Jenny and I planned to take a two-week break in August, and wanted to go camping in the south of France. Sergeant Scott Collins was not keen on the idea, so we elected to go to Newquay instead. I popped home to get some clothes and check the mail. I was just locking up, when I was grabbed from behind by some powerful, and very unfriendly arms.

I had a sack pulled over my head, and I was dumped into the boot of a waiting car. The car took off at speed, and I struggled to get the hood off. Once I succeeded, I was in darkness. I could hear muffled voices in the car, and felt around for anything to use to get the boot open. I had on a mini skirt and a tee shirt, and my high heels were useless for running. I found that I was lying on the spare wheel cover board, so the jack and wheel brace must be underneath, but I couldn't get my hand under the cover to reach anything.

I managed to lie on my back, and put my knees against the boot lid, but with all my strength, I couldn't budge it. I hoped and prayed that the police had followed, and had seen my abduction.

The car was moving steadily, not too fast to attract the attention of traffic patrols. I tried to work out in which direction we were headed, but I had lost my sense of direction completely. Eventually, and thankfully, the car came to a halt, as I was feeling sick. The boot lid popped open and light streamed in.

"Come on, out," said a male voice.

A very large black man lifted me out of the boot. My shoes were still in the boot.

"Not one fucking squeak, alright darling?" he said, in a very deep London accent. There were two other men there. Before I could get a good look round, the hood was back on.

With bare feet, I was half dragged and half carried across a tarmac surface, and then up a metal staircase, similar to our fire escape at school. I was pushed through an open door and dragged across a carpeted floor and through another door. I was literally thrown onto the floor, and I heard something hit the floor beside me. The hood was removed, and I saw the back view of the black man as he walked out and shut the door.

I looked around me. It was little more than a cupboard. 6' x 8' at the most, and apart from a rather tired carpet, it was empty. No windows and only one door. My shoes lay there, that was what they had thrown in after me. I grabbed my shoes and stood up. There wasn't even a light switch, and the single un-shaded bulb hung from its cord from the ceiling. It wasn't on, and what little light there was came from under the door. I walked over to the door, and pressed my ear to it. I could hear muffled voices on the other side.

I sat down and rested my head on my knees.

"Shit!" I said.

I looked at my watch, and it was 2 pm. I just sat there, hoping and praying that someone would rescue me.

At 3 pm, the door opened, and I had given up hope.

"Out!" said the voice.

I put my shoes on, and came out, squinting in the bright lights. There was just the black man and another older man. He was in a suit and looked quite smart.

"Alright darling. It's time you and me 'ad a little chat," he sounded as if he was straight off Eastenders on the TV.

I stared at him.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I said.

"Where's Johnny, your Dad?"

I realised he was in no doubt as to who I was.

I shrugged.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him for weeks."

"My employer is very anxious to speak to him. You see, he has over-run on an appointment."

"You mean he hasn't paid Frankie Holland eight million by the end of the month?" I said.

He stared at me.

"So, you have seen the old man?"

"Yeah, several weeks ago. He said he was trying to raise some cash."

"How do you contact him?"

"I don't. I've seen him twice in six months, and one of those times I never got to speak to him."

"No love lost there then?"

"He's a useless bastard. He drove my Mum away and then did her in," I said, seeing a strategy open up.

The man nodded.

"You look like your Mum."

"So you knew her too?"

"No, I went to the house, I've seen the photos. Your Dad was smart trying to make us believe that you were a boy."

I just looked at him.

"What do you want from me?"

"Not a fucking thing. You're the bait. All we do is wait for your dad to come and rescue you and we'll have him by the balls."

"Can I watch?"

He frowned. "You hate him that much?"

"What do you think? He made me dress as a boy for ages, and killed my Mum. He fucked me up completely."

The man laughed, but without any humour.

"Well, well, well. Johnny Lake's little girl hates his sodding guts. What a turn up."

"Can I speak to Frankie Holland?" I asked.

"Frankie? What for?"

"Maybe I can help you catch the bastard."

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing.

"Frankie isn't available. What can you give me?"

"Nothing. Frankie wants him, and I want to live my life, so why should I give you anything? It's Frankie or nothing."

He nodded.

"Watch her," he said to the black man. Then he walked out and I got a glimpse of a modern industrial estate in red brick.

I sat on the edge of a table, and looked around. There was nothing. No pictures no papers, just a table and three chairs. There were three windows, and each had blinds pulled down, and two bulbs hung from the ceiling. They were both on, despite the sunny day outside.

The man returned.

"Okay, we'll go see Frankie, but fuck about and you'll be sorry," he said.

"Yeah, like I can take you and King Kong here by myself," I said, and he grinned.

The hood was pulled over my head again, and I was taken out and down the stairs.

I was half way over to the car when I heard a shout.

"ARMED POLICE! YOU WITH THE GIRL, DO NOT MOVE!"

I simply dropped like a stone, and started rolling towards the voice. I heard the smart man swear, and then there were about four shots.

"STAND STILL! DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

"STEP BACK!"

"TURN AWAY AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD, DO IT NOW!"

"ON YOUR KNEES."

I heard running feet, and the hood was removed. I looked up to see Scott Collins looking down at me.

"What the fuck took you so long?" I said, and he grinned.

I turned round, and saw the black man lying in a pool of dark liquid. He was very still, and there was a small black pistol on the ground beside him. An Officer was checking for signs of life. The other man was on his knees with his back to me, being searched by an officer with another pointing an MP5 H & K carbine at him. Another gun lay a few yards away from him and was being photographed by one of the officers.

"Shit! Is he dead?" I asked.

Scott helped me to my feet.

"Come on, lets get you out of here," he said, and took me to a waiting Range Rover with blacked out windows. I was placed in the back, and we left there very fast.

I was taken to a police station. I still had no idea where I was. Scott gave me a sweet cup of tea, and I found my hands were shaking. I was asked if I wanted anyone present when I made a statement. I shook my head. A female Detective Constable came and I made my statement to her. I was quite specific about Frankie Holland's name, and very precise about the threats that were made to me. I was clear about what I said and the reasons behind them.

I called Jenny to tell her that I was all right, and she was almost hysterical. I couldn't cope with that right now, so I rang off.

Scott came in to the room.

"How are you doing?"

"Better now. Why did you wait for so long?"

"We are in Sussex. I had to get my boss to call the local boss, and he had to call the Chief, who had to authorise his own firearms support unit, and we just sat tight watching the place. In the end, they made the decision to take them when we saw you were okay."

"If you'd waited, they were taking me to Frankie."

"We couldn't take that risk. My job is to protect you, not nick Frankie."

"I'm pleased you did, though," I said.

"They didn't hurt you?"

"No, they scared the shit out of me, but I wasn't hurt."

"Well, you are okay now."

"Frankie will be well pissed off," I said.

"Not my problem."

"So how's King Kong?"

"Who?"

"The big black bloke."

"Oh, he's not good. He was hit by four bullets. He is intensive care."

"Shit. Was that you?"

"No, we were withdrawn in favour of the local boys. It gets embarrassing when the Met kill people on other Force areas."

"Have you ever shot anyone?"

"Not yet, but I've only been on the section a few months."

"I could."

He looked at me.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"But you won't have to."

"I hope not, but I could."

"Come on, lets take you home," he said, and we left the police station.

"So what happened when I was grabbed?" I asked, as he started his car.

"Pete was watching, and there were three of them. They had you and were away before he could react. He called it in and tailed you. The local chopper took over, and Pete dropped back. Once the helicopter saw where you stopped, the local police came and put a containment on. Then it was a waiting game, as no one knew whether you were alive or dead.

Then out you came, hooded up, with those two blokes, and then it was all over."

"You make it sound simple."

"Any jobs with risks to life are never simple."

"Thanks anyway."

"No problem. It is why we were there. At least we know the risk is genuine."

I smiled.

"Yeah, just as well we didn't go to France."

I was quiet for most of the journey. I still didn't know where they had taken me, some industrial estate nearer London, I think. He pulled in at the hotel, and we went inside. Jenny was very anxious, and Scott calmed her down. He explained what had happened, and I could tell that John and Liz were having serious second thoughts about having me around.

"Look, I think I ought to go home. They know who I am, and that I am protected, so there is no point hiding any more. I don't want to bring any trouble to your place, so I will go home, and the police can live in."

They tried to pretend that they were happy having me, but I could tell that it was only half hearted. I packed my stuff and Scott took it in his car while I said goodbye and I rode my moped back.

I felt uneasy in the house, even with four armed policemen with me. But once they settled down, I began to relax. Jenny rang me and told me that her dad didn't think it was a good idea that we went to Newquay, not for a bit anyway.

I hung up, and sat at the kitchen table, feeling really pissed off.

"Hey, are you okay?"

It was the younger copper, Pete.

"No, I'm pissed off," I admitted. He sat down.

"Why?"

"Because I am stuck here, and my friend can't come with me to Newquay."

"Oh. Bummer," he said, and I smiled.

"I never thanked you for saving my life," I said.

"It wasn't just me, the whole team and the local boys hand an equal hand."

"Yeah, but if you hadn't been there, I would probably be dead."

He blushed.

"Are you married?" I asked.

"No, do me a favour. Can you see a wife letting her husband pull this sort of job?"

"What sort is that?"

He went red again.

"Close protection on a single attractive girl."

"Oh."

It was my turn to blush.

"Still, this is nice," he said.

"What is?"

"This house."

"Is it bollocks. It's ghastly. My Dad decorated it and he has no taste at all."

"It's a nice house."

"Maybe, but the fixtures and fittings are really bad."

"Oh I don't know," he said with a smile

I looked at my tee shirt, it was still dirty from rolling about on the ground.

"I'm going to have a shower. Are you my guardian angel tonight?"

"Looks that way."

"Then phone for a pizza, I am no cook."

I left him and went for a shower.

As the water coursed over my body, I felt at peace. The day had been terrifying, yet I had been slightly afraid, but mostly angry. That anger had given me an inner calm, and I found myself dealing with these people without showing any fear. I smiled, as I touched myself, I felt so good. I wished Dave was here.

But I still had a month to go, and I had to go see Dr Shepherd. I washed my long hair, and stepped out and dried myself. I looked in the mirror, and saw myself. I stopped and admired what I saw. I had to smile, as this was the real dream come true.

While I was doing my make up, I saw Jemima Overson's card, and picked it up. I looked at it for a moment, and worked out that with over a month to go before going back to school, I could get some work as a model to pass the time. I picked up the phone by my bed, and dialled the number.I then had a touch of the seconds as it was nearly six o'clock in the evening.

But she answered.

"Hello, this is Sandi Lake. You probably don't remember me, but.."

"Sandi, my dear girl, of course I remember you. In fact I was only talking about you today."

"Really? Gosh. Anyway, I am free for a month or so, and was wondering whether you could use me for anything?"

"When can you get to London?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Fine, come to the agency off the Tottenham Court Road at ten. I'll be waiting for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite sure."

"Should I wear anything in particular?"

"No, just whatever you get up into. I was hoping you would call me."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, I will tell you about it tomorrow, but I showed someone your pictures and she is desperate to meet you."

I rang off, my spirits lifted somewhat. I was certainly intrigued.

I went downstairs to find that Pete had ordered two enormous pizzas, and we stuffed ourselves. I found out that he was twenty-five, unmarried and between girlfriends. He had five years on the force, and had been on the firearms team for just six months.He liked football, fishing and golf, and he loved science fiction. So we dug out the Alien movies on DVD and watched them together. The other officers were either asleep, or off out somewhere. Scott muttered about the locals putting one marked vehicle outside the house. So I imagined that there were some discussions taking place at a high level somewhere.

"Why were you in hospital?" Pete asked.

"Women problems."

"Oh." He was embarrassed.

"I had something wrong down below, and it is fixed now," I elaborated.

"Oh, good," he said, wishing he had not brought it up.

"Would you like to see the photos?" I teased, and he looked terrified for a second, and then he realised I was teasing.

It was nearly midnight, and the events of the day hit me.

"Hey, I'm going to bed. Who is my minder tomorrow?"

"I'm on from 10 am onwards."

"Then you will be coming to London with me. I have an appointment with a modelling agency at ten."

"Okay, cool," he said, imagining a room full of half naked girls.

"Do we train it or what?" I asked.

"I'll speak to the skipper in the morning. I should think we will go by car."

"Okay, good night."

"Night." I went up to my room, and went to bed. I lay awake for quite some time, as I went through the events of the day. I was more surprised at how calm I had been throughout my ordeal, and I was a little worried. I enjoyed it in a perverse sort of way. I got a thrill from negotiating with the highest stakes, my life.

I awoke feeling really shitty, and when I pulled back the duvet I discovered why. Cursing being female, I went and cleaned myself up. I had sensibly stocked up with 'feminine hygiene products' after the doctor's little warning, so I was prepared. I had a shower, dressed, and took my sheets and nightie to the washing machine.

Pete was already up and reading the paper.

"Hi. I see you are famous again." he said, and showed me the front page of the paper.

Local Beauty in Kidnap Gun-battle Ordeal. Attractive seventeen year-old Sandi Lake, was recovering at an unknown address last night after being rescued by armed police from the clutches of an armed gang in north Sussex yesterday morning. The pretty schoolgirl, who won a modelling award a month ago at Brighton High School, was grabbed from her home address by the men and driven hooded in the boot of a car to an industrial estate near Horsham.

However, for reasons that we can't report, she was being protected by armed officers, and the kidnappers were tracked and a containment of local armed officers was put in place. After a couple of hours the kidnappers were attempting to move her, and the police struck. Two of the gang drew firearms, and despite being instructed to put disarm, one man, unemployed Wayne Burnett from Clapton, E. London, failed to comply with the directions, and was shot by police marksmen several times.

The other man, Charles Cooper from Ealing, was arrested and was later charged with kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, assault and firearms offences. Burnett was still in intensive care and his situation was described as critical. Other offenders are being sought, and arrests will be made shortly.

Detective Superintendent William Bryce of the Sussex Police said, "Miss Lake was under close observation and her movements were monitored for the entire duration of the incident. Action was only taken by police when we believed that it was safe to act, and no other members of the public were put in danger. She was released unharmed, and there was only one casualty, an armed criminal. Due to the sensitive nature of the case, no comment can be made on the reasons that police were watching Miss Lake, but let me stress, that she is not involved in any criminal allegations, and is assisting police in a very public spirited way. She is a very courageous young lady, and I cannot commend her bravery enough."

When asked whether the case involved her father, businessman Jonathon Lake, who is currently suspected of being in some way connected to the death of three men on the main Brighton to Newhaven road a few weeks ago. The Superintendent made no comment. But it is believed that Mr Lake is somehow connected with London Crime boss Francis Holland, and that a feud between the men has caused his innocent daughter to be used as a pawn. Holland (57) has left his Chigwell home, and is believed to have fled abroad in the last twenty four hours.

It is believed that Holland is being sought by police for a number of offences relating to armed robberies and extortion in and around the Home Counties. It is also rumoured that Customs are seeking him for drug trafficking offences.

The current whereabouts of both Lake and Holland are unknown at this time.Sandi Lake was unavailable for comment, but her Head-teacher, Brian Goodson, said of her, "Sandi is a delightful girl, it is sad that she has been exposed to such a horrible act, but she has shown that she is brave and resourcefull, and I hope she has not been scarred by this incident. We are all grateful that she was rescued unharmed."

For pictures of the site of the gun battle, see page five.

"Oh my God!" I said, and sat down to read it. Page five had a photograph of me wearing my little black number at the fashion show. I looked very elegant, and was smiling, as I had just won the award. It also had the pictures of the industrial estate, and the pool of blood on the car park. The rooms I had been in were ringed and it all looked so weird.

"It is in the nationals as well. Same pictures too, some local photographer has struck lucky," Pete said.

Scott and another officer, Steve, came in, and saw I was reading the paper. He showed me the Daily Mail, and I was in that too.

"How are you?" he asked, pouring himself a coffee.

"If you must know, bloody awful," I admitted.

He frowned.

"Oh?"

"Nothing to do with yesterday, okay. Girl things," I said, and he stopped frowning.

"Oh."

"I'll give you - Bloody Oh," I said, and went to hit him, and he chuckled.

"So how are we going to play today?" Pete asked.

"Two cars. You drive Sandi, and Steve and I will follow. It is Ed's day off."

Scott explained.

"And when we get there?" I asked.

"Pete will stay close, and we will be right outside. But to be honest, I don't think they will try anything."

"How do I explain Pete lurking and dribbling in the corner?" I asked.

They all laughed.

"Play it how you see it. If you can just say he is a friend who drove you up."

"And the reason he is within five yards of me all day?"

"Shit, I don't know."

"How about I tell the truth, after all, I am in the bloody papers."

"Ah, yes, well I suppose that would do," Scott said, and looked sheepish.

I was wearing a short tan skirt and a neat little light brown top, with lacing across the bust. It was a lovely sunny day and although I had felt better in my life, I was actually very happy. My hair was the longest that it had ever been,and was looking gorgeous. I loved the feel of it against my shoulders. Despite my 'visitor', I felt about as complete as I could remember, and I kept smiling every time I saw my reflection. There was nothing false about me any more. I was at last the person I had always wanted to be.

The events of the previous day were so unreal, that it was as if they had happened to someone else. And besides, I was being escorted by three really dishy blokes all carrying guns.

We arrived at the agency a little before ten. The guys parked their cars outside, and when a traffic warden appeared, they flashed their warrant cards, and stayed put.I went in followed by Pete, his Glock was partially covered by a light bomber jacket. His radio was in a pouch under one armpit, and his gun under the other.

A little wire disappeared into his ear, and he was constantly looking around. It was all rather melodramatic, and I felt rather important.The agency was on the third and fourth floors of a relatively modern building. It was light and airy, and all decorated in a very modern and tasteful style. It was very open plan, and the furnishings and décor were all very expensive.

"Sandi. Darling girl. Do come in, super to see you. Oh your hair looks lovely, down like that. And those colours are so you," Jemima said as I walked in. I had worn my hair up for the fashion show. Pete lurched in behind me. She looked at him as if I had brought in some dog turd.

"Sorry Jemima, but after yesterday, I am sort of stuck with him," I said, and she looked at me and frowned.

"Yesterday?" she asked, raising one elegantly plucked eyebrow

"I was sort of involved in some nastiness. It is in the papers," I said, and Pete helpfully showed her the Daily Mail.

"I'm a police officer, madam. I am here to ensure that Alexandra is kept safe,"

he said, showing her his warrant card, and as he did so his firearm was briefly on view in its holster.

Jemima looked shocked as she put on a very dainty pair of half moon glasses. Her _expression deepened as she read the newspaper, and even more when she saw the Glock.

"Oh my God, you poor girl. So what is it all about?" she said returning the paper to Pete, and putting away her glasses.

"My Dad, it turns out, is a bit of a scallywag, and it seems he may have upset some of the wrong people. So, as he has conveniently buggered off, they tried to get to him through me. But it seems that the police have everything under control, and Pete here is my guardian angel for the day," I said.

She shook her head, and surprised me by smiling.

"What a wonderful change," she said, and I must have looked rather bemused at her, and she laughed.

"When I saw you in Brighton, I thought, there is a refreshing look. So different - almost unique. You were just so different to most of the girls who come to me. And this, it is all so exciting, so romantic almost."

"Romantic?" I said, staring at her. What planet was she on?

"Maybe the wrong word, but oh, I don't know, out of the ordinary, certainly unusual," she said.

"I spent an hour in the boot of a car with a sack over my head. I didn't actually feel it was the slightest bit romantic," I said, and she smiled.

"I know, but we lead such safe and secluded lives, this is all dramatic and different."

I smiled, and she looked at Pete.

"I can wait in the car, as long I know where she is, that's no problem. If you leave the building, let me know, okay Sandi?"

"Sure, Pete, thanks."

He smiled, and shuffled out.

"He's rather hunky, in a rough sort of way," Jemima said, eyeing up his bum.

"They all are," I said.

"All?"

"I have four. There is Pete, Ed, Steve and their Sergeant, Scott."

"Good gracious, how divine. Do they spend the night with you as well?"

"Oh yes, but I sleep alone," I said, with a knowing look.

She laughed.

"Oh you are delightful - a real breath of fresh air. Now, I have a really old friend of mine over from the States. She is called Natasha Kysinski, her grandfather was Polish, or something like that. Anyway, she is a fashion designer, and has the most gorgeous Autumn range due to come out. She came over to see if I had anyone who would show them better than anyone else, and I immediately thought of you."

"Me?"

"Darling, your lovely colouring, the fresh complexion and the glorious golden hair. Look at yourself. You are the colour of Autumn - golden," she said.

I looked at my clothes, and smiled. I loved the russets and browns as they seemed to go with my hair, my long tanned legs were indeed a golden colour, and my blue eyes were in marked contrast.

"Anyway, she will be here at eleven, so I thought we would see if we could do something about your make up."

"What is wrong with it?" I asked, rather hurt, as I had spent quite a lot of time on it.

"Dear girl, it is fine for a pretty seventeen-year old girl, who is fresh up from the coast. But I want you to express the excitement that is within you, that seems to be reflected in your life. You have a freshness about you that goes beyond your age and natural beauty. You have the most wonderful eyes, and if we can get them to give some hint of this excitement, and your smile is so hypnotising, then you will take the world by storm."

I flushed slightly, and just smiled.

She took me into her office, which had a superb view over London. The huge window ran the entire width of the room, and she had white leather furniture everywhere. Her black mahogany desk was clear of clutter, except a very new PC and flat screen monitor.

"Now, coffee?"

"Thanks, white no sugar," I said.

She poured from the cafetiere, and added a dash of milk. Then she handed me the white mug. I sat on the white leather armchair, terrified that I would spill coffee all over it. We sat and chatted for a while, and Jemima asked me all about my father. I was as honest as I could, clearly distancing myself from his life and activities as much as I could. I did stress that although a rough diamond, he did actually assist the police and was intent on doing just that in America.

She pressed a button on her phone, and spoke a few words into the intercom. A few moments later a petite woman, about thirty or so, came in. She was wearing a black dress, and had quite short dark brown hair. Her glasses reminded me of Brains from the Thunderbirds puppets. She was actually quite attractive and had a friendly smile.

"Ah, Hazel, this is Alexandra, she is new to the agency, and I thought we'd see if we could make the most of her superb cheekbones and those wonderful eyes," said Jemima.

The woman held my cheeks and showed Hazel what she wanted. "Sandi, this is Hazel, she is my make up guru, and a super girl."

"Okay, Sandi, is it?

"Yup, Alexandra is such a mouthful," I said

"Shall we go and see what we can do?" Hazel asked, with a smile.

I followed her to her studio, and was amazed at all the wonderful photographs of really well known models and media stars. She sat me down and using a cleanser, removed all my carefully applied make up. She chatted away as she worked, and explained what she was doing and why. There was a large mirror in front of me, and I watched as she applied a little foundation, and then built up my new face. She used tones and colours that I had never considered, particularly reds and browns. But then I was hardly an expert, just an enthusiastic amateur.

She managed to highlight my cheekbones and emphasise my eyes so much that it looked as if my eyes were three times the size. I smiled, and she showed me how to really make my lips look much fuller and even how to accentuate the pout.

"You have to remember that girls' lips and cheeks redden when sexually aroused, and when achieving orgasm. So, the effect it has on men is pretty bloody basic," she said, and I laughed.

In a relatively short time, she had completely transformed me, and I looked a good five years older. I loved the look, and thought that I could duplicate it with the right make up and practice.

"Shall we do something with your hair?"

"I guess so. I have to confess, it has yet to be professionally done. I just love it long and sort of wild," I admitted.

"It is really beautiful. You have natural highlights that are almost coppery gold amongst the white blonde mass. Do you bleach in the sun?"

"Yeah, a little. I am always paler at the end of the summer."

"Well, I know Jemima likes the wild look too, and it is your freshness that she loves. She showed me the photos of your little show that she judged, and she was raving about you for days."

"Really? Why?"

"I'm not sure. She was a model in the seventies, and is trying constantly to find looks that stand out and buck the trend. Fashion is a fickle business, and the success of a range can rest on the right model with the right look at the right time. There are lots of very pretty models, and there are few that immediately strike you as being different and special. You are that much different."

"How, I seem pretty ordinary to me?"

"It is a combination of your eyes and your smile. Your eyes are much older and wiser than one expects for a girl of your age. They seem to be all knowing and rather piercing. And your face is just another pretty face, until you smile, and then you just transform yourself into being a striking beauty."

I was very quiet, and tried smiling into the mirror, but got the giggles instead. It was contagious, and she giggled too.

"That's silly. I'm just me."

"Maybe, but Jemima is rarely mistaken, and I have to agree with her. You do have a certain something."

She combed my hair and cut a quarter inch off the ends.

"Split ends," she explained.

She then damped it off, as it had been washed in the shower in the morning, and spent a little while styling it slightly. She kept the length, but by a little carefully thinning and cutting, she altered the shape so it framed my face and head more effectively. With a little mousse, she gave it a shape and feel to it that was totally different to anything I had managed to achieve. It was fantastic.

I stared at myself in the mirror. The young woman who stared back at me was someone totally different. She was older, sexier and devastatingly beautiful. I felt my heart beat faster as I so wanted Dave to see me like this.

"Wow. You're brilliant Hazel."

She smiled.

"Ah, high praise indeed."

"Seriously, you are really brilliant. That doesn't look like me at all."

"Oh yes it does, it is just you've never seen her before. Do you like the look?"

"I do, very much. I hope I can remember what you did."

"Don't try, otherwise I'll be out of a job."

I laughed, and had to admit she was probably right, it would take me a long time to get halfway as good as she was.

"Okay, lets take you to see Cruella Deville," she said.

"I love the nickname. Does she know?" I asked.

"She probably started it. Actually she is lovely, but she's a very tough business lady. I'd never want to cross her."

We returned to Jemima's office, I was amazed that it was almost noon. I had really enjoyed the time with Hazel, and felt I had found a friend already. I had to stop off at the loo on the way. I had to change my thingies. It was rather unpleasant and mucky, but it was a wonderful reminder of the miracle that had happened to me. I still couldn't really believe it, and almost expected to wake up as Alex.

But I didn't and went with Hazel to Jemima's office Jemima was on her sofa talking to a very large blonde lady who was next to her. The latter was in a lovely looking gold and black dress, and it had fur trimmings. It looked rather garish, but still very elegant. Her accent was New York to a Tee. She could have been any age from forty to sixty, and I would have hated to have to guess more exactly than that. I would say she would have been stunning in her youth, even still, she was an attractive woman, and quite a lot of one at that. Her mass of rings and bangles created a cacophony every time she moved, and the many strings of pearls almost rumbled amongst her ample cleavage as she turned to watch as we entered.

"Ah, wonderful. Here she is. Hazel, you are a wonder, thank you, darling,"

Jemima said, and Hazel winked at me and retired as she had been clearly dismissed. I smiled at her, and as I caught my reflection in a mirror, the smile just got bigger.

"Natasha, this is the girl I have found to model your new range. This is Alexandra Lake, and as you see she has it all."

Natasha stood up. I was not far off six foot with my heels on, and she looked down at me.

""My God, Jem! How do you do it? She is perfect. Her figure, those long legs, and her colouring and that smile. Alexandra honey, please tell me you are free for four weeks?"

"I'm free until the fifteenth of September," I said, a little baffled.

"Wonderful. Okay, the some of the range is due for a preview here in London on the seventeenth of August. Then to Paris for the twentieth. Then to Rome for the twenty-third. We will make New York for the US fashion show on the thirtieth and then around the States for a couple of weeks. So can you help?"

I looked at Jemima, and her eyes were shining. She nodded imperceptibly at me.

"Yes, I have no other commitments during that period. I'll leave you to make the arrangements with Jemima, if that is okay?" I said, and Jemima just smiled at me.

"Oh Honey, you are great. I am so thrilled. But before I say yes, can I see you in one of my creations?"

I looked at Jemima, and she smiled again.

"Natasha, of course. I would expect it," she said, and went to her phone again.

Using the intercom facility, a garment rail was brought in by some of the staff, and there were six different outfits or dresses on it. Natasha immediately examined them all, and selected a stunning silk dress in gold and russet. It reminded me of autumn leaves, but then, as an autumn dress, that was the point. Jemima took me to a small room just off her office, and held the dress for me. She said nothing, she just watched to see how I would perform.

Totally un-self-consciously I stripped off everything except my panties, and slipped the dress on. The cut told me it was designed to be worn bra-less, and I knew that my firm breasts were not really big enough to sag in any case.

I adjusted it a little, so it felt comfortable, and slipped my shoes back on.

"Okay?" I asked her, and she smiled and looked critically at me.

"Excellent, under a minute. Very impressive."

I just smiled.

Jemima opened the door, and I walked out. But I walked as if I was back on the catwalk at school, making sure the walk and the smile were in place. It wasn't hard, as the dress was so gorgeous, I felt so wonderful, that I couldn't help smiling. And the face and hair that Hazel had created for me did the rest.

Natasha clapped her hands.

"Just perfect. No, better than perfect. Jem, you have surpassed yourself this time. Alex honey, you are gorgeous."

I smiled, and then realised what she had called me.

"Actually, my friends call me Sandi." I said.

"Sandi, Alex, I don't care, you are just what I need. I am so delighted, I have to confess, I was really worried that I would never find the right girl with the right look."

"Would you like me to show you anything else?" I asked.

"Sure, there is a pair of pants with a loose top. The pants are flared, and I would like to see that on you."

Twenty minutes later I had worn everything on the rail, and Natasha gushed incessantly about how wonderful I was. It was actually very nice, but I began to question her reasoning ability. Finally, once I had my own clothes back on, Natasha busied herself supervising the clothes being placed into her special van, and Jemima took me into her office.

"Sandi, to business. We need to agree a contract, and as your agent, I can assure you that the work you will be offered will be the best, and you will be paid accordingly. I can also offer you guarantees in relation to the work and situations, so there will be no dodgy deals or dubious jobs. How will your current, ah, legal difficulties cope with a trip to Europe and the States?"

"I am not a prisoner, if I choose to go, then I suppose on my own head be it. But I can't stay in, eating pizzas with horny policemen for the rest of my life, can I?"

"Oh, I don't know, it sounds rather cosy to me," she said, and we both laughed.

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