A week later, the Lady sat in her austere office with its grey metal wails, waiting. A few hours before she had received a signal from the commander of the main fleet, giving her an estimated time of arrival. It was much less than she had hoped for. The Andromedan invasion of Earth was less than a solar year away. Nothing now could turn it back – and even after all the exploration the Lady was still not certain how to arrange it. Until 1945 everything had seemed so simple. Nothing the Earth people could do to resist would have been effective. But during this present expedition they had discovered the secrets of nuclear fission and fusion, and that had changed the whole pattern that had been established so painstakingly over the centuries. Now, even if the Earth people could not win, they were in a position to cause such terrible devastation in the Earth that the whole planet could well be made unfit for habitation for a thousand years! And where could half a million immigrants live all that time? There was no other suitable place.
The Lady drummed her fingers on the desktop. Her eyes were focused on the plain wail opposite, seeing the terror and dismay that must confront her people if they learned that after four thousand years of fantastic effort and sustained self-sacrifice they could not come into the "promised land". And all because of these inferior creatures who inhabited it.
Individually not one of them was a match for even the stupidest Andromedan. But there were so many of them! Teeming billions of creatures. Their lives were admittedly painfully short, but their replacement rate was so high. What was she going to do? There had to be one last convulsive effort to gain possession of Earth without at the same time destroying it. Was a peaceful, diplomatic approach possible after all this time? It had been tried, not once but a dozen times during the past five-hundred years, but every attempt had been dismissed or ridiculed.
The only hope was that the secret cadre of Earth people built up by Gulda and other emissaries could be used to influence affairs. If the Lady herself could gain a hearing, keep things on a low key long enough for the main flotilla to land and for the necessary arrangements to be made, all would be well. Within four days of a landing, the Earth people would not be in a position to resist. The critical period would last less than a week. But how to gain that week?
The Lady sat up straight as the door buzzer sounded discreetly. She passed her fingers over a glowing metal plate and the door opened. Gulda stood in the opening, between two guards. Her face was chalk-white and her eyes bright with a febrile excitement induced by the drugs which had been administered to dull the after-torture pain, without at the same time deadening her intellect.
"Come in, Gulda," ordered the Lady.
"You two, wait outside."
Gulda walked into the room unsteadily and the door closed silently.
"Sit down." Gulda sat slowly, with a great effort at self-control. "I need your help." The Lady wasted no time on preliminaries or apologies. Gulda had endangered the whole project and had been punished, lightly in her Leader's estimation. Now she could be useful and should rejoice in this opportunity to redeem herself.
"Do you have any reason to suppose that your cadre of Earth people have become unreliable?" she asked.
"No, Lady." The words dropped from Gulda's slack lips like stones. Even though the physical torture was no more now than a memory, the mental hurt was still acute. She felt unsafe, unsure of herself, afraid of making another, final and fatal mistake.
"How many are there?"
"Of my care, in the country of Britain, there were just on fifty-five thousand at the last count. Of those, over thirty thousand live within twenty miles of the center of the city of London."
"Could you locate six of them who would be utterly devoted to our cause?"
"It would not take long. The computer could pick them out in a few minutes. There are several thousands to choose from."
"I have heard that the main expedition will be ready to land in three-hundred and-fifty-four days from now."
"So soon?" In her surprise Gulda became animated; then the light died out again behind her eyes.
"Yes. We must hurry now… As far as you know, do we still have satisfactory control over these people we selected?"
"All that are still alive and in range of our transmitters, yes. Some will have died. Others have moved away from the country. But there will still be about fifty-five thousand, all equipped with receivers. The failure rate on the circuits is very low; not more than one in ten thousand a year, so there will be no loss worth reckoning from that cause."
"So, in this country alone we have fifty-five thousand allies?"
"Yes."
"And on the American continent?"
"Only in North America, Lady." Gulda sat forward, becoming interested, losing the apathy of fear. "You will recall we decided not to bother with the area south of the United States of America as not being important to us."
"Yes. We thought we could easily subjugate these people, and I still think we were correct in that assumption. How many in North America?"
"Including the territory of Canada, there are about a quarter million!"
The Lady raised her eyebrows. "So many?"
"I did not waste all my time," said Gulda, almost reproachfully. "We have had more than a hundred agents working there for the past twenty-five solar years. And because of the peculiar gregariousness of the Americans, we have been able to arrange for 'converts' to find new adherents for us, which has made the work much easier."
"Do we have enough Earth people under our control to be able to engineer world revolution?" asked the Lady, bluntly.
Gulda sat silent for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was firm, almost hard. "Lady, you punished me for becoming emotionally involved with the Earth people… and I don't complain about that. To some extent I did. At the same time, I do not think you made sufficient allowance for the terrible strain I have been under for so many years, nor for the drain on my physical strength in combating the diseases of this planet, so different from the few that were left on ours when we came away. And I don't think you enquired sufficiently about the work I had under my control."
"In other words, you think I have been unjust?"
"Possibly, Lady. But that is all in the past. A few days before I came back to the craft, I set in train certain events in the country of Portugal designed to see whether a tiny proportion of the population, properly guided and controlled, could in fact upset a powerful police-state. The day I returned, revolution had broken out in the streets. Since then I have been in solitary confinement, and I have no news about progress."
Gulda's eyes held the Lady's gaze without flinching now, and for a fleeting moment it occurred to the Leader that Gulda might, in certain circumstances be dangerous. She pressed several buttons set around a green lamp, and instantly a news flash began to form on a screen beside her. Succinctly, in the shorthand that was the common means of written communication among the Andromedans, in which a single sign could stand for a long sentence, they read the latest information on the political situation in Portugal, as learned from Earth's news agencies. It was obvious that Gulda's plot had been all too successful. The country, an extreme right-wing military dictatorship for almost forty years, had passed in a few weeks from that extreme, through weak liberal government into extreme left-wing anarchy. To an outside observer, knowing nothing of the true facts, the whole series of events seemed absolutely incredible.
"You were successful, it seems," mused the Lady.
"Yes. I knew we should be. When we use these creatures' bodies, guided by our intelligences, we are bound to be. Their thought-processes move so slowly! We are able to transmit to their minds thoughts and ideas in ten seconds that might take them a lifetime to absorb."
"Could the same thing be done here, in Britain? And in the United States of America if necessary?"
"I am sure of it."
"Will you arrange it?"
"On certain definite conditions."
The Lady stared at Gulde in amazement. Did she dare try to make conditions?
"Which are these," went on Gulda, obviously struggling against a strong personal distress. "One; I must have your instructions in writing, with a copy lodged by radio with Master Command. I do not intend to be punished again for exceeding my duty! Second; I am to be in complete charge of the operation. Once it starts, no one is to have authority to override my decisions. Third; I am to be appointed your deputy, officially, and complete authority is to devolve on me in the event anything… unforeseen… should happen to you. I would not wish a change of leadership at a critical moment," she explained.
"Is that all?" The Lady's voice was cold, harsh.
"Not quite. Finally, I am to be given a pardon before I start work, for anything I may do in the course of this operation which either you or Master Command may disapprove of, waiting for the decision." There was not a trace of rebellion or defiance on her face, even though the Lady knew – and Gulda knew, that this was a defiance of authority that, in itself merited death!
"Suppose I do not agree?" The words dropped out between them like pebbles falling from a sack.
Gulda sighed. "Then I will not undertake the work, Lady."
"You could be executed…"
"Then the work will not be done."
"Others would do it."
"Not as well. You know that. In fact, not at all. The computer we used is primed to a code."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that if anything is started before that code is fed into it the whole program will be erased!"
Two red spots appeared high up on the Lady's prominent cheek bones, as the only sign of the intense anger she felt.
"I can get that code out of you in a minute!" she threatened.
"No."
"You are immune to torture?"
"You know I am not. But I do not know the code."
"I could find out who does… from you."
"No. No one knows it."
"Then bow…"
"The code is in the body of one of my Earth people. I could be made to tell you who it is – but if I do not go to find that person you may search the Earth for a lifetime without finding that person among all the countless millions! And you have only three-hundred-and-fifty-four days." Gulda sat back, her eyes closed, seemingly indifferent to her danger. In plot and counterplot she had designed to gain control over this expedition for the past ten years. Now she was so near to success it did not seem so very important. She was tired, and every joint of her body was a dull ache…
"Very well. I agree." The Lady's voice was cool, controlled, emotionless. She had all the virtues as well as the vices of her greatness. She knew when to yield gracefully as well as when to resist to the bitter end.
Gulda stood up, uninvited, holding to the edge of the desk. "I am ill," she said. "Send copies of the documents to my cabin. And order the guards to let me go. I'll get some treatment and start work in an hour from receipt of my guarantees." She turned without another word and opened the door. "The Lady wishes to instruct you," she said to the guards. "Come in."
Gerry and Sonia strolled along a footpath above The Vale of Health on Hampstead Heath, their arms around one another's waists. They had not exchanged more than a dozen words since dinner. There was a thin, new crescent moon, obscured now by cloud that brought the threat of rain and possibly thunder. The night was hot and the air still.
"This is the tenth night we've been here," said Sonia. "Not a sight of anything. Maybe they've given up coming here?"
"They were here a week before we arrived. We know that from the signs. Look how the glow has faded, you can hardly see it now."
"But maybe they've chosen another place now."
Gerry turned to Sonia almost fiercely. "So what if they have? What can we do? Go chasing all over England after them? This is as likely a spot as any. All we can do is wait."
Sonia sighed. "There's such a lot at stake, Gerry."
"Godammit, I know that!" Gerry checked himself in mid-speech. "Look, there's no point in worrying. We mustn't get personally involved Sonia. We're doing our best, carrying out orders. If the world goes down in ruin, we can't do more than that!"
"Like that Roman soldier at Pompeii?" suggested Sonia.
"Just like that. He'd been told to stand guard, and he did, all night, while the ashes and dust fell all around him and buried him."
"Did you know that when they excavated and found the hole where his body had been, there was a dog-shaped hole at his feet?"
"Yes. They were quite a pair, those two. Faithful unto death. And that's us, Sonia. I'm no genius. I'd like to be a second James Bond, find the villain of the piece and save the world. Only that's not my role. I'm going to do my duty, that's all. I'll stand or fall by that. It may be dull and unimaginative, but that's the way I am… any arguments?"
Sonia squeezed his waist. "No, darling. I'm with you… all the way!"
Two blue-uniformed policemen, annoyed at being back on foot because of the gasoline shortage, stirred beside a tree.
"There's a couple, Harry," said one. "Shine your torch and see what they're up to."
Harry switched on a powerful electric lamp. The two men watched in disgust as the distant couple who had been kissing broke hastily apart.
"Bloody lesbians!" said Harry.
"I hate their guts!" said the first one. "Worse than bloody homos!"
"I dunno what one girl can see in another," said Harry. "I mean, what can they do?"
"Damned perverts!" Harry switched off the light. He might hate lesbians, but under the law there was nothing he could do about it.
The two "lesbians" had broken apart hastily and walked quickly away down the hill.
"There are times," said Gerry, "when I hate all police officers!"
This was, in fact, the first time in his life when he had been marginally on the wrong side of the law, and it was, at least, an interesting experience! In itself, the fact that he was decently dressed as a woman, would not have involved him in trouble, especially since he was out of doors late at night when there was no one about to make a complaint, and in the company of a genuine young woman. However, Gerry had been trained as a policeman, and he was well aware that if his deception had been detected, a pair of experienced officers could easily trump up some kind of charge against him which, even if unproven, would give them every opportunity to harass him!
It had been Sonia's idea, from the start. After four days and nights of fruitless waiting, her impatience had begun to mount.
"Suppose that Andromedan was right," she said.
"Right about what?"
[bb-133 illustration 06.png]
"About them being attracted to perverted people."
"So?"
"So we are not doing anything to attract them, are we?"
Gerry was not so sure. Some of the things Sonia had done to him in bed had come very close to it. She had taken full advantage of her own inviolability to amuse herself, knowing that there could be no repercussions.
"What do you have in mind?" asked Gerry. She told him, and the suggestion left him angry, red-faced, eyes flashing.
"I'll be damned if I will!" he had cried.
"I'm sorry," said Sonia, coldly. "I thought you said you were devoted to your duty. But if you won't cooperate, you won't! We'll just have to sweat it out!"
"But why me?" protested Gerry.
"Well, for obvious reasons, I'd be no use! I can cross-dress as a man any old time and no one would lift an eyebrow. But if you were to cross-dress as a girl, why that would be something else again."
"It surely would," agreed Gerry, gruffly. "But what kind of damn fool would I look? Over six feet tall yet!"
Sonia had looked at him, her eyes lazy, twinkling with ill-concealed amusement. The truth was that she was getting a bit bored with the inaction of the past few days, and was looking for something to stir things up. If she could not stir up the Andromedans, it would be fun to stir up Gerry Glasner, who was a nice guy but decidedly dull. She knew from what he had told her that there were depths to his personality, but they were most often concealed under a veneer of persona which made it impossible for him to be his real self.
"I think we could fix you up very nicely," she said. Then she let the subject drop and did not refer to it again. Gerry had been uncommunicative during lunch and right through the afternoon and evening, but when once more they were on watch on the heath in the warm darkness, he raised the subject again. The truth was that the idea had been growing in his mind slowly, until it was fast becoming an obsession!
"Look," he said, "if you really think that my dressing as a girl might help… I'll go along with the idea for a few days at any rate."
"Oh," said Sonia, airily dismissing the whole subject, "I don't suppose it will make any difference. Forget it!"
Unfortunately for Gerry, he could not forget it! In fact, the more he tried to forget it, the more attractive the idea became. Obviously a serious-minded young man, with a career in the police force dare not indulge in cross-dressing, but a secret agent, engaged in a life-and-death struggle with mysterious creatures from outer space could, in the line of duty, do anything that might be helpful. It would not be a self-indulgence; it would not be "fun". It would be duty. Having reconciled his thinking along those lines, Gerry was able to press his point, so that Sonia had the amusement of allowing herself to be persuaded to a decision she had already made! Eventually she gave in gracefully, giving Gerry the face-saving claim of duty to calm his conscience!
The next morning, they went shopping for suitable clothes for Gerry, an expedition which gave Sonia a lot of amusement, and Gerry a good deal of acute embarrassment. He had not thought the thing through to its final conclusion. The vague idea that had formed in his mind was that he should put on outer clothes and get the general appearance of being a woman, but Sonia dispelled this illusion at once.
"That's no use," she said firmly. "You'll look odd! Just like a man dressed in girl's clothes. Nothing looks more absurd. No. If you are going to do it, it's got to be done right. You'll have to dress from the skin out – and something will have to be done to alter you general shape too. You're far too thick around the middle to make a convincing girl."
"I'm not thick!" protested Gerry. "There's not an ounce of surplus fat on me!"
"I didn't say there was, silly. It's just that you are the wrong shape. You don't have enough waist, for one thing. And your buttocks are too small and hard for another – quite apart from your breasts, which are ridiculous."
Gerry was not sure that he liked his appearance, of which he was with some justification proud, being described as "ridiculous", but Sonia over-rode his protests like a road-roller. Before breakfast, she spent half an hour with the Yellow Pages of the phone directory and when they were ready to go out she had a list of stores ready.
"You'd better call a hire car, Gerry," she said. "We've got a lot of territory to cover this morning!"
Gerry had hesitated for a moment. The hiring of a chauffeur-driven car was not part of his normal life-pattern, and was not the kind of indulgence he could afford. Then he remembered his lavish expense account, with relief, and picked up the phone. The expedition took the whole morning, until about 1 p.m., at which time, with all the shopping complete, Sonia insisted on having lunch, so that the car and driver had to be held for the best part of another two hours, which seemed to Gerry a shocking waste of money although he had the good sense not to say so. Soon after 3 p.m. they returned to the small hotel loaded with packages.
The advantage of having a room in the annex was immediately obvious. They had a private entrance through the garden, so that Gerry would be able to come and go without being seen by staff or guests. He threw the packages on to a chair, kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed.
"I'm done!" he announced. "My feet are killing me."
Sonia laughed. "I though you'd spent six months on the beat. You ought to be used to walking by now!"
"That was two years ago," said Gerry, stiffly.
"These days I get to use a car."
"OK. Just exert yourself enough to ring for coffee. Then you can rest up for half an hour, poor darling. And after that we'll have to start fixing you up!"
Gerry's enthusiasm had declined more and more with every store they had been to, and with every purchase they had made. But since Sonia had cleverly engineered things so that the whole idea of cross-dressing now seemed to be his from the beginning, he could not back down, much as he wanted to. But as soon as the coffee was delivered, Sonia began to unpack their purchases, and as the garments were successively unpacked, Gerry found his interest begin to mount. As it slowly dawned on his consciousness that he was going to put on those clothes, and that he was going out into the dark dressed like that, he felt an upsurge of sexual excitement which made it impossible for him to appear as aloof and disinterested as he wished.
Finished unpacking, Sonia decided to undress. The weather had begun to deteriorate. It was hotter than ever, but with a humidity unusual in London, the sun was obscured by grey cloud and over the horizon to the north thunder-heads were forming. From time to time they could hear the rumble of distant thunder.
"Going to be a thunderstorm tonight," said Gerry.
"It feels hot enough for it. I'm going to strip off!" Sonia took off her outer clothes until she stood in the middle of the room wearing nothing but the pale grey sheath, shining with a strange metallic sheen. It concealed nothing of her charming shape, but at the same time in a cruel, arrogant way it demonstrated the silent, invisible power of the Andromedans.
"God! How I hate this thing!" she cried, suddenly passionate. "It makes me feel like a thing, an object – like a damned slave, somebody's property!"
Gerry looked at her, suddenly very sympathetic. He had hardly realized how courageous and uncomplaining she had been.
"Can't we get it off, Gerry?" Her sweet face was suddenly imploring and at that moment Gerry knew that he was hopelessly in love with her.
He took her hand, tenderly. "I'm afraid not," he said gently. "It'll have to be the first of our 'war aims' to get you out of that."
"But how? How?"
"I don't know yet. But we'll find a way…" Gerry sat up and drew the girl down to sit beside him on the bed. With his arms around her protectively, he felt the cold, soft material of the sheath unpleasant to his touch, and for the first time was struck by the sheer obscenity of anyone deliberately taking possession of another body in this way. Sonia sat still beside him for a few minutes, regaining her composure. Then she stood up, under control once more. Perhaps her face was more tense than usual, but that was all.
"You'd better get your clothes off," she said.
"I'll take a shower before I dress," said Gerry as he got off the bed.
He came back to the room wearing a bathrobe. Sonia looked at him, smiling with evident amusement.
"You'll have to take that off," she said. "Maidenly modesty is one thing; but we can't dress you over a bathrobe!"
Gerry was caught in a conflict. He wanted to stand naked in front of Sonia, even though he knew that his penis was a long, thick, hard rod, standing out in front of him and throbbing with life. Certainly he was sure she would not be shocked at the sight. Over the past few days, she had shown an interest in his genitals he had never expected any woman to show. And she had played on them an emotional and sensual symphony that had left him utterly devoted to her. At the same time, Gerry was trapped in the mores of his class and upbringing. He had the attitudes of an older generation, rather than his own. Sex, while delightful, was "wrong". One should not be frank and open in enjoying it. It was something to be indulged in, rather as an alcoholic indulges in liquor, secretly, in the dark, shamefully.
Maybe Sonia detected something of this conflict. Sometimes she thought that it was this uncertainty, this hesitancy that gave him a special appeal. At the same time, even though she was cruelly prevented from demonstrating the true depth of her affection, she knew that she was in love with this rather uptight young man, and she did not want to hurt his feelings, nor to shock him more than was good for him!
"It's all in a good cause," she said, giving Gerry the excuse he had been looking for. To stand naked in front of a beautiful girl while she helped him to cross-dress as a woman would be quite improper and almost inexcusable, if it were done for pleasure. But in the line of duty, it was OK! Making a brief concession to his conscience, Gerry turned away as he removed the robe, only to find that Sonia had silently sneaked up behind him. As the robe fell, her arms came around him and she grasped his balls in one small hand, and his prick with the other.
"It'll be nice to know you've got these under your panties!" whispered a soft voice. Then she let him go and picked up the corset.
Buying the corset had been Gerry's worst experience of the day! They had been compelled to go to a very "special" place in Duke Street, off Oxford Street, which catered to people of both sexes who, for a variety of reasons, of which very few were entirely legitimate, wished to wear a tight-laced corset. Ostensibly the firm catered to people needing corsets for various surgical purposes, but in practice their prices were so high that most such people passed them by and went to more conventional makers of surgical wear.
The woman who interviewed them was so "understanding" that Gerry had felt he could cheerfully have strangled her with his bare hands!
"A corset? But of course! For Madame or…?"
"For him," said Sonia, forthrightly. She was not in the least embarrassed.
"Certainly. Madame wishes her husband to be severely corseted?"
"Yes."
Gerry stood by, his face flaming red.
"A good reduction in waist size?"
"Most definitely – and some increase – here." Sonia patted Gerry's behind in a proprietary manner.
The woman's interest was now aroused. This was going to be a profitable piece of business.
"Ah. Then you may also require some development of the… er… bosom?"
"Oh yes. A lot of 'development of the bosom'… You'd like that, wouldn't you darling?" Gerry glared at her and clenched his hands.
"It will have to be made of leather," said the woman. "There is no alternative. No other material will have the necessary strength and 'yield' at the same time… It will be expensive," she added.
"Oh," said Sonia, airily, "cost is no object." The woman's eyes gleamed. Then she dropped her bombshell. "It will take three weeks to make a suitable corset," she said.
Gerry felt a sudden surge of relief. They could forget the whole thing! He half-turned to leave, but Sonia stood firm.
"Impossible!" she said, imperiously. "I want to take something away with me, now! – What about that?"
She pointed to a fearsome-looking leather corset on a manikin in the corner of the "Consulting Room".
The woman looked dubious. "It might be satisfactory," she agreed, "but I am not sure of the size."
"Can't you check it?" asked Sonia, impatiently. There were times when she got extremely tired of the leisurely "mating dances" that accompanied so much of British life. One could not even ask for a bill at an hotel without first spending three minutes discussing the weather!
The woman seemed rather shocked by this direct, brutal approach, but probably accepted it at last as further evidence of the lack of finesse of the Americans who formed an increasingly large proportion of her clientele! One gained the impression from her attitude that if she had had to deal with the Founding Fathers, she would have had them all hanged!
[bb-133 illustration 07.png]
However, driven by the force of Sonia's personality, the woman took a tape-measure and did some mysterious things with the corset. Then she came back to Sonia and Gerry.
"If monsieur would kindly remove his jacket," she said.
"Why 'monsieur' for Pete's sake?" wondered Sonia. "Can't she say 'you'?" Gerry removed his jacket and submitted to the woman's odious operations with the tape-measure. She stood back, smiling with triumph.
"The size is perfect," she said.
"Good," said Sonia. "Wrap it up please."
"There is one problem."
"Oh God," thought Sonia, "here we go again." Aloud she said, "What is it?"
"The… er… bust size is rather excessively large – as you may see."
Sonia inspected the corset on the model, her head on one side. "It's large," she agreed, grudgingly. "But you won't mind that, will you darling?"
Gerry grunted something, gritting his teeth with silent rage.
"What about padding?" asked Sonia.
"Padding?" The woman raised supercilious eyebrows.
"False tits!" said Sonia, brutally.
For a moment she thought the woman was going to faint, but with an effort she controlled herself. "You mean… er… false bosoms?" she asked, frostily.
"That's what I said, false tits!"
The woman shrugged. Peasants! she thought. Morons! No refinement at all! She did not object to making an excellent living from selling odd garments to people with odd tastes, but she did object to having to face up to the truth!
She produced a pair of extremely large soft rubber falsies, which Sonia approved. Then, without further delay she collected a check for close on two-hundred dollars, wrapped the goods in a box and showed her customers to the door. As they left, she looked again at the check. People who were in a hurry to satisfy their strange desires could be such suckers! If Sonia had haggled, she could have had the lot for one-hundred dollars. Oh well, if people would be so… unrefined… they must pay for the pleasure!
That was the worst experience for Gerry. After that it was not really necessary for him to appear to have any interest in the proceedings, although from time to time Sonia dragged him into the deal, asking him whether he felt "She would like that?" or if he felt that "This color would appeal to her." A nod and a grunt was all the help she got.
And now the time had come to put on all these clothes, and to see whether Gerry could successfully change his appearance.
She held the cold leather corset against Gerry's bare body.
"Hold this while I lace it up," she said.
By the time Sonia had finished lacing the long leather garment, it was just pleasantly tight against Gerry's body. He was surprised; had expected it, from what he had seen on the model, to be extremely tight and uncomfortable. Certainly the strong steel boning running down the length at about two-inch intervals might make it difficult if not unwise for him to try to touch his toes, but pour etre belle, ii faut souffrir as he reminded himself. He sighed with relief as Sonia stood back to inspect the corset.
"That's not as bad as I expected," he said, cheerfully.
"You'd better wait until I've got it laced up before you congratulate yourself," said Sonia.
"I thought you had laced it up!"
The girl laughed. "So far, I've threaded the laces through the eyelets and pulled them up just enough to hold the thing in position. The tight-lacing comes later – and when it does you'll know about it, I promise you! Why, there's a gap about four inches wide at the back!"
"Oh. Well, there's no need to pull the laces up fully, is there?"
"Yes, Gerry, there is; a very good reason. All the clothes we have bought you are sized on this corset laced tight. If I don't lace it tight, you won't be able to get them on. Now, bend down a bit so I can reach you!"
Gerry bent forward glumly and Sonia pulled forward the large breast-cups that hung empty at the front of the corset. Deftly she slipped into each, one of the big rubber falsies she had bought and tucked them out of sight.
"That's much better," she said, firmly.
Gerry was not too sure of this, especially when he turned to survey himself in the mirror, but he kept silent. There really was no point in complaining any more. Besides… despite the sense of outrage he felt, he could not deny that there was a lot of sexual pleasure to be gamed from this masquerade. It was with sense of shock that he realized he would never again be able to join in the condemnation of "perversion" which was common among his brother officers. "To understand all is to forgive all" was an old French proverb, and for the first time Gerry was beginning to see that there was a whole lot of truth in it.
Sonia touched his throbbing penis without any warning, while his thoughts were far away, so that he first jumped and then almost doubled in two as she squeezed.
"Oh dear!" she mocked, "you are in a state! You'd better put these on. They may calm you down!" She bent to offer a pair of frilly panties to Gerry's feet. He stepped into them, then Sonia pulled them up his legs and settled them at the waist. They were pale blue, made of sheer nylon and covered with a froth of frilly lace. They were tight enough to hold his erect prick up against his belly. Sonia studied him carefully, standing in that endearing way typical of her, head on one side. Then she pulled the panties down a bit in front and grasped his prick. With the other hand she pulled the corset forward, then tucked his penis up under it for a distance of about four inches. She readjusted the panties.
"When I've got the corset laced up, you'll look quite good!" she said.
"I probably shan't feel too good!" said Gerry, gloomily. Sonia began to lace the corset in earnest. It took her about ten minutes of hard work, and by the time she had finished her hair was lying damp and dark on her forehead. She sat down heavily on the bed.
"Whew! That was tough!" she cried.
"WAS tough? IS tough more likely! I can hardly breath!"
"You'll soon get accustomed to it," said Sonia, heartlessly. "At least it has done what we wanted. Look at the way the compression of your waist and the padding of your hips and buttocks has changed your shape. THAT is what I meant. Without that, you'd have looked exactly like a man in women's clothes… You don't look much like a man now!" she added, with a grin.
Gerry looked down to where his penis was crushed under the front of the severe leather corset. "I'll never be the same again," he said.
"Oh, you're resilient," laughed Sonia. "I'll bet you'll spring back as soon as we take the corset off!"
She put a pair of black stockings on Gerry's legs, and was about to attach them to the garters fitted to the lower edge of the corset. She paused, deep in thought, then took them off again.
"Your legs are hairy!" she said, severely. "Not that I mind, in principle, you understand. In fact I like a man to be hairy! But I can't have a girlfriend with great hairy legs, can I? I mean, there are limits! I shall have to get rid of the hairs. Sit still."
Sonia fetched the necessary lotion and absorbent cotton and set to work. Twenty minutes later, Gerry's legs were smooth and hairless, and feeling strange and cold. "The things I suffer in the course of duty!" he muttered.
Sonia stood beside him, her face serious. "You're not the only one," she said, quietly. "I'm trying to make this fun, Gerry because if it's got to be done there's no point in making a misery of it. But it's deadly serious all the same."
Gerry grasped her hand. "I know, Sonia. Don't take any notice of me. I'll tell you honestly why I complain so much, and you can have a good laugh at me if you want to. I have to complain, to pretend to be outraged, for one very good reason. I'm enjoying it! And there's part of me that says I shouldn't be enjoying myself! So I complain to convince myself that I don't want to do it… What are you crazy about?"
Sonia put her arms around his neck. "You!" she whispered, "you big ugly, stupid and thoroughly bent copper!" and she smothered his protests with kisses. "Come on," she said at last, "let's get this job done or we'll never get out tonight!" She pulled the stockings on again. They felt odd and unfamiliar on Gerry's smooth legs. Then she helped him into a waist-slip, the first "skirt" he could ever remember wearing. It ended about six inches above his knees.
"I hope the skirt isn't too short," said Gerry.
"Too short for what? You'll have to put it on to find out. Here!"
She pulled the brief skirt up to Gerry's waist and just managed to fasten it. "A shade too small," she commented, zipping up the side. To let the clutch in lightly, they had chosen a shirt-waister that looked a bit like a man's dress shirt, with long sleeves and collar, and with lace frills down the front. It fitted well, even though the large false breasts pushed pertly up under it. Gerry's fingers trembled as he buttoned it. He held his arms out as Sonia offered him the jacket of the simple suit, which fell comfortably around him.
"Now the shoes," said Sonia, kneeling down to put them on Gerry's feet. "I'm not doing this out of deference to you," she explained. "I just doubt if you could bend this far!"
"You're dead right," agreed Gerry. "If I did, something would break, and it might be vital!"
He stood up, and grabbed at Sonia's shoulders for support as his weight came forward unexpectedly.
"These heels are high!" he said.
"Not very high. They were the flattest I could find, but that's how they go these days. You're lucky that stiletto heels are not being worn these days."
"Some folk wear them," said Gerry, grimly, memories of the Andromedan flooding back. Sonia looked at him, but did not take the matter any further.
At Sonia's request, Gerry sat down at the vanity table and she began to put the finishing touches to his appearance. He had shaved when he showered, so Sonia covered his whole face with a kind of mask of pancake make-up of neutral shade, on which she built up the finished appearance. With great care she shaped his mouth and made up his eyes. Finally satisfied she put the chestnut brown wig on him, and spent several minutes settling it to her complete satisfaction. A pair of drop earrings clipped to his lobes completed the effect. Then she applied some of her own expensive perfume, and at last stood back.
"There!" she cried triumphantly. "You look good enough to eat!"
Gerry stood up in front of the long mirror, studying his appearance critically. "I look exactly like a very expensive whore who, for a fee will do curious things in high-heeled boots!" he announced. "But at least I don't look like a flat-footed copper in drag, and for that my thanks!" He was actually smiling.
Sonia stood in front of him, and came close when she saw that he was not displeased. For the first time, Gerry felt the sensation of a hand sliding up his bare thigh, under his skirt, to touch his panties! Sonia grasped his testicles in her hand and held on, tight. "It's a pity in a way we can't do something about these," she said. "Still, they don't show so I guess it doesn't matter much."
"Nothing doing!" said Gerry firmly. "In fact, 'Not bloody likely'! You leave my balls alone. I'm going to need them again – in the not too distant future, the way I feel right now!"
Sonia's face dimpled. "I like you in a skirt," she said. "It makes you so easy to get at! I think I shall make you wear them indoors all the time when we are married!"
"Married? Who said anything about that?"
"I did! But first of all I've got to get this damned sheath off!"
With a passion indicating that hysteria was only just concealed beneath a surface of gaiety, she tugged uselessly at the metallic thing that imprisoned her body. Gerry held her close for a moment.
"If ever you do, I'll consider what you just said," he murmured.
"Will you? Do you mean that?" He could not be sure whether Sonia was serious or joking.
"You just try to stop me," he growled. Then he let her go, and sat patiently waiting while she dressed herself. She had not worn her white leather suit for several days, so she put that on again. Somehow it made her look tinier than ever, and, in a way, defenseless. Gerry's heart warmed to her. I'll marry her when this is all over, he promised himself. He was still smiling when Sonia said she was ready; they were both smiling as they left their room by the garden entrance. It was the last smile they were to share for many a long day!
Obviously they could not eat in the hotel restaurant. It would have been too difficult to explain Gerry's metamorphosis. So they walked down through The Vale of Health to one of the many discreet restaurants that cater to the wealthy residents of Hampstead and Highgate, as well as the expense account "visiting firemen" who go there seeking "atmosphere", and find – good food and wine. They did not notice the two pairs of men who emerged from side-alleys behind them and followed them down the street. As they were settling to a table, two pairs of men came into the restaurant, one after the other. They sat well apart, between the door and Sonia and Gerry's table. They ordered meals and bottles and ate, talking discreetly as did all the other clients. It was a place of candle-light and warmth, with a faint smell of good cooking and no piped music! Gerry and Sonia spoke to one another in soft whispers, not so much influenced by the silence of the place as by the fact that if Gerry had spoken out loud it would have broken his disguise at once – and this was not the place for that.
They lingered over brandy, reluctant for some reason to walk back to the heath and resume their vigil. Sonia shivered for no good reason.
"Someone's just walked over my grave!" she said.
"Don't say that! Don't even think it. We've got a long, wonderful life ahead of us," whispered Gerry, but before the sentence was out of his mouth, the last few words were drowned in a terrible crash of thunder that reverberated down the street.
Sonia jumped. "Has it started to rain?" she asked.
"No. I think this is one of those storms that will play around the hills for hours before the rain comes. We have them like this, once every few years… I guess we'd better go." Gerry paid the bill and the two of them got up and walked out into the night. It did not seem odd to them that the two pairs of men followed them at a short interval. One pair followed behind, about a hundred yards away. The other pair made a left turn and disappeared down a side road, to turn once more and follow a narrow passage that ran parallel to the road.
Gerry and Sonia, arms entwined, climbed the steep narrow path to the top of the hill. Looking down to the hollow, they could see no sign of where the space craft had once landed; the faint phosphorescence had faded away completely. The craft had not returned in their absence.
"They're never coming back," said Sonia, gloomily. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life done up in this sheath, with no sex, no babies nothing! Oh, Gerry!"
That was the moment when she turned to her companion, who took her in his arms and kissed her. And it was a few minutes later, as the two policemen began to walk away that there were two bright flashes among the bushes and two muffled explosions as the silenced bullets left the muzzle of the gun. As the lightning played all around the horizon, two uniformed policemen lay dead on the grass.
Sonia and Gerry sat down on the grass side by side, watching the firework display of lighting down toward the Thames estuary.
"This will be the end of summer," said Gerry, sadly. When this storm has passed, you'll see. It will suddenly be autumn and the leaves will start to fall.
He froze as something cold and hard and round pressed against the side of his throat.
"Don't move!" hissed a voice in his ear. "And don't cry out. If you do, you're dead. And so is she!"