K is for Karla

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Transgender-themed stories which I hope will be of interest to those who like women, or would like to be a woman. Which includes me!
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As I rounded almost the final corner heading home I was feeling pleased with myself. Just about my most successful outing ever. It had gone so well, the driving, parking in the shop car park, walking up towards the entrance, then away again, probably about 400 yards in total. And people. Being seen, being there with people, that had been something of a thrill, walking past people, even the occasional smile. I know several had looked at my legs, maybe with vague thoughts of you-know-what in their minds. I’d been doubtful about the shoes, obviously, but I knew I’d carried them off well, my highest high-heels, and not far short of my shortest mini-skirt ever.

OK, I know many ‘girls’ go much further, clubbing and going out and showing off their assets way more than me. But I’d always been a low-key girlie, just having fun in my own quiet way. And that evening had been so much fun. Up until that moment, that is.

As I drove round the corner I realised there was a problem ahead. There was a small white van parked askew across the road. It looked as if it had hit the kerb, it was quite high just there. The van had perhaps been thrown off course, maybe even had a puncture. I didn’t foresee a major problem, not just then, as I began to move out to pass it. I’d picked that route home deliberately, round the back roads, not too public. I just didn’t fancy getting stopped at traffic lights, maybe being looked at by other people in stationary cars and so on.

But just as I pulled out – I had to brake. Suddenly. VERY suddenly. Someone jumped out from behind the van, and from that moment on basically my life changed.

The man who had stopped me moved over to my driver’s door, and pulled it open. Only then did I see – he had a scarf or something over his face and some sort of big hat which completely covered the rest of his head, apart from his eyes.

“Out! Come on you bitch, get out! Now!”

I was shocked, obviously. This was not what I’d planned, an unwelcome interruption to my secretive quiet drive home by the back roads. As he grabbed me roughly by the arm, I had to struggle a little to unclip my seat belt. I did manage to grab my handbag and rather tumble out of the car, having some difficulty keeping on my feet in my high heels. I was still dazed when I realised two things.

First, there was no point in struggling, he was quite a bit taller and bulkier than me. And secondly – he had a gun! At least I thought he had, he was pointing something like that towards me threateningly. And there was a third factor – he wasn’t alone. Another guy, similarly dressed, carrying a large holdall and again maybe with a gun, came over towards us. I had a brief moment to inspect the scene and realised that there was yet another car there. I could see it in the van’s lights. It was a police car!

Before I could properly work things out, both the men jumped into my own car.

“Go, man. Go!”

That was all I heard. And they drove off! Leaving me alone, or so I thought, and dressed like that, maybe a couple of miles from home on a dark country road. Shit!

But then I was brought back to reality, I heard a noise coming from the police car. I was not alone. I had to think quickly. Get out of there? Start running, or rather walking, no way could I run in those heels and in such a tight skirt. But it was well over a mile to my house, the chances of my getting home and down my street un-noticed were vanishingly small. That just wasn’t going to happen.

Then I heard the noise again, it was a groan, a somewhat painful groan. Someone was in trouble. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m no goody-goody. Not someone who goes out of his – or her – way to help anyone and everyone, but this was different. The men had waved guns around, and the police car wasn’t moving, and someone was in pain. OK, maybe I was about to get found out, that was an important consideration, I didn’t want it to happen. But if someone was in serious trouble I just couldn’t walk out on them, could I?

I tottered over towards the police car and tried to peer in but the van’s light made it a bit difficult. I called out.

“Hello?”

There was no response. When I pulled at the driver’s door, it opened. As I leaned down and looked in, I could see two men, two police officers. The officer in the back of the car was looking towards me. He tried to say something, then closed his eyes and slumped forward. I could see that he was injured, there was quite a lot of blood on his tunic. He’d just passed out. The other officer was sitting in the car’s passenger seat, he seemed to be totally unconscious. There was blood on his arm but I couldn’t make out anything else, he was breathing at least.

I suppose I reacted automatically. Thinking back, OK I was being a bit public-spirited. Obviously in some way these officers had been attacked by criminals of some Pendik Fetiş Escort sort. Probably shot. Maybe they were bank robbers or something, I remembered the holdall as well as the guns. But whatever had happened, certainly the cop in the back was in some sort of serious trouble, the one in the front wasn’t too healthy either. They both needed help. But not from me, I wasn’t qualified in anything more than very basic first aid. They needed doctors, nurses, a hospital. Maybe I could call for help, on the police radio if I could work it.

But there wasn’t time to wait for help, the guy in the back groaned and moved again, I could see more blood in the lights from the van. He was in serious trouble, I thought. I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. There didn’t seem to be any major damage to the car. I had seen the van was in a rut and wouldn’t move easily, but this was a police car, and they were both in situ. My car was gone. This was the thing to do. It was the only thing I could do.

I hardly remember the next minute or so. I went into some sort of autopilot, backing up a little and driving back down the road I’d just driven my own car along towards the bypass. I got there, turned left, and slammed my right foot down, surprised at the acceleration as it shoved me back into my seat. Within seconds I was doing over 80, passing one lorry and one car, there wasn’t much traffic on the bypass at that time of night.

I didn’t have time to think at first, I just kept driving. I reckoned it would take me about 10 minutes or so to get to Queen Mary’s. If somehow I’d been able to call the hospital from the ‘scene of the crime’ it would have probably taken at least half an hour and then quite some time to actually get the men there. I just kept driving.

Then I realised, as I went round a roundabout at about fifty and cut up a van coming across me, I really could do with some help here. I needed to get someone at the hospital ready, something like that. I saw the police radio on the dashboard. I picked up the microphone and pressed the small button on it. A small light lit up on the radio.

“Hello. Anybody there?”

There was a pause.

A female voice answered.

“This is Mercia Police Control. Who is that?”

“OK. Listen. I’m a civilian, driving a police car. Can you hear me?”

“Police Control here, you really…”

I interrupted her, I had to, and spoke quickly and clearly and I hoped with some authority.

“Sorry, no time to listen. This is an emergency.”

Whoever was at the other end of the radio seemed to understand, in some way, that something different was happening. Maybe there was indeed some indication in the tone of my voice.

“Go on,” she said.

“Right. I’m driving this police car up the A45-something, just gone past the Tesco roundabout and that big B & Q warehouse, I hope you know where. There’s been some sort of incident. I’ve got two officers in the car with me, both unconscious, both injured, shot I think. I know I shouldn’t be driving this but I’m heading for Queen Mary’s Hospital. Get someone there ready. Ok?”

There was a longer pause.

“Look, I don’t know…”

“Hey!” I shouted. “I know I shouldn’t be doing this but – hell! Get somebody there, call them. I’m turning right at the junction by the Green Lion. Sorry, just do this, sort other stuff later.”

There was another pause, then some muttering in the background I couldn’t hear. Then the same voice came back, calmer.

“OK then look, take it easy. Who’s with you? Can they speak?”

I looked briefly across. The other police officer on the front seat was still not conscious.

“Sorry, can’t be done, not now. His shoulder number is 558, does that make sense?”

Yet another pause.

“OK now, take it easy, we don’t want you to crash the car, do we? There should be some help there soon.”

I was sweating, I was shaking. Hell, I was driving a police car well above the speed limit – in high heels! And amazingly, I’d hardly noticed the heels, I was coping with them remarkably well. I released my hand from the microphone and dropped it, having to use both hands to swerve past another lorry, suddenly there was a bit more traffic as I moved into the outskirts of Brum.

And almost on cue I could see a car behind me, travelling very fast, blue light flashing and siren sounding. I was doing well over sixty in a 40-limit area but he must have been travelling at nearly ninety. At that speed he moved past me and moved in front, slowing to just over my own speed. Thankfully he wasn’t going to stop me. Obviously he’d been contacted by whoever, he’d been told. For a minute or so he carved a gap for me, I could almost relax just a little as we sped along.

Then, just before the turn to the hospital, I saw his brake lights come on. I had to slow right down. There was more traffic ahead. I realised this could take time but I knew this bit of town, I had once worked not far away. As the car Pendik Gecelik Escort in front came to a halt I pulled a very sharp right, across the traffic and across a garage forecourt and out the other side, way too fast but we held the road. I whipped left into the front of the hospital A and E department. I could see a group waiting, about ten of them mainly in white coats, by a couple of trolleys. I slid to a halt, drawing up precisely right by the trolleys.

The passenger doors were opened and within seconds they had done their stuff. The ‘patients’ were gone, the doctors went with them, I was alone for a moment. I know now that if I’d tried to drive off I’d have been caught, no problem. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I just sat there, looking down at my thighs, nylon-clad, revealed by the black miniskirt, and I almost cried. With relief. Not with any sort of fear surprisingly, with relief. Despite the fact that I knew damn well that the stuff was just about to hit the fan.

The other police car pulled up behind me. One of the officers in it got out and ran towards the hospital entrance. The other came over and opened my door. He looked at me. I kept my head down, rather ashamed.

“Sorry, I thought it was a guy. Good driving love….”

He noticed my tears, I really was sobbing by then, and shaking. He reached over to help me out of the car, and then, as only a policeman could I think, took off his coat and wrapped it round me.

“Hey, it’s OK, you did really well…”

I looked up at him.

‘Here it comes,’ I thought.

“Oh Christ!”

He knew. I knew he knew. I’d always hoped, but never really believed, that I could be taken for a woman. The skirt, the wig, the make-up,….

“You’re a tranny!”

I really didn’t know what to say, how to react. Never imagined being in that situation, or anything like it. I had no points of reference, nothing to relate to, I just didn’t know what to do. But the officer did, obviously he was thinking way more quickly than me.

“Here, come with me…”

He put his arm round me, hugging his jacket to my body.

“Keep your head down. OK?”

We went into the hospital and turned left inside the door past all the people waiting in casualty. I glimpsed a few nurses and a couple of other policemen there, suddenly it was all getting a bit busy. We moved down a short corridor and through another door, obviously into the police admin-type office area within the hospital.

“Here, sit here,” said the officer, lowering me towards a chair and reclaiming his jacket.

He left me for just a minute or so, returning with a plastic cup from the machine I had seen by the door.

“Drink this. Slowly. Calm down, you did really well.”

I sipped the sweet tea. Funny, I’d seen that on TV and in the movies, I’d always thought ‘how silly’ – but it worked. I don’t have anything like so much sugar in my tea usually but this time, well, it was OK. I stopped shaking so much, I began to calm down.

“OK then,” continued the officer, taking out his notebook. “I have to get some details.”

Quickly and quietly I told him what had happened, from my having to stop when I’d seen the van up to when I got to the hospital.

“OK Mr Harrison. Er – is that Carl with a C, or a K?

“With a K. K-A-R-L.”

“I need to call this in. Look, don’t worry, I’ve not mentioned here anything about how you are dressed or anything like that. I’ll do what I can to make sure none of that will come out if I can help it.”

I smiled weakly.

“Thanks”

At which point another officer, a policewoman, came into the room. They muttered quietly to each other for a minute or so. She had a look at the notebook, then the guy left, taking out his radio as he did so.

“Hello there, I’m WPC Carter. Fiona. How do you like to be called, my dear?”

She put an arm round me. I thought I knew what she meant but I wasn’t sure. She looked upset, probably concern at the fate of her two colleagues. But there was something more, I got the distinct impression she’d been crying. Perhaps her consoling me was helping her too, I thought.

“OK, look, it’s OK. You did great tonight. You probably saved my fiancé’s life!”

I looked up towards her, a bit shocked but still not saying anything.

“I’ve just seen the doctors, they got the bullet straight out. The officer in the back of the car, that is. James he’s called, the one near his heart might have caused a problem but it didn’t. Tranny or not, you done good. So what shall I call you?”

“Karla,” I muttered, and I actually began to sob a little.

That surprised me but it must have been relief again. He’d looked in such a bad way, so much blood, I thought he might actually have died while I was driving. I’d not really been massively careful, just fast. It had just seemed the thing to do.

Fiona put an arm round me and pulled me closer to her. She kissed my cheek. I’m sure policewomen aren’t supposed to do that Pendik Genç Escort sort of thing with witnesses and so on, but I realised she was crying a little again. That prompted me to try to help her, to put my arm round her too.

“I’m so glad, what about the other man?” I asked quietly, to take her mind off her fiancé.

“David? He’s my brother, would you believe? Chalk and cheese, we are. He’s fine. He’s got a flesh wound, and he got knocked on the head. But he’s indestructible, David is. He’s OK.”

We both smiled at this thought, then we both pulled ourselves together.

“Alright Karla. Do you know, you’re the third transvestite I’ve met in this job, in just over ten years. The first was a real pervert, I was delighted I helped get him put away for a long time ……….”

I didn’t really realise where the conversation was going. I wasn’t too sure what Fiona was going to say, what point she was trying to make.

“But the second, Andrea, she’s a lovely girl. Really. Long red hair, looks gorgeous, she has a lovely boyfriend. They both do lots of stuff for charity, with her dressed or not. She looks about thirty when she’s dressed, it takes over ten years off her. Nice figure, not as good as yours though.”

I realised she was being a bit patronising but she was well-meaning, trying to show me that being a transvestite wouldn’t be a problem for her.

“Anyway, Karla, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. Your make-up is a mess, and that wig needs sorting. Come with me, dear.”

She led me across the room towards another door – and into the Ladies!

“You’ll be OK in here, don’t worry. You don’t want to go in the Gents, it’s not healthy in there. I’ve had to a couple of times but – ouch. Now, let’s slip off the wig, you need a bit of a clean-up.”

A few minutes later we emerged, I felt so much better. Fiona had offered me another blouse, there had been a little blood on the one I’d had. She even offered to have it cleaned for me but I’d said it would be OK. And she’d helped re-do my make-up and my mascara. I’d clipped my wig back on properly again and refreshed my lipstick. In the Ladies! Wow! That was another first.

Things moved quickly after that. Two or three other police guys came in and left. Obviously they were interested, they had probably heard about a transvestite helping one of their colleagues or something and wanted to see her. Him. They were polite and asked a question or two, but nobody made any nasty comments about me being dressed like that.

“Karla, don’t be surprised” said Fiona after the last one had left. “You look great, I expect most of them are expecting some sort of ugly drag queen and are just amazed when they see you. Really, honest. OK, not totally female I have to say but pretty good overall, and that figure, well, it’s just knockout. How do you do that? I have to ask, I wish I could have a waist like that, and those boobs, just gorgeous.”

I had to laugh too, in a way she was actually asking for advice – from me. I started to tell her, to explain about the breast-forms, and the basque, and all the other tricks I’d tried – when another officer came in again.

“Jim’s OK, Fi. He’s conscious, he wants to see you I should think. Oh, and we got the two guys! The call went out so quickly, they’d stopped to change cars.”

Fiona left hurriedly, the cop continued talking to me.

“M6 service station, we got them. Your car is OK, sir, no damage to speak of I don’t think. Look, we’ve got your statement, all that stuff. How about I get a car to take you back home? Are you OK going like that?”

He looked me up and down. Obviously he was referring to the way I was dressed, somewhat incongruously.

“Well, we could probably find you some men’s clothes, though it might take some time. You could get changed here. Do you want to do that?”

I thought for a moment. For the first time in my life I’d talked to people, to several people, hell, to several police officers at that, as ‘Karla’. OK so they all knew I was a tranny, not a woman, obviously – this officer had even called me ‘sir’. Probably all the nurses and doctors there knew too by now. But none of them had been at all nasty about it. Maybe they thought I was a bit weird, but of course I was. A bit weird that is, not many men go out for the evening in black stockings and high heels. And not many get to drive police cars dressed like that. Not at nearly ninety!

But it would indeed take some time to sort out the clothing and getting changed and so on, maybe it would be better just to get home. If I could get in quickly and quietly at that end without being noticed, that is. I smiled weakly at the officer there, told him what I thought.

“Sure – er Karla, isn’t it? No problem, we can be discrete. It’s late anyway, not many of your neighbours will be up at this time, I should think. Not by the time we get there. Give me a minute to get a car sorted. OK?”

He left me in that little police room, a minute or two later Fiona came in. With her brother! He was walking carefully, had one arm strapped up already and a big plaster on his head over one eye. He was obviously quite a bit shaken. There was a nurse with him, probably there just in case of a problem.

Fiona was holding him by the un-damaged arm.

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