K is for Karla

"David, this is Karla. The 'gorgeous busty blonde' you mentioned!"

David blushed, I probably did too. He was still a bit shaken but smiled.

"Just to say thanks. It was a big thing you did tonight - er - mate. Not for me, really, I'm OK. But Jim, well, he could have died out there."

I just smiled weakly. The nurse was a bit insistent, she led David away, probably for more examinations and tests and so on.

And Fiona - WPC Carter that is - took me by the arm and walked with me back through the reception area and out into the cold night air. And it really was cold by then, I'd not really noticed earlier.

"Karla, thanks yet again. David was so insistent, he wanted to see you and thank you. I think they'll probably let him out tomorrow."

"What about...?" I couldn't remember his name.

"Jim? He'll have to stay in a few days at least."

We chatted just for a minute more, then another police car pulled up beside us. The officer who'd spoken to me earlier actually opened the door for me. Actually, maybe they always do that. He drove me home and came in after me.

"Just briefly - er. Well. Look, we may need to talk to you again, tomorrow or the next day. Don't worry, after what you did tonight there shouldn't be any repercussions. Just - be careful, OK?"

He was warning me off. His tone said it. Basically 'Dress at home if you like but you really shouldn't go out like that.'

"There's a couple of clubs in Brum, you know. Maybe...."

And he left it at that. I considered myself duly warned. He needn't have worried though. After the events of that evening there was no way I was going to go out walking tarted up like that - ever again. Or so I thought at the time.

I stripped, took off most of my make-up, showered, got into bed – and relaxed. And to my surprise, slept.

Nobody did contact me during the next day, which surprised me a little. But that evening I got a phone call to say that someone would be bringing my car back the next morning. At about 8 o'clock, just as I was thinking I'd maybe have to catch the bus to work again, a police car pulled up outside my house, followed by my own car. The two drivers did come in, one asked me to give my own car the once-over and then sign for the delivery. There didn't seem to be anything wrong or missing, in fact it was remarkably clean.

"Well, forensics had a go at it straight away. Fi Carter asked them to push that one through, then she had it valeted last night. OK?"

Well, sure it was OK. The car was cleaner, a lot cleaner, than when I'd 'lost' it.

"Right, thanks sir. Better be off."

The officer hesitated.

"Just one thing, Jim said - you know - are you the...?"

He stopped. Clearly he'd heard ..... but was a bit embarrassed to say anything. I helped him. I finished the question for him, being surprisingly blatant about it.

"Am I the transvestite who helped out the other night? Yes, that was me."

"Gee. Wish I'd seen you. I mean, I wish I'd seen that. OK sir, we'd better go."

I finished getting ready quickly and did manage to drive into work that morning. And again there wasn't any further contact from the police for a while. It was a couple of days later that I recognised WPC Fiona Carter's voice when I answered the phone.

"Hello Mr Harrison, just to let you know. Jim's OK, he got a flesh wound to the thigh and a nasty bullet wound through the chest but it missed anything important. He's due to be released from hospital tomorrow. I thought you'd want to know. OK?"

"That's good news, I'm so glad..."

"Sorry, Mr Harrison. I have to go. Look, do you mind, can I call round a bit later tonight? There's something else I want to discuss. At about seven, maybe?"

I was rather puzzled, but agreed. Heck, I had to really. I mean Fiona was a nice person, is, I mean. But she is a policewoman after all. And when he is asked to do something perfectly reasonable by an officer of the law, any law-abiding citizen really does have to say 'yes' unless there's a good reason not to. I didn't have time to do anything much about dressing up or anything like that. Fiona was going to have to deal with Karl, not Karla. Actually, though, she had been a bit formal on the phone, hadn't she? Calling me 'Mr Harrison' I mean.

So dressing wasn't an option but I did have to clear up quite a bit of the stuff that I had lying around. Not that I'm untidy at all, you understand, quite the reverse. But the place was not as clean and tidy as I'd have liked, I whipped a duster round and tidied some stuff away.

Just after seven the doorbell rang and I invited Fiona in. She was still in her uniform, probably on the way home from work I assumed. I'd got the impression she had been ringing from there earlier.

"I'll get straight to the point. Karl, isn't it?"

I realised that she had never actually seen me 'not dressed' as it were, somehow I felt even more embarrassed than I would have been if I'd been wearing a skirt and high heels and so on.

"There has been a fair bit of discussion at the station in the past couple of days, Karl. People are very appreciative of what you did. You didn't have to, you know."

"Yes I did," I interrupted. "I just couldn't leave those two officers like that. I mean, I've thought since, I could somehow have just walked to the nearest phone or even home. But I had my highest heels on at the time..."

I smiled as Fiona realised the humour in even that serious situation.

"... so the walk would have been difficult. I mean, over a mile from home at least, I reckon. Anyway, they were in a poor state. I just HAD to help out."

"Well Karl, others might not well have done so. If you hadn't done what you did, and I do realise it was difficult giving yourself away as you did, I might well have a badly injured brother and a dead fiancé."

"Please, really, most people would have ..."

I stopped. I'd forgotten. She had told me but I hadn't taken it in at the time.

"Fiancé?"

It was Fiona's turn to smile, in a slightly embarrassed way.

"Yes, I couldn't remember if I'd told you. Jim and I are getting married next month, he should be recovered by then. He wants to be back at work on Monday but David and I have managed to persuade him to have another couple of weeks off at least."

"Well, congratulations," I said, resisting the temptation to give her a congratulatory kiss.

It didn't seem right, not a policewoman, that is.

"But that's not why I came round, Karl. Like I said, lots of the guys at the station are grateful. They think something should be done. To reward you, that is."

"Oh no, really."

"Well, Karl, we can't do the usual thing, presentation from the Chief Inspector, lots of pictures and so on. Like you asked, we've kept all the details out of the papers apart from the very basics. But - well - there is one thing, on Saturday."

I waited, she was obviously going to go on.

"One of the older guys, Neil Miller, he's retiring after his shift. And there's a bit of a party at the social club straight after. David and I thought, maybe, we could do a small presentation to you before Neil's do. We've done a collection and quite a lot of the guys, I mean they know the circumstances, why you don't want a fuss made and so on. But we all thought we could squeeze a little ceremony in. I've asked the Chief Constable, no less. He'll be there, he's an old friend of Neil's. He thinks it would be a good idea. You could just pop in, for half an hour if you like, you needn't stay for Neil's do."

"Well, I don't know really, I mean it's very kind."

"Loads of the guys would be appreciative, I mean most of them didn't meet 'Karla'. I'm sure they'd be grateful, and it is a rather large amount they've collected. How about it?"

I thought for a minute. Not carefully enough, obviously. I agreed to Fiona's request, and she'd rapidly got onto her radio to call the station and say that I'd agreed before I really thought about exactly what she'd said.

"Hang on. You said something about 'meeting Karla'. And about the other officers 'being grateful'. Surely - oh, no, Fiona, I couldn't."

But I did.

I agreed. Fiona had talked me into it, loads of waffle about being driven to the station and being rather hidden in the car, and about getting from the car into the station through a side door, she'd make sure it was open, not being too clearly seen and all that. And about just staying for a short while. It would be fun and for once I'd be able to be open, in a sense, about my being a transvestite.

But it was her offer to help me which had finally persuaded me, when she'd said she liked the way I'd done my make-up. But she had suggested that it would look so much better if I did this, or added that, or used this instead of that, and so on. She really did sound as if she could do a much better job of making me look like a woman than I'd been able to myself. It was that thought - of being helped to become even more of a woman - that had changed my mind.

But before she went I just had to ask.

"Fiona. This is very good of you - but why?"

She looked me straight in the eyes.

"Karl, I owe you an awful lot, more than anyone. OK, the guys at the station appreciate what you did. But as far as I'm concerned, well it's obvious isn't it? You saved two lives that night. My fiancé and my brother. I owe you so much."

"Well not really, Fiona. I mean your brother was injured, I know, but he'd have been OK, surely."

She thought for a moment.

"Maybe so, Karl. But you certainly saved Jim. So when the guys did the whip-round I decided I should give you something else. Not just money, I mean."

I looked her, rather puzzled. She smiled. And such a smile, Jim was a lucky guy, really.

"Remember me telling you about the tranny I met once, the nice one. Well, I went round to see her this morning on the way to my shift. I told her all about your bravery and so on. And I asked her what she thought would be a really appropriate gift. For a tranny in your situation, I mean. I thought she might say shoes, or expensive lingerie or something."

She stopped.

"And?" I asked.

"She said 'a day in the limelight as Karla'. Something like that. A chance to be recognised for who you are. And the way she explained it, well, I thought I had a handle on what this tranny thing is all about. But she really did enlighten me. Oh yes, and she'd like to meet you one day. Says would you like to go round for tea one day maybe, with her and her boyfriend? I didn't say 'yes', though I did say I rather imagined you might like to. En-femme, or course, as you trannies say."

Fiona realised then she'd have to get going, I was left to ponder what I'd just agreed to. And the next few days were busy, with Fiona calling in after work a couple of times. Her TV friend Andrea had agreed to let me borrow a dress and a few other items for my 'presentation'. Fiona turned up with three dresses, all size 12, and had me try them on in turn. We finally agreed on a fairly classic TV style, almost a cocktail dress but not quite, shortish, tight-ish, darkish but with just a little glitz in the diamante pattern across the bodice.

And then, the day before the event, she gave me a list of instructions to follow to begin to get myself ready. She'd almost insisted I do the depilation thing, 'so you really can appreciate your lingerie' was how she put it, and she was right. As I began to prepare that morning the whole sensuous sensation of putting on my basque and the stockings and so on was enhanced by the new feelings of sliding the materials across my newly-denuded skin.

Just after lunch Fiona called again, expressing surprise and to some extent delight when I paraded for inspection in my undies - basque, sheer black seamed stockings and my black patent stilettos.

"My gosh, Karla, you really do have a great figure."

I just looked at her and grinned.

"Breast-forms and corsetry."

Then she added the finishing touches to my dressing and took control of my make-up. OK so I wouldn't be seen in full daylight in the town centre - much as I would have liked to but I knew I could never be 100% convincing as a woman.

"But hey, Karla. Will 95% do?" she asked as she finished off my make-up, and allowed me to see the results of her efforts in my large mirror.

Like hell it would. She really had done a superb job. I reckoned 90%. Maybe 85%. But who's counting? I looked more female than I'd ever managed to achieve by myself before. I reckon if I'd gone into a slightly darkened room made up like that, maybe in a pub or somewhere, I might well have passed, for a while at least.

Basically, as far as I was concerned, I felt - gorgeous. Fiona used slightly different language , saying I looked 'very good indeed, Karla'. That would do me. She was perplexed at my choice of accessories, one pair of long diamante earrings that Andrea had offered to loan to me, and a tiny black clutch bag.

"I just can't imagine myself wearing earrings like that, or indeed heels so high. I mean, they look good on you, really."

I thought for a moment.

"I think it's some sort of over-compensation, Fiona. Lots of TVs seem to like the 'glam sexy' style of dressing. Overdoing it, too-high heels and too-long earrings, and probably too much make-up etc. Going to excess with some aspects of female dressing as a compensation for not looking totally convincing in other ways. Like facially maybe, or being too tall. Something like that, I think maybe."

She drove us into town, of course. It was a new experience for me, both being driven while en femme and being out in the daylight, something I'd only ever tried several years earlier and not too successfully. We got to the back of the police station without incident. As I stood there having just got out of the car, handbag in hand, again in full daylight, I began to shake a little. Fiona was in uniform. She took me by the arm.

"Come on girl. Tummy in, tits out. There's a whole roomful of gorgeous guys in uniform just waiting to see just what you look like."

Which did absolutely nothing to calm me down.

What did it for me was to see just as we were about to go into the side door of the building another officer, some sort of high-ranking policeman, walk in front of us and open the door for us.

"Welcome ladies," he said.

And he smiled. Obviously he knew what was going on, he was here for the other officer's leaving do but he was going to be involved before that with the presentation to the TV. It was the look on his face. He looked straight at me. No disgust there, no pity or anything, just - some sort of understanding. Clearly there had been a lot of talk in the station over the preceding days.

Fiona spoke quietly in my ear.

"Like Andrea said, Karla, your efforts have done the transgender community here a lot of good. Most of my colleagues realise most TGs aren't perverts or weirdoes. Most are good people with a different take on life. That's all."

Then we turned the corner.

"OK Karla. Ready for this?"

I breathed in. Pushed my 'tits' out - just a little.

"Ready."

The entrance was - wonderful. A bit of a hush came over the room, not surprisingly really. I walked forward with Fiona, feeling every inch a woman in some ways, but totally aware that all the eyes in the room were on me because they really knew I wasn't. There were several glasses of wine on a small table at the side of the room. Fiona took two and handed one to me. I sipped, turned and surveyed my 'audience'.

In one sense that should have been the highlight of the occasion. I mean, it was a first, a very first, for me. Being there, being seen in some sense or other as a woman. Every tranny's dream. I loved it. But it wasn't the highlight.

Neither was the actual presentation, when the Chief Constable called for everyone's attention and made a small speech basically saying lots of nice things about me, about how I'd been brave to do what I did - given the circumstances I'd found myself in. And going on to make comments about the TG community and how we had to all work together and be tolerant and 'respect diversity' and all that sort of stuff.

And my own little speech certainly wasn't the highlight. Fiona had warned me I would have to say something and had advised me to keep it short and to finish with a joke. So I basically said thank you, trying not to force my voice and just hoping my tone had a feminine timbre to it.

"Really I'm just a law-abiding - woman. So next time any of you sees me driving at ninety-five along the Hagley Road in five-inch stilettos - book me!"

Everyone giggled, and applauded, and then I noticed something special about the scroll-like sheet the Chief Constable had given me. There were two copies, one behind the other. And the second one, well, it was identical to the first, basically a commendation for bravery and commitment to the community and that sort of thing, but with one difference. The name. One letter difference. It said 'Karla'. I saw it - and began to feel just a small tear form in the corner of my eye. I cut the speech short.

"Thank you all."

And everyone applauded. And I shook the Chief Constable by the hand once more and - I really don't know why I did it, it just seemed the thing to do at the time, I leaned over - and kissed him gently on the cheek!

Someone captured the moment on camera, I caught the flash out of the corner of my eye and had to smile. I wondered just what sort of ribbing he'd get from his colleagues or indeed whether that picture would maybe end up on the station notice-board on the Monday morning. And I wondered what sort of caption it might be given.

No, the highlight came just after Fiona and I had been circulating a little, chatting just a bit to the groups of officers. The response, to being invited to socialise with a transvestite, was inevitably mixed. There were quite a few who were either not fully pro, or positively anti though with their boss being there they weren't voicing their opinions. We moved on from them, basically I was enjoying myself SO much I just didn't want anything to spoil things. A few were very understanding, very positive, and one guy - well. Fiona had just left me to help Jim, who was coping very well though on light crutches. She was very much hoping they'd be discarded before the wedding.

Which was when one of the officers, a tall rather skinny constable, sort-of manoeuvred me to one side away from the crowd as several people began to move off into the room next door where Sergeant Miller's do was about to start. I realised he was standing between me and the others who were chatting. He didn't tell me his name, he was probably too embarrassed. But he was 'secretly' holding my hand in a way his colleagues probably couldn't see. And he was looking closely at me, with a much more intense expression than any of the others had.

"Karla, if you ever want a chat sometime maybe, or .... "

And he left the sentence unfinished. But the way he said what he said made it clear. He was inviting me on a date! Or maybe more!

But right then I was rescued, by Fiona and her brother David. He'd been delegated to drive me home since she was going on-duty for a while so that some of the officers in the station could join in part of Sgt Miller's farewell party.

"Well done, Karla" said Fiona. "I've been watching you for a minute or two. Even the weird ones in the station are convinced. Not that you're a woman, I mean, but just that you're one of the good guys. I hope nobody was nasty at all to you."

"No," I replied. "Everyone was quite nice. I even got asked on a date."

That surprised her.

"What?! By one of the guys, you mean? Not the WPCs? Wow, I didn't realise anyone here was a tranny-fancier. Who is it? Tell me."

"I think I'd better not."

I really didn't intend doing anything about it even though I had his phone number on a small piece of paper I'd stuffed down my cleavage. Then David interrupted us.