Hello, to my faithful readers, this may be my last entry in the literary world, My name is Roger Thompson, You may not recognize me from the photo above. Many of you know me as the Pulitzer prize winner for journalism in 2010, (Seems like an age ago) You probably think that I didn't need to write again after winning such a prestigious award, you couldn't be further from the truth, When a person wins such an award the pressure is on to go one better, well I can tell you from experience your better off just shooting yourself in the head, go out with a bang so to speak, I wish I had done that, instead of what I decided to do.

When you win this type of award everyone wants you on their payroll, the sky is the limit as far as what they will allow you to write, I went to my editor, I wanted to expose the drug trade in Southern California among biker gangs, (Great story eh!) I thought so, so did my editor, they sent me on a motorbike course, I know what your thinking, (You don't know how to ride a bike?) It wasn't that I didn't know HOW to ride a bike, It was that I'm a city boy, I needed to know how a "Biker" rides a bike, If I was going to fit in, this was a must.

After two weeks at the biker school, I thought I was ready, I flew to California and picked up my ride, I played it cool for weeks, not letting them think I was even interested in joining them, It worked, after two months of virtually ignoring any attempt to join, one of their junior riders asked, "Why didn't I want to join there "Gang",  I used the old Groucho Marks answer. "I never want to join a gang that would take me as a member" he looked at me stupidly, too young for Groucho I guess, I thought I'd blown it, I was about to leave when I heard an almighty belly laugh from a back room, two men came out of the room and "Invited" me to join them, when I say invited me, I mean they picked me up one on each arm, needless to say, I was in.

I knew they weren't going to just hand me a bag of drugs and say deliver these to so & so, I knew I'd have to ride with them to gain their trust, only trouble was my disguise wasn't all I thought it was, who knew, one of the gang figured me as Roger Thompson the famous writer, my cover was blown, I spent three weeks in hospital one in intensive care, I couldn't walk properly for a month.

Now most people would have taken the hint, umph, not Roger Thompson the famous writer, I had to come up with a better plan and a better disguise, I kicked the ideas around with my team, when one of them said, "Shame your not a woman, you'd be less of a threat to them, lol" Eyes shot around the room, each person looking at the next, I saw this and asked "What?" that was my first mistake.

The room filled with whispers, could we, should we, was it possible? I asked my assistant "What are they talking about? She said "They are thinking you could infiltrate the gang better if you were dressed as a woman" The thought ran around my head like an express train, I'd done it before, I'd had many disguises over the years, but I'd never dressed as a woman, I was thinking what a great challenge it would be, that would top anything I'd done before. the seed grew, and before long a plan was underway.

My team went to work, I would have to look realistic, images of what a biker girl would look like went round the room, here's how it started :-

Hair - Had to be bleached blonde with dark roots showing and curly, length negotiable, shoulder length seemed to be the most popular choice.
My height - 5'5'' was deemed about right, although it was also agreed I would have to learn to walk in heels.
Deportment - Not necessarily an issue, as not many biker girls have been to ballet school, it was agreed I needed to learn how to sit, stand, and act like a woman.
Fake Genitalia - This would be made up in our props department. It turned out to be very realistic.
Breasts - This discussion went on into the night, some saying we could have fake breasts and other saying they had to be real, because of the biker mentality, This was a large problem, it meant I would have to have surgery, the question was not if I would do it, but how large would I have to go?
Voice - Vocal chords to be stretched (This will be reversed after I get my story)
Motor bike - It was agreed I needed a bike that would get me in the door at least, the team chose a 63 Harley

We started Monday morning, Laser hair removal head to toe, the prosthetic genitalia was glued into position, I could pee, but it came out of a tube as I sat, I was prepped for my breast operation, the team decided at least a C cup was in order, three days later after the swelling had gone down I was allowed to go home and rest. Next was deportment, my teacher was in fact a ballet dancer, she taught me some moves that she thought may help as well as sitting, standing, and walking in heels, wardrobe was next, I was given a black mini skirt and t shirt with a black leather jacket (a staple of bikers). After months of training this is what I looked like........



I was ready, I flew to Southern California, and picked up my 63 Harley, I saw the faces of the guys on the door at the clubhouse, I'm not sure if it was me or the bike but they were drooling, months of practice were on the line, I took off my helmet shook my dirty blonde hair, and walked toward the door, at this point they were either going to let me in or stop me cold. As I reached for the handle of the door one of the men  said "Welcome, here let me get that for you" I smiled, not wanting to appear to interested, I sat at the bar and ordered a beer, I was still getting used to my new voice, it came out kind of cute, My legs were like jelly, A biker came over and sat next to me, and said "What's a cutie like you doing in here, I told him to F*** off leave me alone. As I waited for a slap, another biker grabbed his wrist, spun him round and punched him, "That's no way to treat a lady Rob" he said,
I looked round to see a black dude with a check shirt and sunglasses, he said "Come with me little lady your under arrest" I asked "What for" he said "Disturbing the peace" This wasn't going well, he took me down town, I was booked and asked to wait in a cell, the judge would see me in the morning.



I wasn't even there an hour, This biker came in and said he would bail me out, WOW this had worked better than I thought, he took me back to the club house, I was shown to the back room and  the biker said "Here she is boss". The "Boss" (Big Tony) turned around, it was the same guy that had put me in hospital five months earlier, "What's your name little lady?" ...."Courtney" I replied, He said "Don't I know you" I played it cool, I said "Yeah, didn't we meet in a hotel room in nyc about a month ago, his old lady almost fell off her chair, He just laughed, that belly laugh he has, he took a shine to me that I didn't realize until it was too late.

I had my story within 3 months of "Joining" the gang, It would have taken at least 6-8 months as a guy, I had written it in a roadside motel whenever I got the chance, I packaged the story and gave it to the manager to put in his safe, I couldn't chance a maid finding it, I got back to the club house to see everyone packing up their stuff, I asked "What's going on?" someone shouted "The Feds are on to us, pack your stuff we ride in 10 minutes, I said "Ok no problem I will go get my stuff from the motel"  "There's no time Courtney, follow me" said Tony, "Just leave everything I will send one of the boys back later when the coast is clear" we rode to New Mexico, to set up down there.

Five months later Tony has a new, old lady, that's her in the picture at the top of the page, her name is Courtney, Shoot me now!

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