We walked out to the car, Jacinta keeping a loose hold on my right arm. She opened the back door:

“OK, sit in on the seat, then swing your legs in.”

Being a good girl, I did as I was told. Naturally, twisting around into a car pulled my skirt up; she leaned in, caught the hem, and tugged it into place.

“I’ll climb in the far side and take your handcuffs off.”

She closed the door, walked around the back of the car, got in:

“OK, like before, lean forward, head on the seat back in front. Keep your hands where they are until we’re clear of the station.”

She took off the handcuffs and I leaned back while she made a bit of a show of pulling my seatbelt on in case anyone was looking. She returned my pistol to my bag and left the bag beside me.

“OK, don’t say that I knew you had the pistol if the Witness Protection people find it. That would really screw up my chances of going out to Lisbon with you, if that’s where you’re going!”

“No problem, I’ve had it with me all the time.”

She patted me on the leg, just above my knee, sat in the front and drove off. Once clear of Independence Street I took my hands from their pretend handcuffed position, checked the pistol, and pulled the bag alongside me where it would be ready to hand.

“What about my shotgun?”

Jacinta laughed.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to sneak that in.”

“Maybe I could hide it in my bra? No, seriously, I need to return it to my father.”

“I’ll arrange that; I can courier it.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but then dealers regularly courier guns and ammunition around the country.

“Where are we going?”

“Fox’s Grange; there’s a house there that was seized by Revenue as the proceeds of crime. It’s used as a temporary refuge apparently.”

She turned down a bus-only street and continued on oblivious to the furious honking of an irate bus driver.

“Do you try to irritate bus drivers on purpose?”

“If we’re being followed, they can hardly continue down this street; too obvious.”

I looked back, no car behind. It was an interesting ploy, but not one that I could emulate unless very hard pressed.

She drove quickly, dodging in and out of bus lanes, and we were in Fox’s Grange in no time. This was an upmarket area, one of the best in town, and many of the houses were quite secluded behind high, often ivy-covered walls. Eventually we turned onto a gateway and a high gate swung open. We drove into the driveway and were confronted by a second gate, not visible from the road, and waited there, in a kind of lock, until the outer gate had swung closed. I expected the inner gate to open but instead a policeman in casual jeans and shirt came through a side gate and approached the car. He spoke to Jacinta, looked at me, and reverted to her.

“We were told to expect you and a male protectee.”

“I know; she actually is a male; Jos McNamara. Ring DI Jones or DS White if you don’t believe me.”

The constable went back through the side gate leaving us sitting there. He was back in about ten minutes, approached the car, took a long look at me:

“Nice one! OK, come on in.”

He gave a wave up to a security camera and the inner gate opened. Jacinta drove in and pulled up at the front door. We both got out of the car and a middle-aged man, wearing brown cords and a slightly shabby tailored jacket emerged. He walked over to us and held out his hand:

“DS Smyth; I’m responsible for looking after you today.”

We shook hands.

“Jos, I mean Jesse, McNamara”.

“Detective Beirne, Woodview Station”

I hadn’t known Jacinta’s full name before now.

The DS brought us both inside. Surprisingly, we were met by a housekeeper, a middle aged woman, who asked of we would like to have some toasted sandwiches for lunch, which we gratefully accepted. When she had left the room, and sensing my curiosity, DS Smyth forestalled my nascent question:

“She has as high a security clearance as I have. We decided after the first few months that either we get a housekeeper, or the place will fall apart. You know what police are like when it comes to looking after their stations.”

The last statement was addressed to Jacinta; she nodded.

We got down to arrangements. Jacinta would collect a list of all that I would need from my apartment and arrange to collect it and bring it to Fox’s Grange. Essentially, this was all Jesse’s stuff, apart from what I needed to work. DS Smyth would inform his Superintendent of my preferred location; he didn’t foresee any problems with this. He would set to work in the meantime to get me a passport, driving licence, social insurance number and European Health Insurance Card in the name of Jesse Winston. In order to pass through the airport without too many problems, I would need a gender recognition certificate. I would also need to set up a bank account in Jesse’s name and transfer funds, not directly, but through a police account in order not to leave a track from Jos to Jesse. There was quite a bit to do. I would be meeting the Witness Protection Superintendent in the morning in order to formally agree the details of my protection programme.

Lunch over Jacinta headed off and DS Smyth and I continued to discuss arrangements for an hour or so before the housekeeper returned to show me to my room. This was on the upper floor, a large well-lit suite with a dayroom, a bedroom and an en-suite. It was mostly self-contained with even a small kitchenette and not visible from outside the property except by drone. Of course this meant that, other than the house garden, there was no view from the windows either. The housekeeper explained that meals were served in a downstairs dining room at 9am, 1pm and 6pm. This was a pleasant surprise; meals cooked and served to me. Very Downton Abbey!

It turned out that I was the only “guest”. That suited as I didn’t want anyone not connected with the case to know that I was going undercover as Jesse. It wouldn’t be very difficult for someone to put two and two together based on the timing of my disappearance from my apartment. I had dinner with the DS and one of the police guards; apparently the “control room” was constantly manned so whoever was on had to eat there. They were both curious about me; was this just a good disguise, or was I really trans. It was a bit tiresome, as I did not have a clear answer, and, of course, they thought that I didn’t want to answer the question. Maybe, in a way, they were right?

Jacinta turned up after dinner with a carload of Jesse’s stuff as we were having a coffee after dinner. She stuck her head into the dining room.

“Well, come on. You don’t think I’m going to carry all this myself!”

I went out to her car and grabbed an armful of bags, including the bag that I’d left at the hospital, and trudged up the stairs. She brought some more and followed me into my room.

“Your wardrobe needs a makeover!”

“I don’t disagree; but I’m hardly in a position to go shopping now, am I?”

She had a look around the suite, almost the size of a small apartment.

“Nice place.”

“Yes, not bad; I suspect I’ll be fed up of it by the time I get away. In a way, it’s more like a comfortable prison. And it’s lonely; I don’t suppose that you can arrange some conjugal visits for me?”

“Sorry; not unless you fancy some of the lads downstairs.”

“Not my type I’m afraid.”

“We never finished that conversation, remember?”

I nodded. Our conversation in the car was only this morning, but it seemed much longer ago.

“So what is your type?”

“Girls, particularly blond policewomen who like to handcuff me.”

“It was you who reminded me to do it the second time, remember?”

“Only keeping our cover story intact”.

“Of course; what else!”

“And you, what’s your type?”

“Girls, same as yours, except I’m the boss!”

“Naturally, I wouldn’t have expected it to be anything else. Like you said, if I’m a good girl, we’ll get along just fine!”

She grinned and then got serious. We both knew that our banter could not progress beyond that in the current circumstance with three of her colleagues in the house.

“I’ve asked if I could be released to Witness Protection for this assignment. My Superintendent is willing if a formal request is made. You’ll have to raise it this end.”

“I’m going to ask the Superintendent tomorrow. Will you be around for that?”

She shook her head.

“No; unless you can get me drafted in, I’m out of this from now”.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Remember, you’ve a lot of power in this situation, more than the Super would like to admit. The last thing she wants is this programme attracting any negative press so you can push her a bit. I’d better go now, before they decide that we’re too friendly!”

“But they know that you’re gay and that I’m male; how could they think that we’d be getting too friendly?”

“They don’t all know I’m gay, and anyway, look in the mirror!”

I did; and got her point.

“Don’t come downstairs with me.”

I nodded. She turned towards the door, then turned back, put her hand around my neck and kissed my forehead.

“Even if I don’t get back on this job, I’m glad I’ve met you. Stay safe.”

“Me too.”

She was gone before I could return the kiss.

I started to unpack and file my clothes away in the built in wardrobes and bathroom cabinet; there was more than enough room. I did find my bottle of Glenmorangie which I left in the locker beside the bed. I wasn’t sure if it was approved to have on site and didn’t want to get Jacinta into trouble. I finished my unpacking, set up my laptop and iPad, checked my emails, answered any that were urgent and decided to leave any further work until after I met the Superintendent tomorrow. I would need to extricate from any current jobs in good grace as I might need to rely on these for future work or references. Work sorted I texted Janet and my parents, both getting the same message:

Safe; in hiding with police escort. Will contact again when I know what’s happening.

That done, I went downstairs to the sitting room where I found the DS and one of his team doomscrolling and told them that I was turning in. I hoped that they would get the Do Not Disturb hint. That done, off to bed with three fingers of Glenmorangie, fell asleep watching Endeavour, a somewhat cerebral cop drama, feeling both safe and confined at the same time.

There was a new DS and team on the next morning when I met the Superintendent: The DS sat in on the meeting. The Super was old school, in her fifties, probably nearing the end of her career, the type that felt that the police should be in charge. In fairness, given her age, she would have joined at a time when it was a difficult job for a woman so had probably developed a rhinoceros hide along the way. She didn’t appear to be too impressed with me either! She started off on the wrong hoof, or whatever a rhinoceros has:

“OK, I’m Superintendent Campbell. We’re checking out a placement in France, probably Paris. We hope to get you out there in about a month.”

“Have you spoken to DI Jones?”

“No.”

“Has she sent you any messages about this? Email? Memo?”

“No; not that I’ve seen.”

I said nothing, just looked at her, expectantly. She looked at me for an instance, then shuffled through her papers.

“Ah, yes, here it is.”

She read through the printout of an email, presumably sent by the DI, shook her head.

“Too late for that; we’ve the wheels in motion for France already.”

“OK, we’re done here so. Can I ask to stay for a week until I make alternative arrangements?”

“What do you mean, alternative arrangements? We’ll have this set up in a matter of weeks.”

“Don’t; I won’t be going. I’ll make my own arrangements.”

“That’s simply unacceptable. Don’t you realise the danger that you’re in?”

“Yes; and the only reason I’m still in danger and not on a slab is because of my own actions and a lot of good luck.”

The DS was smirking at the Superintendent’s discomfort. I hoped she wouldn’t see him; that would get her back up even more.

“You can’t expect to be able to look after yourself in the longer term; it’s just too risky”.

“I will ask the Army to recall me to active service. If I move into an Officer’s mess on base I’ll be quite safe there, I’m sure I can work out something in relation to off-base security.”

I knew that the police, like many public servants, were territorial to an absurd level and would strongly oppose any involvement by the military on their turf.

“You can hardly go on active service dressed like that.”

This statement was accompanied by something resembling a sneer.

“Oh, I’m not so sure; the military has joined the 21st Century. And if they had a problem, I could revert to being Jos on base.”

Another dig at her barely concealed transphobia.

She picked up the email printout from DI Jones and pretended to read it again. I decided to nail my conditions down before she thought of proposing a part compromise.

“I mentioned to DI Jones that Lisbon works as it’s full of digital nomads and I can disappear there. The PSP will allow the carrying of a personal firearm for self-protection in rare circumstances; this fits the bill, particularly if you formally request it. And finally, I asked to be accompanied by Detective Beirne as I know her, trust her, and together we can appear to be friends going on a holiday.

At the end of the day, it’s my life on the line here.”

She looked from the memo to me, then back at the memo, and finally put it down.

“OK; we’ll check if we can locate you in Lisbon and whether the PSG will authorise a gun. Detective Beirne is in another division so I’ll have to request that she be released to us for this assignment.”

Victory; time to let her save face.

“Thanks very much Superintendent; I appreciate your help. I’ll feel better working with you than the military; it’s not really their turf. It’s PSP, by the way, Polícia de Segurança Pública, Public Security Police in English.

I’ve been told that I’ll be doing some Cyber Security work for the state while I’m hiding away; do you know who I’m to liaise with in that regard?”

“Not at the moment; I’ll have someone look into that”.

She picked up her papers and headed off without saying goodbye. In what looked like police protocol, the DS accompanied her to her car and waited until she had “locked out” then came back to the sitting room where we’d met, barely concealing his glee.

“Well, you’re some stroppy bitch!”

I shrugged and pouted:

“Well, a girl’s got to look after herself in this world!”

I texted Jacinta:

Looking good; expect request for assignment.

She sent me back a thumbs up.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind.

I was given a security clearance and contact points in both the military and the police Cyber Security teams, both of whom wanted first call on me: I would have to manage that situation on an ongoing basis. I had to visit both and each gave me a laptop for sole use on their network; I would now be bringing three laptops to Lisbon. If I’m a digital nomad, I’ll need a digital camel to carry all my stuff! I indicated the I needed at least two weeks to untangle myself from existing contracts before I could start working for them.

I passed most of my work to Janet and, unfortunately, could not accept her invitation to rendezvous for a “goodbye shag”. I wondered how I was going to arrange this aspect of life once I got to Portugal; I wasn’t aware of any clubs that catered specifically for TV males and female admirers. Maybe there was a trans scene? Would going to a trans club blow my cover? Time to think about that later; I might be back home soon anyway.

Jacinta called by; she had been temporarily transferred and was shortly going to Portugal with a more senior and experienced colleague to arrange matters with the PSP. In the meantime, she was going to “refresh” my wardrobe and makeup kit. She took my measurements and I had to promise to repay the state for her expenditure. She couldn’t use my “Jos” credit card as this could have been a security breach (buying women’s clothes therefore in hiding as a woman) so she would use her own, reclaim her expenses from the state, and this to be deducted from my fees for state work.

She returned mid-morning the next day, unusually wearing a dress herself, with an array of bags, most thankfully from normal, middle of the road, high street shops. I was working in my suite when she barged in:

“Honey; I’m ho-oome.”

Fortunately I wasn’t on a call! Keeping with the spirit of her greeting I responded in kind:

“OK dear, I’ll have dinner ready soon. You just help yourself to a nice gin and tonic.”

“Not bloody likely; I’d love one.”

“I suppose a glass of Glenmorangie is out of the question?”

She shook her head.

“Not working; the guys might smell it! Time to get you dressed.”

She pulled a green cotton, button up dress from a bag, unfolded it.

“This first. Look, it’s all dresses and skirts. You don’t have the hips to wear jeans or trousers.”

I pulled a face:

“You got a problem with my ass?”

She caught my hips, turned me around, looked at my rear, then gave it a slap.

“No honey; you do. You’ve got to wear full skirts, A-lines, pleats, that sort of thing. No sexy tight minis I’m afraid!”

I unbuttoned my blouse and hung it on the back of my chair. I was just about to try on the dress when she stopped me.

“Hold on.”

She rummaged about in a bag, took out a box, opened it, took out two silicone breast forms, and popped them into my bra; they were cold!

“You’ve got to lead from the front”.

I looked in the mirror. The forms were a little too big for the A cup; I mimicked a shimmy.

“Think I’ll pass in a lapdancing club?”

“Not even with the lights out.” She lifted her own boobs: “Won’t feel the same.”

“Can I check?”

She smiled:

“Not right now. We’ve work to do.”

I pulled on the dress, turned my back, slipped off my skirt and buttoned the dress up. It fitted OK, just above the knee, and the half sleeves sorted one issue; my arms were generally too long for dresses with long sleeves.

“Try these.”

She was holding out a pair of sandals, practical, heels about an inch.

“This is good for casual, around town wear. We need to get your nails done later; they don’t look right.”

I worked my way through the bags; casual dresses, one LBD, some minis and tops, some dressy sandals, one pair of court shoes, pink runners and invisible socks, sports bras and running skirts. I was dreading my bill for all this. As items were tried on, inspected and approved, Jacinta was busy hanging them in my wardrobe. Eventually we got to the last bags.

“Here, try this.”

Something black and lacy came sailing through the air; I grabbed it and held it up. A bodysuit, lots of lace, suspenders.

“Hmmm; when would I be wearing this?”

“With your LBD of course!”

As it could still be returned, I left my knickers on and tried to figure out how to get into the bodysuit.

“Bra.”

I had forgotten: Funny, I felt half-naked when I took it off. I sat on the bed, slipped my legs into the body suit, got it past my hips, up to my waist and finally managed to get it on. The straps were too short; Jacinta adjusted them to their maximum length and then they fitted OK. She popped the breast forms it; the bodysuit was underwired so they stayed in place. I looked in the mirror. The suspenders were superfluous so I checked to see if they were detachable. They were; I started to remove one.

“Not yet.”

She passed me a pair of white cotton gloves.

“So you won’t snag your stockings.”

I put on the gloves. By the time that I was finished she had opened a package and extracted a pair of stockings with a nice lace trim at the top. I was well used to putting tights on; stockings were so much easier. I fastened them to the suspenders, stood up, and looked in the mirror again. I liked what I saw. Jacinta had now retrieved a pair of black, patent sandals with two inch heels from where she had already put them away in the wardrobe. I put them on, looked again, the improvement in my stance was obvious. Next, I unzipped my new LBD which had magically appeared in front of me, stepped into it, and Jacinta zipped it up. We both looked in the mirror again, she was standing right behind me, very close, looking around me. The dress came to about four inches above my knee and was very flared; I could see it fly up dancing. That would be quite a view with stockings and suspenders. I put my hands on my hips and pushed out my right hip.

“Do you like?”

“Very nice; very sexy; I could fall for you myself.”

I turned around, slowly; she didn’t back away. I put my hands on her hips.

“Why don’t you?”

She didn’t answer, just put a hand behind my head and pulled me into a long lingering kiss. Just as we surfaced for air, I was caught by the torso, pushed back, tripped and landed on the bed with Jacinta sitting on top of me holding my shoulders. She hadn’t forgotten her unarmed combat, or whatever police call it. I reached down and caught her hips to pull her into a more comfortable, and interesting, sitting position but she bent over, kissed me again, and whispered in my ear.

“Can’t afford to be caught!”

I knew she was right. She would have been taken off the case immediately and returned to her home division. She climbed off me, straightened her dress, checked her hair and lipstick and headed for the suite door, opened it and spoke loudly.

“I’ll be back after lunch to give you a makeup lesson.”

It was nearly lunchtime already. She walked down the stairs and I could hear her talking to one of the police guards. I looked in the mirror again, twirled around, watching my dress lift to give more than just a flash of the top of my stockings and suspenders. I was beginning to emulate Narcissus; time to change into something more prosaic. Reluctantly I undressed and hung up my LBD and body suit, put my stockings and shoes away, and redressed in my normal bra, blouse and mini. After a moment’s reflection, I popped the silicone breast forms into my bra: I told myself it was to get used to wearing them.

I went downstairs to find Jacinta still there; the duty DS had invited her to stay for lunch. They had agreed to take pictures of me for my new documents once Jesse had me all made up in the afternoon. Lunch was fun. The DS didn’t know Jacinta and rather fancied his chances with her. She appeared to me to alternate from amusement to mild irritation as he flirted, testing the waters. Eventually, tiring of the game, when a suitable opportunity arose, she mentioned something about her last girlfriend being into skydiving and had once brought her for a tandem jump. Fortunately the DS didn’t try to ascertain if she was bi!

Lunch over, we returned to the suite and both rolled on the bed laughing, trying not to be heard. A quick kiss and Jacinta got to work, having first asked… more like ordered… me to wear my bodysuit. She professed herself to be an amateur but did a good job, maybe a bit overdone as for a night out. All made up, I slipped into my LBD and we headed downstairs for the photos. The DS had a camera and blank background screen already set up; this wasn’t their first time taking pictures for new documents. He mainly ignored Jacinta and gave me the head to toe lookover before gesturing for me to pose in front of the screen. I couldn’t resist doing a quick, skirt-flipping turn; if he was going to undress me with a look, I might as well give him a flash. I was finding it strange that guys who knew that I wasn’t a girl would still check me out. Photos over, I decided to go back to my suite to do some work and excused myself on this basis. Jacinta was having none of it:

“Just clean off the make up and I’ll talk you through doing it yourself.”

“Yes Ma’am”.

The DS, who like all the team was aware of my facing down Superintendent Rhinoceros, looked on curiously: How come Jacinta could boss me, a stroppy bitch in their reckoning, around like this.

I went upstairs, hung up my dress, and cleaned off the makeup, first eye makeup remover, then cleanser, finally rose-water, then sat down at the vanity mirror. I rang my finger along my forehead; need to moisturise again. I had just finished this when Jacinta came back into the room, wheeled my office chair into the room and sat behind me on the left side. As I suspected, she was a demanding teacher. Eventually I got my face on, only because I decided to bite my tongue a few times: She’ll definitely be the dom. I picked up a cleanser pad and she reached out and caught my arm:

“Can I take a picture first?”

“No problem, I’ll get my dress.”

“Not yet; first like you are.”

“OK, is that a police ‘phone?”

“Yes; why?”

“If you take my picture with that, and it’s being backed up to a server or is ever checked, you could be in trouble. It’s both a bit risqué, and risky in that it might be viewed by your people as a security breach. Use my phone and I can transfer the pictures to you some time.”

I gave her the phone and posed in my lace body suit, suspenders and stockings. Enjoying the process, I did a number of coquettish poses, then slipped on the dress and repeated the process. I was rewarded with another long kiss; this time it was me who broke it off. With the DS no longer her fan, I didn’t want to give him a chance to cause her any problems. She would call by tomorrow, early, with her iPad before flying out to Lisbon and I could transfer the pictures to her by airdrop.

The same DS was still on duty when she called in at 07:30 so we could not spend too much time together. A quick transfer of the pictures, a quick kiss, and she was off to Lisbon for two weeks to make the necessary arrangements and secure accommodation. When she came back, we would expect a quick turnaround, then we’d be off to Lisbon together. I was already looking forward to that!