it with her knife indicating that she should return it to the bed. Karen bent down to peer at any remnants of remaining manhood. She pulled a face, tapping the shrunken appendage with the knife. "What do you think about it?" Karen queried, sounding genuinely interested. Joanna was quiet for a moment wondering if anything that sounded like criticism would be her downfall. "I was happy with what I had, who I was." "You never fancied a sex-change?" Karen sat down on the edge of the bed and tapped out a rhythm on Joanna's stomach with the knife. "It crossed my mind from time to time, but no not really." "Interesting," whispered Karen looking at her handiwork, "and what about now?" The knife was now in between her breasts, each face of the blade caressing both in turn, much like a butcher sharpening his cleaver. It was hard for Joanna to tear her gaze away from the knife but she did do and looked into the cold pools of madness that were Karen's eyes. "I think I've been too ill to appreciate them," said Joanna truthfully, "You're going to kill me, aren't you?" The question was asked without the panic that Joanna might have expected from one of her own simpering victims. Karen kept moving her knife right and left, forward and back, but said nothing. Suddenly she sat up bolt upright like an animal detecting a threat with some sixth sense. She leaned forward and kissed Joanna on the lips. She put down the knife on the bed, stood up quickly and disappeared into the living room, smiling all the time. A breeze wafted into the room as if the French window to the Juliette balcony had been opened though Joanna had heard nothing. She sat there and waited, expecting Karen to return any minute to continue her torture but nothing happened. One minute was followed by another heightening Joanna's tension. Ten minutes passed and Joanna was sweating profusely despite the cool breeze that now blew through her bedroom. She desperately wanted to use the toilet. She shook the handcuffs and tried to squeeze her wrists through the openings but to no avail, She threw her head back onto the pillow and tried to make some sense of the proceedings. Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the door in the hallway, which led onto the small landing, fell inwards. Armed policemen in their black uniforms burst in and spread throughout the flat apparently ambivalent of her nakedness. She did her best to cover up but it was impossible. Finally, Alex Deacon entered the room and picked a blanket off the floor and spread it over her. "Can we have some bolt cutters her please to set this lady free?" he shouted. When her wrists were free and she had been offered medical attention a police inspector approached Joanna on the bed. Alex Deacon had stayed by her side and offered soothing words but Joanna was still shaking in shock. "She seems to have got away," said the police inspector shaking his head, "It's quite a drop though from your balcony. Can you tell me what she was wearing?" Joanna looked up and described Karen's attire. "She must have taken a coat or something. Let me see," Joanna gathered the blanket round her and opened her wardrobe door. Her green overcoat was missing. She looked around the room. "My handbag's gone. My purse was in it. She's probably gone straight to the bank to use my cards." The inspector shouted instructions and the room was cleared quickly. "You must cancel your cards now, though I suspect you'll find it's already too late." He looked round the room distractedly, thinking of a girl in a black corset jumping from the balcony in the darkness. "She seems to have been prepared for all eventualities," he said at last, "and probably had her means of escape already worked out." Joanna did as suggested and quickly put some clothes on. She made a statement to a police sergeant and was finally left alone with Alex Deacon and the inspector. "How did you know I was in trouble?" Joanna asked, laying on the bed again and close to exhaustion. "We didn't," confessed the inspector, "it was a hunch of Mr. Deacon and he can be very persuasive," All eyes turned to Alex Deacon. He smiled sadly. "I said yesterday that I thought she was dangerous and that you should take care. Well I read some of the book she left with poor Teddy Summersby. It echoed what you told me had happened to you. It was like a diary of the future, an autobiography that didn't stop at the present. She had made a wonderful new drug through many adversities. She needed funds for the final tests but could think of no-one to give them to her, and then she read one of your books and was inspired. She wrote of her own experiences in novel format and in your style. She thought she could be you; she could be the next Joanna Collier, She could write the books under your name, and take the cheques once you were out of the way. She's quite mad. "I sent my security chief to find Mr Summersby. He was in Belinda's apartment; both had been gruesomely murdered so he contacted me and I contacted the police and here we are. Quite mad!" After a doctor had given her a full medical Joanna did her best to decline the offer of a hospital bed. She did not think that Karen would return. She had nothing to offer her any more. A pair of policemen would be positioned outside the apartment if she insisted on staying, but she had no argument concerning the door which was beyond repair. She threw some clothes in a bag and was escorted by Alex Deacon to his car and then to his home outside the city. Ten The following day Joanna learned that her bank accounts had been emptied despite the banks being warned of the high risk of suspicious activity. Her offshore accounts were intact. Over the next few days security in her apartment was improved but there were no sightings of Karen. The affair had reached the press and there was a clamour for interviews. The opportunity was too good to miss and Joanna's new book was rushed through editors and printers and was on the book shelves within the month. Joanna read Karen's book. It was indeed written in her own style of writing but the story was too good an opportunity to miss so Joanna retold it and it was published six months later under her own name; Karen's name was placed alongside in recognition that it was largely her tale and maybe, perhaps, because of her skill with large knives. At Christmas Joanna had two books in the top fifty and her fan mail had quadrupled. It was mostly in the form of letters and emails so the box stood out from the rest. It was addressed to her in handwritten script and there was no return address. She opened it quickly and found a small white box. She tugged at the lid and found inside a stack of small pads like nicotine patches. There was a note on top of the first. She read it and smiled. "Hope you are enjoying your new femininity. I always thought you were a nice lady and these will further assist. I wouldn't have hurt you. I'm sorry about Belinda. I liked her a lot but she was impatient. I'm happy that you aren't. Happy Christmas! Karen xx" That night Joanna looked at the letter again and reread it. She slipped her hand inside her nightdress and felt the weight of her breast. Her hand brushed carelessly over the nipple and caused her to shudder with delight. She pulled out the first patch and removed the wrapper. She inspected it briefly before sticking it securely on her forearm. It was Karen's apology and notice of her progress, though it would be years before such a product found a shelf in the pharmacies. Joanna looked at the white square patch on her arm and smiled happily. Karen would not return. © 2013 Joan Carson