I didn't think that my phone had been tapped. After an hour Iheard them. Three taps, and then another three, and another three. Iopened the door and the man waiting outside grabbed me and pulled me out,where another man in a white coat stuck a needle into my arm. I opened mymouth to scream out what had happened to me, but my vocal cords would notwork above a whisper as they strapped me into a stretcher and loaded intoan ambulance. An ambulance? I wasn't sick.The man who had lured me out said to me quietly, "Hello, Jessica. You'vebeen having delusions, haven't you? Delusions that you are a killer by thename of Robert Vinal who, with your two murderous friends, killed a girlby the name of Katie Garrett. And as punishment and to stop youreoffending the state turned you into a girl, under a top secret program,a program that never existed at all of course except in your head." I'll get my own back on you somehow," I managed to grunt. "I'll escapeand the story will reach the public if it. ..Meanwhile two more keys had been returned to their owners, leaving onecouple to relieve each other in turn. Joanna and I watched, arms aroundeach other's waists, hands occasionally moving down to stroke eachothers' bottoms through smooth silky knickers as we watched the show andremembered how it had been for us. We had bonded. We were a couple.Once everyone had been through the bonding exercise and had theirpartners, Helen reminded us to repair our lipstick before putting ourdresses back on. And then we were back downstairs again. Sippingchampagne. Chatting. Not nervous any more. But smiling. Contentedlyrelaxed. And amazingly it was only just over an hour since we had beenushered upstairs.We didn't really need to check the seating plan. Our table, just for thesix of us, had a doll sitting in the middle. We all knew that under itsskirts would be some pretty knickers and that the doll would have boybits. Like we all knew that we each had. We chatted happily through themeal. Three.
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