I have to keep myself from smiling as I touch up my lipstick, before liberally coating my long brown hair with shiny hairspray. Once my look is complete, I stand up from my dresser and examine myself in my bedroom’s full-length mirror.
Staring back at me is, as always, the woman I dreamed of being my whole life. She is — or rather, I am — slender, with a narrow waist, curvy hips and perky breasts, long legs, long, glossy brown hair and a cute, immaculately made-up face. I’m wearing a black mini dress with a Bardot neckline that completely exposes my shoulders, clings to me like a second skin and only covers my crotch by about four inches. Underneath the dress I’m wearing my favourite black strapless bra and matching thong… and under that is a piece of latex shaped like a realistic vagina. Underneath THAT is, well, something I'd rather not think about right now.
In recent weeks I’ve taken to wearing the gaff more and more, even though I know it’s no substitute for the real thing — though whether this is due to my indecision over whether or not to get ‘the real thing,’, I can’t say. When I’m wearing it, I’m completely indistinguishable from a cisgender woman… though this is also the case when I’m wearing just my underpants. Given that aside from me, only one person ever sees me in that ‘state,’ and she’s repeatedly said (and consistently backed up with her actions) that she’s fine with how I am, just makes my decision about whether or not to get 'the real thing' ever harder.
Fortunately, it’s not like I don’t have plenty to distract myself at the moment, as you may have inferred from my outfit. After slipping my feet into a pair of strappy black sandals with a thin four-inch heel, I grab my favourite black clutch bag… and pose demurely for the camera in the corner of my bedroom.
Yep, despite it being nearly fourteen months since the start of the first lockdown, covid is STILL running rampant, especially in a crowded city such as London. As such, the closest anyone comes to a night out nowadays is getting ready for one — or in my case, getting ready to record a video for a clothing company who are eager to have a famous singer shill their products to millions of Instagram and TikTok followers. And hey, I don’t mind at all — if you’d told me six years ago that I’d be paid oodles of money to get dressed up in fancy clothes and make-up, I’d have bitten your arm off. This is especially true after I swap my sandals for a pair of thin tights and black Louboutin pumps with an even higher heel, and finally (and obviously) for a pair of shiny black boots that come to four inches above my knee.
I, of course, don’t mind being a model, especially on ‘non-live’ platforms like social media. The money’s good, the work — if you can call it that — is enjoyable and the extra perks of the job are great, especially as I get to keep most of the things I promote on my feeds! However, I can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness about my current situation. After all, I am a singer — or rather, I was a singer, back when both of my lungs worked properly. And while I’ve recovered a lot in the last twelve months — more than I thought I would, actually — the fact is that I’m not likely to get anywhere near a microphone anytime soon, even one in a recording studio, while the careers of people closer to home are going from strength to strength.
“…SO excited by the response to the single,” I hear my girlfriend say into her laptop as I try to sneak out of my bedroom — not an easy task in boots with heels as chunky as these. “I’ve been working on it for months, along with the rest of the album.”
“And it’s still being produced by Heavenly Talent?” The interviewer, a young woman with a Scottish accent, asks.
“Yep!” Kayla replies with a wide grin. “I’ve been part of that — well, that ‘family’ now for six years, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else. And our producer, Stuart, knows my voice better than anyone that it’s not worth starting over with a new team.” I can’t help but smirk at this — Kayla’s no doubt including the rest of Out of Heaven in this ‘team.’ Well, for everything except this solo single, at least.
“Did he write most of the songs for the album?” The interviewer asks. “He wrote most of Out of Heaven’s songs, if I recall?”
“He did, and he wrote some for the album as well,” Kayla replies. “For my first solo single, though, I wanted it to truly be my own, so ‘You Know Who I Am’ is all my own words.” As Kayla grins at her answer, I seize the opportunity and stride into the room, immediately distracting my girlfriend and causing a look to come over her face that says ‘you look hot but I’m going to kill you for this.'
“A lot of people are wondering if there’ll be any collaborations on the new album,” the interviewer asks. “People are especially asking if there’ll be any duets with Steph Abbott.” Of all the questions! I think to myself, wincing as my girlfriend glares angrily at me, clearly having thought the same thing.
“…If there aren’t on this album, there definitely will be on a future album,” Kayla replies diplomatically, even as the look in her green eyes gets fiercer.
“And I’m sure everyone will be eager to listen to them!” The interviewer says as Kayla sits back, signifying that the interview is over. “In the meantime, we’ll leave you with the official music video for ‘You Know Who I Am’ by Kayla Ford, currently number three in the charts!” Which is higher than any Out of Heaven single ever made, I think to myself — a fact that’s been pointed out by the media more than once, but which Kayla herself has always been tactful enough to keep to herself. As the intro to the song plays, Kayla rises from her seat and walks over to me, giving me a long, deep kiss before playfully slapping my arm.
“Make ME hot while I’m being interviewed on live radio,” Kayla chastises me, before giggling. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t being livestreamed too…”
“I can’t help being cute,” I pout in reply, before surprising my girlfriend with another kiss.
“WAY more than just ‘cute,’ ” Kayla giggles before giving me another kiss. “Are you wearing shapewear under there? Your figure looks AMAZING…”
“Nope!” I reply. “FINALLY starting to shift that lockdown weight, heh. And thanks for the compliment, especially after opening with ‘are you artificially cinching your waist in.’ ”
“You know what I meant,” Kayla says with a chuckle as we head back to the lounge area of our flat, simultaneously flopping down on the sofa while her song continues to play. “…Are you gonna keep that on all day, then? Not that I’m complaining….” I giggle as Kayla alternates between stroking my exposed shoulder and the thin strip of nylon-covered thigh between the hem of my dress and the top of my boot.
“Mmm, much as I’d love to, sadly, I’ve got more promo videos to film, heh,” I chuckle, earning a playful pout before another giggle from my girlfriend. “Are you doing any more interviews today?”
“Umm, probably not,” Kayla replies, rolling her eyes as I frown with confusion at her use of the word ‘probably.’ “…JB might have a live interview lined up for me for a radio station in New York, but it’d be at, like, 1am our time.”
“Ooh, Kayla Ford is taking America by storm, then?” I ask. “I don’t recall seeing ‘You Know Who I Am’ on the top 40 over there….” And I have been checking, obviously.
“Well… top 100, yes, top 40, no,” Kayla replies. “At least, not yet, heh.”
“Meh, give it a couple of weeks and Taylor Swift will be BEGGING to be your bestie,” I say, smiling as Kayla giggles and leans into me for a hug.
“I am going to call Addie later today, though,” Kayla says. “Still feel bad we couldn’t make her party.”
“We could for a few minutes, at least,” I reply. “Even if it took us half an hour to get ready, heh.”
“That’s the best part of most parties,” Kayla says, making me giggle — she’s not wrong, after all. “Especially as the only ‘parties’ we’ve been to in the last twelve months have been over Zoom, anyway. Same goes for concerts….”
“Yep,” I sigh. “And I know you can’t wait to tour your new album, especially if it involves going to America.”
“Yep!” Kayla squeaks excitedly. “Though covid or not, that’s still MONTHS away, heh.” Still closer than mine, I think to myself ruefully. A total of two original songs and one cover does not an album make, and the closest I’ll ever likely get to touring America is sharing a tour bus with Kayla — assuming she’d even want me along for the ride….
“I suppose I’d better get back to being a sexy and well-paid model,” I say, unwrapping Kayla from around me, straightening my dress and standing up. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it, hehe!”
“Poor you,” my girlfriend retorts sarcastically, before standing up and giving me another kiss, stroking my exposed thigh again and exploring underneath my dress, only pausing as her fingers unexpectedly touch latex. “…Oh, you- you’re wearing the- the thing again?”
“…Yeah,” I whisper. “I just — ugh. It’s a confidence thing, you know? Especially as my next video is going to be styling different skirts with the same bodysuit.”
“Meh, I get it,” Kayla says with a supportive smile. “But you know to me you’ll always be girly and gorgeous, even without it, right?”
“Ironic, as you’re the only person who’ll ever see ‘it,’ ” I tease, earning another giggle and a kiss from the petite blonde girl.
“I’d better be,” Kayla whispers, before switching on our PlayStation 5 and letting me return to my bedroom.
After returning to my room, I exchange my dress for the bodysuit I’ve been sent, a sleeveless one with a halter neck and choker-style collar. The bodysuit, as with all my clothes, hugs my body closely, making me smile as it gives me the perfect silhouette. Even though the ‘bottom half’ of my silhouette is ‘artificially enhanced,’ the ‘top half’ (and my waistline, for that matter) is all flesh and blood — and looks (and more importantly, feels) just as hot as Kayla had implied.
After touching up my make-up, I spend the next half hour filming myself pairing the bodysuit with over a dozen short skirts and even a couple of pairs of shiny leggings along with, of course, various different styles of heels and boots. After my videos are all recorded, I carefully remove my make-up before sending all of the recorded videos to Riley, Heavenly Talent’s social media manager (and Becca’s fiancée, which always earns me some teasing from her about me sending her man seductive photos and videos of myself). Rather than change, I keep the bodysuit on, along with a short denim skirt — it’s a cute look, especially with the short pink socks I pull on to keep my feet warm, and the cuter I am, the stronger and more confident I feel — especially thanks to my gaff. No doubt the money and clicks I’ll earn from the videos will boost my confidence too — and God knows I need everything I can get right now, with money from my musical career dwindling….
“Hey hottie!” Kayla says teasingly as I pad through to our kitchen area to prepare us both some dinner. “You weren’t kidding about that bodysuit, hehe! Do they do it in size ‘extra extra small?’ ”
“Given that it’s from a company that labels size 10 as ‘large,’ probably,” I reply, earning a sympathetic smile from my girlfriend.
“Ugh, I really hate that,” Kayla snorts. “I mean, I know I don’t have what, like, a ‘normal’ female body should look like, you know?”
“Yeah, I know a thing or two about ‘not having a normal female body,’ heh,” I reply, earning another sympathetic smile.
“You know what I mean,” Kayla says. “And fully dressed, your body is a lot more ‘normal’ than mine. Hell, even fully naked, if you decide to have the operation.”
“Well — maybe,” I say with a shrug. “Got anything planned for the afternoon or more couch potatoing?”
“Hilarious, and I wasn’t implying that I wanted to gain weight, thank you very much,” Kayla says, making a point of switching off the PlayStation before joining me in the kitchen. “Might do some practice in my room later, I’ve been researching some songs I might want to cover for the album. You’ve not got any calls or anything, have you?”
“No, but it shouldn’t be an issue even if I did,” I reply, pointing to the soundproofing on the walls connecting our living room to our bedrooms — something that Kayla and I spent a messy afternoon in February doing. “Need to catch up on my breathing exercises before this brand decides that I’ve crossed over to ‘extra-large,’ heh. Then might do a bit of couch potatoing of my own, see if anyone’s online.”
“Stuart was when I logged off,” Kayla says as she helps herself to half of the (health conscious) sandwiches I just made. “Ian and his friends seem to be engaged in a Star Wars Battlefront marathon for whatever reason.”
“Probably ‘cause of what day it is,” I muse, giggling as Kayla frowns with confusion at me. “…Today’s date?”
“The 4th, yes?” Kayla asks.
“…Of May?” I ask, my giggles getting louder. “May the fourth be with you?”
“Oh- you nerd,” Kayla teases me as she sits back down on the sofa — right next to her treasured Baby Yoda cushion.
“Says you,” I tease back as I sit down and gently bat my girlfriend with the cushion, only for her to pull it in for a tight cuddle. “Not up for a movie marathon tonight, then? We’ve got Disney Plus…”
“Kinda having flashbacks to that big reception we had when the first of the new films came out,” Kayla muses. “You know, back in 2015? God, am I meant to be nostalgic when I’m only 23?”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” I say, giggling as I catch the Baby Yoda cushion as it’s thrown at me. “And I’ll take that as a ‘maybe.’ Watch parties are more fun when everyone can watch in the same room, anyway. Or, yes, same cinema.”
"I'd suggest a watch party for the finale of 'So You Want to Be an Angel' tomorrow evening, but everyone we know is gonna be in Lincolnshire for the show," Kayla says with a giggle. "Well, all the women we know, anyway. One thing I’ve learned from three and a half years of ‘girl love’ is that I never realised that spending any amount of time in a room full of guys is an all-out assault on the nose,” Needless to say, this nearly makes me choke on my drink!
“I grew up with two older brothers,” I retort. “Been there, done that, got the nose plugs. Think we’ll leave any watch parties tonight to the BOYS, hehe!”
“You said it, girlfriend!” Kayla giggles as we eat our lunch.
After lunch, Kayla heads into her room to practice while I entertain myself with our gaming setup, the soundproofing on the wall and the sound from my headset blocking out the undoubtedly sweet sounds my girlfriend is making (as her bedroom backs onto our TV/gaming area).
Both of our sessions, as it turns out, only last for ninety minutes, with me turning off our PlayStation at the same time Kayla comes through to make herself a drink. I take the opportunity to head to the bathroom to relieve myself, lifting my skirt and unfastening my bodysuit before lowering my thong and sitting down, pausing as I remember I still have one other latex 'garment' still in place 'down there.'
This is far from the first time has happened, but every time it does, I feel embarrassed despite being by myself. Obviously, I no longer stand up while relieving myself — I stopped doing that long before I even started to transition. And on the many, many nights out I’ve spent with the girls I’ve become familiar with probably every ladies’ room in every nightclub in London (and even signed my name in lipstick on a few mirrors). On all of those occasions, I was ‘tucked,’ obviously, but I was never 'tucked away' the way I am now. Partly because I didn’t start wearing them until months after the start of lockdown, and partly because of how self-conscious I thought I’d feel. Virtually every girl I went out clubbing with was either cisgender or post-op, and a part of me felt that I’d be somehow trivialising that by wearing the 'special gaff,' even if I wanted to fit in. Never mind the fact that I was already trying to ‘fit in’ simply by wearing the same dresses, heels and make-up that they all wore too, I would still be the odd one out. I’d be the one who didn’t need to ‘sit down to pee.’ When I went home at the end of the night, I was the one who’d be reminded of her ‘status’ when I changed out of my ‘specialised’ underwear and into my pyjamas.
When I explained this to Dr Phillips, of course, I was reminded that I didn’t have to be the odd one out. SRS was very much an option for me. It was her who recommended the 'special gaffs' to me, and over time, the sight of a vagina between my legs became more and more normal, even on those occasions when it took me by surprise — like right now. And each and every time, including right now, I’m brought back to the moment when I knew for certain that I wanted to be a woman — and a singer.
When I was very, very young — before I'd even started primary school — my brothers would regularly play chart music in the house at weekends, either from CDs or on VHS tapes they’d taped off of MTV (this was long before YouTube or Spotify were even a thing — we didn’t even own a computer back then). One video that always stuck out to me, but I could only vaguely remember, was one of a woman with long, dark hair standing naked in a road as she sang. Obviously, my brothers had their own reasons for ‘liking’ that video, but even from that early age, I wanted more than anything to be that woman. To be able to sing from my heart as my long hair flowed around my body, to be able to strip everything away and for the only thing that remained to be 'Stephanie.'
For years, the memory of the video and the song tormented me — obviously I couldn't ask my brothers what the name of the song was without raising several more awkward questions about why I wanted to know. It wasn’t until I was in my early teens, and in possession of a laptop and my own YouTube account, that I eventually rediscovered the video, and the song — ‘Thank U’ by Alanis Morrisette.
That first day I rediscovered the video, I must’ve watched it a dozen times on a loop. Despite being (at the time) a teenaged boy, I didn’t have any erotic thoughts about the video — all I wanted was to be Alanis, to be able to sing like her, to have long hair like her, to be a woman like her. Often (very often, due to them working shifts), my parents were out of the house and so were my brothers (due to them being in their early twenties), which left me home by myself. Inevitably, I used this time to practice singing — often even 'tucking myself in' and singing ‘Thank U’ naked in my mirror, imagining that I was the woman I’d seen in the music video all those years ago.
Obviously, my practice paid off — Out of Heaven have sold millions of records, I make enough money from streaming revenue every month to live very comfortably, and that’s before you get to my social media platform. And of course, I would find inspiration from countless other singers both before and during my professional career. But in my mind, I still often think back to that teenaged boy singing in front of his mirror, just as I am now.
After finishing my ‘business’ in the bathroom, I head back to my bedroom and strip off my clothes, standing naked in front of my mirror once again. Only now, I’m not a teenaged boy, but rather a 25-year-old woman. I’m not simulating long hair by dangling a pair of trousers around my neck over a flat chest, I actually have hair that’s long enough to cover the nipples on my B-cup breasts. I don’t have to imagine that I’m wearing make-up or nail polish, as I am. The only similarity to back then is my need to ‘tuck’ — but even there, my ‘method’ of tucking is a lot more sophisticated and realistic looking than it was back then. And I even have the option of not needing to ‘tuck’ ever again — something that would’ve been just pure fantasy to my teenaged self. Hell, I even have a similar facial structure to Alanis Morrisette. I feel the same wave of inspiration come over me just as it did my teenaged self all those years ago and I take several deep breaths, trying my hardest to get air flowing into my body.
“How 'bout getting off of these antibiotics?” I sing, projecting my voice as loudly as my poor lungs will allow.
“How 'bout stopping eating when I'm full up?
How 'bout them transparent dangling carrots?
How 'bout that ever-elusive kudo?
Thank you, India.
Thank you, terror.
Thank you, disillusionment.
Thank you, frailty.
Thank you, consequence.
Thank you, thank you silence!” I smile as I look at myself in the mirror and wonder how many girls- or boys- would be inspired by seeing me (tastefully) naked in my music video, just as I was inspired by Alanis. Hell, I can’t help but wonder how many already have been by our music, and our videos, and our costumes….
“What are you doing?” Kayla asks from the doorway of my room, momentarily startling me and making me cover myself up, before I giggle and realise that she's the one person around whom I don't need to preserve my modesty. Despite this, though, the frown stays on my girlfriend's face, making me nervous.
“Umm… Singing?” I reply with a giggle, biting my lip as Kayla's frown turns into a full-blown scowl.
“Wh- why?” Kayla asks incredulously, only deepening my confusion.
“Umm, because I’m a singer?” I reply. “If you mean ‘why am I singing naked,’ then-“
“No, I- I’ve seen the music video,” Kayla interrupts. “Why THAT song?”
“I- I like the song,” I reply with a shrug. “Have done since I was a gi- a kid, heh. I was even thinking of asking Stuart if he could remix it so I could record-“
“And THERE it is,” Kayla interrupts again, angrily sighing. “I mean, you literally just hear me practising it just now and you decide ‘I’m having that,’ is that it?”
“I- I’m sorry, what?” I ask, before biting my lip as all of a sudden, the reason for Kayla's anger becomes clear. “You — were you just practising this song?”
“…Yes, yes I was!” Kayla replies incredulously. “Surely you’re not THAT ignorant?” I start to fidget as I feel my anger levels rising.
“I was wearing a headset while playing on the PS5,” I retort as I quickly pull my thong, bodysuit and skirt back on. “And we have the soundproofing up now, so no, I didn’t hear you.” Thankfully, Kayla seems to believe me as she takes time to ponder her next words. At least, I hope she believes me, and she isn't just thinking up a REALLY harsh comeback….
“…Well — well why do you even need to practise?” Kayla asks.
“Umm, same reason you do?” I reply. “If anything I need even more practice, with my lungs and all….”
“Yeah, but it — it’s not like you’re gonna be singing anytime soon, is it?” Kayla asks, almost with a sneer in her voice. “You’ve got what, 3 songs written for an album? And one of them is a cover of an Out of Heaven song that you did lead vocals on.”
“What — I’m sorry, but — what?” I ask, barely believing what I just heard.
“Well, y- you’ve, you know, got a lot of other stuff on your plate,” Kayla says, starting to fidget herself. “Your modelling, your advocacy work — you’ve got over a million more followers on Instagram than I do, for one thing. Do you, you know, even need an album?”
“…I’m sorry, what?” I reply, barely comprehending what I’m hearing. “Do you — do you not see me as an actual singer anymore? Okay, sure, I don’t have the range you do, and yes, my lungs are still shit, but I still love singing! I want to have my own album too!”
“Does that give you the right to steal my song, though?” Kayla asks, making my blood start to boil.
“YOUR song?” I ask. “Funny, did Alanis Morrisette write that for you before you were even born?”
“I chose it first!” Kayla snaps back.
“When?” I ask, biting my lip as I realise that with the soundproofing, there's every chance she's been practising it for a while and I wouldn't know.
“…Okay, so I only practised it for the first time today, but that’s not the point!” Kayla replies angrily, causing my jaw to drop open.
“T- today?” I ask incredulously.
“Well, when did YOU first practise it?” Kayla asks.
“In front of my bedroom mirror, when I was fourteen and could only dream of being ‘Stephanie,’” I reply, though this isn't the 'winning blow' I hoped it would be.
“SURE you did,” Kayla snorts.
“What, do you think you’re the only girl in the world who dreamed of being a singer when she was younger?” I ask angrily. “Okay, no, I’m not as good as you. I can’t think of a single person who is. Does that mean I should just give up? Do my lungs mean I should just give up? Because I never let being born a boy stop me from being one fifth, then one quarter, but always an equal — EQUAL — part of one of the greatest girl groups ever.” I brace myself for my girlfriend’s response, only to flinch as she storms out of my room, slamming the door behind her.
Naturally, the next half hour passes by in a blur. The first thing I remember is collapsing face first onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow. Then I remember crying until my eyes hurt. Then I remember asking myself whether or not Kayla was, in fact, right about what she said.
It’s true that by all measurable standards, I’m not as good a singer as she is. I know (whether I’m meant to or not) that I was the last one added to Out of Heaven, and even then, I have to wonder if it’s partly because I got on well with Kayla and Lauren prior to our auditions. I was the last to get a song written for me where I was the lead vocalist, I only do small parts of our two biggest hits — ‘No More Lies’ and ‘Heaven is a Place on Earth’ — while Kayla gets the lion’s share of the lyrics. And while Kayla has beavered away at her solo project, I have — as she correctly pointed out — barely done anything on mine. Assuming I ever even release mine. I’ve been so busy with — as Kayla also correctly pointed out — social media work, trans advocacy work, covid advocacy work and all manner of other stuff that I’ve barely had the time. Meanwhile, all of Kayla’s focus has been on her music, just as it’s been from the start. Maybe I should stop being selfish and ‘let her have’ the song?
Once I’ve composed myself (and repaired my makeup, not to mention replaced my pillowcase), I head out into the living room, ready to apologise to the woman that I hope is still my girlfriend, only to pause at the scene that greets me.
Just as I was months ago, Kayla is knelt on the floor of the living room, clad only in a scanty pink babydoll, her hair styled into playful waves, her face fully made-up and the words ‘I’m sowwy’ written on the floor in front of her in pink and white rose petals. And, naturally, some of those petals have found their way into her hair, her cleavage and the waistband of her lacy thong.
“…I’m the one who should apologise,” I say, kneeling down next to Kayla only for her to put a finger on my lips before I can speak further.
“No- no, Steph, I’M sorry,” Kayla sighs. “And I- I need to know that you forgive me. Please?”
“Of course I forgive you,” I say, sniffing back a tear as we share an embrace. “And I — you were right. You can have the song, heh.”
“No, I- I want you to have the song,” Kayla insists. “Really, seriously — you have it.”
“B- but you were right,” I retort. “About me, I mean. With everything going on right now, my — my actual music career is kinda, you know, sliding back….”
“But you’re still a singer,” Kayla says matter of factly. “Same as me. EQUAL to me. And I- I chose the song because I liked the tune. You chose it because it has real meaning to you. And it — heh. It does suit your voice better than mine.”
“I- I don’t want this to come between us, though,” I whisper.
“Neither do I,” Kayla says. “Hence why I want you to have the song. You — you and me, you — you’re more important to me than any song. I’d pick ‘The Song of Stayla’ over even a million ‘Bohemian Rhapsodies.’ ”
“…So, are we going to write it?” I ask with a smirk. “’The Song of Stayla?’ ”
“We’ve been writing it for the last three years,” Kayla replies, punctuated with a kiss. “If you mean an actual song… we should probably talk that over with Stuart, heh. AFTER telling him that you’re going to be covering ‘Thank U.’ ”
“…Thank you, heh,” I say with a chuckle as Kayla and I embrace once again. “Now… maybe put some clothes on?”
“Or you could take yours off,” Kayla whispers in my ear, us both sharing devilish smiles at her suggestion.
Nearly an hour later, our two naked bodies are cuddled together underneath my bedsheets, both of us wearing wide, loving smiles on our faces.
“I really, really do love you, Steph,” Kayla whispers.
“I love you too,” I reply, smiling as Kayla presses her petite body into mine.
“Let’s not let work get in the way in future, okay?” Kayla asks, sighing happily as I nod. “Some things are more important than streaming figures, heh.” Finally, I think to myself — though I obviously don’t say this out loud.
“I’ll make sure to ask you before covering any songs, too,” I say softly. “Well — eventually, heh.”
“I’ll run all my covers by you, too,” Kayla says. “And I’ll make sure any album tour doesn’t include a date on January 23rd, either, as on that date, I only ever intend to sing to an audience of one, heh! Well, sing and make other types of ‘music,’ anyway! And I- I’ll make sure that when you have SRS, I’ll be all yours too.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. “Though the — I reckon your tour’s gonna come first, heh. And not just ‘cause of every doctor in the world being kinda busy right now.”
“Whatever you decide, I’ll support you,” Kayla says, kissing me again before stretching her naked body and getting out of bed. “And as it is still only mid-afternoon it’s kinda before my bedtime, heh. Got plenty of practice still to do — but I am grateful for the ‘break,’ hehe!”
“Me too,” I say, sitting up and sharing another kiss with Kayla as she scoops up her lingerie from where it landed on the floor.
“Though when you film the video for ‘Thank U,’ maybe be a little more clothed?” Kayla asks. “There are some very special things I DON’T want to share, hehe!” I giggle as I nod, before Kayla heads back to her bedroom with a smile on her face.
I let out a contented sigh as I sink back into my sheets, happy for the opportunity to relax a bit before having to move again and DEFINITELY happy that for now, my relationship issues seem to be resolved. Kayla putting me before her album is as big a deal as it’s possible to get — her first solo album has been her dream for as long as she can remember, and while she says she only started practising ‘Thank U’ today, I know she’ll have had it in her mind for a lot longer. Maybe not as long as me, but that’s not the point — relationships are about give and take, and for too long, it’s felt like I’ve been the one ‘giving.’ I now know that Kayla is the perfect partner for me, just as I hope I am for her — her offer to help me through my recovery from SRS instead of touring is all the proof of I need of that. I just wish I was closer to deciding whether or not to get SRS.
I also wish I knew what I was going to do with the diamond ring I have hidden in my dresser….
Comments
It's been a while...
Steph is my current oldest ongoing story and also the one I updated the least recently... but Steph and Kayla's story still has some way to go (though I am actually writing the final chapter as we speak- emotional times)!
Upcoming chapters in the usual place- https://jamieverse.fandom.com/wiki/Upcoming_Chapters . Still plenty of Jamieverse to enjoy in the coming few weeks.
Debs xxxx