En Femme Fiction

Transvestite Private Eye

by Rebecca J. Buchanan

Part 2

Chapter Four

"Dawn!" Jonelle said. The man rose from his seat as Dawn slid into the booth next to Jo. "This is my husband, Mark."

"Pleased to meet you," Mark said smiling. He was exactly the kind of man Dawn imagined Jonelle would marry. She fought off conflicting feelings and took Mark's hand softly. At the same time she was feeling jealous of this man for marrying his Jonelle, he felt strangely excited at meeting him as Dawn. What had Jonelle told him about Dawn/David?

"You look fabulous," Jonelle said gushing. Dawn smiled, then noticed Mark staring at her. "Thank you. I believe your husband is staring." An old trick of hers when she felt uncomfortable in a situation was to turn the tables and make the other people uncomfortable. She saw Mark blush and smiled as he looked away. "Sorry," he mumbled. Jonelle was smiling as well.

After Dawn took a seat, Jonelle said, "so tell me about this job David got."

"Oh, well, he was hired to find former Senator Boyce's missing son." She took a sip from the crystal glass filled with mineral water, leaving a lipstick trace.

"Boyce?" Mark said. "hasn't his son been missing longer than Lindbergh's baby?"

"He has reason to believe his son is still alive and living with a woman from the Them group." Dawn replied.

Jonelle looked surprised. "Them? Are they still around?"

"They've been broken up a few times, but they always seem to regroup. But Boyce says o detective he hired hod evidence that one of those members had run off from the group before the raid in 1975 that resulted in the f ire that destroyed their headquarters."

"I'm glad to see David is having some success in his field," Jonelle said with a twinkle in her eye. "And what have you been doing with your life?"

Mark looked at Dawn and asked, "Who is David? I don't believe I know the name."

Thinking quickly, Dawn replied, "My twin brother. Sometimes it's hard to separate us. I was working as his secretary for awhile, but now I'm engaged to be married."

Jonelle nearly went through the floor, her mouth dropping open at this announcement. Then she saw the mischievous grin on Dawn's face and realized she was being put on. But Mark didn't realize it. "Congratulations," he said, offering his hand again.

"Thank you," Down said, touching it lightly again. "I'm happy."

Dinner continued and the conversation turned to other topics. As the evening progressed, Dawn felt more and more confident and soon forgot that she was anything other than what she appeared to be - an attractive young woman.

At the end of the meal, the tab picked up by Mark, the three exited the restaurant and stood outside in the twilight. The valet went for Mark's car.

"I wish we could spend the rest of the evening together, Jo. It really went well." Mark said, holding Jonelle's hand.

"You know we can't. Dinner was lovely. Thank you. And thank you for letting me invite Dawn."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Dawn. Maybe we'll see each other again sometime."

"It was nice to meet you, too. You're exactly the kind of guy I imagined would snare my friend Jo."

Mark's car pulled up to the curb. "Can I at least give you a lift somewhere?"

Dawn.

Jonelle kissed him on the cheek. "Don't spoil it, Mark. Good night. Thanks again."

Mark held her by the waist for a split second, then turned and got into his car. He sped off.

"Call you a cab, ladies?" the valet said.

"Yes, please," Jonelle said, smiling at a bewildered

Seated next to each other in the back seat of the cab, Jonelle answered Dawn's unasked questions.

"Mark and I were married a year ago. It just hasn't worked. It was a whirlwind romance, and we were out of our minds. It couldn't have worked and it didn't. We're getting divorced."

"I'm sorry."

"Ah, you know me. No guy can hold me down." She pinched Dawn's thigh through her skirt. "No ordinary guy, anyway." She smiled.

They went directly to Dawn's apartment. After locking the door and tossing her keys onto a desktop, Dawn found herself in the embrace of Jonelle.

"I really missed you," Jonelle said and she kissed her. A surprised Dawn returned the kiss. Jonelle's hands entwined themselves in Dawn's hair while Dawn's hands moved passionately about her silk dress-encased body.

The embrace became heated and animated and soon they had collapsed onto the couch, their clothes disheveled, their shoes kicked off. They stared deep into each other's beautifully made-up eyes and then they joined at the lips again, tongues leaping in and out of each others mouths. Dawn worked her hands up inside Jonelle's dress and stroked her inner thighs, evoking a low moan from her

"Let's go into the bedroom," Jonelle said breathlessly. They got up off the couch and made their way into the bedroom, arms around each others waist.

Senator Boyce and his missing son were the farthest things from Dawn's mind at that moment.

Chapter Five

David Cole returned to work the next day, but his mind was not on it. In the tiny office located in the some building as his apartment, he shuffled papers and considered calling some sources, but didn't accomplish anything.

His previous night with Jonelle hod been one of the best moments of his life. And the more he thought of how his impersonation had so completely fooled Mark, the more he was on Cloud Nine. But he knew he hod a job to do and he rid his mind of all thoughts of the previous evening.

He reviewed the facts of the case for the hundredth time and then began to scribble in his notebook, a procedure that always helped him with cases in the post. He would write down all of his thoughts and ideas, no matter how silly or useless they seemed to him at the

His first priority, he knew, was to find the woman who had left the Them group, allegedly with a child who may or may not be Senator Boyce's son.

And the easiest way to find her? Question those who knew her, of course. That would mean getting into the federal prison to interview the Them members currently doing time. Or finding the current incarnation of the group somewhere in the city.

Both tasks would be extremely difficult as Them would never talk to a man.

So, he would have to come up with a woman who could speak with the group members. And he knew the woman -- Jonelle.

"You want me to what?!" Jonelle said over the phone later that evening.

"I'm desperate, Jo. I need your help."

There was no sound coming from the receiver. "Jonelle?"

"I hear you. Look, David, you're pushing our friendship here. My only interest in you is because of Dawn. I've had it with men. I'm not interested at all in David and I don't want to help him out. Do you understand that?"

"I think so."

"Okay, then, when I'm ready to see you again, I'll call you. Don't ruin it, David. I can't go to work for you. I'm sorry."

The phone went dead. David didn't hang it up until after the operator came on and told him his call did not go through, please hang up and try again...

The next day he went to work in earnest . He called every snitch and informant he had ever used before with little luck. Them had gone very underground and nobody seemed to know where they were or even if they still existed. He began to frequent lesbian bars, feeling very out of place, but keeping his ears open for any information that may leak out. He tried questioning some of the bargoers but got nothing more than a cold shoulder. He was an outsider. He didn't belong. He would get no information from anybody.

But he ran into a drag queen in a particularly tough dyke bar, who was as out of place as he was She was dressed in a party frock, with a beehive hairdo. stiletto heels and more make-up than the rest of the bar patrons had ever worn in their lives. Combined.

She had information. For a price.

"I'm here every night, dear," Erica said to David outside. "It's okay for me, they leave me alone, they're even protective of me. I'm kind of the bar mascot.' She chuckled and pulled a mirror from her sequined purse. After applying more lipstick, she continued.

"Anyway, the other night I was sitting in a booth. by myself, as usual, when I heard this conversation in the booth behind me. The music was very slow at the time, y'know slow-dance stuff - I could hear every word Apparently, somebody was recruiting for Them! I couldn't believe it!"

"Did you see who was doing the recruiting?"

"Yes - I was very discreet. I left my booth very quietly and went to the bar. I didn't look to see who was in the booth when I got up, in case they looked at me. I got a drink then I headed for the dance floor. Then I looked. She was a mean bitch - let me tell you! I had never seen her before. And I haven't seen her since."

"Okay, thanks. Is there anything else you can remember about her? Did she mention a name?"

"She did, at first, but I didn't pay attention at that time. But she did mention an address later, after she had said she was with Them."

"Excellent! Do you remember it?"

Erica held out a large hand, her sculpted nails glistened in the light from the overhead street lamp. She slowly turned her palm up. David reached into his pocket and put a twenty in the paw. She took it, then stuck her hand out again. David reluctantly gave her another twenty.

"A girl's got to eat," she said, shoving the twenties into her purse. "3137 Eastwood. I remember it clearly."

Eastwood Street was in one of the worst sections of the city. But it was the only lead David had. If it were true, it that was their new headquarters - how could he get inside? He knew they would spot him if he tried to stake it out and observe the goings on. But he had to talk to one of Them. It was time to enlist the services of Dawn Cole,

Chapter Six

It was a sunny Monday morning in June when Dawn Cole cautiously exited her apartment building dressed in a comfortable, knit two-piece dress. She looked like any other young woman on her way to the office. she wore white leather sandals, very little makeup, no nail polish and only tiny silver earrings. Her own brown hair was teased and blow-dried, the blonde wig temporarily retired to a wig block in her closet.

She began to walk, gaining confidence with every step. She slung her canvas purse over a shoulder and swung her tanned and athletic bare arms in rhythm with her walk.

She relied on the city's subway system to deliver her to Eastwood Street, and the trip took over an hour. On the corner of the 3000 block, she stood, observing the neighborhood, watching the cars hot rod up and down the three-block long street.

The inhabitants of the neighborhood seemed to be very interested in the presence of the pretty lady in the skirt and low heeled sandals. Oddly enough, the men left her alone. A few whistled at her and they all watched her intently, but Dawn expected no confrontation, and none came.

A woman exited a post office in front of Dawn, and briefly glanced at her. She was overburdened with packages and letters. She also matched the description given of the woman who had supplied Erica with the street address in The Bicycle Seat, the lesbian bar.

Down caught up to her. "Need some help?" she asked politely.

"No, I can manage," the woman replied and kept walking.

"Are you sure? I don't mind." Dawn hustled to keep up with the woman, who moved at a fast gait.

"No, bimbo, get lost." The voice was hostile now, and Dawn backed off. She watched as the woman attempted to cross the busy street.

She had almost made it when a car careened around the corner, and never slowing down, sped by her, spinning her around, sending packages and pieces of mail scattering about the street.

The woman screamed after the rampaging automobile, but it was soon out of sight. She began to pick up the pieces of mail in the street. Dawn ran across the street and started to help her, dodging cars in the process.

She handed a pile to the woman and again offered to help her. She smiled sweetly and the woman rolled her eyes. "Geez-us' she said. "If this ain't puppy love, I don't know what is!" Dawn smiled brighter. She was in.

The woman led her down the street and onto the next block. To 3137 Eastwood. The outside was a shambles - boarded up windows, graffiti-covered door. It looked from the outside to be like any other house on the block. But the inside was startling. The walls were brightly painted and the place was spotless. A thick, luxurious rug was on the floor, heavy curtains completely covered the windows, plants were strategically placed. Despite the absence of windows, the place was well-lit, thanks to expensive-looking brass pole lamps.

"My name's Sandy, by the way," the woman said, leading Dawn into the kitchen. "And this is Bertie." Another woman was sitting at a glass-topped table reading a newspaper.

Dawn stuck her hand out and the woman called Bertie took it in a crushing grip. "Hiya."

"Hi, my name's Dawn. Dawn Cole." Dawn took her hand back and l lightly shook it. "This is a beautiful place. I'd never have realized - "

"Just who are you, Dawn?" Bertie said, saying her name derisively.

"Somebody I met outside," Sandy said. "She helped me pick up the mail when I dropped it. I think she's hot for me."

"Actually. I had seen you at The Bicycle Seat the other night. I overheard you talking in a booth and I tried to find you to talk to you." Dawn noticed Bertie eyeing her up and down, her brows knitted.

"Yeah? Why?"

"I heard you were starting a group called Them - I remember them from my college days. I'd like to join." Bertie's inspection of her was making her nervous, but she kept still.

"You always dress like this?" Bertie said.

Down looked down at her dress and then back to Bertie. "No, I was just heading for work, I have to dress like this to please the bosses, you know?"

"Yeah, I can imagine." Sandy said, opening a letter. Well, Them doesn't exist. You heard wrong. and even if it did exist, what makes you think you could be a member?"

"I may not look like it, but when I was in college I was such a feminist radical, I was expelled. I had a newspaper, I staged rallies, I had Equal Rights Amendment fund-raisers. . ."

"Okay, stop right there," Bertie said. Sandy, can I see you for a minute?"

The two women left the room. Dawn's heart was racing now. She couldn't tell if she had convinced them or not. And if she didn't, she had no bock-up plan.

The women returned a few minutes later. Dawn had refrained from inspecting the mail sitting so invitingly just a few feet away, but it was too risky.

"Okay, Dawn," Bertie said, saying her name sarcastically again. "We have decided to allow you to join us. Sandy here sees some potential in you. You haven't quite convinced me yet, but I'll give you a chance."

"Welcome to Them, sister."

To Be Continued...


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