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firmly, when we kissed, it was a strong, loving kiss, whilst our hands touched and groped lower down. Much lower down. Mr. Hudson was obviously embarrassed, it was as explicit a lesbian routine as we could have done without going down on each other and having oral sex. But it was also very vibrant, very arty, and he gave us the benefit of the doubt.
     
    Afterwards, I changed back into my short skirt and Emma put her school uniform back on. She came and nuzzled up to me.
    “Gee, Helen, you smell so nice after all that exercise, it’s a kind of sweet, musky smell, gorgeous.”
    I knew what she meant. It was an odor that was pure sex.
     
    It was time to visit Joe Mason’s workshop. Emma took me by the hand and led me down to the basement, I was amused to see Lisa and Yvonne holding hands too, Lisa was clutching a little case with her equipment. We arrived in the boiler room and found his workshop locked. Rachel looked around and found a steel lever which she used to snap the lock off the door. We went cautiously inside, what we saw left no doubt about our culprit. The walls were covered with copies of the lurid, photoshopped pictures. Just then, we heard a shout behind us.
    “Hey, what the fuck is going on, you can’t go in there.”
    Our good caretaker had returned. Rachel and Lisa grabbed him, when he struggled the rest of us joined in and together we managed to push him to the ground. Yvonne was ready for this, she had brought plastic zip closers, the things that they use for holding cables together and the cops use as handcuffs to restrain suspects. While we held him, she secured his arms, and then his legs, the bastard was in our power.
     
    Rachel put her face near his. “Right, you kinky fucker, who put you up to doing all of this, these pictures?”
    He blustered and protested, but it didn’t take long to get the truth out of him. John Curtis was his cousin and had talked him into putting the pictures in the lockers.
    “I didn’t have a choice, he made me do it,” he shouted desperately
    “But he didn’t make you plaster them all over the walls, did you?”
    He didn’t reply. We took photos of the workshop walls covered in pornographic images and then took them down and tore them into little pieces.
    “What are you going to do now?” the helpless caretaker asked in a terrified voice.
    Rachel laughed. “You like looking at pictures of girls, we’ll help you out, Joe. Hold him girls, Lisa, get on with it.”
    He tried to struggle but after several kicks decided that it was less painful to stay still. Lisa went to work on his face, half an hour later she had finished. She held a mirror in front of him and he nearly died with shock. She had permanently made up his lips to be full and red, they were very, very feminine, his eyebrows too had been remodeled, she’d shaved off the originals and permanently made up high, elegant arches either side.
    “Oh fuck, I can’t let anyone see me like that,” he wailed.
    “Think of it, Joe, every time you look in your mirror you’ll see those pretty, girlie lips and eyebrows and have yourself a ball. You’ll fall in love with yourself every morning, you look so pretty. Like a girl.”
    He actually looked garish, but in a very feminine way, almost like a pantomime clown, but it was less than he deserved, he’d have to deal with it.
    “Don’t forget,” Rachel continued. “Anytime you want to spend ten years in the county jail and the rest of your life on the sex offender’s register, go around and tell everyone who did it to you and we’ll gladly pass on the pictures of your lovely workshop with the fancy wall decorations. Have fun.”
     
    We left him to sort out his own problems. There was still another problem to resolve over the pictures in the lockers, John Curtis, the nasty little fucker who’d dreamed up the whole scheme.
    “I’ve got an idea of how to deal with him,” Yvonne, our computer whizz, said. “If he thinks distributing fake porn is so