Murder Misstery

As always, I began by searching the Internet for news about the international manhunt for me. The Wolf murder was old news by now, and as far as I could tell, the authorities were still floundering in their attempts to pick up my trail. I wondered if they were still monitoring Tracy's emails? Despite all the publicity, she stubbornly believed in my innocence, although my family had long ago disowned me.

Other than my daily trips to the market in Provence, my email correspondence with Tracy was my only form of human interaction. I longed to see her again, to show her what I'd become. She seemed fascinated by my veiled accounts of my transformation, and I remembered how turned on she'd been the first time she dressed me in her clothes. The sex we had that day was the best in my life, and I sadly tried to remember that last time I'd had an erection. I desperately longed to be with Tracy again, only not as sisters….I sent her a brief email confirming our upcoming plans, then I logged off and removed the hard drive from my computer.

It didn't take long to pack my worldly possessions into my Vuitton suitcase. I'd weeded out most of my winter clothes by now, assembling a stylish wardrobe of summery outfits during occasional shopping forays on the Riviera. With my emerging curves, I was able to wear shorts and capris with confidence, but for some reason I felt more comfortable in skirts and dresses these days. After a long last look around the villa, I left the keys on the kitchen counter, closed the door behind me, and tossed my suitcase into the trunk of my bright red BMW convertible.

The drive to Monte Carlo was spectacular, on winding two-lane roads which hugged the rugged coastline. My little car handled them with ease, and I was able to enjoy the view with the wind in my hair. When I was sure no other cars were in sight, I tossed the hard drive deep into a glade. A pretty girl in the red convertible attracts plenty of attention from other drivers and pedestrians, something I'd never get used to.

After I crossed the border into Monaco, I pulled over to the side of the road to consult my Michelin guide. The hotel I was looking for was in the heart of Monte Carlo, and with the summer traffic, I was very late by the time I left my car with the valet and made my way into the lobby. The elegant Belle Époque hotel oozed with old money and glamour. Newly rich and newly female, I felt very out of place.

I tried to ignore the hungry leers from the men surrounding me on the elevator. At least none of them tried to pinch my ass through my sundress! When I got to the right floor, I took a moment in front of a gilded mirror to brush my hair and freshen my lipstick before I tapped on the appointed door.

"Maddy!" Jacques beamed when he opened the door. "Mon Dieu, fantastique!"

"Sorry I'm late. You look nice." And he did, in his French blue shirt and paisley ascot. He couldn't take his eyes off my chest, which made me very self-conscious. Better get used to it! "Is that professional interest?" I teased him as I took in my luxurious surroundings.

"But of course," he smiled. "You are one of my medical triumphs."

Jacques' suite had a spectacular view of the marina. I walked over to the balcony and stared, mesmerized by the armada of enormous yachts lolling in the turquoise water. "Wow," was all I could say.

"Wow," he said back as he placed his hands on my bronzed shoulders. I broke free and sat down on an opulent loveseat, swooshing my dress over my knees with practiced grace. I reached into my purse waited for Jacques to light my offered cigarette.

"It was so nice of you to meet me here," I said through a veil of smoke.

"Paris has been abandoned to the tourists, as always in August. I am vacationing en famille, so it was convenient for me to meet you on the Cote d'Azur, but I would have gone halfway around the world to see you again, Maddy."

"You're very sweet." After months of self-absorption, I had become much more confident and familiar with my femininity. "How can I ever repay the man who turned me into a woman?"

"I'm sure we can think of something," he replied smoothly. "Champagne?" he asked, popping open a bottle of Piper. I waited for the bubbles to subside before taking a dainty sip. "How are you feeling in your new body?" he probed.

"I'm getting used to it, except for one thing."

He sat down next to me and took my hand. "What is that, my Cheri?"

"Remember when you asked me whether I wanted to…have erections again someday?"

He sat up straight, and when he replied, his manner was aloof, professional. "Is that what you really want?"

"Jacques, I owe you more than you will ever know." He started to interrupt, but I held up my hand. "It's not the hormones. It's what you said to me that night. For the first time in my life, someone asked me what I really wanted. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I think I know. Only it may not be what you expect."

He studied me curiously after he refilled our champagne glasses. "There are two possibilities," he said at length. "Do you know what they are?"

"The first is that I decide to go all the way with this, become your mistress, and live a life of great beauty in France."

"Don't think that fantasy hasn't occurred to me, every day and night, since we parted in Paris. But that's not what you want, is it?"

"No, Jacques, it isn't."

"Is it another man, or a woman?"

"A woman, someone who knew me from before. In fact, she's the one who first got me into this, and she loves me this way. I want to be able to love her back, Jacques. Can you help me?"

"Of course," he said with a forced smile. "In a way, I'm relieved. My behavior towards you has been unforgivable." I tried to cut him off. "I should never have allowed myself to become involved with a patient. It's just that you are so damned beautiful…and vulnerable too, at least you were that night we met. But not any more."

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You are the most wonderful man."

He pulled a pad out of his pocket and started writing a prescription. "You'll forgive me if we dispense with the physical examination this time," he said dryly. "I am putting you on a much lower dosage of estrogen, a maintenance formula, which will enable you to regain a sufficient level of potency, although most of your problems are in your head. There is no reason why you can't father a child, if you wish." I started to stammer my thanks, but he cut me off. "Take this and go, quickly, before I change my mind and beg you to stay."

I put the prescription in my purse and ran out the door, without looking back. Tears were streaming down my face as I drove towards Nice. I'd just thrown away my chance to be the pampered mistress of a prominent physician in Paris, who loved me, and who understood me better than anyone else in the world. I wiped away my tears and reminded myself that there was one other person who knew me even better, and who loved me even more. If what Jacques told me was true, I might even be able to love her again.

After I returned my BMW to the leasing office in Nice, I asked if someone could give me a lift to the airport. Three different guys volunteered to take the pretty girl for a drive.

By now I'd moved some of my Swiss funds into a French bank account in the name of Madison Monroe. Using one of my new credit cards, I'd booked a seat in business class on the evening British Airways flight to London. My forged passport worked flawlessly once again, and after I checked my suitcase and went through passport control, I killed an hour in the Executive Club prowling the Internet. My encrypted email messages to Tracy linked to a chat room that we used to exchange vital information, and I wanted to make sure there was no last-minute change in plans. Before I logged off, I checked the weather in London. To my dismay, I learned that it was going to be unseasonably cold, with frequent showers.

The flight to Heathrow was uneventful. I was watching my weight to keep my girlish figure, although I indulged in a split of wine with dinner to calm my nerves. I knew I was taking a terrible risk by leaving my lair, and I felt very vulnerable and exposed in my skimpy little dress. It was cool on the plane, so I wrapped myself up in an airline blanket and fell into a restless sleep.

If I thought it was cool on the plane, it was downright cold when we got to London. Rain lashed my window while we taxied to our gate, and as soon I'd passed through customs and immigration and gotten into the taxi rank, I knew that my suitcase full of summer skirts and dresses would be tragic in the English weather. I'm sure the other passengers waiting for their taxis enjoyed the spectacle of the half naked woman pawing through her suitcase for something to put on. I found a thin cardigan sweater, the warmest thing I owned, and draped it over my shivering shoulders.

My hotel was in Knightsbridge. I turned in as soon as I got to my room, and I slept until mid-morning. The skies were blessedly clear, although BBC forecast chilly weather and intermittent showers, so I dressed hastily in capris and my sweater, then I placed a quick call to my bank in Zurich before I walked the few short blocks to Brompton Road. Thanks to the miracle of compound interest, my balance had increased by over $100,000, and I transferred most if it into my French account.

Good thing, I'd need it! One of the things I almost enjoyed about being a woman was the opportunity to wear the cute clothes that I used to like on chicks. I always had a thing for Burberrys, and before I knew it I was trying on wool skirts and dresses in their trademark plaid. A few thousand pounds later, wearing my new Burberrys trench coat, I was in a taxi back to my hotel, surrounded by shopping bags full of tights, sweaters, purses and shoes to complete my ensembles.

Girlish figure or no, I treated myself to an English breakfast at the hotel restaurant, and then I found a pharmacy to fill my new prescription. While I was waiting, I filled a shopping basket with cosmetics, moisturizing lotions, and hair accessories before returning to my room to prepare myself for what was to come. First I shampooed and conditioned my long brown hair. Then a bubble bath and a full body shave, which were becoming much less frequent since the hormones took over. Lingering in the tub, I thought back to Jacques' final words to me: "most of your problems are in your head…" While I soaped what was left of myself in the tub, I wondered I would ever be able to love a woman again?

It hardly seemed possible as I dressed myself for the day ahead. My full, round breasts welcomed the caress of a silky black brassiere, and my newly-rounded hips fit snugly into my matching panties. Then I removed the towel from my hair and patiently dried and styled it with my new butterfly clips. Sheer black thigh high stockings were next – I'd almost forgotten how wonderful hose felt on my legs, and I eased them on lovingly. A black cashmere turtleneck sweater, a lacy half slip, my plaid Burberrys skirt, and black pumps with gold stirrups completed my outfit.

Looking at the beautiful woman in the full-length mirror, I knew that both Tracy and Jacques were right: I should have been a girl…this was my destiny. After a glance at the clock on the nightstand, I hurriedly put on my jewelry and cologne, organized my purse, and let myself out.

Half an hour later, I was sitting in the lobby of a bustling commercial hotel when a convoy of flight attendants came through the revolving door. There she was, pulling her suitcase, wearing the same navy blue topcoat that I'd borrowed from her that first day, a lifetime ago. I buried my nose in the Evening Standard and waited until she'd checked in and received her key. After I made sure she wasn't being followed, I got up and fell in behind her as she stood in line at the crowded elevators.

As prearranged, I said nothing until we were alone in the corridor outside her room. "Tracy," I said in Matt's old voice. She spun around on her heel, and at first she didn't recognize me.

"Oh…my…God!" she gasped as she rushed into my arms. Our breasts pressed together, and she momentarily pulled away, a look of astonishment on her beautiful face. "Is that really you?"

"Yes," I said ruefully. "It's really me, Tracy."

She took me into her arms and hugged me again. I took the key from her quivering hand and opened the door. We tumbled into her room, still locked in an embrace, pawing at each other as we fell onto the bed. I kissed her deeply, and she moaned in response, her fingers caressing my silky hair. "Oh Matt…Maddy…I missed you so much!"

"I love you, Tracy," I whispered into her ear.

"I love you too, baby," she panted as she tore at my clothes. I felt her hands probing under my skirt, then she was feeling my breasts through my sweater, and pretty soon she was tugging it over my head. I lay back passively and let her explore my new body, sharing in her wonder at what had become of me. When she finally unsnapped my bra, her eyes were fierce with desire, and when she teased my tender nipples with her teeth, for the first time in memory I felt a stirring below my waist. The wonderful glow intensified when she eased my panties down to my knees, although my penis could only tremble softly when she took it into her mouth. I thought back to the words Jacques had spoken to me…it's mostly in your head…and to my wonderment, I felt myself beginning to stiffen as she sucked on me while she caressed my silky stockings. From deep within my body, the beginnings of an orgasm began to grow, softly at first, then suddenly with an urgency that took us both by surprise. Tears filled my eyes when the first delightful spasms shook my body, and I cried out again and again as the sweet waves of ecstasy went on and on.

When it was finally over, I sat up and peeled off my stockings. Tracy could only stare at my beautiful body, still in awe over what was happening. I kissed her gently on the lips, and then I started in on her, feeling a strange familiarity as I gently removed her skirt, her lingerie, her stockings…when I caressed her breasts, it was with newfound bliss, and to my complete surprise, I felt myself stiffening again. Tracy felt it too, and we stared at each other in wonder as she guided me into her, bucking her hips to the once forgotten thrusting, our nipples throwing off sparks as our breasts brushed together. My body responding with unbridled joy as I found what I thought I had lost forever, until we both surrendered to shattering, simultaneous orgasms.

When our love and lust were completely consumed, we lay side by side for a long time, lost in our separate thoughts. Tracy finally broke the silence.

"Just when I thought I might be gay."

"Just when I thought I might be a woman."

"Just promise me you'll stay this way."

"I'm afraid I don't have any choice."

"When are you coming back to clear your name?"

It was the question I'd been dreading. "Tracy, I have to tell you something."

Her voice became guarded. "What is it?"

"I lied to you."

"About what?"

"About that night with Norman Wolf. Tracy, he really did set me up. But when I went to his apartment that night, there was an accident. I never meant to do it, but I killed him."

She didn't respond for a long time as it slowly sank in. "When are you going to turn yourself in?" she asked at length.

"I can't, Tracy. They'll never believe that it was really an accident."

"How do I know whether to believe you now? My God, you killed a man! How can you live with yourself?"

How could I begin to explain what it was like, throwing away my identity, my family, even my manhood…looking over my shoulder every day, one small mistake away from spending the rest of my life in an Illinois prison?

"If you keep running, you can never go back home…how are you going to support yourself?"

No one in the world knew the answer to that question but me. Norman Wolf had covered up his crimes brilliantly, and the contents of his safe were an unsolved mystery. And I didn't want Tracy to know. How could I ever be sure of her love if it came with the knowledge of my hidden millions? I bit my tongue and remained silent.

"I just can't believe you think you're going to get away with it. Do you know how many times I've spotted the FBI or the cops watching me, wondering if they were tapping my phone or opening my mail? I just can't live like this, Matt."

"What are you saying, Tracy?"

"Go! Get out, dammit, before I call the police myself. You frighten me…." Her voice trailed off in fits of sobbing, before she got up and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

When she finally returned, I was almost dressed. She watched silently as I slipped my stockings back on and stepped into my heels. I started to say something, but she cut me off. "I just can't believe that you did this to me. It was one thing to ask me to help you, but to expect me to help you get away with murder?" Her sobs started again, and I let myself out without saying goodbye.

Terry's recriminations were ringing in my ears as I took the long way back to my hotel. It was raining again, but I didn't take out my umbrella. I buried my hands in the pockets of my trench coat and stared at my feet, like I did the first time I went out with Tracy as a woman, feeling utterly miserable and very alone.

I pulled myself together after I got back to my room. Packing quickly, I called for my bill and a taxi to Waterloo Station, were the last Eurostar to Paris would soon be boarding.

After I bought my ticket, I showed my passport to the French border police, passed through the security line, and found my seat in one of the first class carriages. As I picked at my meal, I thought back despondently over my disastrous rendezvous with Tracy. If only I'd kept my big mouth shut! But the more I thought about it, the more I knew that I had to tell her the truth if there was to be any future for us, and in a way I was relieved at the finality of it all. With the last of my testosterone sapped by our incredible lovemaking, the woman deep within me was asserting herself once again, and she knew what she wanted.

Coolly, I recounted what I'd conveyed to Tracy about my whereabouts. All she knew was that I was living in Europe and using the name Maddy. Of course she also knew that I'd grown my hair and developed breasts, but she knew nothing about my fake identification, the full name I was using, or the fortune stashed away in my Swiss bank account. I didn't think she'd turn on me, but even if she did, it would only lead the authorities on another wild goose chase, in London this time.

I closed my eyes and replayed our lovemaking once again. It was wonderful, amazing…but I had to be honest with myself. Kissing Tracy had been less exciting than kissing Jacques, which seemed strangely natural to me now. There was something tantalizing about being the passive one, yielding willingly to his passion, and I wondered what it would be like to give myself to him completely.…

My reverie was shattered when we shot past a Eurostar racing in the opposite direction, each of us moving at almost 200 miles per hour through the French countryside. Less than three hours after we left London, we were pulling into the Gare du Nord. I took a taxi to the Plaza Athenee once again, and asked if the same suite was available. It was.

The nasty weather followed me across the channel. I waited until nine o'clock before calling Dr. Bochy's office. His officious receptionist answered at once. "Halo?"

"This is Maddy Monroe. Is the doctor in?"

"No Mademoiselle, he is still on holiday."

"There is a problem with a prescription he gave me. Can you please ask him to call me at his earliest convenience?"

"What sort of problem?"