Unexpected Trading Activity

This story has evolved based on an idea suggested by Crios. XX

I don't know if this what was expected. Sometimes the story takes on a mind of its own and I just follow the path it takes. It has taken longer than i expected due to RL commitments.

Includes cross dressing, feminisation, romance. This involves coercion, blackmail, illegal phone tapping and cybercrimes. There are some tough parts, but I promise a happy ending.

Usual caveats- no instant sex. It's fiction, not a court approved police report. 😊 Practise safe sex. All parties are over eighteen. Xx

Be lovely to one another.

Unexpected Trading Activity

I was back at the police station- hopefully this would be the last time. My solicitor, Mary-Jane Nichols KC (King's Counsel) was present, along with Chief Inspector Julie Watson and her sergeant -- Gavin Lock. Gavin was known by his colleagues as Sher-lock. It sounds like the beginning of a joke. Man goes into a bar, meets with Watson and Sherlock... If only that was true. Nothing about the situation was funny! I admit I had come to trust, even like the people in the room with me, but damn, I wished we could be meeting under different circumstances. Perhaps we would meet up when this was all over and have a long drink together and laugh about it, but right now everything was too raw, too painful, too emotional and too much of everything. I was close to my limit of what I thought I could withstand, but a tiny voice told me I was tough enough to survive this.

So, I'm Robin Good, I know it sounds part of the same joke especially when you learn I'm a stock trader. I have lost count of the many jokes of 'Robin Hood', stealing from the rich to give to the poor, and the reverse. I'm not lining the pockets of the rich nor stealing from them, my job is to invest money for pension schemes- to help normal working people have a little more when they retire.

I have blonde hair, blue eyes, and I take care of my body: I hike when I can, run a few miles each week and practice Tai Chi. I try to eat the right things and exercise. I'm toned: more greyhound than bulldog. I'm in my early thirties and have been married to Izzy for six years. Izzy also has to endure jokes involving her name- 'is she good?' being the one that unleashes her uncharacteristic wrath.

Izzy is the love of my life, and thank the gods has stood by me through this harrowing chapter in my life. I met Isabelle, Izzy to her friends at a university party, we dated for nearly a year, moved in together and then I finally found the courage to ask her to marry me. She said yes and I'm not ashamed to tell you I cried. We have a good life, lovely home, but so far no children. Izzy has some medical issues, but that's not important to this story. We were mostly happy with our life.

Each day was much like the one before. Early start, commute, work, lunch, work, commute, dinner with Izzy and sleep. The weekends were a little more spontaneous and interesting with walks in the country, or shopping trips into the city, a weekend away in a spa hotel: I know I'm not a typical man- I don't follow sports, but do enjoy what Izzy calls being pampered. A sauna and a massage is very relaxing. Izzy is my best friend, lover and wife all in one complete and perfect package. What could go wrong?

Before we get to my tale, I must share that Izzy is the perfect hour glass shape, a body that could be sculpted from white marble and displayed in the Louvre. Her long wavy mousy blonde hair frames a heart shaped face with grey eyes and a smile that is a million times better than the Mona Lisa. Izzy loves to let me dress her: she has fabulous lingerie, prefers stockings to tights, looks so good in skirts and dresses all accompanied with the perfect heels. She has a special wardrobe just for her shoe collection and I'm so fine with that. She will tease me all day when we are together until we are alone and I can liberate her clothes from her smooth warm body. Undressing my Aphrodite often leads to sex.

Our sex life is fabulous, Friday night is date night and that's the one night I don't work late- ever! As soon as I am home we are kissing like frantic teenagers, we have, in the past forgotten about dinner- the charred remains setting off the smoke alarms. Oops that was embarrassing- apparently the black mass in the casserole dish hidden behind the smoke clouds was chicken. We laughed so much. God, I can't imagine my life without her.

I love to suck her pussy feeling her stockings rub against my shoulders and back as I edge her several times before allowing her an epic climax. She mostly has three orgasms to my one, but I'm happy with that. I am rewarded with a special blow job at Christmas, new year and my birthday. During the week, sex is a couple of times, but at the weekend we are like rabbits. We didn't deviate much from normal sex: there was no latex, or fluffy handcuffs, but we enjoy each other's body. We didn't experiment much, we liked what we did together and didn't feel the need for other more colourful activities.

So now you know where the story begins, let's move onto the last few weeks. Had it only been weeks, it felt so much longer? It had all started on a Thursday, a moment that was now scorched into my soul. 1517 in the afternoon, my boss, the HR manager and two colleagues from the compliance team came to my trading desk.

"Robin, we need a word," greeted Michael, my boss.

"Sure, I'll come to your office at end of trade," I agreed.

"No, it needs to be now. We have a problem."

"Okay, let me deal with this trade."

"We need you to step away from the station," instructed Miles.

Alarm bells began to ring. Houston we have a problem. I had worked with Miles from the compliance team for three years, but he couldn't look me in the eyes. I knew something serious was happening. My first thought was of Izzy: an accident?

"What's going on?" I queried removing my headset.

"Let's talk in private."

I quickly followed the four to Michael's office.

"What the hell..." I demanded once the door was closed.

"Robin, several transactions were made by you today which fall well below the standard we expect from our employees," explained Muhammed.

Muhammed was the other colleague from compliance. My first thought was at least Izzy was okay. My brain terminated the terrible accident scenarios it had been creating and switched to financial analysis. I thought of the transactions I had made in the day.

"Which transactions do you think are bad?" I asked shaking my head confused by the claim.

"There were a dozen high risk, high volume trades made earlier today that have just bombed," explained Michael.

"We can't discuss that right now. We need to investigate and while we do that means Robin can't be here. We can't let our personal views interfere with protocol," stated Miles.

"This is bullshit! I haven't made any high risk trades. Michael what are these trades? Surely I have the right to know what I'm being investigated for, what I am accused of?" I exclaimed.

"It's your trade ID's, but I admit it's not like you. Are you into something illegal?" he asked handing me a report.

I scanned the report reading the numbers. The shock on my face was no act. I felt sick. Millions of shares! Millions of pounds in a dozen currencies now almost worthless. I stumbled into a chair and sat hard. What the hell? A thought that would reoccur regularly over the coming hours and days.

"This is a mistake, this isn't me! I didn't do this!"

"Robin, we will get to the bottom of this, I swear, but while we investigate I need you to stay at home until I call you," instructed Michael.

"So what happens now?" I asked trying to control my emotions.

Graham the HR manager joined the conversation.

"Robin Good, you are suspended pending an investigation. I'll need your work phone, ID and your building pass. You can't access any company systems or visit the office until further notice. Miles will escort you downstairs."

"I'm sorry Robin, if it's mistake we'll find it and you'll have a full public apology from me," added Michael.

I nodded. I was allowed to collect my bag, but it was searched for company property. I felt like I was being treated unfairly as a criminal. I never carried work documents home so I had nothing to hide. I had my coat and was soon outside.

"Robin, I'm sorry too, please don't hate me- I'm just doing my job," offered Miles.

"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier though," I allowed.

My mind was analysing the report I had seen briefly for the duration of the commute. I didn't even recognize the company names. I stopped for coffee and things took a turn for the worst.

"Sorry sir, your bank card is being declined, do you have cash?" asked the young lady.

I fumbled in my wallet and used my last bank note to pay for the coffee. I rarely used cash these days. I called the bank number on the back of the card. I finally reached a person after navigating the multiple options. The gentleman explained that my bank account was frozen by the bank due to suspicious activity with credit cards due to the purchasing of high volumes of crypto currency. I tried to obtain more information, but was told I needed to visit the bank to discuss it.

I arrived home. I poured more than half a tumbler of whisky slumping to the floor and needing the wall to support me. What the hell was happening? I took a gulp feeling it burn all the way down. Was this some terrible dream? I sure wished I could wake up, find Izzy close by and begin a new day. I felt like I had landed in the first circle of hell.

I called my mate Christian, another trader, but obviously he couldn't really talk about it. The team had been briefed at the end of the day that there was an investigation. I told him I understood and told him I would speak soon. I hoped that I could deliver on that promise.

My brain was playing and replaying the events of the day trying to find something, anything to explain the result, and I each time I was left with nothing. Izzy returned home to find me still sat on the floor. I didn't really drink in the week and the glass of hard liquor was a warning sign.

"Hey, what's happened?" she asked kneeling beside me.

I told her everything I knew. She sat beside me and held my hand.

"Izzy, I swear to you, I didn't do this, any of this!"

"I believe you, its sounds like identity theft. Someone has hacked you obviously. Let me check my accounts."

I nodded and remained where I was. All energy, all motivation had been exsanguinated from my body. Izzy returned looking white.

"My accounts are frozen too. We need to call the police."

We were invited to the local station and so we met Watson and Sherlock for the first time. Izzy and I explained what had happened. The police promised to investigate. How would anyone get my work password? It wasn't written down, and I was certain that no-one would be able to guess it. A brute force attack? But why only me? And why Izzy? Suffice to say we had little sleep that night.

*

Day 2- Friday

The next morning the alarm woke me from dark dreams. I had forgotten to disable it. I dressed and went for a run. I needed to do something. Movement usually helped me to think. I would call my solicitor later to determine what options were available to me.

By the time I had returned to the house Izzy had left for work. She left me a note with a lipstick kiss on it. Seeing it I burst into tears. I was usually resilient, practical and able to manage stress, but this was brutal purely because of the undetermined nature of the situation. I knew I wasn't responsible, so that left who and why?

I called Mary-Jane Nicols, a friend from university, but she was also my solicitor. I left a message with her administrator requesting that she call me. I called the police and tried to get an update, but all they could say was that an investigation by cybercrimes was in progress. I felt lost and trapped inside my own house.

I went to the bank and after a lengthy discussion found that they would grant me access to a new account and once the police permitted would transfer some funds from the other account. Until then I had no access to funds. I called Izzy who had learned the same thing. Her bank had also set up a new account, her parents had sent some cash to help out. At least we wouldn't starve, but what about the mortgage, the direct debits for utilities? I returned to the bank a second time. The nice lady promised she would take of it while the investigation was in progress. It was probably a mistake. Oh, how I wished that was true.

I was back at home nursing a cold cup of coffee when the doorbell chimed. I found Mary-Jane with a serious expression on her face.

"Hi Mary-Jane, please come in."

"Before I do, tell me you didn't do this!" she demanded seriously.

"Mary-Jane, I fucking swear I didn't do this!" I exclaimed.

She stepped inside and hugged me. My body was shaking from the stress. More tears escaped.

"I believe you. Damn, this must be bad, I've never heard you swear," she said wiping my eyes.

"Someone is screwing with me and I don't know what to do. It's probably some hacker in North Korea or a kid in Florida on a library computer, but why piss with my life and why Izzy?"

I had probably used my yearly quota of expletives in as many sentences.

"Random chance probably. Tell me all you know."

I regurgitated everything I knew and speculated about a few things I didn't. Mary-Jane prompted me more than once to just stick to the facts. She asked me if I had been anywhere, left my phone, used my credit card for anything remotely suspect and scrutinized my life for holes. I have on occasion broke the speed limit, driven through a traffic light on yellow, but I was too scared of doing anything stupid to even contemplate anything risky. She told me to change my passwords to everything- email, social media, apps, phone and anything else that had digital security. It felt like fixing the fence after a herd of elephants had trampled my house to dust, but it made sense. When Izzy came home I told her to do the same. We ate mechanically and retired. Our usual happy date night and the joy of love making far from our thoughts. So it was the end of day two from hell.

I dozed, but didn't really sleep. When I did sleep unnamed, unquantifiable terrors assaulted me for the long hours of darkness. Demons beat my spirit while unnatural creatures assaulted my body.

*

Hell day 3- Saturday

The next morning Izzy found me in the dining room after visiting the supermarket.

"Robin, someone is watching us..."

"Where?" I demanded automatically looking out of the bay window.

"No, not watching now, but they know our routines. A courier was paid to give me this letter at the supermarket."

"What?"

She handed me the note. I read it and reread it. This had just turned sideways and then some.

'Izzy, I know who you are, I know where you work, where you live and now I want to negotiate a deal. I have a proposal for you. We should meet in person just you and me. Details will follow. I know you are in contact with the police, they should not be aware of our communications. I can help you with your situation quietly and resolve the current misunderstanding.'

"No way, Izzy. They can do what they like to me, but I can't let you endanger yourself."

"Whoever this is knows what has happened, maybe they have information," responded Izzy.

I don't know where my mind went, but for several seconds I was staring at the ceiling. The smoke alarm test light was usually red and blinking at regular intervals, but I saw a constant green light behind the tiny grill. Was the house bugged? Had they hacked our security cameras? Home suddenly didn't feel safe anymore. I took Izzy by the hand and led her outside. Once in the blind spot beneath the door cam I indicated not to speak. We drove to a nearby park, left our phones in the car's glovebox and walked a dozen metres from the car.

"Robin, what the hell?" she demanded.

"I think the house security is compromised. They could have hacked the cameras, have microphones, who knows. There was a strange light in the smoke alarm. We need to contact the police."

"Robin, this isn't a James Bond film, we aren't in the secret service, why would anyone do this?" she shouted at me.

Was I being paranoid, a few days ago I would have said yes, but now I wasn't as confident. What was real and what was imagined?

"I don't know, all I know is someone is targeting us and I'm scared," I admitted softly.

"Me too... sorry for shouting at you. I know it's not your fault. I'm feeling vulnerable too. So what do we do?"

"We need to drive and see Mary-Jane. She will know what to do. Just no talking in the car either, if it's bugged let them think its malfunctioned."

"I have to admit you make sense."

We parked the car at the supermarket and took a taxi without our phones to Mary-Jane's house. I knocked and was greeted by my friend.

"What are you doing here?" she asked gently.

"We need a friend, a safe place and guidance," I explained.

"Come on in."

We drank tea and I rationally explained what had happened since our last conversation. Now I had a mission I could apply cold logic and determine a course of action.

"Okay, I have a tech guy I can call for help with your phones and car. Tomorrow you'll need an engineer for a problem with your wifi."

"The wifi's working fine," I replied.

"Robin, I need a reason for my guy to be visiting to search for the bugs without tipping our hand. So when you go home turn off the wifi, in the morning make a thing about it not working. You phone a number I will share on a phone that I provide and you tell the nice lady, me, your wifi isn't working. My guy comes to fix it."

"Oh," was all I could manage.

"I will talk to the police and see what options we have."

An hour later the car was reported cleaned. The tracker "fell off" and was deposited in a bin to be relocated to land fill the next day. The car had no other devices, but the chances were our phones weren't safe. We took a taxi back to the car park, drove our car home and followed the instructions.

*

Hell day 4- Sunday

We had a single pay as you go phone with only one number in it- Mary-Jane's. She used these phones for domestic abuse cases. The next morning we had a heated debate about the wifi not working, before calling for an "engineer". I think the stress just added to our surprising acting skills. Brian arrived and tinkered with the wifi- within minutes he had "reset" all the security cameras. He used a detector to locate the 'fault'. The device in the smoke alarm was a receiver and was audio only. He left it. We retired to the garden.

"I only found the one manual bug. If I take out everything, they will be suspicious, just don't talk about anything important in the dining room," reported Brian.

I truly hoped Mary-Jane could convince the police we were the victims not the perpetrators. Our day ended slightly better than it had started. I tried to think how the bug could have been planted in the smoke alarm, but couldn't.

*

Hell day 5- Monday

Izzy had to go to work. She had successfully argued that we had to keep up some form of normality and routine while our friends tried to help. I did housework, the laundry, but all the time I was thinking about who and why? For the life of me I hadn't a clue for either.

Izzy returned home. She led me upstairs to the en-suite bathroom and turned on the bath taps.

"I saw this in a movie, the noise interferes with bugs, see I can play Jane Bond too."

She tried to smile, but she couldn't conceal her fears from me. I kissed her. We hugged, despite everything, having someone to rely on, to talk to, to understand made it bearable.

"I love you Jane Bond."