3 SUM by Quig Shelby Page B

was, where she was, was giving me sleepless nights, paranoia. But the police had never taken it seriously.
    Admittedly, this wasn’t a direct threat, just a reminder that Burdizzo was still around, that I was still on her radar. But when you heard of dead guys being found in the woods with their scalps missing, you got a little worried.
    Burdizzo was terrifying because she took a man’s prize possession, his hair. It had to be a woman; she was too mobile, well informed. It was whispered she was on the Council, protected. But why was no one interested in protecting me?
    My flat was my companion, the walls my real friends that cocooned me from the world, whom I could confide in, knew my secrets. Our Mistresses had promised to destroy cruelty but words were weapons, and a new dictionary had emerged with fresh insults on the pages.
    I sat on the bright tangerine stool in my bedroom, removing the makeup I’d hid behind. The walls were avocado and the carpet grapefruit pink. It was fruity, but I was a fruit without a crush.
    A night time breeze swayed the curtain and I was reminded to lock my windows, thanks to Burdizzo. I stood naked as a camera flash made me blink. I still couldn’t focus as a car pulled off. I was both scared and relieved as I sipped my hot chocolate. I might have been willing to feel the pain, but her previous partners were dead, which meant she had something to hide, something more than her crimes.
    Chapter Ten
    I was at their mercy, under their control. A tranny called Nancy was on my left, and a shemale with a loaded pistol on my right. I sat between them on the backseat, chewing lemon bonbons. The limousine was nondescript apart from the Council number plate. The seats were leather, and Nancy kept rubbing his leg next to mine. I glared but only he pursed his lips framed in black lipstick.
    My case was packed in the boot, and I wore my favourite blue velour tracksuit. ‘Wear something comfortable,’ they had said, arriving unexpected.
    The windows were tinted to halt prying eyes, but they were pretty good at keeping out the sun.
    â€œYou’re caged. I can tell,” said Nancy.
    I uncrossed my legs.
    He reached into my bag and stole a bonbon without asking.
    â€œYou know, has anyone ever told you you’ve got great ...”
    â€œAll the time,” I said, cutting him off.
    â€œI haven’t finished.”
    â€œGreat skin, am I right?”
    â€œYes, smooth and tight.’
    Oh my Mother Nature, was I being chatted up while on government business? It was embarrassing.
    â€œNancy, give it a rest,” said the shemale, “We’re at work.”
    â€œAnd you’re perfect, Toni?”
    â€œYou know I hate repeating myself,” said Toni.
    Nancy sighed, and looked forlornly out of the window.
    We entered Dame University through the West gate, and the driver began to slow. Young women were everywhere, students.
    â€œLet’s go,” said Toni, opening the car door.
    Nancy moved to open his side.
    â€œWhy don’t you stay here, and get to know the driver?” said Toni.
    Nancy slumped back down, and I threw the last of my sweets onto his lap. The driver, a burly crossdresser from the poor part of town, turned around and gave him a toothless grin. He didn’t have great skin.
    It felt awkward in the lift. I could have been Toni and he me, and we had everything but nothing to say to one another. He wore boots up to his knees in spite of the warm weather, with a cotton brown skirt and jacket. His blouse was crisply ironed, and he wore an ID badge around his neck.
    I was about to say great photo when the lift doors opened.
    A group of young army women stood in the corridor, blocking our path and in no hurry to move. I wore no makeup, but my skin was shiny with moisturizer, polished and blemish free. My long hair was tied in a bun; my nails were trimmed and unvarnished.
    Suddenly the cadets were standing aside and saluting. I knew it