"I was eleven and you were nine," she said. "I think it was the first time I'd seen an erection, and certainly the first time I wanked a boy off."

Tony flushed even more at the memory. "I didn't really understand what I was doing," he said, "but bloody hell, it felt good."

"Afterwards," Toni said, "I panicked that by putting my knickers back on with all your semen inside them, I might become pregnant. I always brought a spare pair of knickers with me when we did it again."

"How long did it go on for?" Tony asked.

"Just a few weeks in the school holidays, before I went to comprehensive school. After that, I got into a new circle of friends, and then we moved away, and we virtually lost touch for all these years. Still it's really nice meeting you again. I'm glad I looked you up."

She had telephoned him out of the blue; she was in London for a few nights; could she come round and see him? Perhaps they could get a takeaway delivered. So, she had come round to his house, they'd ordered a curry and then Toni had begun her embarrassing childhood reminiscences.

"Do you want to do it again?"

Tony looked startled. "What? You mean dress up in each other's clothes?"

She nodded. "Same terms. You put my clothes on and I put on yours. Then we can eat our takeaway and finally, I give you a hand job. Incidentally, I'm much better at that now than I used to be."

"Well, I, er..." He nodded at her cleavage exposed by the scoop-necked dress and said, "I don't think your clothes would fit me very well, now. You've filled out in all the right places since you were eleven."

"But we're still about the same height and build," she said. She thrust her breast forward so he could look at them more closely. "Do you think these are pretty good?"

"They're gorgeous," he said.

"They're false," she said.

He shrugged. "Lots of women have enhancements," he said.

"No," she said. "These aren't enhancements. They're totally false. Look, I'll show you."

She reached behind her and unzipped her dress, and then pulled it forward off her shoulders and down her arms. She unclipped her bra and took it off, revealing probably the best pair of breasts Tony had ever encountered at close range.

"Do you still think they're real?" she asked.

"Of course they are."

She folded her arms across her breasts and fumbled with her fingertips at either side of her body. Then she lifted her arms as though pulling off a tight fitting top, and Tony could see she was actually pulling off a flesh-coloured vest that had been indistinguishable from her own skin. But when she'd pulled it over her head, she was left completely flat-chested.

"Bloody hell! What's happened to your breasts?" he asked.

"I told you. They're false," she said. "Here they are." And she handed over the flesh-coloured vest.

"It's heavy," he exclaimed, then examined it in more detail. "These are your boobs. That's fantastic!"

"It's called a Bustlet," she said. "It can transform any flat-chested woman into a large-breasted one."

"Bloody hell!"

"Or a flat-chested man," she added.

Tony gulped. "You mean I could wear this as part of the dress up."

"Of course. Are you on?"

He thought of the hand job that was promised. "You bet," he said.

***

Toni had come prepared, with a can of Veet, a wig almost identical to her own dark-brown hair, and her extensive beauty kit. It took well over an hour to convert Tony into a female, but even he had to admit it was a fantastic conversion. Toni had been right, they did still have similar build and height, and they'd still retained the facial likeness they'd had as young cousins. And the fantastic boobs given him by the Bustlet made it impossible to believe he was really a man.

"I think we'd better change names, just like we used to as children," Toni said. "From now on, I shall be Anthony and you'll be Antonia."

"Fine," Antonia said. "I still can't believe how good I look."

"Shall we eat?" Anthony asked. It hadn't taken him anything like as long to get ready as it had taken Antonia. Apart from getting dressed, all he'd had to do was to cover his longer hair with a cap and then slip on a male wig, which was a good-enough approximation to Anthony's hair. So, whilst Antonia was still pulling on her stockings, he'd answered the door to the delivery man, managed to find his way around the unfamiliar kitchen, and popped the meal into the oven to keep warm.

"Can we close the curtains," Antonia asked, moving towards the dining-room windows. "We don't want everyone to see us."

"I want everyone to see us," Anthony said, stepping in front of her. "When a man entertains a beautiful woman in his home, he wants to display her to the world.

"And it's alright," he added more quietly, "I won't wank you off in public."

"But..." Antonia protested.

"But nothing," Anthony said. "Let's eat."

So they did. They ate in full view of the road outside, and drank the rather nice wine that Toni had brought around (or was it Anthony who'd brought it). Anthony talked endlessly about life over the last eighteen years, where she'd been, the schools she went to, the jobs she'd had, whilst Antonia did less talking, content to enjoy Anthony's chatter.

***

Afterwards, Anthony stepped around the table, went down onto one knee and gently kissed Antonia on the mouth. Then the gentle kiss turned into a thorough snog.

"I think we'd better stop this," Antonia said, pushing Anthony back after a few minutes of delightful pleasure on both sides. "Then we can draw the curtains and go onto the next stage."

"Sounds good to me," Anthony said. "Shall we clear the dinner table, or leave it until tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, I think," Antonia said. She stood up and drew the curtains she had not been allowed to touch earlier. "I'm ready for an early night."

"We have to go outside first," Anthony said.

"What?"

"You agreed the same terms as before," Anthony said. "So it wasn't simply a case of putting on each other's clothes; we had to go outside wearing them. It really wouldn't have been much of a challenge without that, would it?"

"But we can't go outside," Antonia said, her heart leaping into her mouth at the very idea.

"But you agreed," Anthony said. "Come on, no one will suspect, so it's best not to think about it too much." He took her by the hand and gave a tug. On those unfamiliar high-heels, Antonia could do little except totter after him. He pulled her out into the hallway, put her coat over her shoulders, and then opened the front door.

"But I haven't got a key," Antonia said.

"I've got the key," he said, patting his pocket. He put his arm through hers and they marched outside, where he pulled the front door closed, and made certain it was properly locked.

"It's alright, I'm going to be the perfect gentleman," he added, as they walked down the front path and out onto the road. "I'll walk with you to the Tube station."

"What?" Antonia said, aghast. "But you're still wearing my clothes. You can't go home like that. Besides..."

"Besides, I haven't played with your little clitoris. That's what you were going to say, wasn't it Antonia?"

She nodded. "Yes. We agreed that. Can't we go back now?"

"We agreed the same terms as before," Anthony said. "Surely you remember what they were?"

"Well," Antonia said, thinking back to childhood, "I had to cross the road by myself and..."

"Go into Toni's bedroom," Anthony finished for her, "and change into the pretty clothes which had been laid out for you. Only when you returned to Tony's house wearing those pretty new clothes, would you get your little clitoris massaged. That's how we played it, wasn't it?"

"But I can't possibly go back to your house," Antonia said. "You live two hundred miles away."

"Of course not," Anthony said. "All you have to do is to take the Underground train to Russell Square, which is, of course, two changes from your local station, and then go into Toni's hotel room. You'll find the details and key card in your handbag. The clothes you're to wear are all laid out on the bed. When you've put them on, you return here and we proceed with the bit you're longing for."

"But I can't go on the Underground dressed like this," Antonia said. "People will realise I'm a man, and I might be attacked."

"Then you'll simply have to make certain everyone thinks you're a beautiful female," Anthony said.

"I can't do it," Antonia said, disengaging her arm from his. "I'm going back to my house and getting changed. I'm sorry, but..."

"You'll need the key to the house," Anthony said, dangling the key from his pocket, but keeping it well out of her reach.

"I keep a spare key in a secret place," Antonia said.

"You mean this one?" Anthony said, dangling another key next to the first. "You're a creature of habit, and you keep it in just the same place as your parents did at their house when you were a child."

"I'll have to break a window," Antonia said.

"I wouldn't advise it," Anthony said. "Someone would call the police and that would lead to all kinds of complications."

Antonia couldn't help shuddering about where that might lead.

"But I can't go down the Tube," she said.

"Why not?" Anthony asked. "Even more importantly, tell me truthfully that wouldn't be the most exciting thing you've done for years."

Antonia thought for a second and then said, "Scary - not exciting."

"Don't the two go together? Come on, Antonia, you agreed to our cross-dressing tonight because the thought excited you. Now I'm pushing you beyond your comfort zone. That's just as it should be. And you just tell me this whole thing isn't thrilling the pants off you."

Antonia thought for a second and then grinned. "I hope it doesn't scare the pants off me. Otherwise, my cock will be sticking about ten feet in the air."

"That's my girl," Anthony said. He gave her a peck on the cheek as they approached the Underground station, and then turned and walked quickly away.

***

Antonia's heart was pumping wildly as she stepped inside the Tube station. She'd be outed within seconds, and people would start jeering at her. But no one did; in fact everyone seemed in a dreadful hurry and far too busy to even notice her. The first obstacle she reached was the ticket barrier. Did she have a return ticket in her handbag? Did she have the coins to go into a ticket machine? Or would she have to go to the ticket office and purchase one from an official.

She opened her handbag. There on top was an Oyster card, the pay-in-advance card that would take her anywhere on the transport system. She breathed a sigh of relief. First obstacle overcome. She went through the barrier and walked down the steps to the platform, her shoes making an incredibly loud click-clock-clicking sound on the steps.

She held her breath as a few people on the platform turned to stare at her. But the stares from the men were of lust, and those from the women analysing her dress sense. What do I do now, she wondered.

Exactly the same as everyone else on the Underground, she decided. Pretend that no one else exists. She smiled to herself, and for the first time since stepping outside the door, she relaxed.

The journey itself was alright, once she'd got used to the blokes all leching after her. She kept her knees closely together whilst seated, and had to keep pulling down the skirt which insisted on riding up her thighs. In fact, she thought, it was rather nice to have people of the opposite sex lusting after her; a complete reversal of life as it normally was.

She made the changes of line without problem, making sure she kept up with the crowd of passengers doing the same; she really didn't want to be alone in a deserted tunnel. Finally, she was crowding into the lift at Russell Square station, with everyone else pushing in behind her to make certain they didn't get left behind. That's when she felt the hard bulge pushing into her buttocks.

Shit! She thought. What do I do now?

She moved forward slightly, to give the person behind more room. The hard bulge moved forward with her. Then it gave a little wriggle, from side to side.

"Fuck this for a game," Antonia thought. She shifted her stance slightly, lifting her foot and then bringing the heel down hard on the point where she thought the man's instep would be.

"Fuck me!" a woman said. Antonia turned round to see a woman with a large handbag, staggering backwards. "You silly cow!" she yelled, "Why don't you look where you're stepping."

"Sorry," Antonia said, and then froze. Her voice was all wrong.

One or two people gave her a double take, but appeared reassured by the cleavage that she'd been careful to ensure remained in full view. Fortunately, the lift doors opened, and the crowd surged forward, Antonia with them, leaving the other woman hobbling behind.

She had already found the hotel details, which was only a few minutes' walk, and she got there without problem. The commissionaire even saluted her as she went up the steps to the hotel and walked with a confidence she didn't feel towards the lifts, and the safety of her room.

***

"Shit!"

When the two of them had played the game as children, there'd have been perhaps a tartan skirt or a school uniform lying on Toni's bed. On the bed in the hotel room was, what the packaging described as, a sexy police uniform. A short, black dress with a plunging cleavage and a wide belt which looked more like waist cincher, and cap, baton, handcuffs, and a black suspender belt with fishnet stockings. On the floor was a pair of black boots with spiky heels which must surely be five-inches high.

"She couldn't do this to me." But Antonia knew that Toni could.

The first time they had played the game, fearful of being discovered by Toni's mother who was in the garden, he had chickened out of getting changed and gone running back to his house in Toni's original clothes. But she'd refused to let him in, and he'd been stuck on the doorsteps for eons, terrified his mates would come along, whilst he'd pleaded with her. Eventually he gave in and had returned to her house and changed into the proper clothes in order to gain access to his own house.

It was a dead cert that wearing anything other than the chosen clothes would result in non-admittance to the house. She shrugged and smiled. So what! She'd got away with it this far.

On the dressing table was a notice: YOU'LL PROBABLY NEED TO SPEAK ON YOUR RETURN JOURNEY. TAKE ONE OF THESE TABLETS. There was a box on top of the notice which said: Voice-Changer capsules. Take one capsule every eight hours.

She took one as directed; it burnt her throat, like swallowing nitric acid, but afterwards, her voice was as high, if not as sweet, as a nightingale. "The rain in Spain," she chirped, "falls mainly on the plain."

Getting dressed took only a few minutes, but getting used to the heels took forever. She staggered round and around the room, until she got a phone call from Reception, saying that the guest downstairs had complained about the herd of elephants clomping around in her room. She took the hint, and left the room, her handcuffs and baton swinging from her belt.

***

Actually, once she got walking properly, she found it was not so difficult. The trick was to keep her weight right back, whilst provocatively pushing forward the pelvis. Of course, her provocative walk was assisted by the fact that the dress was just, and only just, long enough to cover her stocking tops, and with every flounce of her dress, they were revealed. As soon as she was out onto the pavement, the cat calls and whistles started, along with declarations that they had bigger truncheons than she had, and offers to let her hold them.

Antonia revelled in it. As long as they continued, she reasoned, it meant that no one had a clue that she was really a he. Her aching legs and ankles, which commenced within fifty yards of leaving the hotel, did nothing to lessen her confident stride, and she thanked her lucky saints for the visit from Toni.

She was also grateful to the speech changing capsules. Several times on the tube journey back to the house, she was accosted by semi-drunk guys who offered to let her to do everything to them from baton whipping to handcuffing them to a rail and then having sex with them. But a mean "Go fuck yourself," was usually sufficient to send them on their way, although she had to strike one guy with her baton on his shin, and he fell down yelling. She didn't hang around to see whether she had done any serious damage.

She was just about to ring the door bell on her own house when she saw the note taped below it: HANDCUFF YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK BEFORE RINGING THE DOORBELL. She knew better than to try to argue it out on the doorstep. Anthony could continue it indefinitely, and sooner or later, the neighbours would start taking an interest. So, she pulled the cuffs from her belt, snapped one around her left wrist, then put her arms behind her back and tried to clip them around her right wrist. It took several attempts, but finally they clicked into place, and Antonia knew she was well and truly secured.

She turned towards the bell, and then realised she couldn't push it! Eventually, she managed it with her nose, and the door opened almost immediately.

"Come in, Antonia," Anthony said, reaching out and pulling her inside. "I've invited all the neighbours in to see you." And he shut the door with a bang

***

"You shit, shit, shit, shit!" she said to Anthony a few minutes later. "You might have given me a heart attack."

"Well, I was only having a little joke," he said. "You should have known that you could trust me. I wouldn't really invite all the neighbours around."

"Well I had trusted you until that moment."

"Does that mean," Anthony asked, "that you don't want to complete on the rest of the deal?" He reached forward and started to massage her breasts,

"Agh!" Antonia said. "I felt that."

"Of course you can," Anthony said. "These are the best false breasts you can get, and they have something called Sensotouch. A touch on the skin of the Bustlet is transferred through tiny electrodes onto your own skin." He smiled. "The real beauty of it is that it's adjustable."

He held up a remote control for her to see, which looked just like one for a hi-fi or ghetto-blaster. "I set it to zero before putting it on you and letting you go off, and I put it up to four just now." He pointed the remote at her. "But if I put it to eight, you'll be writhing in pleasure. See?"

His finger pressed the 8 button and her breasts were suddenly alive, and being gently squeezed by her bra. "If I just brush your breast, you'll be in heaven," he said.

And he did.

And she was!

"If I start massaging your nipples, you'll be on Cloud nine."

And he did.

"Oh God, Anthony! That's exquisite. Yes, please, don't stop. Don't stop."

But he did. "I think it's time," he said, "that we allowed little Percy to emerge." That's the name Toni had given it all those years ago. "Then he can join in the fun. And I've decided I'm not going to give you a hand-job."

"But you promised," Antonia said, panic entering her voice. She had to have sex. "You can't leave me like..."

Her words ended as Anthony closed his mouth over hers and kissed her. "You've been so good about everything," Anthony said, "that I think you deserve the whole thing."

"You mean," Antonia said. "We're going to bonk?"

"Only if you want to. I don't want to force a girl whose hands are handcuffed behind her back into having sex. What do you say?"

"Oh please, Anthony, let's do it."

"Are you quite certain?"

"Oh please, please, please."

"Hmm. In that case, let me pull down your panties," Anthony said, "and I think for the time being we should revert to our original names."

***

Toni was as good as her word; she had hurriedly pulled off her shoes and socks, and then removed her trousers and panties. Then she reached beneath Tony's skirt and pulled down his pantie-girdle. Out lunged his incredibly hard, throbbing cock.

"My, you are excited," she said, and went onto her knees so that she could kiss it, and run her tongue down the shaft to his balls. "Oops. Not too much of that, otherwise we'll end our excitement all too early, just like that first time we did it. And that would never do."

She grabbed his cock in her hand and pulled it hard downwards, so he was forced to his knees, and they were kissing, and she was massaging his wonderful tits. Hell, he thought, it's better to have your tits massaged than your cock.

Then she was pushing him backwards, but keeping hold of him at the same time, since, with his hands handcuffed, he couldn't help himself down to the ground.

"Time to eat muffin," she said, "and we didn't get this far when we were kids."

"Perhaps if we had," Tony said, "I'd have turned our completely differently. Not been such a mmmm." His last words were lost as Toni pushed her pussy against his mouth, using her fingers to separate her own lips. She wriggled against him in ecstatic pleasure, quickly reaching a mini-orgasm.

"Mmm. That was nice," she said. "But I promised you a treat and I don't go back on my promises."

She certainly didn't, moving backwards until his throbbing cock was resting against her cunt and then slowly wriggling until he was inside her, she slowly lowered herself down - and then up - and then down again.

"Oh yes! Yes" Tony said.

"Not too quickly," Toni said, sitting down firmly on top of him, so that he completely filled her. "We don't want to end the pleasure too quickly."

They went at it for almost two hours, before Tony had the most wonderful orgasm he'd ever had in his life and Toni had a huge grin on her face. She had so much semen inside her she decided to move her cunt back over Tony's face and let him lick it all out - an act he did without dissension - and which gave her another incredibly nice orgasm.

***

"Where did you put the key to the handcuffs?" she asked him, looking inside the policewoman's little pouch attached to the belt.

"The key?" he quizzed. "I haven't seen the key. Has it been in that pouch all the time?"

"Well no," Toni said. "It was on the dressing table in my hotel room, right next to the voice-changer tablets. There was a label attached, saying DON'T FORGET TO BRING THIS."

"I didn't see it," he said, then: "Oh shit! Does that mean you can't release me?"

She grinned. "I'm afraid it does," she said, reaching down towards him. "I think I'd better help you to bed, and obviously I'm going to have to stay the night and hold your willy whilst you wee. That means we can bonk all night long, then sort out this in the morning."

"But what happens then?" he said. "I mean, I'm certainly not averse to bonking all night long, but I'll still have the handcuffs on, and I have to go to work."

"No problem," Toni said. "You work in the City, don't you?"

Tony nodded.

"In that case," she continued, "we can set out early and go to my hotel room, and get the handcuffs off. Then you can take a shower and get dressed for work."

"But why can't I have a shower here?" he asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, then continued as it clearly wasn't. "You can't take off the dress with the handcuffs on, so you're going to have to stay in that uniform until we get to my hotel."

"But it will be the morning rush hour. I can't travel into London dressed like this amongst all those commuters!"

"Do you have any other suggestion?" she asked.

"You could cut the dress off me."

"But we wouldn't be able to put a shirt or jacket onto you," she replied with another smile. "Don't worry, we'll repair your make-up so that even your own mother won't recognise you.

"And don't try to deny," she continued, "that you would dearly love to bonk me all night long, and then wear a sexy uniform on the commuter train into work."

He opened his mouth to do so, then realised he shouldn't tell a lie.

***

Later, Toni said, "Have you ever had sex with a nymphomaniac?"

He smiled. "I think I just did."

"Oh no," she said with an appreciative smile. "That's just good healthy sex. I'm talking about the sort of woman who simply has to have sex all the time."

Tony shook his head. "In my dreams."

"You think so?"

"Along with every other male on earth. We all dream of that woman who wants non-stop sex."

"But look," she said. "We're lying here feeling kind of yummy, and well pleased with ourselves, and that this is what life is all about, and perhaps thinking that a bit later on we might have a bit more of the same."

Her hand slipped down to his limp penis and started to fondle it. "Whereas a nymphomaniac can never be sexually satisfied; OK, she has orgasms - probably great screaming ones - but they don't leave her feeling fulfilled. Right now, she'd be yelling at you to give her some more. How would you feel about that? Me, I'm much more ready to let nature take its course - with a little help of course." She rolled over and leant over his penis, letting her tongue flick lightly over the head.

He grunted and then said, "I think it's much better to lick bollocks than talk bollocks." Then he gave a gasp as she did.

***

"I bet that journey was rather more exciting than your normal travel to work," Anthony said, as they travelled up in the lift towards Toni's hotel room. Anthony was wearing a smart business suit, whilst Antonia continued to wear the sexy police uniform, with the five-inch heels and with her hands handcuffed behind her back.

"I think even the commuters found it so," Antonia said. "Especially when you asked whether anyone wanted to buy your sex slave."

"I didn't expect five people to start bidding for you, though," Anthony said. "And it was really embarrassing when that Transport policeman came over to see what the commotion was."

They grinned, two friends sharing an enjoyable moment.

"Of course," Anthony said, "when we get to the room, you need to decide whether you want me to remove the handcuffs."

"Bloody hell!" Antonia said, "I've got to get to work." A note of panic entered her voice. "You wouldn't make me go to work like this?"

"Don't be silly," he smiled at her, "but I could hold the phone whilst you called in sick."

"Anthony!" she said, seemingly outraged. "That's absolutely disgraceful!" But she rather spoiled her sense of outrage by adding, "What would we do?"

"That takes us into uncharted territory," Anthony said, "and I'm not going to tell you the answer until you decide whether you ask me to remove the handcuffs, or hold the phone while you call in sick." He smiled again. "It's your decision: boring old work; or the great unknown."

"Get the phone," Antonia said.

***

In fact as soon as he'd made the call, Anthony took the handcuffs off her.

"We're going to postpone the bondage for now," Anthony said in response to her surprised look. "Right now we have to get you dressed and looking pretty. We're going to something special. What do you think of that?"

He pointed towards the wardrobe, and Antonia's heart missed a beat, for hanging inside was the most beautiful gown; a red, mid-length dress, with a plunging, heart-shaped top, and a full skirt which would flare out whenever she moved.

"It's gorgeous!" she gasped. "Am I going to wear that?" As she thought through the implications, she added, "And where are we going with it?"

"We're going for lunch," he said. "To the Daily Chronicle's Short Story Writer of the Year Awards." He took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom. "Time for your shower, and then we'll get you dressed.

***

"OK," Antonia said to Anthony sitting on the opposite side of the dining table, as she sipped her fourth glass of wine - or was it the fifth, she idly wondered. "I reckon you were incredibly nervous about coming to this classy event, and the whole reason you came to see me yesterday was to use me as a stand in for you here."

She glanced down and had a heart-stopping moment as she thought she had spilt a spot of soup on her fabulous dress. Fortunately, it was only a crumb. She flicked her hand to brush it away, and once more her breasts gave a wonderful wobble.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guy sitting on her right give yet another gulp, pick up his glass and rapidly swallow some more wine. Damien somebody, he was called, and he reckoned he was going to win the award.

Anthony shrugged. "I know it's not very likely, but I got terrified in case I won and had to stand up and give a speech like they do at the Oscars, with everybody watching and all the TV cameras focussed on me." He waved around the huge dining room, packed with hundreds of hopeful award winners, most of them dressed to the nines 'just-in-case'.

"Don't they tip off the prize-winners in advance?" she asked.

Anthony shrugged. "I suppose so, but I was still terrified. I should have brought a friend, but I've kept my writing a secret and I didn't want anyone else to know."

Antonia could understand that. Lots of authors were very shy about their work. "Well, I'll be taking your glory if they announce Antonia Braddock as the winner," she said.

"I've prepared a speech just in case," Anthony said. "It's in your handbag."

She gave him a look. Anthony really was quite serious. Suddenly she started to have some misgivings. Toni couldn't win an award, could she? The wine was clouding her judgement; what was that woman's name? Then it came to her. "Everybody seems to be suggesting the winner's going to be Maxi Morgasm, with her sex story. Have you read it…"

"It's total crap," the guy on her right interjected. "The workings of a pathetic mind. Not like my story for example. With only five hundred words to play with, one has to ensure that every word is put to its full use. I've left out all the inconsequential words, and each word I've used has at least two meanings - three or four in some cases - so the story has as much body as a full length novel."

"Really," Antonia replied, turning to him and leaning slightly forward so he got a good look down her cleavage. "How much body do you like?"

She couldn't believe she just did that! She was really a bloke, for God's sake. What was she doing? But she knew what she was doing. Last night on the Tube had been erotic enough, but today in this fabulous dress, she not only felt fantastic but every man gave her a second look - and in many cases third and fourth looks. They wanted her. They were drooling over her.

This guy flushed a little and said, "Some words even had five fuckings… I mean meanings. Don't you think that's amazing?"

Antonia slipped her hand onto the guy's leg and brushed over his cock. "I think that's amazing," she said. "Not the shit you write."

"Oh God!" he said. "I didn't realise. I think I'm going to…" He stood up and dashed towards the exit.

"You got things sussed, then," Anthony said, begrudging surprise showing in his eyes.

Exactly what she had sussed had to be postponed for a while as the MC started to bellow over the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen. Could I have your attention please. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The announcement of the Daily Chronicle's Short Story Writer of the Year Awards. And here to present the prizes, is none other than…"

***

You've probably already seen the event on the television so there's no need to bore you with the details. In any case, it was exactly the same as every other award ceremony you see at all too frequent intervals.

"Exactly who cares a shit who wins," Antonia mused. What was more important was that the wine was flowing freely, the boring jerk sitting next to her had not returned to his seat, and she continued to get admiring glances from most of the blokes in the room, which she returned with a bashful grin. Antonia had learnt her lesson about being too forward with men - it only scared them off.

In fact there was a guy with a roaming TV camera who came over and spent ages drooling over her in his viewfinder. She could see he was clearly focussing on her cleavage for most of the time rather than the beauty of her dress, but what did she care?

Of course, it takes about an hour for them to actually get to the point where they announced the winners. Antonia wondered whether Toni might have won a runner-prize. She had checked the speech really was in her handbag, just in case, but they went through a long list of runners-up and, thank God, she wasn't mentioned. Of course, all the runners-up had to give speeches saying how surprised they were, and how proud their families would be, and so on and so on. Boredom!

Finally, they were announcing the real winner, and, surprise, surprise it was that Maxi Morgasm woman whom everyone seemed to be talking about. There was a pregnant pause as everyone expected her to stand up, and she did not.

Antonia looked around, wondering where she was, and suddenly realised all eyes were on her; even the TV camera was pointing at her.

"Go on," Anthony whispered. "We won. And don't forget, your speech is in your handbag."

She looked around and gave a sickly smile as she got to her feet and watched everyone watching her. "Little do they know," she thought.

Then, she shuffled through her bag and removed the sheaf of papers and folded them tightly in her hand. She stood up straight, took a deep breath and marched towards the podium.

***

"I am both man's most wonderful dream and his worst nightmare.

"If I was male, I'd be arrested, for women easily cry "Rape!" whereas men never do - certainly none whom I choose. The quacks call it Obsessive Compulsive Sexual Disorder, but to everyone else, it's Nymphomania..

"So starts my entry for the short story competition," she continued to an enraptured audience. The Broom Cupboard was easy to pen; I simply wrote about what I am, and what I do…"

The words of her speech were totally bullshit, but they reverberated around the dining room and would be broadcast to tens of millions of TV screens. Antonia felt great! No wonder Toni had chickened out of attending the ceremony, having been tipped off she was a winner. Now, every male in the world would know her by sight, and want to get to know her biblically. Except that it was Tony they were looking at.

She knew this would not be the last time she had to don the Maxi Morgasm persona; and she revelled at the thought!