3 SUM Read Online Free PDF Page B

longing for her to save my soul, but I still didn’t know who she was, only that one day she would come for me.
    I could hear their boots running up the stairs and their banging fists on the doors. But we were the quietest block on the street thanks to our interview panel. I’d gotten in because the tranny voted in ahead of me had a stroke before he could move the sofa out of the lift. He was rehabilitating in prison.
    â€œOpen up,” they screamed.
    I recognised their pitch, shemales.
    I opened the door wearing my dressing gown, a towel wrapped around my long hair. The first shemale in scowled, the second threw me a wink.
    â€œYou can tidy up later, love,” said the female officer standing on the stairs, smirking at my confusion. They were enjoying themselves at our expense.
    She had bags under her eyes, weighed down with responsibility, and wore thick green trousers and jacket, with a brown leather holster. The handle on the pistol was worn like her boots. I wanted to speak to her, wish her well and admire her, but I was just a male, a number; that changed when they found the stickers under my bed. My mattress was turned on its side, the apple print duvet strewn over the ground like an orchard hit by a tornado.
    The shemale handed them to the officer. She smiled before her stare cut me in two.
    â€œSit on the sofa,” she shouted to me, then ran up the stairs.
    The flats were teeming with shemales, with a handful of officers in charge. Tranny crime scene operatives waxed lyrical to one another, whilst the crossdressers studiously took notes. We, the men, cowered and obeyed. I guess it was a pretty good snapshot of our Femocracy.
    I could hear two crossdressers talking near my door. Some sucker had set up an illegal still, and a trail of bootleg vodka had led them to Rinse Gardens. As an endless thud of boots marched down the stairs I guessed they’d found their man.
    Riesling 88 was standing with his back to the wall as the hastily assembled shemales fired. He lay on the ground with torn tights in a pool of his own blood.
    I couldn’t have helped Riesling, and I couldn’t have helped the others before him. Unfortunately, now it was my turn, and there was no one to help me either.
    â€œStand up darling,” said the officer.
    Her peaked latex cream cap was shiny and pointed downwards but I could still see her stare, cold like her heart.
    â€œI’ll be late for work,” I said.
    She laughed so much I didn’t think she was ever going to stop.
    â€œThat is the least of your worries, Valery 01,” she finally said.
    Our names, and number, were on the front of the doors. I didn’t know if it was the same for them, our rulers; they lived apart, in secret. Except they had no number and fewer restrictions. Women and transgenders could drink just about anything, the rest of us were restricted to red wine, two bottles a month at home.
    She looked at the stickers shaking her head, “I’m taking you in for questioning.”
    â€œCan I get changed?”
    â€œSure, my shemales will help you, and no funny business.”
    My would-be friend threw me another wink.
    â€œAnd nothing too revealing,” she shouted as they followed me into the bedroom.
    My eyes avoided the floorboards, looked everywhere but downwards. If they uncovered my porn stash, I’d be pushed against the same wall as Riesling 88.
    They started looking around, snooping. I quickly tidied up the duvet and found my distraction. I jumped back, terrified.
    â€œKill it,” I pleaded, looking at the monstrous spider scuttling across the floor.
    A shemale removed her heel, and I saw a glimpse of stocking, red toe and seam on opaque black, nice pair. I’d seen some just like it at the mall with floral holdups.
    â€˜Splat,’ and the beast was dead.
    â€œI’ll get some tissue,” I said.
    I flushed it down the loo with a bent spider’s leg sticking out from the mush. My nose